With The Highest of Stakes
Anon savored the sweet taste, a little buzz getting to his head as the alcohol was absorbed into his bloodstream. His bro/drinking buddy, Rainbow Dash swore it wasn't as good as the local Apple cider, but Anon didn't care. He wouldn't get to try it until the autumn, anyways.
"So, when are you gonna ask her out?" Rainbow's question cut through the ambient noise of the bar, Anon's cider going down the wrong pipe, sending the man into a coughing fit.
"Jesus Christ, Rainbow! Give a little warning next time, will you?" Anon was thankful for the cubicle they were in, taking a few deep breaths. "What kind of question is that, anyways?"
"A normal one?" She raised her eyebrow, setting her half-full mug onto the table. "Dude, she nuzzled you! That's like-"
"The next best thing?" The man finished his drink, waiting for a lull in conversation to go for a refill. "Twiggles said as much."
"I was about to say 'really hot', but that's my opinion." Anon hid his flushed face behind a palm.
"Dash, you find a barrel of apples attractive, so pardon me if I don't wholly trust your judgement."
The mare waived her hoof dismissively. "Whatever. Remember to thank me after you hit third base."
"Wanna be a fly on the wall that badly, huh?" The man blinked, stopping that train of thought. "Why the hell am I even humoring you? There's no point in asking Tia out, she's probably too busy anyway. Royal duties and all."
"Anon." Rainbow mashed his cheeks with her hooves, focusing his attention. "She's been visiting you every Saturday for what, a few months now? She nuzzled you just a few days ago, a mare cannot be more obvious."
"You know a lot about mares." Anon answered with a shit-eating grin, earning a slap on the shoulder. "Ow! Jesus, fine, I'll ask her out tomorrow."
"Attaboy, Anon!" Rainbow beamed, finishing her mug. "I told you bar hopping was better than therapy!"
"True. But is it really bar hopping if there's only one bar?" Rainbow rubbed her chin, deep in thought over Anon's question.
"It counts if you're hopping from the bartender to the table." She stood up, ready to undertake the perilous journey. "Speaking of, you need anything?"
"Same as last round." With a nod of her head, Rainbow disappeared into the murmur of the crowd, leaving Anon alone with his thoughts.
I am not ready for tomorrow.
His gait unsteady, Anon barged into his own private domicile, head spinning as he slammed the door close behind him. He didn't bother turning the lights on, choosing instead to stumble through his house, cursing every object that inadvertently met him on his way to the bed. By the time his clothing was in a crumpled pile near a bedside table, his pinky finger was buzzing with pain, prompting Anon to check whether or not he had drawn blood.
A nearby lamp turned on with a satisfying click, the light chasing away shadows, leaving no questions unanswered. His finger was bruised, but otherwise fine. WIth a breath of relief, Anon's eyes drifted to the leather-bound book on his table, temptation hooking its claws into his heart. There had to be something in that book to soothe his worries, right? It wouldn't hurt to look...
The leather was cold to the touch, a pleasant surprise in the summer heat. Rites and Rituals the title read, golden letters engraved into the surface. Anon couldn't surmise whether Onyx Waters was a mare or a stallion, horse naming conventions be damned. At least it's a cool name.
A distinct smell of old paper reached Anon's senses, his fingers gliding over the smooth cream-colored pages. He skipped the first few pages, only to stop dead in his tracks as the words danced feverishly before his very eyes. He returned to the beginning, opening the first page, appropriately titled...
Prologue
Our world, as it is known to us, is governed by countless forces, most of them acting out their will by means of a proxy. Many blame the harrowing Windigoes for the increasingly harsh winters, deadly blizzards and other weather phenomena. Others say manticores and leshies keep forests from being picked clean by gatherers, tricking unlucky travelers into wandering in circles for hours or days. A growing contingent claims seaponies are solely responsible for the decline in fishing trade in the past decades.
All of the aforementioned creatures, however, are not the rulers of their habitats, but merely vessels to higher powers, bestowed with extraordinary abilities in exchange for their loyalty and service. A dominant theory among those few brave enough to delve into uncharted territory of ritualistic magics postulates that these creatures obtained their abilities during, or soon after their creation and/or birth. This, however, does not mean these effects cannot be replicated.
Through trial and error, sweat and blood, we, the bravest of ponykind have devised many a ritual meant to bolster our chances in the unforgiving world that surrounds us. In this book you will find everything, ranging from blessings for a bountiful harvest, to taking a peek into the future.
Be warned, however, that the greater the ritual's effects on the waking world, the harsher the cost. Not all forces are equal, and while some may be strictly beneficial, others may require grave dues in exchange for their blessings. Keep in mind that you are not commanding, but merely coercing the powers that be. It is not impossible to sway control onto one's side, but such a feat requires the right individual, in the right place. Even so, the chances of such an event occurring are slim to none, and thus the topic will only be mentioned briefly.
To whoever reads this manuscript, I implore you to exercise extreme caution. Avoid decisions made in haste, for they carry the gravest of consequences. To access knowledge contained in this tome, memorize the following words, close your eyes, then repeat them aloud. Only those with unwavering conviction will pass this first safeguard.
In the writings of the many
The one is lost
To find one’s true self
Will incur a cost
This is the ritual
To lead you on
Your friends will meet him
When you are gone
Anon’s hands trembled with trepidation as he closed his eyes, and spoke the words, his gut screaming at him to stop. Time froze as his mind’s eye painted a picture of sights and sensations. Pressure all around him, inside of him, splitting his skull apart, rending his mind into a crater filled with nothing but darkness. He screamed, cold water rushing into his lungs, burning as it forced the air out. Wherever Anon was, he was trapped there forever.
The vision went as abruptly as it came, leaving the man shocked, but sober. His breath was quick and shallow, Anon’s eyes were drawn to the writing on the page, the scrambled words taking form before his very eyes.
Whatever vision you experienced, was your future should you let haste and carelessness overtake you. You have been warned.
Sleep escaped Anon until the first rays of the sun caressed his face.
Anon’s eyes shot open at the scalding hot sensation all across his back, thermoreceptors sending warning signals to his brain. Anon cursed, jumping away from the shower head, nearly falling out of the shower booth, his heart racing. “Jesus Christ...” He adjusted the temperature, awake but disoriented. It took him a moment to remember his trip to the shower, images of the harrowing vision followed by a sleepless night flooding his mind’s eye.
The man shivered, finished cleaning up and headed towards the kitchen, donning his usual attire. He set the kettle to boil, powered by something he didn’t care for at the moment. He fixed himself a cup of some cheap instant coffee, reaching into his pocket for the all too familiar addiction. Opening the pack, he paused, a single stick staring back at him. The man bit his lip, pondering the pros and cons, before ultimately stuffing the pack in his pocket.
As his eyes drifted to the wall-mounted clock, he cursed. Just enough time for a coffee.
She was afraid to admit it, more to herself than anypony else, but Celestia was feeling downright giddy. It was an odd kind of giddy too, not the kind she felt at the Summer Sun Celebration all those years ago, or at Twilight’s coronation. It was the delicious kind, with a subtle hint of fear that reminded Celestia of the earlier years of her rule. When each decision was painted by the exhilarating mystique of not knowing what would come next, something that had long since atrophied, thanks to countless decades of experience.
After all that time, she finally met someone she couldn't predict. He was flattering and tender one moment, and a foul-mouthed jerk the next. And the most perplexing thing of all, was that despite the shift in attitude, his care for Celestia shined through the facade he'd built.
That is why, despite everything, Celestia felt her heart twinge as she approached his little house. The Princess knew Anon cared for her, but in what capacity? If he thought of her as a dear friend, she'd be glad to play that role, nevermind the heartache. If she was more than that, well... That complicated things, but not exactly in a bad way.
Just as she approached the house, the door swung open, one foul-mouthed human stumbling out of the building. Not noticing the regal mare, Anon fumbled his keys, hands trembling as he tried to shut the door.
"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm gonna be late-" Anon turned to face Celestia, his tired eyes widening as the gears in his head turned. "Or not." An earnest smile split his face as he looked at Celestia, flexing his back with a concerning pop. "Nice to see ya, Tia. Sorry I made you come all the way over here, lost track of time in the shower." The two embraced, both savoring the contact, before parting.
"Same to you, Anonymous. And don't worry, I actually came early. Have you been sleeping well lately?"
Anon shrugged. “As well as I usually do. Dash and I went to the bar after work yesterday, if you’re wondering why I look a little worse for wear.” The bags under his eyes were deeper than usual, a fact Celestia politely overlooked.
“Mhm. I assume Miss Dash is doing well for herself?” The two began their track to the Everfree, the morning air still crisp and chilly from the night’s veil. Very few ponies were out at that time of day, making the walk all the more personal.
“Yeah. Ever since the Bolts went on hiatus, she’s been working for the weather patrol. Says it’s nostalgic.” Anon rubbed the back of his head, wondering. “She’s been pretty tight lipped about her team, come to think of it. You know something about it?” He took the pause in conversation as an indication of his faux pas, hastily correcting himself. “You don’t need to answer my question, Tia. State secret and all.” He shook his head. “Forget it, I’m just being nosy, is all.”
“Not a state secret, per se...” Celestia replied after a moment of consideration. “But I would be most grateful if this part of our conversation remained between the two of us.” Anon nodded, all ears. “Commander Spitfire and her team are investigating strange reports from the east coast. The Crassus sea had been unusually stormy as of late, and the local weather teams were struggling to control the coast.” Having no reason to hide her worries from the man, Celestia sighed. “We... I hope it is nothing, but the weather is consistently bad, bordering on disastrous. The intensity and trajectory of these storms looks almost premeditated...”
Celestia managed not to nicker as Anon’s hand snaked through her mane, scratching the back of her neck. The sensation was soothing, uniquely so. His fingers softer and more delicate than a hoof, yet sturdier and more corporeal than the touch of magic. For a moment, Celestia imagined the two of them sitting under an oak’s shade, his lovely ministrations soothing her worries. What stories she’d tell him! Of ancient empires and wizards, noble heroes and dastardly villains, all the while her little human would remain by her side, no doubt providing snarky commentary.
“Coastal regions back home are known for their turbulence, maybe it’s the same here? I’m not an expert, though.” He shrugged, slowing his pace along with the mare. “Whatever it is, worrying about it won’t do you any good, would it?” His eyebrow arched as he noticed the serene expression Celestia was wearing, the two coming to a full stop. “Something the matter?”
“Just enjoying the moment.” She leaned into his touch just enough for the action to be noticable. “You’ve got lovely hands, Anon.” Celestia didn’t see the blush painting Anon’s face, but she did feel the slightest of tremble in his fingers. Any lingering feeling of guilt evaporated the moment Celestia laid her eyes on the flustered form of Anonymous.
"Well, I think you'll find that I have quite the magic hands." His face beet red, a sly smile crept into Anon's face as he moved his fingers rapidly. "Your Highness."
The princess felt she was going to enjoy the day very, very much.
“That’s gotta be one of the coolest looking houses I’ve seen.” Anon marveled aloud, hands on his hips. “And you say the tree’s alive?”
“Indeed it is.” Celestia nodded as the two stood before the mighty weeping willow, odd masks of all shapes and sizes decorating the tree. “Twilight used to live in a treehouse too, you know?”
“Was it a library?” Celestia chuckled at Anon’s response.
“An astute assumption, my little human.” Anon shrugged, oddly at ease, despite the dangerous woods that surrounded them.
“That’s Twiggles for ya. It was either that, or a basement full of sciency — looking doodads.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Still better than that tacky castle.”
“I must admit, The Castle of Friendship is a little... gaudy.” She’d never say so to her prized pupil, of course, the fledgeling alicorn had enough on her plate as is. “I like to think Canterlot castle is a tad more tasteful, but I’ll leave the judgement to you.”
“Asking me out so soon? I thought you’d at least wait until I got high off some fumes...” His words, coupled with the sly grin he was wearing, got a laugh out of Celestia.
“So you wouldn’t agree otherwise?” She pouted, her skills at making puppy-dog eyes once again coming in clutch, as the human’s flustered attempts to weasel out of the precarious situation he found himself in amused her to no end.
“I mean, who wouldn’t?”
“It’s settled then!” Celestia struggled to contain her happy trots as she watched Anon’s face grow beet red. “Is Monday alright with you? My favorite place shifts their menu on a weekly basis, so it’ll be a welcome surprise.” Mistaking Anon’s baffled expression, she continued. “Oh, and don’t worry about tickets, I’ll come get you at around... say 8 in the morning. Will that be fine with you?”
“I... Uh... I’d love that...” Finally out of his stupor, ears burning, Anon took a brave step towards the tree. “Let’s go, any longer, and Zecora might think we got lost, or something.”
“Anon, please don’t take it personally, but you might be the worst potioneer I’ve seen in the past thousand of years.” She worried over him, clearing off the last of the soot off his nose, the tickle of her magic causing him to sneeze, a bit of smoke coming out of his mouth. “Bless you.”
“Ugh, thanks.” He rubbed his nose, fingers tingling on contact with the golden aura. “God, I hope I didn’t screw up too badly... If looks could curse, I’d be a worm right now...” His eyes grew the size of dinner plates as a realization dawned on him. “Wait, zebra shaman...esses can’t curse anyone, right?”
“Well...” Celestia watched the man facepalm, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll have to apologize one day...” Anon sighed, the roof of his house appearing just over the hill. “Great.”
“If you may, apologize after our date, I’d rather remember you as my handsome little human.” Catching Anon’s troubled look, the alabaster alicorn was quick to correct herself. “Not that there’s something wrong with being a worm, of course!”
That got a laugh out of him, something Celestia was thankful for. “It is a date, then?”
“Indeed.” The two took their positions on the all too familiar sofa, Anon leaning against the mare, the pleasant softness of Celestia’s coat soothing his nerves. “Unless you don’t want it to be?” Truth be told, Celestia was worried she was being forceful, the last thing the mare wanted was to make Anon uncomfortable.
“Heh, I’d be crazy to refuse.” As he spoke, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes caught Celestia’s attention. “I’m processing things, is all.” Their eyes met, the man seeing a worry that didn’t set well with him. “Hey, I’m serious. I know I’m not showing it, but I’m stoked about monday.” His fingers snaked through her mane, scratching behind her ear, the mare utilizing all of her composure not to turn into putty at the contact. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”
“Mhm.” A content sigh escaped her lips as the two sat in silence, the evening chill creating a wonderful contrast that only enhanced their closeness. “I’m not sure I believe you, Anon. I may need some convincing.”
“Heh.” Anon continued his ministrations, a goofy smile on his face. “Of course you do, ya big cuddlebug.”
There's an ancient power lurking
Deep beneath the rocks and woods
It cannot create, but rather changes, alters and distorts
If it touches you be wary
Stains it leaves forevermore
Onyx waves will pull you under
Dragged away, so far from shore
Doomed to wander, spiral deeper
In that labyrinth of yore
To say Anon was concerned after reading the passage, was an understatement, the message was cut and dry, after all. No sane person would even think of messing with powers that be after reading that. Thing is, Anon was very nervous, and extraordinarily impulsive.
Jesus Christ, a date with a Celestia! His hands were shaking as he took a drag of his last smoke, the empty pack heavy in his pocket. And you didn’t even have the balls to ask her out, she had to do it for you! He shook his head, eyes wandering the shrouded woods, his free hand drumming some beat on the wooden handrail.
What if something goes wrong? Not even on the date, but in general? Lord knows Rainbows told me enough horror stories... In her eyes, they were on the side of action-adventure, but Anon thought otherwise. Surely, taking a peek wouldn’t hurt?
Famous last words... Putting the smoke out, he flicked the butt of it into a nearby bin, still a little lightheaded when he entered his living room. Despite the warmth of the room, he was shaking, mouth dry as he remembered the words required for the ritual.
To accept the future, he must give up his past
Nothing is eternal, none of it will last
Memories will wither, faces turn to dust
Strive to meet his Sunlight, just within his grasp
Quick and dirty,not his best and certainly nothing to be proud of. Anon closed his eyes, hand fishing out the empty pack and grasping it tightly. His hand passed through thin air, a circle of roiling inky water in his mind’s eye. The words came quickly, but deliberately, the empty pack in his hand growing more and more ethereal with each syllable, until he was grasping at nothing.
With his tether to the waking world gone, everything changed. In a blink of an eye, the darkness around Anon swirled, scenes and images flickering in quick succession. A pompous celebration in Canterlot, derailed by an unplanned change in weather, heavy clouds rolling in from beyond the horizon. One of the ponies pointed at one particular cloud, one that seemed to be getting way closer than the others, close enough for everypony present to recognise it as some sort of flying contraption. A blimp.
The singular blimp, soon reinforced by a dozen more, lowered a ramp onto the tone road, hundreds of armored creatures pouring out, odd spheres in their hands. Anon’s breath hitched in his throat as one of the spheres was hurled at Celestia, the mare’s wings spread far, head held high.
Coat and flesh turned to stone before Anon’s very eyes, his screams unheard. His eyes wet as a longsword came down on the statue, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. Losing his footing, Anon stumbled backwards, his eyes shooting open as the vision faded, the darkness in his vision going with it, albeit at a slower rate.
The faint glow of a candle illuminated his living room, the soft carpet underneath him grounding Anon just a bit. Absentmindedly, his arm reached into his pocket, ready to settle in the empty space-
Only to find a solid, rectangular pack. Anon’s heart threatened to leap out of his chest as he brought the pack out of his pocket, into the dim light. A sinking feeling in his stomach overtook Anon as he opened the pack, only to find 20 fresh smokes. His hands shaking, he took one out and lit it, taking a drag right in the middle of his living room.
It tasted of chocolate and tobacco, with a hint of ozone and petrichor. As the smoke billowed from his nose, he swore there was an aftertaste of sea water.
Author's Note
For anyone expecting Zecora in this one, I apologise
. I debated wether or not to torture yall with my terrible attempt at Zecora’s rhyming, and chose not to.
Man, Anon can’t seem to catch a break. Poor guy.