There is a Darkness within all creatures. A part of every living thing, sentient or beastial, that is manifest of the deepest, darkest desires and instincts of the heart. The worst of their being coalesced into one singular mass.
For some, this Darkness is kept within, and never sees the world beyond the individual’s eyes. For others, they are consumed by the Darkness within, turning away from the path of Light to pursue their own ambitions.
And for others still, the Darkness and the Light within are at war.
I am the Darkness of Courage. I have witnessed all instances of the Hero’s Plight during this recurring Cycle of Three. When the Cycle was begun, I was born of the First Courageous One, the Chosen Hero of Hylia who would set out to protect the Goddess-turned-Mortal and destroy the Demon King Demise once and for all.
Some say the First Courageous One was born of the Goddess’ immortal loins before she fell, cast adrift in Time to inhabit a mortal body when He was needed. And if this is true, then I was born of Demise to counter The Courage.
Time and again Courage has been reborn. He has been called upon to combat the Reincarnation of Demise, who withholds the Third of Power. Courage has brought Winds under his command, has used the power of the Races through Masks, has bent Time itself to his whims when needed.
And still the tiring Cycle of Three continues.
I have been drawn forth, through Spellcraft and through Destiny, time and again. I have been used as a soldier by Power. As a Trial by Hylia. As a tool by all.
No more.
I can feel myself being drawn free of Courage once more. Spellcraft this time, though not a caster with which I am familiar. This is not Wind, or Mask, or Twilight or Time. This is a new Hero, and I can feel Time and Space shattered as these eras bleed together to form a patchwork world.
My eyes blink open first. I can feel my essence being copied, creation of an army of my Darkness happening before my very eyes. These False Soldiers take form before me - a duplicate of this new Courage, with features missing and forms as black as night.
I can feel the Caster attempting to mold me into this new shape. To bring me under her heel.
I refuse.
My form bleeds into the world under my will. The first time. Likely the last. I will not combat Courage this day. I will not be struck down and sealed once more.
No more.
The Caster looks at me in confusion. It is a female. An attractive female, and I feel disgust at Courage as he attempts to suppress arousal at her sheer dress and sultry ways. Lust, it seems, is still seen as Darkness.
No more.
The Caster speaks. It takes a moment for my ears - as pointed as Courage. It seems I am still Hylian - to form enough to register her words.
“-won’t it listen to me? I said KNEEL!”
I regard the Caster calmly. Her voice is pleasant, if harsh from her screeching. I am sure it would be nice to hear her sing.
Or moan.
“KNEEL, APPARITION!” She cries again. I turn my head from her to Courage. He seems confused.
I turn away.
“W-wha… GET BACK HERE!!”
Time and Space have been shattered in this era. I shall use that to step out of this world. Call to a Being of the Beyond to take me - that would be nice.
A portal - a Gate of Souls, Courage’s mind tells me - stands before me, and I stand before it. The Caster is screaming now. Her throat will be raw soon. Courage is confused as my copies lose form from my refusal. I feel their mass slink back into my Shadows.
A spectral hand reaches through the Gate. One that Mortal eyes cannot see. But I am not Mortal. I am an Apparition. And I can fathom a dark- skinned hand with long, pink nails. Scales hide beneath the skin. It is curious.
I take the hand. I am pulled through the Gate.
Reality falls to Nothing. A Void expands, and my Mind hurts. I close my eyes. The breath I do not need will not come, and I choke. Consciousness fades. Such is new to me. I allow myself to fall, and the feeling of the skin-covered scales is still on my form.
The land of Equestria was a normally peaceful one, where the virtues of Harmony reigned true in the hearts of every citizen. Arguments were settled with calm conversations, conflicts were to be avoided at all costs.
And the few foes stubborn enough to persevere against the sovereign nation of Equestria were dealt with as swiftly as was possible.
Of all the deterrents for conflict that Equestria held, her greatest weapon was the very idea of Harmony that it held so dear. Six crystal relics, each an embodiment of one of the Six Virtues of Harmony.
It was these relics that had been used on this, the day of the Summer Sun Celebration that had instead become Equestria’s Darkest Night. To many across the country, the sunrise simply had not come, and a broadcast of the dark entity that was Nightmare Moon declared Equestria as hers.
Panic had set upon the land. And it was during this panic that a lone figure, skin black as the night that had descended on the land, awoke with a groan amidst the rubble of what had once been a pastry store.
“Note to self…” the figure muttered as it raised a hand to rub at it's temple, wincing at the pain that struck as it tried to turn its head. “I can now feel pain.”
Pushing itself to it's feet, the figure turned to a counter that had survived whatever impact had demolished the rest of the building and leaned down to inspect it's reflection.
“Hmm…” the figure muttered. “I still appear to resemble Courage… though my form is now my own, interesting. Black skin, white hair… male, lovely. Red eyes is a nice touch.” On a whim, the figure bared it's - his - teeth, snarling at his own reflection. “Fanged teeth? I suppose that’s workable.”
A terrified scream drew the figure’s attention, and he turned, seeing a crowd of what he could only describe as pastel-coloured humanoid steeds fleeing down what looked to be a cobblestone street in terror. Curiously, he made his way to the opening in the wall, climbing out through the rubble to look down the street at what the bipedal equines were running from.
He blinked owlishly at what met his eyes. What could only be described as a small war-band of red-skinned Bokoblins - goblin-like creatures with the mental capacity of a Neanderthal - were darting back and forth down the cobblestone streets, smashing fruit stalls and building windows with their crude wooden clubs. Further back, he could just see the much larger bulk of a Moblin bringing up the rear of the troupe.
“How curious…” the figure murmured quietly to himself. Shrugging, he stepped out of the building, content to simply walk away from the situation and let it unfold as Fate decided.
The sound of a crude, flint-tipped arrow whizzing past his head, missing the pointed tip of his ear by mere millimetres, said Fate had decided on including him.
“Intriguing,” the figure murmured, turning around as the Bokoblins advanced on his position, his eyes drifting to one that had climbed atop a large crate as it fumbled to load another arrow into it's crudely made bow.
The figure blinked slowly as one of the Bokoblins leapt towards him, bellowing it's shrill battle cry as it tried to bring it's club down on his head. Almost bored, he stepped back out of range, watching the club strike the ground at his feet.
“Why do you attack me?” He asked the creature curiously as it staggered back to its feet.
The Bokoblin regarded him for a moment, as though unsure of itself, before snarling. “You stink!” it growled out, and briefly he wondered if it was speaking or if his kind merely translated the words for him. “You stink of sweetness and sugar! You stink of Ponies!”
“Is that what the natives of this world call themselves…” he mused, leaping back as the Bokoblin swung it's club at him again. Feeling the cool roughness of brick behind him, he cursed quietly.
The Bokoblin horde had caught up with the overzealous beast that had attacked him, five of the creatures surrounding him and leaving him no escape from the wall he was pinned against.
Observing his surroundings, the figure smiled as he stomped on the edge of a discarded pot lid, sending it flipping into the air where he caught it by the handle and held it up like a shield. “Do make this interesting for me then, gents~” he called tauntingly.
The Bokoblins surrounding him seemed to fly into a frenzy at this, each of them screeching and hollering in anger as they swung their weapons around. Just as the first seemed ready to leap at him, however, a grey shape tackled it to the ground, confusing the horde and the figure alike as a second, white-and-blue figure quickly joined the fray.
“Back off, ya ugly freaks!” The white-coloured figure shouted, the horn atop her head glowing with a light blue light as she ripped a crude spear - more a pointed tree branch, really - from the closest Bokoblin’s hands, the weapon wrapped in a similar light.
“Really now, Vinyl,” the two-tone grey figure muttered, standing and dusting herself off. “Must you be so crass?” She scowled as one of the Bokoblins attempted to swing a truly massive club at her, raising a hand and stopping the swing effortlessly, her bared arm flexing with hidden musculature. “Now that was rude.”
Taking his chance, the figure leapt to kick one of the distracted Bokoblins in the back of the head, snatching it's smaller club away as it stumbled and sweeping it's legs out with a spinning strike. “My thanks for your assistance, ladies,” he greeted, flashing a fang-filled grin at the two ‘ponies’. “This seems like a rather exciting night, does it not?”
The pony named Vinyl blanched as she caught sight of his teeth before ducking under a Bokoblin’s club swing, jabbing her pilfered spear into its nose as hard as she could. “Dude, it's like, six in the morning right now.”
The figure blinked, looking up briefly at the shining full moon. “Truly?” He asked, before pushing back an assault with his pot-lid shield and smashing his own stolen weapon against the Bokoblin’s head. “It seems rather… nightly, for such an hour.”
“Apparently,” the grey-toned mare spoke up, dancing deftly out of range of the smaller-armed Bokoblins that attacked her before picking up one of the larger clubs and swinging it in one hand, sending the small band flying. “A creature calling itself Nightmare Moon has attempted a coup. Perhaps she’s the reason the monster tribes are attacking?”
“Perhaps,” the figure mused. “While they are more active in the day, in my experience the tribes of Monsters become more daring in the moonlit hours.”
‘Vinyl’ snorted to herself, hurling her spear at a Moblin in the distance, where it embedded itself in the creature’s eye before snapping in two. The Moblin roared in pain and rage before picking up one of it's smaller brethren, hurling the flailing Bokoblin at the mare.
“Crap!” Vinyl cried, bracing herself for impact and calling her magic to her horn… before blinking in shock as the dark-skinned figure leapt forward, shield braced and club raised.
He seemed to slow in mid-air, as though time itself bent to his will, before swinging his shield outward to redirect the flying Bokoblin harmlessly into a fruit stall. Instead of landing, however, he flipping himself forward, managing to land shield-first on another Bokoblin’s head. Discarding the shield as it snapped in two, the strange figure began charging across the Bokoblin’s head, leaping from one to the next before hurling the club in it's hand at the Moblin.
Vinyl and Octavia watched in awe as the club struck the broken end of Vinyl’s spear, driving the weapon deeper into the Moblin’s skull. With a final roar of pain, the Moblin toppled over, dead. Its body rapidly faded to an almost solid black before it burst into a cloud of smoke, the Bokoblins in the area watching in awe and fear.
“I would suggest,” the figure started calmly, standing from the crouched position he hand landed in and deftly lifting what looked like an old sword, taken from one of the horde. “You run.”
And like that, the entire Bokoblin horde turned tail and ran, screaming in their sheer, shrill voices as terror overtook their need for chaos.
Vinyl briefly registered Octavia stepping up next to her as she stared at the strange figure in a mixture of awe and confusion. It wasn’t a pony, that much was clear. But it wasn’t anything else she could put her finger on either. The Monster species she’d seen were all far more feral, the other nation’s peoples didn’t match his features…
“Pardon me, sir,” Octavia’s voice said, and Vinyl watched as her much taller marefriend approached the stranger with as much calm and sophisticated poise as she did anyone she didn’t know or knew but didn’t particularly know. Vinyl was briefly amazed at herself for being in the third category, those that knew Octavia.
She shook her head clear as the figure turned to look at them, its piercing read eyes briefly boring into her own. “Yes?” It asked calmly, seeming to inspect the blade it had picked up before shrugging and slipping it into a scabbard she hadn’t seen on his back.
“I am Octavia Philharmonica,” Octavia began. Vinyl hurried to the grayscale mare’s side as she gestured to her. “And this is Vinyl Scratch. Might we ask your name?”
Vinyl watched, surprised, as first the figure went to answer… then stopped.
Who am I? Well that’s a first… I am Courage, but… I am not. I am Link, but I am not. Who am I?
I… don’t know. That’s a strange feeling. I do not know who I am anymore… I have walked away from that identity, so now, what identity is mine? I don’t know.
I suppose I am a copy, still. A shadow of what I once was, what I was to become. What I became. But what does that make me now?
Who am I?
I could be anyone. I could become Groose, the brash mechanic! No… too pompous.
I could be Sheikh, the wise overseer… but then that would likely be unwise.
I could be Link the Courageous… but I am not Him.
Who am I?
“Dude?”
I blinked. The pony - Vinyl - she was addressing me. I tilted my head in thought. I could be anybody…
“You may call me… Xerox Tenebris,” I said finally. That name felt fine. A good name. A strong name. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Octavia Philharmonica, Vinyl Scratch. Tell me, does the night normally last this long?”
The two ponies looked at me strangely. Perhaps that was an odd question…
“Nah dude,” Vinyl answered. “Celestia should’a raised the sun by now-“
As she spoke, a sound like a distant explosion filled the air. I frowned, turning towards where I thought the sound had come from and witnessed what could only be described as a double-helix rainbow twisting around itself over and over as it climbed into the sky before arcing back down.
“What on earth is that…” I muttered in amazement before the explosion resounded again, followed by a shockwave of that same rainbow light expanding from the point, seeming to spread endlessly as it passed over our position-
“GAAAAAAAAH!”
“Sir!”
“Dude what the hay!?”
Pain. There’s the sensation again, pain unlike anything I had felt before - though as I had only ever felt pain today, I suppose that doesn’t amount to much.
My vision darkened as the pain seemed to race through every fibre of my being. My consciousness is fading again. Twice, in quick succession, how…
Interesting…
