Author's Note
This story was terrible the first time I made it, and I hope I fixed it as best I can.
1 embers of despair.
Aching bones and searing pain clawed at Alfar as he rose from the dying embers of the bonfire. The toll of countless battles etched a map of agony across his body, blurring his vision at the edges. Yet, the embers of his quest flickered within him, a promise to a lost loved one clutched like a lifeline in the storm of his despair. He couldn't rest, not until the embers of vengeance were fanned into a roaring inferno.
He forced his trembling legs to move, pulling him away from the dwindling warmth and towards the encroaching darkness. But a flicker in the distance caught his eye, a chilling silhouette against the fading light. Hollow. His heart stuttered. Not just any hollow, but Elara, his once vibrant apprentice, her fiery spirit dimmed to ash.
"Elara!" he rasped, the name cracking like ash in his dry throat. It echoed through the ruins, unanswered. Her head tilted, a marionette's movement devoid of the grace he once nurtured. Where shimmering pyromancy once danced in her eyes, now dwelled empty pits, reflecting only the dying embers of the bonfire.
She advanced, the chime she once used to summon cleansing flames now singing a death knell, each chime a shard of ice against his soul. Her movements, devoid of the fire he ignited, were eerily efficient, a predator stalking wounded prey. He danced back, dodging and parrying, his aged scythe a desperate shield against her chilling blade. He sought an opening, a spark of the Elara he knew, a flicker of humanity to rekindle.
"Elara," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with age and despair. "There's still light within you. Remember… remember the fire I taught you, the warmth—"
His words were cut short by a vicious sweep of her sword. Pain flared in his side, an old wound reopened by the cold steel. He tasted blood, metallic and acrid, on his tongue. His vision swam, the edges blurring into darkness. He stumbled back, the scythe clattering to the ground with a mournful clang.
He fell to his knees, staring at Elara with a silent plea in his eyes. But the hollow shell before him only tilted its head, devoid of recognition. With a chilling swiftness, Elara raised her hand, a crackling ball of electricity forming in her palm, morphing into a spear of pure lightning.
Alfar flinched, but it was too late. The spear shot forward, a searing javelin of raw power. It slammed into his chest, the electricity coursing through him like molten metal. He screamed, a tortured cry that echoed through the ruins. His vision went white, his body wracked with spasms. Then… nothing.
Elara watched him fall, a flicker of satisfaction in her empty eyes. The lightning spear had done its job. No spark remained, no ember of resistance. The pyromancer was finally extinguished.
With a sigh, she turned and began to walk away, leaving the ruins and the echoes of her teacher's dying scream behind. She would continue her hollow journey, driven by the darkness that consumed her, oblivious to the faintest wisp of a dying ember, clinging to a promise in the abyss of Alfar's shattered soul.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans. From a shadowy perch atop a crumbling arch, Discord, the draconequus embodiment of chaos, had watched the entire fight with a sardonic grin. The despair, the struggle, the flicker of defiance – it was all a delicious cocktail of emotions, far more potent than any mere fire.
Alfar lay unconscious, his body ravaged by the lightning spear and his spirit teetering on the edge of oblivion. But Discord, ever the fickle puppet master, saw a different potential in the pyromancer's ashes. A chance to stir Equestria's placidity into a simmering cauldron of chaos, a chance to witness the clash of light and darkness in this grizzled warrior.
With a snap of his fingers, a wave of emerald energy washed over Alfar. His wounds knitted shut, his ragged breaths evening out. Then, with another snap, the air shimmered and Alfar's unconscious form vanished from the ruins, transported across the vast distance to the heart of Equestria.
But Discord, in his mischievous glee, took a mischievous detour. Instead of the vibrant fields, he deposited Alfar in the heart of the Everfree Forest, a place where shadows danced with secrets and ancient magic hummed beneath the twisted branches.
The draconequus chuckled, a discordant melody that echoed through the ruins. "Oh, Alfar," he crooned, his voice like honey laced with thorns. "You may have lost this battle, but the game has just begun. And what better stage for chaos than the Everfree Forest?"
