The Prelude/Fog in the air.
The gentle plop of a quill being dipped into a vessel of ink echoes around an otherwise silent room. Bookshelves carved into the stone wall line the dimly illuminated study on all sides from floor to ceiling.
"Stories are told from generation to generation. Some are myths, or tall tales told to children for fun. Most were mature enough know better than to believe them. But not all tales are fun, but feared. these are the stories everyone seems to know of, though, not much about. Only close family or friends share quite whispers while others sleep. Wondering what details are fact or fiction. What is known, or rather, what is believed."
"long ago, Equines of all races prospered. Then, the calamity happened. What this calamity was exactly is saddly shrouded in mystery due to the nature of it. Few survived it. Those who did found a very different world..."
Candlelight cascades across the aging, weathered looking books. A shadow stretches along the floor and up the wall, shimmering with the candle's battle to drive the darkness away. The telltale audible signs of the soft and gentle scribbles continue.
"Equestrian-kind on the brink of extinction crawled slowly back to the stone age over indeterminant millennia. A series of Bloody wars with that of the lands other inhabitants Have seen less and less victories. That, combined with the famine and ongoing governmental instability cause the once great giant to fall...."
"The dual monarchy had proven to be a force to be reckoned with, But that was generations ago. Now days has seen the splitting of the nation into two kingdoms. The blood-kin turned on one another."
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Grimm Graves can't recall the first time he's seen a ghost. He didn't quite understand the nature of the apparitions he would see in the streets or at the bazaar While holding his mother's tail as she guided through the numerous stands of folk Advertising their 'fresh' produce. Ghostly figures seemed to just drift along, unnoticed by passers by. For the most part these spirits ignored the the town's people too.
Grimm wasn't exactly sure why he did it, a Foal's curiosity is the likely answer, But while tucked behind his mother's dress he saw a tall, pale, bearded stallion in tattered clothes standing just beside but slightly behind the crowded vender his mother was conversing with. His eyes were glossed over and were a eerie solid white and his body was only what could be described as having some sort of translucence to it. The ghoul had a thousand mile stare, looking right through Grimm and his mother.
Young Graves matched the gaze of the strange figure in an attempt to see what it was looking so intensely at, but noted nothing of interest. Just crowded busy streets. A myriad of equestrians rushed and trotted about, nothing that Grimm hadn't seen at least a few times. When he looked back however the buck's gaze seemed more centered on Petra himself, causing the him to have a visible shiver run along and down his spine. He felt uneasy as their eye's Crossed each others.
The colt pulled the cloth of his mother's dress to hide his face then slowly lowered it, expecting the scary pony to simply disappear. However, it became evident that this wasn't the case. Grimm was frozen with the fabric hovering over the bridge of his nose. The two locked eye for what seemed like hours and the child lifted a tentative hoof to wave. The ghostly stallion's expression seemed to change, his eyebrow twitched as if he was attempting to raise it in a questioning manner. This encounter was short lived though.
His mother, unaware of anything to have transpired in the last few minutes, pulled her son along began to walk up the mud composite streets. Grimm glanced over his shoulder to see if the spirit would follow. He did not. He simply leaned out past the venters shabby wooden stand, past the other patrons and watched the colt and his mother. Poor Grimm, being a quiet passive child neglected to tell or prod his mother to see if she had seen the strange pale stallion too. He may have been young, But he already knew the answer. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
At first the young boy was terrified of his.... 'powers', leaving him unable to sleep and often calling out for his mother. As he grew older some spirits had figured out that Grimm could see them or at least sense their presence. They would harass the young pony. Primarily while he was alone, but in time they would overstep those boundaries a no longer sit Idle in the background of public places or while he ate at the dinner table with his small family.
Things were tolerable then, When Grimm still had an intact family. Though, things would eventually fall apart without his father. Grimm's distraught mother became distant. Neglectful. Her son was, in her mind, Insane and the town's folk were beginning to take notice. They would be shunned she was afraid, But she didn't know how to help her poor, crazed boy. Not anymore. Through all this, Grimm still loved his mother. She was all he had.
Years would pass though, she would starve herself with grief. The stress had proven to be too much. Grimm wanted to hate his mother for leaving him, But couldn't. He wanted to scream, but the breath left him. He wanted to cry, But the tears refused to form. As with all things though, time heals. More years Waves away the past like words written in the sand before the ocean leaps forward to claim them for itself. Then one day, there will be no more fear, no more hatred, and the confusion will subside.
The soul crushing loneliness is usually the only thing to stay.
The now young stallion only was reclusive and considered by many in the nearby village to be a strange insane hermit that is deserving of pity. He knew this, and this largely the reason he rarely leaves the solitude of his childhood home among the evergreens left to him by his mother.
Grimm's Vision for the dead Couldn't help him see the very manifestation of his power, or what his real destiny truly was. Beyond that of his small village and his tragic yet humble beginnings. beyond that even of mountains that stretched endlessly along the horizon. The balance of power was beginning to twist and tear. Unstable peace would come to a close. Like many others, he would be involved in a conflict he wanted no part of...
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The axe made a ‘thud’ as it sunk itself into the stump of an oak that wears the scars of many swings. Grimm Gathers the Halves of firewood strewn about. One by one he grasp firewood between his teeth and place them neatly in a stack. Then, Grimm wipes the sweat from his brow as the sun was setting. The scene of a falling sun making way for the moon to take over against the backwall of snowy mountains and everwoods was one Grimm admired every chance he was given.
It wasn’t awe-inspiring today, or any day really. He'd been thinking about his parents again. The loss of a loved one can dampen the tenor of the strong and weak alike. Inwardly bringing life to a halt. But time passes by and waits for no man. Graves was never able to say goodbye. He hoped she needed no help finding the beyond. The cracking of a twig rang like a cannon fire throughout the forest, Breaking Grimm from his trance. The sun was dipping below the peaks in the distance now, casting darkness into and around the clearing he was standing in. How long was he just standing there staring blankly into his surroundings?
He pondered on this for a moment before searching for the source of the noise that had pulled his attention away from his innermost thoughts. Scanning the treeline he Distinguished the soft glow of eye staring at him from the inner reaches of the timber. This didn’t phase Grimm, this was something he has come to recognize. A specter. But he did observe something off, he was unable to say exactly what was off about it. The forest was dark. Darker that in should be. Especially that of the area surrounding the phantom itself.
The silhouette of antlers stood tall enough over it that he could make it out with the last of the dying light rays through the leaves Behind this creature of the dark. He had never Seen this anomaly before. It held a sinister presence. An authority, Demanding respect.
He would have called out, asking if it were lost too, But before he could gather his adrift mind it acted first. An arm, boney and gaunt, Stretched out for what seemed like seconds ending in slender fingers. It looked as if its skin was the essence of night, If it even had skin. The stallion squinted. The beast never broke it’s gaze but was pointing to something adjacent to Grimm in the distance, attempting to bring his attention elsewhere.
Following the apparition’s hand guiding him to a trail. One he traveled everyday. Through the trees, beyond where the trail cut and bends deep into the hardwoods, he could faintly see the approaching light of a lantern. Then two. Then three. Grimm’s face contorted into that of confusion. He swiveled his head to meet the eyes of the specter once more, But it was gone. The only evidence left of it’s apparent existence was the gentle swaying of brush. Or perhaps the wind.
The lanterns' hue Grew brighter and now the ‘thud’ of horseshoes softened by the clay trail. Grimm could tell who these visitors were long before they got close enough to call out to him. The light of the lantern’s flames glistened off the dark lustrous armor.
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“By Order Of~” Grimm’s eyes glazed over those words over and over. The document held the crest of the Republic and the words Written in fine print. The image of the dark phantom all but gone from his mind. He wasn’t worried about that now, However strange the encounter was. He ran his hoof over the small galvanized copper emblem stained with black dye. It was depicting a monstrous hawk, A Moon grasped in one of it’s talons, and a shield splattered in stars, much like that of the night sky. It was fancy, at least to his liking.
Grimm looked up to catch the last of the soldiers lantern light fade back into the forest. They had come with a notice, traveling house to homestead, village to village. They were calling to arms of any young Able body Stallions. Apparently the majesty Herself signed each and every letter of recruitment. It was mandatory.
They would be back in about eight days time with a convoy of wagons. If you were given one of the letters, you were ordered to have your essential pleasantries and enough food for the trip to the capital. A pension was promised. But, if you were to run from this duty, you and your family would be deemed traitors, those would be punished accordingly. War was on the horizon now. Peacetime gives way to it much like the sun does to the moon.
Grimm Didn’t sleep well for the next few days. But it wasn’t the inevitable change coming that had his mind uneasy. Now the air always seems stale and heavy like it does when a storm is in the distance. In all honesty he wanted to welcome the chance to leave this place. It wasn’t like Grimm was particularly liked by his neighbors. Nor did he have family to take care of. Perhaps one day, he thought, he could return and marry having Earned the respect of his fellow peers through service to his homeland.
Grimm watches as his home shrinks and fades behind the trees. The squeak and creaking of the wagon’s axle overpowers the gentle sound of leaves blowing in the wind. Once they drew far enough away he could no longer recognize the area, Grimm’s curiosity got the better of him. He scanned the wagon and its inhabitants. There were at least a dozen of them. Around the same age too. He looked to see what they had chosen to bring for this journey. Some held various Religious artifacts, some wine, others books with yellowing pages, as well as one who seemed to have an engraved dagger seamed with gold leaf.
These items may have held some value to them, say for the wine. Grimm clasped in his hooves the single article he brought other than bread to stave off famish. A gold band. His mother’s. Grimm's father had gotten it for her before he was born. A piece of his life he left behind. To remind him of why he should go back, or why he should sell the land and move on…
Author's Note
~~First time story~~, critique if you so wish.
