lost Tether

by Rain_Flick3r

Rating: mature
Tags: Violence, Princess Celestia, Dark, Death, Alternate Universe, Drama, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2334

What becomes of a soul who loses their tether to another?

A soul has been through so much. It has gone to different worlds and different timelines, yet, it manages to make friends here and there, but it does take a toll on a soul when they continually connect and disconnect from other souls.

Soul tethering is quite a draining action one could do, but losing the same tether also takes its toll on that soul. What happens to a soul when it continually connects and disconnects from the tethers that have been made throughout its journey in life?

No living soul could tell you.

(This will take some time to finish because of the scope of the connected stories.)
Starting Point: Faded Lavender Fur
Second point: Tether Of The Soul
Third Point: A Change Of Heart: Luna’s Gaze
Fourth Point: Twilight's Soul Floats Ever Deeper Into Space

Published 2023-12-20 13:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-02-20 19:55:00 UTC

Chapter 1: The Toll Taken On A Soul.

Blinding balls of gas light up the night sky, as a pair of glacial blue eyes gazed upon their phosphorescence. ‘Oh, time. How did you have the ability to make a fool out of me.’ The pony softly exhaled as he lay on the cold mud. Fire engulfed the Forrest behind his limp body. Everything this pony had done in his life felt fleeting as if his soul was flying away from its nest, which was nestled in the middle of his body. A hoof was slowly feeling its way around the body it was attached to. ‘Oh, time. Why must you tear my heart from my body? You know I have no end, yet, I have no beginning. Why must you play with mine body? Ye be the beginning and the end of existence, yet, you have met a stubborn decaying tree stump. Oh, time. Oh, Time indeed. What games have you planned for my end?’

The year was 203. It was the year of the golden queen of Equeen. Her rule made sure that her land was fertile, and that it was able to produce for the countless tribes of horses that will ever live. ‘My queen of gold, must the radiance of thee’s embrace be so bright?’ Asked the pony. ‘I lay here in this grey mud for what seems to be eons, yet, It feels so short a time. I remember when I fell from the sky where your father caught me mid-flight.’ The pony closed his eyes as he felt the soft pitter-patter of rainfall. The water was cold to his snot, it made him sneeze.
‘I was out cold but I do faintly remember being taken to your castle, in his arms. It was queer to me, to be held by your father’s warm body. That warmth thawed my body out from the icy shell that took my form from me… My queen of golden sun, your father made me feel, like me again.’

Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and melded with the rain dripping down his snout. ‘I miss him. I miss him so much. I would give up my life for you my queen, for the countless friends, family, and for the populace of your kingdom. This land did indeed give me back what had been taken from me. The very thing I tried to take back with my blood-soaked hooves. I just wanted to feel like I was home again.’ The pony sobbed quietly to himself as he heard the crackle of fire slowly die down, from the damperning rain. He tried to get up from the encompassing mud. ‘I must not allow disparity to win. I must resist the temptation.’
The pony tried to sit up but he felt something pinch at his stomach. He looked over to the location where the painful feeling was and saw his own sword pinning him down to the ground. He let his body fall back to the indent made in the mud. ‘What has happened to me this day? Why can I not remember such an injury befalling me? I remember seeing her highness, as I asked for her guidance on a matter. The next, I am taking up arms against one of her guards. Why would I do that? Why would she do that?’

He asked no one in particular but those questions weighed heavy on his mind. The pony looked around his surroundings, trying to find if there was another living soul to plead for help from. There was no one around him but bodies that looked like they were strewn across the mud, trees, and bushes. It was a terrible sight to behold with one's eyes. It looked like a macabre oil painting, a painting depicting what Death's paintbrush could create. The pony closed his eyes, trying not to remember the faces of the withered and decaying ponies. Those faces reminded him of ponies from his past. These ponies were quite close to him, too close for his liking. They grew seeds in his heart. He let those seeds spring and sprout into very close friendships. He hated it, hated them for planting those seeds. He hated himself for allowing those seeds to sprout. ‘Curse you, Curse you all! You… I… We… Why must I relive the pain of loss once again? I have lived for and loved so many souls throughout my time, and yet, I still long for those souls to be with me, even now. Does this make me selfish? Does this make me moronic? Does this need to fester in my heart? Can I not be absolved of sins long forgotten? Sins that I am not allowed to shake free from my body? If that is the case, then WHY AM EVER CHARGED WITH GREIF? I also ask you, be it a god, a demon, a king, or even a queen. What am I to you? Am I a sword, a vessel, a plaything? I have tried time and time again to right the wrongs of my life’s course, and yet I am denied every, single, TIME!

I exert my body to its last fume, bend and break every last brittle bone for a stroke of redemption, and Lo, I am yet to find any gold here… Fine, FINE~ Then I hereby declare this Panthiazma. You no longer hold power over my soul nor my physical body. I reject your rule, your crown, and your soul. I will take your throne, I promise this, oh I promise this Panthiazma.’
The pony gipped the blade pinning him down with his free forelegs, and began to push with the remaining strength he had left. Removing the sword from his stomach. Slowly but surely, the blade moved inch by inch away from his body.
Once the blade was fully removed, the pony let it fall next to him, the weight of the sword shook the ground around him as he lay in the mud with a wet sucking sound.

‘Your bind no longer holds me, my queen, nor does your will Panthiazma! I am free to do as I please and I will make the very most of this.’ The pony said as he struggled to lift his body upright from the slick grey mud. He made his way to the colossal sword, it was covered in the surrounding mud from its fall. Yet, there was a spot that was clear from the grey muck. The Light from the sun was starting to shine down from the sky as the clouds slowly dissipated to nothing. A beam of sunshine shone down onto the clear part of the blade, it glinted and sparkled from the warm beam. Glacial blue magic encompassed the hilt of the blade and lifted it free. The pony found a well of water next to him as he surveyed the landscape with a better vantage point.
He dipped the blade into the cool water's surface and forced the mud to clear from the coated crystal.

‘Ahh, the mighty crystal blade of legend. You now gleam your rainbows from being clear of the gunking mud. Tis, a shame such a magnificent sword was wilded by a false King. Haha, a pretender to the throne claimed you and the crown as his. The same pretender that claimed the title of the Crystal King.’ The pony chuckled as he dug the sword into the ground ‘The Crystal King is dead, he has been slain by the blooded hooves of a false prophet. Oh, what a tale I have weaved. A tale of hope through defiance, a tale of the underdog besting a god, a tale of a false narrative… My tale has always been a lie. I have lived that same lie, made from my own creativity.’
The pony moved his head closer to the stuck blade ‘Fester!’

The earth began to shake and tremble from the violent pulsations of the blade, as the crystal clear blade slowly turned a dark purple colour. Veins appeared in the middle of the blade’s shaft, they slowly elongated towards the point of the sword.
The veins managed to meet the soil from the sword, once they touched the organic life-supporting material. They sprouted from the sword and dug deep into the soil, spreading ever so slowly the miasmatic plague. ‘I killed in the name of goodness, in the name of justice. Yet, I find that my actions did not bring justice nor goodness. It only brought death, and death shall be done from henceforth… Oh, my sweet, sweet little ponies. My little ponies that are sweet, innocent, and uncorrupted by evil, shall slowly die from my true nature. For I am, The Virulent King! The tool of remaking worlds. Gilldahara was right all of this time. I could never stop what I was born to be.’ The pony trotted away from ground zero, laughing to himself all the while. Eagerly anticipating what time had in store for him.

Memory: Past events transpire to future actions I.

Two ponies lay on their backs as they gazed upon the blue sky, through a nearby trees canopy. The levees and branches swayed ever so gently from the light breeze, as it blew across the lazy grass around the two. It felt nice to feel the warmth of the sun through the shade of the tree, and to feel the breeze make its way through their coats. It helped them to feel normal once again… Normal, what was that feeling again? The two had their version of that feeling (as do many of us) but for them. Normal was a never-ending stream of what felt like, cosmic decisions that needed to be made.

But for now, normal was a light breeze that blew over their snouts. Tickling them ever so gently to not make them sneeze. Or the feeling of warmth that the sun bestowed upon their tummies as they lay down and had them bare upward to greet the sun’s rays. Normal was peace, and quiet. It was the soothing sounds of the rustling leaves on the branches above them or the tickling scritch of the bladed grass underneath them.
It was their nirvana, their paradise. A paradise that was overdue. They were owed this by the powers that ruled, for they were the only two to shred their souls away. Grated their very beings to save the vestiges of what was left of their bodies, for parts were ripped from their flesh. They were eaten or flayed, pulled, or exsanguinated, yet they lay here. In this place, alive and well, and happy. But I must ask, how long will that last?

‘May, I ask a personal question?’ The umber pony looked toward the periwinkle one. ‘Please, by all means. Ask away!’ Smiled the periwinkle one. Silence managed to make its way between them for a time but before long the umber coat spoke up. ‘I know this must be a silly question for me to ask, but… Um, do you think we. are able to claim this peace?’ But before the periwinkle pony could answer they were cut off. ‘I-I mean, we have committed some of the most infernal actions against a most powerful, and a most “Holy” being. C-can you live with that? Because I can’t, I don’t feel worthy to be here, to be with you. To be alive. I-i…’ Umber asked as he sat up to his bottom and stared longingly out passed the tree and into the emerald-green sea of grass.
Periwinkle rolled over to its side pondering the question. ‘I must say my dear friend. Your question has given me quite the sound wall in which I am unable to break through. May I ask, you a personal question?’

Periwinkle rolled back over to garner umber’s reaction when he asked the question, but he was met with soft sobs. Umber was frantically trying to wipe its hooves over its chest fur. Trying to scrub away something. ‘My friend, is something ailing you?’ Periwinkle placed a hoof on umber’s shoulder. Umber instantly pulled away from Periwinkle from shock and revulsion. ‘It’s not coming off. It’s on my hooves. No matter how hard I try, they are not getting clean. I wipe them on my chest and my chest does not smear with it. I wipe them in the dirt and dirt does not stick to it…’ Umber began to cry ‘Why can’t I clean them Berath? Why?’ Berath, the periwinkle unicorn could only look toward Amber in shock. Amber's right eye began to secrete a black liquid from its socket. The eye looked to be filled with the stuff but after a bit of time, it slowly drained itself out dry. ‘No, please not again.’ Berath quickly rushed over to Amber and wrapped him tightly in a hug. ‘Hush, it is going to be ok. We are going to be ok, Amber.’ He softly brushed Amber's mane backward. ‘Amber, do you remember the time we went to that place? Ah, what was it called? Um, hmm. There were fields aplenty with them, there were legions of them. What was its name?’ Berath kissed Ambers's crown softly. ‘It was the royal gardens. They had all of my favorite flowers there. Hydrangeas, the purple ones. They smell the best.’ Amber's crying died down to a whimper, and then eventually, Amber went quiet again but he was snuggling up to Berath’s chest. Placing his ear to hear his friend's heartbeat. ‘There you are, Amber. Relaxed and safe… I wish those nightmarish sights were not seen by your eyes. Your eyes should only see the wonders of the universe and thereafter. Not plagued by visions set forth by those who can not claim you no longer. Sleep tight my dear, dear friend. You deserve a peaceful sleep, at the very least.’

And with that, ends one of many memories, that The Virulent King would remember.