The Cheval Glass

In the land of Equestria, where phoenixes cry, wendigos fall, and hope changes the world itself, there is a looming castle in the depths of an unconquered land, where only chaos rules. The ruins of this castle hide a great secret, for in the depths of this once resplendent place lies a hideous secret hidden away in a time now long forgotten. A single mirror stood in the midst of large room, one for which there was no clear entrance. This place, unlike the lands which surround it, held not merely the swirling of uncontrolled magic, but instead something far darker.

The mirror glistened in unseen light, it's surface pristine and as clean as the day on which it had been created. The air had long since grow stale, the musty scent of dust and dirt permeating it. The mirror, once dormant and silent, shimmered violently and a single figure crashed onto the dirt. It was panting, the musty air causing it to cough as it tried to catch its breath. Shuddering and wincing as it took to it's hooves, it turned to look at the mirror behind it.

"What?" the figure rasped out, "This isn't the castle... Where..."

The mirror shimmered for a moment, the light in the room dimming heavily for a moment before it returned. Ancient spells, she knew as much from clear age of the items around her. After a few moments of silence, she placed her hoof on the cold glass, only to shiver as her hoof passed into it and a bone chilling cold gripped her forehoof. She flinched backwards, "I can't... What if..." The small pony stared at the mirror in silence, uncertain of what she should do as her own reflection, though it felt unfamiliar, stared back.

She looked around the room, attempting to avoid her own gaze. The still air stirred as she began to walk around the room, gazing at the ancient tomes and scrolls piled high upon various bookshelves and tables across the room. There were none with words on their covers, except for one. She lifted it gently, the old paper coarse and rough in her hooves, the yellowed age of the pages evident in the soft torchlight.

In elegant script, a vibrant gold upon the deep brown of the tome's cover, was a single word. Cheval. She stared at it for a few moments, the deep silence stifling her own thoughts. She opened the cover, her heartbeat loud in her ears, and began to read. As each page flipped, she looked up to the mirror at the center of the room and felt as though it was staring back. As she finished, she gave an audible gulp and looked around the room.

The book had said that the world beyond the mirror was odd and strange, that he had once banished three sisters there. Everything the book itself said was wrong, it was nothing like the world in the mirror. Starswirl had described the world of the mirror as one much like theirs but without magic, yet no normal flames burned blue. Sunset gave one last look at the mirror as her horn glowed with golden light and she disappeared from the room.

The flash of light shone back off the mirror's surface and the stone beneath it seemed to groan as the mirror's surface darkened. A mass of shadow poured onto the ground and the roar of a large beast shook the room before the shadows vanished completely leaving a glowing wisp of deep purple fire that soon vanished completely.

Just as the young unicorn was departing from the ancient study, a young man in Cheval entered a large castle that seemed just as ancient. The stone creatures which guarded the massive doors glared down as he passed into the hall and stood before an elderly man and two women. Of the three sets of eyes, the elderly man's were the strangest and most terrifying, as if his gaze seeped into your soul and declared your death. Amber eyes met murky brown and the man scoffed.

"Well, Master Stire," the old man's voice was thick and rough, "I see you remain as stubborn as ever. Here I believed your studies at that Academy would make you understand power." The elderly man chuckled as Stire remained silently staring at him for a moment.

"I've always understood power," Stire answered, the monotone caused the two women to glare at him viciously. Heavy silence filled the room as the two men stared one another down for several moments, the two women merely stood at the man's side. After awhile, the elderly man sighed heavily. He stood and started to walk out of the room, waving his hand dismissively.

"The mage tower is yours to use," he said as the set of large wooden doors behind the throne opened, only to slam shut behind his back. Stire watched the doors for several moments before turning on his heel and departing from the hall in a similar fashion, though the doors opened with a simple wave of his hand, violet flames caressing the sides. As his steps moved from the doors, the violet flames disappeared leaving black scorches on the doors. The man ignored this and entered the courtyard where the tall tower, separate from the rest of the castle, stood.

Ancient stone was marred by thick black vines, thorns and massive leaves followed them up the walls. The massive tower held no windows, and the doors were made of rusted iron, squeaking loudly as the violet flames forced them open. The doors halted with a thud and the leaves shook as stale air rushed forth. Without a sound, the man know as Brel Stire, moved into the ancient tower and stared at the ruined tools and torn scrolls scattered across the first floor.

As the air rushed in from outside, barely fresher than that which had left, several scrolls disintegrated. Others fell apart, and a cloud of dust wafted throughout the room. Once more, Brel ignored such things and took to the stairs, the soft thud of his shoes causing small whirlwinds of dust to trail down the old staircase. With a snap of his fingers, the torches sprung to life, dim blue light spiraled upwards through the tower. Spiders and rats fled to the corners and into the walls as he took a last step into the room at the top of the tower. A single balcony looked out over the city.

Screaming and yelling echoed quietly from the streets far below as the large chandelier which hung from the ceiling flickered to life as the flames lit the room. Thick spiderwebs burned, causing the light to flair up and blue light to shine down on the city below where a young man sat in one of the many alleys. His clothes were tattered and old, grime had covered his face for time an age as his green eyes gazed upon the tall stonework from whence that light came. As the light began to fade, he walked out of the alleyway, bumping into some street urchins who laughed and ran off.

On either side of the street dark windows kept light from leaving the shops and houses and the street lanterns barely lit the streets. One could see, but not far and so the children quickly vanished from sight as people along the streets moved out of his way. The cracked roads only served to darken the already faint lights. Several doors along the street were open, dim light lighting the sides of the street as carriages rolled past. The sound of wood on rock masked the soft sounds of life coming from the buildings and the sound of footsteps. The city, in all the darkness and ruins it seemed to be in, was alive with the hustle and bustle of people.

As the young man slipped through groups of civilians and through the various alleyways, it became clear that such activity masked the surface of a silent and cold night. Some houses were broken and collapsed, others had been burned by unseen fires, and some streets were empty and devoid of life. In those few places, the people were not as open or wild, and had covered themselves in black. Several women could be seen, barely clothed and taking money as they began to bend to their knees. Several were already down.

Some of the women wore thick metal collars as did various of the cloaked figures, each following another closely. These people, when their eyes reflected the torchlights, were expressionless. Their faces were coated with grime and dried blood caked the clothes of many of the women. "Bitch!" a man in one of the dark alleyways cried out, his fist collided with the woman's head and sent her sprawling. In another alleyway, a lone child laid upon the ground as kick after kick connected with his side.

The young man moved on, his eyes blank and his expression unchanging. If you were to ask him why he ignored such things, the answer was terrible, dark, and completely hopeless. Were you to ask anyone else, the answer would remain unchanged. Were you to ask the broken child, gasping for air as the kicks stopped, his answer would be the same. Ask the woman, dazed and confused on the ground and she would only grow more confused. This was just simply the way things were and had always been here in Alcazar.

Soon the streets met a towering wall and beyond it were poorly built shacks and fields of tents. A cacophony of coughing, hacking, and wheezing were the only sounds that came forth from all around and the man sped up. Such a dire place was were the city threw the ill and worthless, the people who would survive little beyond the night. The walls did not serve for a defensive purpose or to keep anything out, they existed for a single reason. The dividing line for the people within, the definition of us and them. The scent of rotting food, old blood, and waste swirled in the air forcing the young man to cover his face as he stepped out onto the wide dirt road that led off into the horizon.

As his feet crunched on the dirt, the sounds and smell of the slums began to fade and he finally stood before the forest. The black trees served to only make the place darker and were one not familiar with it, they would remain lost until they died. At the depths of the woods where the woman the people called the Witch lived were the ruins of some past civilization. As he stepped out from the cover of the trees, he noticed a single blue light glowing in the distance and made towards it.

Upon the ground where the fire flickered were three bodies, the blood still fresh, as though it had just been spilt. None of the bodies held anything but a weapon in their hand and he looked towards the largest ruins. Ignoring the dead, he slipped out of the cover of light and back into the darkness. "Lucen, what are you doing here?" a woman's voice called out and the man let out a loud sigh.

"Thank the light," he replied, "Eris, Stire returned to that damned tower of his."

The woman's voice went silent and he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, "Come on." Immediately, in the midst of the darkness a yellow light sputtered to existence in a spray of sparks. Ruby eyes glowed as the ruined walls of a courtyard began to loom overhead. "You saw him?" the woman asked as they stepped past the walls and light spread out before him.

"No," Lucen answered, "but the mage tower lit up."

The woman frowned and her eyes fell upon the pedestal amidst the ruined statues. Neither of the two spoke before she finally turned towards a wooden door. She remained silent as she guided him through the stones and through the doorway, the door shutting with an audible thump. "You remember what I said, right?"

"I do," he answered in a resolute voice.