Our mighty moon is bright, but the valiant sun is brilliant; for darkness will always be outshined by the light.
- Confucious
Leaves gently folded under Strato's weight as he trotted through the shadowy wilderness into the depths of the night. Somewhere off in the distance an unknown animal screamed out in anguish. At another time he might seek to come to its aid, but this was no place to idly wander about. The towering trees of the Forsaken Forest swayed violently in gale-force winds, seemingly about to spring forth from their roots and flatten the forest floor below. Crushing darkness blanketed everything as far as the eye could see, which was a few yards at best. This undying land of desolation was no place for an unexperienced city pony like him, but Strato's curiosity had once again gotten the best of him. Perhaps the creepiest part of the whole ordeal was the scent; while the rest of the expanse was both menacing and cruel, the raging wind smelled of sweet honey, a scent that clearly did not belong in such a desolate location. He thought he recognized it, but the knowledge seemed to allude him. Despite this foreboding reality, turning back now was impossible. So he trudged on.
As the minutes rolled by, Strato became more and more paranoid. What if I had missed the river? What if I was just walking in circles?he asked himself repeatedly in an attempt to sooth his building nerves. But no matter how lost he was, there was no turning back now; one could no longer tell which way was which, for it all seemed to blend together under an inky cloak of sinister darkness. While this was quite unsettling, the sweet scent of wildflowers still clung to the rippling air, and that was perhaps the most unsettling thing of all.
Finally after nearly an hour of sauntering through the wild Strato happened upon a split in the trees and beyond their snarling grasp the strangely-idle river. Winter snowmelt from the northern mountains would normally render this body of water a rampaging beast, but it seemed to be a long, continuous sheet of stained glass; all is not right in this forest, Strato thought with a shudder. Advancing toward the odd creek, he began to feeling a peculiar tingling sensation on the bottom of his hooves. As he neared the creeping banks of the river, the ground around him became slick, as if it was covered in oil. Wait a just a moment... his brain told him as he brought his hoof, which was covered in an oozing, oily liquid, to his face and took a quick whiff. The the weak yet putrid aroma that met his nostrils paralyzed him with fear; it was valdred! The bottom of his now-burning hooves began to sizzle as he violently scrambled back up the bank of the river; for it was no river of harmless water, but one of valdred, or the sap of the Ondel tree that burned through whatever it touched like acid. His shock slowly being replaced by a feeling of weariness, Strato began energetically scraping his hooves against the surrounding turf to rub off the vile liquid. While polishing his left hoof, he silently began to wonder how a river of tree sap came to be; and, more importantly, why it refused to flow even with the slightest velocity.
Puzzled, Strato could not help feeling like he was missing something. The river, the scent, the lack of animal noises aside from a few aimless shrieks... everything did not quite seem to fit together. Well, he pondered as he sat his flank down on a rotting tree stump to rest his worn-out hooves. If I can't quite figure something out, I might as well dwell on it over some food. The wind had since died down from the earlier frightening gale to a now smooth breeze, which also seemed a tad eerie. The sun had also began to ascend, giving the sinister tree trunks surrounding him an even more forebaring appearence. "At least Celestia is having a normal day" he said to himself after releasing a low chuckle. The hoarseness of his voice surprised him, for it felt as if something had flowed down his throat, corroding away part of his vocal cords; normally nopony has such an ailment unless they have caught a bug of some sort. This particular fact also worried him, and likely more so than it should; for while he could not see any new substance in floating in the air, Strato still felt an unexplainable presence. Even the air in the Forsaken Forest is creepy, thought Strato with another, more positive chuckle.
While there was still not enough light to see the tree tops towering above him, Strato could now vaguely make out his surroundings. He was standing on the edge of a massive grove of elm trees that encased the air around him like a dragon's cave. While they sported long, thick midsections, higher up their branches grew outwards in spindly patterns that formed a complex lattice network. From these branches thousands of leaves sprouted; this was the height of spring, yet these leaves were black as ink. While this was indeed an evil forest, it still consisted of normal trees, which rendered the examples here abnormalities. Things are not as they should be here, Strato repeated to himself again. While he couldn't quite put a hoof on it, there was definitely something amiss. Even for the Forsaken Forest.
At the base of the grove grew several seemingly dead shrubs, which encased the bottom of the trunks like a bushy skirt made of dead twigs. As the ground slopped downwards from there past where Strato was standing and towards the river, it seemed to go from a pitch black to a deep purple as it neared the river; since no ground plants such as grass or weeds could grow in such a hostile environment, the surface was bare and increasingly saturated in valdred as it neared banks of the accursed river. While he could not quite see it with such little light, Strato knew that valdred was a brilliant royal purple, and the dyed tinge of the ground proved it. The other side of the calm river was obscured by a sheet of darkness, but he assumed that it was in similar condition to his bank. Beyond his little grove on either direction going up or downstream, which, due to the motionless river and level ground, looked no different from one another, Strato's vision was blocked by more shrouding darkness. The absence of animals and all other noises save for the now calm whirr of the wind gave him a sense of unease; nothing seemed to be able to fit together in this vile environment.
Again a scream flung itself through the air, as if an innocent creature somewhere was being torn apart. The sound made Strato shudder, horrified that he found himself in such a terrible place. Still, it did seem odd that that was the only noise he could hear above the wind. Normally forests are filled with creatures of all shapes and sizes, but this one appeared to have no more animal life within its limits than the moon. How odd, he thought with a wince.
Tired of thinking, Strato went to his saddlebag to retrieve an apple he had packed from home. His bag, made by the finest artisans in all of Canterlot, was fashioned out of the pristine leather of an Ursa-minor, which is by no means an easy commodity to come by. The design is of Pegasi origin, for it featured a strap that laced under your body to prevent the bag from moving while in flight, but Strato had no use of that feature as a unicorn; as far as he knew magically-induced flight was not possible, but he had heard legends of a few unicorns who could accomplish such a feat. While it was still striking, his bag had fallen into disrepair, for a few holes had appeared on the bottom of the left pocket and the top to the right pocket refused to fasten down no matter how tight the strap was. Somehow even magic could not keep it fastened! Luckily it tended to stay down by itself, but on a particularly bumpy road it sometimes flew open, spewing the contents of the right pocket all over the ground. When he got back home Strato would need to bring it to his tailor; it was definitely time.
Retrieving the apple from the bag, Strato preceded to chew it whole while he pondered his predicament. Not only was he stuck on the wrong side of this wretched river (or brook, lake, or whatever it is he thought with a grin), but he was also growing quite fatigued. While he wasn't the wimpiest pony around, Strato didn't have too much muscle on his back either, and his posh saddlebag was slowly growing heavier all the time. Not to mention his once-regal white fur, which was now stained every which way with peculiar shades of purple, green, and black. But these were in fact the least of his concerns; once he reached his destination, Strato had no idea what to expect or how to deal with the obstacles he was sure to face. Although he was a unicorn, Strato still had very limited knowledge of magic, and had no formal training whatsoever, so defending himself was out of the question. He knew himself to be a good runner, but what was that going to solve if he need to go forward, not escape! The only option left was to hope that he wouldn't encounter anything dangerous; like that was going to happen.
Tired as he was, Strato carefully removed his saddlebag from his aching back and lied down beneath the labyrinth of elm branches. It was still far to early in the morning to see across the river and into the journey in front of him, but Strato had to get some rest, for the coming day was to be quite an important one. As he settled down next to one of the dead-looking shrubs, Strato heard another cry pierce the air like a spear tearing through the underbrush; only this time it was closer than the ones that came before. Not only this, but the scent of freshly-picked fruit had become noticeably stronger as well. It's just the forest waking up, he thought to himself as he let his eyelids down to cover his pupils, plunging his world into darkness. Still, everything seemed to just a little bit off. It will have to wait until after my nap, he growled, for after all how am I supposed to tackle the grueling day laid out before me when I've been traveling without rest for thirty-six hours straight? No, all will have to wait until morning. And, with that last thought, Strato slowly let himself slip into the world of dreams.
It was bright. No, absolutely brilliant. The sun was as high as it could be in a perfectly clear heavens. The bustling streets of Upper Canterlot were packed with unicorns and earth ponies directing a roaring cheer towards the royal palace. The clairvoyant sky was filled to the brim with cheering pegasi and massive balloons filled with ponies and other creatures. It seemed as if everypony in Equestria and beyond had come to pack the grand boulevards of Canterlot.
Atop the great crag of purple granite where the Royal Palace sat was an awe-inspiring array of sky-boats, shimmering in the blazing sunlight. In the middle of the cluster sat an extra-large sky-boat bathed in a deep indigo. The craft was simply magnificent; as if all the unicorns in Equestria had come together to creat the most beautiful piece of art ever made. On the decks dozens of ponies of all sizes, shapes, and colors bustled about, preparing the craft for take-off. Emblazoned on its port side was a massive portrait of a huge scarlet-colored key; the shaft had nine spikes that jutted out from it to form the teeth, and the handle of the key was a stunning picture of an eye, whose iris was also scarlet.
As the center sky-boat gracefully lifted off into the air, the cheering from the city below climaxed into a deafening roar. Suddenly, a gigantic explosion of color erupted from the sky and blanketed the heavens in all colors of the rainbow. With this, the ponies below somehow grew even louder still. Somewhere above the city came the heart-wrenching roar of a dragon, but this somehow did not phase the crowd below. As the now-soaring sky-boat started for the far side of the mountain, the ship's bow finally came into view. Upon a raised platform sat two unicorns; one shorter and one taller, and with the shorter one leaning against the taller. Behind them sat several other ponies, one of which had a mane of stunning rainbow hues, as well as what appeared to be a pair of majestic deer. In the center of their cluster sat a huge silver orb that shown brilliantly in the sunlight.
And, just before the ship slipped out of view behind the mountain, the shorter pony in front looked back upon the city, sporting a pair of vibrant indigo eyes.
A heart-wrenching roar woke Strato with a start. Jumping up, he swirled around and took in everything around him.
The sun was still somewhat low in the sky, but it was shining from the east, so Strato assumed it was around ten in the morning. His grove of eerie elm trees looked no different in the light of day; still cloaked in inky black leaves and surrounded in seemingly dead bushes. The color of the oozing valdred river was quite obvious, bathing the surrounding bank in an aura of dazzling purple. But, now in the light of day, Strato could see why it did not flow in either direction: because it was not a river at all; it was a moat.
Not twenty feet beyond the opposite bank of the moat was a massive castle wall. The stones that made up its outer surface were black as coal, as if they had been painted with the essence of evil, but were also polished to a shine. Each block fit together perfectly as if the builders of the wall didn't need any mortar at all, and were perhaps six feet tall and nine feet wide. Extending upward one hundred feet the wall rose, creating an imposing barrier to rival any in Equestria.
Atop the battlements that jutted out over the wall were statues of various beasts: from minotaurs to gargoyles to bears to dragons. At regular intervals along the wall were towers that rose another twenty feet above the battlements, with flagpoles that appeared to be made out of bone rising above each tower. The flag that waved at the top of each of the flagpoles made Strato's heart drop: it was the flag of Tyrann, the powerful and cunning ruler of the Boars. Oh no! thought Strato; It couldn't be! The boars hadn't set foot in Equestria since time itself began! But his suspicions the previous night were confirmed now, for the cries he heard in the night were the cries of the boars. Strato had taken a wrong turn somewhere earlier in the forest! He had missed the river that led out of this wretched place and had instead run into the hidden fortress of one of the most dangerous foes in the known world. How could his luck be any worse?
Strato remembered learning about the wretched creatures in magic school as a colt. The menacing fiends were massive: they stood eight feet at the shoulder and sported powerful muscles that seemed to encircle their entire body. While that was certainly enough to scare anypony, their girth was not in fact their most striking feature. That right was held by their tusks. The vicious overgrown teeth jut out 3 feet from the creature's twisted mouth, and taper on to a razor-sharp point at the end of each tusk. When anypony managed to run into a boar, it was not a question of whether or not you could fight it off; it was a question of whether or not you could outsmart it long enough to take off in a dead sprint away from the beast.
How did those evil fiends find their way into Equestria? Celestia has been successful on almost every front in keeping beasts out of her realm. But now they stood on her northern doorstep, laying in wait to accomplish who knows what? Strato couldn't just assume that they were here to harm anypony though. This was the Forbidden Forest after all, and the foul beasts actually fit in quite well, though as comforting as this feeble thought was, the truth was still just as obvious as night and day; The boars had found their way into Celestia's lands under her nose. Or what if somepony let them in?
Strato's heart lurched, startling him back to the cold reality of his situation as he glanced to his right. Maybe fifty feet downriver (or upriver?) of where his grove sat and across the moat sat was the sprawling gate to the castle. The towering doorway stood forty feet tall and was blocked by two impossibly heavy steel doors. Six menacing boars stood guard at the front of the impenetrable gate, were looking straight at him. One of the wretched creatures had already took off towards him, leaping over the expansive moat without even breaking stride and closing half the distance between himself and Strato before he could even hope to react. Screw them and their enormous girth, cursed Strato with gasp as he quickly threw on his saddlebag and took off sprinting through the forest, his pounding heart nearly jumping out of his chest.
Hooves pounding against the ground, Strato could hear potential captors gaining on him as they barrelled through the towering groves. Faster, he screamed into his mind, already panting hard to keep his lungs filled with oxygen. Days of constant travel had rendered his legs stiff and very sore, which was not working in his favor. Muscles all over his body ached; he just couldn't seem to move any faster. As the boars moved in on him, Strato could feel his body giving up like an owl's prey that has accepted it's fate. No, I cannot give up! he yelled to himself, not caring what it took; all he wanted now was to return home with his life.
Strato sprinted on through the forest, not caring what direction he was going in but instead caring about whether or not he could make it out of this grueling ordeal alive. Now that his way was no longer shrouded in darkness, Strato could now truly take in the Forsaken Forest and all of its glory, or lack thereof. He had terrible stories about it as a colt: about how anypony who traveled deep into its depths never came back out or came back insane; about how cruel and terrible creatures resided within its depths; and about how, at the very center of its body, lay a stone with the power to cure any disease or heal any ailment. Now that he was out, lost in the middle of the most dangerous place he knew looking for an object of legend and being chased by the most barbarian creatures in the world, Strato began to wonder why he even left his comfortable Canterlot villa in the first place.
As there lies the reason he found himself within this prison of a land. If only he could find that stone... but right now was not the time for reminiscing. He could resume his long and arduous journey to "nowhere" once he lost his new "friends", but slowly the hopelessness of the situation began to envelope his mind. While they were hideous creatures with an insatiable appetite for evil, the boars could pummel their way through the underbrush with astonishing speed, usually overtaking even the most adept runners. As they continued to gain on him, Strato silently began to curse himself for not seeing the signs. The scent of sweet pastries, the terrible screams that rang through the night, the lack of movement in the "river"... how could he have been so ignorant! The peculiar scent of their twisted bodies decieved ponies and griffins alike; their awful cries signified they had found a source of misfortune to consume. And the moat? The fact that it was made up of their favorite food nearly gave away their presence! Apparently he had been too deluded with treasure hunter's fever to see the reality of his situation.
But none of these things explained the acute pain in his throat that now began to hurt more and more. It was no mere sickness; ailments do not set in that quickly. Was it some type of mysterious gas that perpetrated through this evil place? That thought made Nokkel shudder violently, nearly losing his ever-so-important footing. That would explain the absence of animals in this wretched forest! he exclaimed in his head as he attempted to ignore the now searing pain comsuming his throat. I must be nearing the source, for it was never this bad before while I was by the moat thought Strato as he trudged on.
Just before his legs gave out under his gasping body, Strato emerged from the forest into a clearing. The place had an odd aura about it; like magic was reverberating through the very air and entering your soul, slowing down your conscience like your mind was being plunged into a vat of warm maple syrup. Unlike in the surrounding forest, multitudes of wildflowers grew towards the exposed sun of every shape and color. The trees along the outer edge of the clearing seemed to be leaning away from its center as if there was some sort of strange power emanating from it.
At the center of the beautiful clearing sat a massive white chunk of marble. The beautiful specimen was translucent, a quality one does normally observe in a stone. At its center was a pulsing blue light that appeared to be the source of the powerful waves of magic reverberating through the clearing. While it sported a massive girth of perhaps twelve to fourteen feet, the stone was only around two to three feet tall and gently slopped on all sides. Atop the beautiful stone sat a beautiful metal key: the graceful object measured around three inches long, with a graphite colored shaft and in the center of the handle a closed eye. It did not rest on top the the stone; instead it floated as if magic was suspending it in mid air, which Strato knew was most likely the case.
As Strato precariously stumbled into the noble clearing, the itching pain that had been festering in his throat for quite some time instantaneously exploded across his body, rocking every molecule of his being with jaw-wrenching pain. As his now-useless legs buckled and sent him cascading into the ground, Strato let loose an ear-pinching roar; if ponies could roar, then he just proved it then and there. The boars behind him must have been experiencing a similar sensation, for Strato heard a multitude of ear-splicing screams that resounded well above his own, mixing with the pain already coursing through his nerves. As he hit the ground with a thud, Strato felt the bones in his left foreleg shatter as the rest of his weight crashed down upon it. While he knew what was happening, everything seemed to be a blur, for his mind only knew of one thing: terrible, terrible pain. It was as if the weight of the world was crushing his conscience, squeezing his feeble thoughts into oblivion.
Not caring if the boars had escaped or somehow continued to pursue him, Strato doubled over onto his back and began to thrash violently. Make it stop... make it stop! he mindlessly shouted into the face of the burning pain; but it only seemed to get worse. As he began to feel himself lose conscienceless, thoughts of hopelessness and regret began to fill his incapacitated mind: thoughts of how he had failed his brother; thoughts of how he had failed his journey; and, most of all, thoughts of how he had failed himself. All I ever wanted to do was cure him, he exclaimed into his mind; all I ever wanted to do was make him well again! I have failed you, Brushfire; I have failed to find the stone to heal you, and I have failed to return home to you. I have failed! And with that hot tears began to fly from his restless eyes as he thrashed about. All is lost! I am but a young pony, but it seems I have already met my finale.
Then, just as he had flung that last, desperate thought into the void, Strato let himself go. But his mind refused to slip under; there seemed to be another force holding it up. While he knew deep down that his mind was playing tricks on his weakened mentality, Strato pulled a single sane thought out of the bottomless abyss of surreal suffering and called out with a sharp window-shattering exclaimation "Let me go!"
"No"
The word resounded across Strato's mind as if it could echo forever. It sounded immensely powerful; It was not of this world, but instead of one much more ancient and more loosely woven than his own. It was a deep bellow that carried along with it an old and powerful harshness, but at the same time was the smoothest voice Strato had ever had the pleasure to hear. The voice was overbearingly loud, but it was also incredibly soft; it was definitely male, but it was unmistakably female; it was dark, but yet it shown with a omnipontent light.
Within his mind Strato was speechless. There was no way he could know how to react, for not only was he curious to see who or what the voice was, he was also deeply frightened to his core, more frightened than he had ever been in his life. The omnipresent voice seemed to acknowledge this, for it let loose a rumbling sigh that seem to carry with it the very thread of life itself.
"Do not be alarmed. I pose to you no danger, nor do I wish to inflict harm upon you. The searing pain you most likely feel right now is of my creation, designed to keep those with wandering eyes away from my home. I recognize that you come here seeking wisdom and fortune; but fate has brought you here for a different reason. You know not of its nature now, nor should you, but know that many things are changing in this world. Old evils are awakening and new ones are born everyday. The world is changing course, and no one is at the driver's seat."
"You were brought here because I believe you have what it takes to be our champion. The champion of all that is good. I cannot tell you of my name at this point in time, so you may call me Konjegud, The God King. Have spirit, young Strato: for you are far more important than you believe yourself to be."
And, with that, the God King withdrew himself from Strato mind with a brilliant flash of light, leaving him in a world of utter darkness by comparison. What just happened? thought Strato to himself. Expecting a vicious onslaught of pain, instead he found that all of it had vanished. Afraid to open his eyes, Strato continued to lie down on his back pondering what had just occurred. What did he mean by me being a "champion"? I've never won anything in my life... Perhaps it was all just a dream, and I am still at home in Canterlot, eating breakfast with Brutus and Father... no, this was far to vivid.
As his senses began to filter back into his mind, Strato realized that something was different, like his reality had been warped; it felt a little bit warmer and more humid, and all of a sudden he could clearly hear birds chirping and squirrels chattering. Still afraid to open his eyes, Strato felt the earth around with his forehooves: it was soft and loamy, much like the farm country to the southeast of their cozy hometown Noveria where his family would go to trade their wares for food and common necessities twice a year. That isn't the soil from the Forsaken Forest... but where else could I be? Not having any idea what had just happened or where he was, Strato reached for his lucky moon necklace for comfort. His childhood relic was there, but I was not the only thing around his neck. The large, graphite-colored key that was floating above the transparent rock in the clearing also hung around him; he could tell by the general size, shape, and especially by the faint aura of magic that emanated from it.
Where am I?, thought Strato as he pressed the key harder against his heaving chest and opened his eyes.
Not a foot from his face sat a pair of strangely familiar eyes staring back at him.
