A redwood grave on a hill of stone will be our long eternal home.
We dream the dreams of the deep sleep. The hunger rest. Empty, small, quiet.
Alone.
It itches though. Scratch, scratch, scratch. With root and thorn. With blood and bone. With empty shadow, and fervent stone. It never stops, never, never, never. Old Greybeard put it there, we know him and his tricksy ways; a disgusting little beastie was he. Greybeard hurt us, trapped us, bound us!
We laughed last though, the Silver Witch cast him out even as the sleep drew close. Hers was a power we could respect, like Old Greybeard’s but different, better, ours. Still... we can feel his presence. His seed didn't take, but it poisoned the land all the same. Such a pretty venom, full of colour and whimsicality. They never felt it running through their veins, changing their mind-voice, twisting, twisting until they weren't man-words but horse-words.
We mourn for what was lost, for what could have been.
Tears surround our tomb, the gentle lullaby of running water soothing the rage bleeding out. It never stops, never, never, never. The horse things left, but man soon grew too clever. Too quick for wisdom, yet too slow for worship. He bites us with axe and fire, douses us with new agonies every day, pain that draws us from the deepest of sleeps. From her.
She is our oasis. Our rock. Our everything.
It could be years, or it could be days. All is shrouded to our eyes now. Time once bent to our whims, but no more. One more thing to curse. No, it never matters when we met, only that we met at all.
She crawled forth from the horse-world, its stink clinging like swamp ooze. We felt the Silver Witch, saw through her eyes, she trusted no one then, save us. Yet the girl was so full of rage and hate that we couldn't help but be impressed. She was more man than horse even from the start, for good and ill. The Silver Witch wanted her dead. “No more of their ilk”, she spoke, yet we could see inside her. Feel her fury, her bitterness, her...jealousy. Like us, she is the last of her kind, but we do not kill lightly, let alone for such petty reasons. The ocean doesn't grasp its legions because of parentage, but foolishness. Soft words spoke, flowers became fruit and the Witch in all her finery slunk away.
We miss her.
The man-horse had been an enigma though, tangling in our mind like swirls of roots. Anchoring her, grounding her, holding her. We didn't want her there, yet there she remained, curiosity becoming crippling. At the dawn of the sunflowers we decided, just a glance, a look. No more. We may have been weak in the mortal realm but power resides even in the driest earth.
Subsuming in the self-shadow we fell from sleep to slumber, deep, deeper, deepest into the Lethe, its waters scalding to all but us. Dreams die here. We… we do not. The final dream cannot end.
The fantasies of man sicken us. Locust brethren are they, ever consuming. The man-horse was different though. She stood atop a burning throne, her mentor-mother's corpse a slick cloth she wore as the girl's form blended each part hoof, hand, and mane. The hollow scream was never-ending, her eyes pits of blackness no light could escape from.
Our heartwood was hers at first sight.
Such beautiful rage, such exquisite hate. We recognised something of ourselves in her, worshipped for our beauty, but respected for our power. Something she clawed for, even in the never-will-never-was of dream.
In this twilight place, we danced and sang, form and function water to be sculpted. There was bravado at first, fire rising in reaction, yet cool to the touch so unsure was she. So unused to one so wondrous as ourselves. All too soon though she called back. The blazing world twisting to fields of wheat and acres of forest, her world not ours. Tender as a snow drop and soft as a rose petal we were, the man-horse deserved that much. She was a sapling, unshorn, afraid of the soul song. Gentles as the waves we took her hand.
“Let me show you, my love.”
One night was all we had.
Greybeard, Greybeard, GREYBEARD! A thousand curses on him! A boiling, bubbling, agonising death on his house and all that spawned from it! Would we have the power we'd reach forth to the horse-world and tear it apart root and branch. Their oceans would be blood, their rainbow goddess a feast for our vines! It ended all the same. She was gone. Our man-horse. Our Sun-down. We cried into the void when the trick was revealed, a simpering fool stood in her place drenched in the magic from that accursed realm. Their new goddess was so proud of herself, so assured of what she’d done. The in-between spark would suffer the longest when our time comes. She embodies the poison. The 'magic’. It killed our world, it held us in bondage and now it took her.
We'll never forgive them.
Never. Never. Never.
***
It was strange, this...compulsion she had. Gloriosa had always had a connection with nature, yet walking barefoot among the forest's lush grass was new to her. A healthy respect for the natural world's dangers and unsuspecting animals had been drilled into her, yet here she was. All alone in a beautiful little nook deep within the forest, no food, no water, and certainly no map. Perhaps it was an after-effect of her interactions with the otherworldly magic in those crystals?
She'd halfway reached for her neck before conscious thought raced to the surface. "They're gone. They're gone and they'll never be back."
It should have been reassuring. Freedom from an all-consuming, all corrupting, force. What was wrong with that? Much like the urge that brought Gloriosa to this spot though, she couldn't explain the sharp pang of nostalgia that bit deep.
Using the geode's power had been dangerous, reckless, and downright stupid of her. Timber may have been an idiot, but he’d gotten that right at least. Yet it was maddeningly intoxicating. Especially with all the crystals. Every blade of grass, gust of wind and drop of water had been an extension of her will.
That… that had been a rush. For the briefest of moments, she had become nature, in all its wild, primal glory. Capricious, aloof, with an assurance that was unbreakable. It certainly beat out “weird flower girl raised by hippie grandparents” as her ‘friends’ at school had said once upon a time. All the stress of keeping her facade going and the camp ticking over until the inevitable Rich acquisition had simply floated away. As had she if her memories were correct. Barely a day later and they were already fuzzy. Tinged. Like trying to remember a dream almost.
One thing had stuck out to Gloriosa though, even in the whirlwind of events the last week had brought her. It had been for the briefest of moments, barely a split second in fact. She was sure though when she’d removed the last crystals, when she’d become that thing, there had been someone else in the cave. Something else.
Her ponderings were broken by the all too familiar sound of foliage rustling, a frequent alarm of her newer campers, their stumbling alerting them to anything (or one) in the vicinity. Emerging forth from the brush with little aplomb, sweat-stained and breathing raggedly, however, was Sunset Shimmer. It was odd, but something about the girl caused Gloriosa's heart to leap even at this brief glance, the alien nature of it startling her. She'd never felt this way before, even at the start of the camp when she'd introduced herself to the Canterlot High School campers the girl had been just another face. Someone who'd flit in and out of her life like the petals of her namesake. It made no sense! She was straight for goodness sake! She was... she was…
If Sunset Shimmer was asked to name one thing she’d change on the curriculum for Celestias School For Gifted Unicorns, then Sunset would most assuredly pick a robust, frequent, cardio regime.
It wasn’t so much that Unicorns were out of shape, the school had actually offered top-of-the-line gym faculties, but more that her life seemed to include an almost ludicrous amount of running. Running after Celestia, running *from* Celestia, running from Twilight, running from her feelings….
It was a lot of running basically.
The latest example included going full pelt through a forest, cursing her human forms height, and the recurring joy the trees seemed to take in obstructing her way with itchy, painful, branches.
“I left as soon as I got your message.” Sunset wheezed, bent in double as she tried to gather her breath. “Timber said he could hold the buses for an hour, but we've got to hurry. Where's the extra crystal you found?”
A warped, scratchy, laugh was her answer.
Before she could even look up, Gloriosa was on her, the taller woman ramming Sunset into a tree with enough force to knock all the wind out of her. Rough bark scratched at her back through her thin cotton tee, her unexpected opponent now pressing down tightly, trapping the girl beneath her larger frame.
“Hello Sun-down,” She chirped, an unnatural timbre echoing beneath her lighter tones. “We missed you oh so very much.”
Readying for the teeth-rattling impact of a vicious headbutt, Sunset screwed her eyes shut as her body flinched on auto-pilot, the girl's last sight that of her opponent's head lurching forward. She was sorely disappointed though, instead of pain she felt... lips pressed against her own?
Buffeted by a storm of confusion and adrenaline, the former equine reacted in a way that would have made her erstwhile magic tutor and self-defence master proud: she thrust a knee as hard as possible into her attacker's groin.
It wasn't quite a buck, but it'd do.
Screeching in agony Gloriosa recoiled, desperately pawing at her crotch in a useless endeavour to make the noxious fusion of nausea and pain disappear. Something about her movements though stood out to the shaken Sunset, they were odd, forced even. Each step just a few inches too far to indicate someone seasoned in the simple art of walking, almost like a newborn deer. Something she was all too familiar with. Add the ominous yellow glow slowly increasing in intensity from the woman's eyes and it was rather obvious this wasn't just a person with a grudge.
“Darn it, I thought we'd dealt with all the magic here!”
She was really starting to consider herself more of a city girl.
“You hurt us Sun-down! We gave you a chance and you hurt us!” The recovering 'Gloriosa' shrieked as ugly, pulsing white veins crawled across her face. “We found a vessel just for you! We tainted ourselves for you! We want the man-horse that burned her world, bring her back!”
“Look...whoever you are,” Sunset began lamely, her heroic vigour drained by the dawning realisation she was alone in the woods with a magically corrupted lunatic. “I've no idea what you're talking about, but if we're going to do this can you just focus on the punches?” She jabbed the air a few times, steeling herself. “The kissing? Yeah, that's a step too far.”
Whether her words broke through or not, she didn't know. Yet being audience to Rarity had given the teen an appreciation for the innumerable ways a human face could indicate frustration. Right now 'Gloriosa' was doing number #41, which in her friend usually indicated a ten-minute screaming match with a wall, followed by a pint of ice cream or two. Yet this wasn't Rarity, and if the bruise slowly forming on her back said anything than these 'walls' were a lot more violent.
Despite her frustration, the Gloriosa-thing managed to find enough composure to pause in her crooked, irate, movements. What looked to be a calming deep breath was suddenly transformed, a sound no human voice could make emerging from her twisted frame. It was a haunting echo that had dogged Sunset's memory for ages and reverberated within her dreams like gossamer silk on the wind.
Realisation dawned.
“No...”
“Yes.”
Two pairs of feet languidly paddled in crystal clear waters, their owners in a state of calm zen on the rivers shore despite their earlier frantic combat.
“I thought you were some kind of subconscious thing,” Sunset muttered, staring at the older woman's changing reflection. “A narcissistic pat on the back, you know? I'd get the crown, I'd get the wings, and I'd get a beautiful queen to boot.”
It was unsettling watching Gloriosa's chromelanin fade and shift in texture. Her skin no longer rosy pink, she now resembled the trunks surrounding them, save for her face. The soft features and youthful freckles of the twenty-something had been replaced, a stiff regal mask of silver birch obscuring the woman she was.
“We would have joined you Sun-down,” wooden fingers stirred at the water beneath the two of them, “we would have bathed in the rainbow goddess's fires for you. For the old you,” she corrected, a wistful tone in her voice.
“I was a monster though.”
“Are we not?” She let out a short, bitter, laugh. “We have killed many in our time in this realm, such is the way of nature and its spirits.”
“That's different though!”
It was. Sure, her friends had ribbed her for Equestrias micro-managed weather, but it never took away from her peoples' fundamental adherence to the natural order. Earth ponies especially. You loved the soil, for some day you too would become one with it.
“Is it? We suspect your mother-mentor would disagree.”
Grasping for a retort, she felt herself slump. Celestia had been the one to promote weather factories if the history books were correct, and hadn't she been pushing them further towards the edges of pony civilization before their final argument? She also had strong opinions on killing, something which Sunset's time amongst humanity had eroded somewhat. It was never right, but now if the situation justified it and there was no other way...
The silence was tense, both women coiled like snakes ready to strike. It shocked Sunset that she was the first to break it.
“You can't stay in that body.”
It was said with a gentle force, silken words covering the steel of her conviction. Phantasmal dream lover or not, she (it?) had no right to Gloriosa Daisy's life. The woman had suffered enough as of late, she didn't need to be trapped in her own form, used as a glorified suit by some spirit.
“Who are you to tell us this?” ‘Gloriosa’ replied haughtily, nose held high. “We are the land, the skies, and the seas. If we wish for a shell, one we cultivated, then we shall take it!”
Sunset felt a familiar rage build within her, a fire that had served the teen well in the darker moments of her past. Fists balled and teeth gritted, she restrained herself as best as possible, each new word now uttered with rock-solid force.
“Let. Her. Go.”
The otherworldly poise held… for a moment. Watching the possessed woman deflate sent a discomforting thrill through Sunset though. If she was still the girl ‘Gloriosa’ had encountered all those months ago than she’d relish at how pathetic this scene was. An ancient spirit, so proud and powerful, bending at the merest suggestion of her ire. The old Sunset would have loved this.
That wasn’t her though. Not now, and not ever again.
“Look, maybe there’s a way you can stay. We can get you a new body, with Equestrian magic-”
“We couldn't even if we wished to, Sun-down,” ‘Gloriosa’ interrupted, running her fingers gently across a stolen face. “Your magic... it fights us. We tried to bend it, subsume it, but it burns. This one-” she gestured to her body, “-she freed us from Greybeard's spell. A connection was made, weak and fading, but there for now. We took a chance. One last chance to see you. To see our Sun-down.”
“What will happen when it breaks?” she asked, confused by what she heard, but desperately trying to grasp onto what few facts she could.
“We return to the sleep unending, neither dead nor alive.”
Only the rush of water and gentle chirp of birds could be heard, the thing’s words weighing heavily on Sunset’s conscience. It was enduring a painful semi-existence and desperately clinging to an alien body, all just to see her. Based entirely on a dream she had, that they both had. A dream where hands entwined and lips met, where a shimmering paradise had existed for an eternal mayfly moment. How could she even begin to comprehend that? Would she have gone through that for Flash? For anyone?
Slowly, hesitantly, her hand grasped the spirits.
“I may not be the person who you fell for, but I can be with you until the end... if you want, that is.”
The gentle squeeze was all the answer Sunset needed.
Gaea Everfree held much within her heart. Rage, pain, and hate festered like a cocktail of despair. Overwhelming her, drowning her, and eventually, all became like it. Nothing more but a murky existence of madness and torment. Within this gloom though she would cradle a memory close to her breast.
She would never forget this moment.
Never. Never. Never.
Author's Note
Notes are here
