An Endless Forest

The Everfree was a harrowing place, teeming with monsters, predators, and wildlife that saw most ponies as suitable prey. Few dared to enter, even fewer lived within its confines, and apart from the occasional zebra near its edges, none lingered long in its depths.

Miles of forest, with countless threats along the way, made it foolish for a pony—or even a dragon—to venture far within. Yet, for those with the right mix of bravery or preparedness, it could serve as a suitable home.

For Fenris and his scheme, it was the perfect location.

Trotting through the brush, Fenris eyed the entrance to a cave. Though it appeared mundane, the cave was vast inside, sprawling over a mile in depth with numerous tunnels branching deeper. It was the ideal home for him and the perfect site to enact the plan he had been scheming for the past few years.

Gently reaching a hoof out, he tapped the air before him. It rippled in response, magical sparks dancing across it in waves. For him, he saw right through it, but for the extraordinarily uncommon passerby, it’d look like nothing more than a wall of stone climbing up towards the mountain.

The illusionary wall was intricate, one of his own design, and displayed a gnarled path up to the mountain. Littered with thorns, rubble, and more, even if somepony was confident in considering an option to climb up the mountain, it’d look like a perilous journey to them. The odds of anypony coming this deep into the Everfree were low, but with the careful planning he had put into the illusion, the odds of them finding him were even lower.

A sufficient illusion, and one that’d leave him undisturbed. It’s exactly what he wanted—for now. He had toiled within this cave for the better half of a year, finally leaving civilization to fully indulge himself in his cursed rituals.

Glancing down, Fenris eyed his scarf. Dark, purple runes shimmered within its seams, radiating with dark magic across every inch. It was a tool of his own design, dating back to when he was only a teenager. Roaming around the Crystal Empire, he had stumbled across one of Sombra’s shattered horns. Ever cautious, he had wrapped his hoof in his dainty, mundane scarf.

Though when he made contact with that horn, an intense burst of magic had been unleashed. He barely recalled the events, waking up in the snow a few minutes later, but what he was able to remember was that the horn was gone, and that boring scarf of his was floating in the air.

An unexpected but welcome way of creating a magic artifact, it had since been his most valuable possession. Nigh indestructible, and giving him powers comparable to Sombra if not beyond that, it was a formidable item. The very same item that let him dive into the Everfree’s depths without a worry in the world.

Stepping through the wall, Fenris felt a shudder course down his spine as he passed through its arcane barrier. His wings ruffled instinctively at his sides. A pegasus with magic was an anomaly in Equestria, and his body wasn't naturally attuned to the arcane forces. His enchanted scarf, drawing on his life force instead of any inherent mana, was his only conduit to magic—because he had no natural reserves to draw from.

Despite this, his understanding of magic, particularly the dark arts, was profound. Through painstakingly woven spells, he had long ago mastered the art of stealth, allowing him to infiltrate the Canterlot archives. There, he had pilfered nearly every tome on forbidden sorcery. His scholarly inclinations meshed perfectly with the sinister tools at his disposal, enabling him to delve deeply into his shadowy pursuits.

You see, most ponies in Equestria were good. Caring, well-meaning, friendly, the list frankly went on. Though Fenris never had much interest in those aspects of Equestria, at least not after his scarf came into the picture. The thing about dark magic was that it certainly got to you. The power, the corruption, and more—it was a near guaranteed path towards a metaphorical “dark side.” Loathsome and dramatic as the term was, he knew it was true.

Fenris, however, had not resisted this transformation. On the contrary, he had embraced it with open wings. He had always been rather dubious in his morals, especially back when he was a teenager, and he was more than happy to allow the scarf’s influence to twist that into the wretched mindset he carried with him today.

Trotting through the cavern, he surveyed around him. Books lined the walls, carefully stacked and arranged by author, edition, and finally alphabetically. He wasn’t too anal about organization, but he did prefer to have things easily accessible. Torches illuminated the interior, stretching from the entrance all the way to the extent of his vision, ignited by dark magic to ensure they remained lit for as long as possible. Various tables, alchemy kits, and more were dotted about, all containing materials he had been using for his studies.

In the center of the cavern, a group of timberwolves lay resting. As he approached, their ears twitched, and they raised their heads to acknowledge his presence. Typically hostile creatures, they were now under his control, thanks to the curse he had bestowed upon himself.

The very curse he was excited to finalize today.

Pausing briefly to acknowledge each of his pets, Fenris moved toward an intricately designed marking on the ground. It flickered with a purple glow, the lines brimming with dark magic. The geometric figure, the product of months of study, relied on precise measurements down to the exact inch. Though it was all worthwhile if he could enhance his power.

His curse, one of his own design, had been willingly given to himself by himself. It was one of a kind, and it had endless applications. Providing him the ability to enter a timber form, in turn becoming a timber pony, there were several beneficial aspects of it.

The big one was immortality, regarding age—as he was unfortunately aware that he could indeed still be harmed. Another benefit was that it didn’t change his appearance all too much, only adding a wooden lining to his wings, ears, and armor-like pieces on his hooves. Thirdly, it made him a fair bit bigger and exponentially stronger. The only real downside was that it wasn’t able to fulfill his plan, but today that part was going to change.

Placing his scarf at the center of the sigil, Fenris settled beside it. Closing his eyes, he focused on channeling its energy into him, beginning a transformation he was all too familiar with. Slowly, wood began to form on his body, growing and intertwining, an intense purple light engulfing his entire figure. In seconds, with a burst of energy, he now sat in the same place but looked noticeably different.

He moved with purpose, igniting candles at the edge of the rune. Each time a flame flickered to life, his scarf flashed with color. As he lit the last candle, small waves of electricity crackled through the indents of the sigil. He watched them carefully, nodding in satisfaction as he prepared to initiate a process he had been dreaming of for months.

The air around him grew heavy with anticipation, the dark magic within the sigil pulsing in response to his presence. His heart raced as he chanted the incantations he had painstakingly memorized. Each word seemed to resonate within the cavern, amplifying the energy that crackled through the runes.

The transformation he sought was ambitious, even for someone with his expertise in the dark arts. He felt the magic coursing through him, intertwining with his essence. The candles flickered and dimmed as the energy within the sigil grew more intense, illuminating the cavern with a haunting, otherworldly glow.

Electricity coursed through his body in relentless waves, each one making him wince. The sigil's glow intensified, filling the air with the oppressive energy of dark magic. The wood on his body began to radiate, the grooves between the planks channeling the magic like a river of molten light. His scarf twitched and fidgeted, suddenly shooting up into the air.

Wind swirled around the sigil, picking up speed and forming a miniature tornado of black and purple hues, created not by nature but by the arcane forces at play. Despite his increased strength in this form, Fenris struggled within the whirlwind, barely holding his ground.

He knew the risks of this ritual and what came next. Glancing upwards, he watched his scarf dive toward him. Always a familiar companion, it now appeared sinister and threatening.

The scarf, now a serpent of writhing energy, crackled with malevolent intent. Fenris braced himself as it wrapped tightly around him, binding him in a cocoon of magic. Pain seared through him, relentless and excruciating. He gritted his teeth, refusing to scream, his body trembling under the assault.

A more insidious assault raged within his mind. Voices whispered dark temptations, urging him to surrender to the overwhelming power. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, trying to seep into his thoughts and cloud his judgment. Fenris clenched his jaw, fighting back against the encroaching madness.

Every fiber of his being screamed for release, to give in and let the dark magic consume him, but he resisted, drawing on the strength of his will. His thoughts were a battleground, flashes of his former self battling the new, darker impulses that sought to dominate him. With sheer determination, he forced the voices into silence, holding on to his sense of self amidst the storm of arcane fury.

Warranted fear indeed, as the scarf coiled around his neck, tightened, and began to choke him. He had anticipated this, worried about it for days. The ritual had a very specific requirement. To tune a curse to one's desires, the creator must endure a trial, one that would nearly make him perish. For most, it would indeed lead to their demise.

He could only pray he was not among the many who failed, as he concentrated on the spell. Surges of pain shot through his nerves as the arcane lightning weaving through the sigil continued to funnel into him. He sputtered and spat from the scarf's grip, fearing it might crush his windpipe. If that happened, he would have only himself to blame.

He pushed through the agonizing pain dancing within his very nerves, his vision gradually blurring as the intensity of the ordeal deepened with every second. Minutes felt like hours, each second drawn out to highlight every excruciating millisecond.

The air flowing to his lungs steadily decreased, and Fenris's chest screamed for relief. The world spun, his vision blurred, and though his senses grew numb, the pain only deepened. Reality became a blur as whispers and voices spoke to him through the scarf. Bit by bit, the world grew blurrier until he felt everything cave in and sank into the abyss of unconsciousness.

Fenris stirred, feeling his fur damp with what he initially thought was sweat, but upon his movement he felt ripples. Fluttering his eyes open, he stared up at an endless sky, the cosmos shimmering clear as day before him. Stars, even whole galaxies, were in view, an unending tapestry of beauty before him.

He shifted, hearing the water splash around him. Glancing down, he noted he waded in at most ankle deep water. It reflected the sky, making the water act as a mirror for the beauty above. He shook himself off, surveying his surroundings.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing besides water extending to the horizon. There wasn’t a sound besides his own breathing and rippling water, and the scent in the air was faintly sweet. He wondered if he died and was sent to some kind of beautiful hell. An eternity in Tartarus was something he certainly deserved for what he had been planning, but a prison of such beauty wasn’t one he’d expect.

“You have to enact your plan to deserve any form of punishment for it.”

Fenris’ ear twitched, as he whirled around. Staring back at him was an entity. Covered in a veil of mist, he couldn’t pinpoint their exact appearance. From the voice, he knew it was a mare, but besides that he had nothing to work off of.

“Who are you?” he inquired, looking her up and down. “Where am I?”

She chuckled. “Ah, let me clear things up for you.” She waved a hoof before herself, and in an instant the fog masking her dissipated. “Better I take it?”

Fenris’ eyes went wide, looking at the mare before him. Her gaze held the countless stars of the universe in them; a long, dark mane flowed down her body, the occasional flicker of magic dancing through it; her coat was some form of misty blue, one that Fenris couldn’t pinpoint.

Though Fenris had a certain way of looking at mares—this unknown one was no different. Tracking his eyes up, he drank in the size of her flank. Even from the front, her rump was clear as day, a testament to how thick her pillowy derrière was bound to be. Even as she stepped towards him, he noted the subtle jiggle it carried, as her wide hips swayed with her motions.

“Eager, aren’t we?” she remarked, following where his gaze went. “I know your plan. I know what powers you wish to acquire from me. Sadly for you, using those powers to conquer me is not on the menu.” She smirked, bouncing her rump a bit. “Though I don’t mind the attention~”

Fenris recoiled, listening to the mare see right through him. “You know my intentions? The reason behind my desire to empower my curse?”

She nodded. “That is why you wished to contact me, is it not? To fulfill your desire for power.” She shot him a wink. “A sinful desire, rather, an evil one, but one that is possible.” She eyed him closely. “One that is as devilish as it is creative, I must admit.”

Her notion at the chance of things being possible piqued Fenris’ interest further. “You know my intentions, you know my goal, but you’ve yet to give me anything about you.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “I ask again, who are you?”

“You may call me Arcana,” she replied, bowing gracefully. “The creator of Exitiabilis, or as you common ponies call it, dark magic.”

Fenris was floored, finding the notion hard to believe. “You seriously expect me to-“

“Your name is Fenris Ebonyglow,” Arcana sharply retorted. “You are twenty four, were born in a small town outside Manehattan, or at least you think, as that’s where ponies found you when you were left at their doorstep. You spent your formative years bouncing around foster homes, never finding one that clicked.” She rolled her eyes. “Need I go on? It’s all a bit cliché, no? Such a troubled past leading you to such an evil goal.”

Finding his dismissal of her claim to be proven wrong, Fenris sighed. “The factors of what brought me here are unimportant. What does matter is what I’ve come to ask.”

“My, my! Once again, eager…aren’t we?” Arcana chidded. “If you choose this path, there is no going back.” She pursed her lip. “You know there’s another you in a different reality.” She pulled up a small portal, casting a vision through it. “A good pony. One that found a lover.” She gestured to the portal, pointing at a mare. “That pink one there. She’s quite the catch you know. Going down this path abandons any chance of ever finding this life as well.”

Fenris glanced at the mirror, scoffing. “Am I meant to care for that?” He turned away from the vision. “I threw aside that possibility moons ago.” He glared back at Arcana, as a wicked smile split his muzzle. “Plus, if I exist there, that means that mare exists also here. I’ll just claim her when I find her.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Arcana’s soft smile warped into a malicious sneer, as dark magic began to crackle around her. The air began to swirl, the water morphing into an intense current, and the stars above began to be eclipsed by a dark shroud that blacked out the sky. Only the light of Arcana’s magic illuminated the void.

Surprised by the sudden shift in her tone, Fenris took a step back, but didn’t retreat. Standing his ground, he watched as Arcana surged magic into herself, shifting the space around them both as it began to warp and twist.

“You will make a fine champion. The successor to the seeds I planted all those moons ago,” she growled, extending a foreleg. “Surpassing that failed King I once bestowed my power to.”

Fenris watched as she guided her hoof towards him, tensing as she drew near. Wincing for a moment as her hoof pressed against his chest, he felt a jolt of power enter him. It felt as if his heart stopped for a moment, before a wave of warmth danced through his body.

“You have what you desire.”

In an instant, Arcana returned back to normal. The same soft smile on her countenance as she looked up at Fenris.

He blinked wildly. “That’s it? So you mean…”

“The method you wish to enslave ponies with, to spread your corruption, is now yours to abuse.” A flicker of malice filled her eyes. “A method I hope you abuse to the fullest.”

Fenris eyed her, feeling an intense rush of power. “But is it exactly as I wanted?”

“To the extent of my power, yes,” Arcana replied. “I gave you nearly a quarter of my strength. Your magic and influence is exponentially superior to what it was before.”

A devious idea filled Fenris’ mind, as he licked his lips. “So what’s stopping me from testing my new power against you, hmm?”

“The prospect of turning me into a mindless broodmare?” Arcana giggled. “Well, isn’t that just adorable.”

Fenris wasn’t amused. “With a flank like yours, what reason do I have to not make you my first conquest?~”

“Well, it’s simple really!” Arcane nonchalantly replied.

“How so?” Fenris tested.

A brief pause followed, as Arcana tilted her head and smiled further. “Because I’d tear you limb from limb if you even dared to genuinely try it.”

Fenris froze, an intense weight falling upon his chest as he felt the mere aura of Arcana’s power. In the flick of a wrist she could obliterate him, he could literally feel the notion of such a thing occurring. Clearing his throat, he took a step back and bowed in apology.

“O-Of course…”

Arcana smirked. “You know, I could force you to call me Mistress like I did with that whelp Sombra, but you’re different, aren’t you?~” She eyed Fenris up and down again. “You have potential. You might actually succeed.”

Fenris couldn’t help but adorn a cocky grin. “And once I gain enough power, I’ll come back and claim you as well~”

The remark was a risky one, but one that worked. For the faintest moment, Arcana’s confidence faded, but was back within the blink of an eye. Fenris knew he’d grow stronger, after all, since Arcana fulfilled his curse to the exact desire, every pony he enslaved would add to his strength.

“We will see about that, mortal,” Arcana seethed, unable to hide the small hint of excitement from the prospect of an actual challenge. “But for now…”

She leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead. Before Fenris knew it, he was sinking into the sea, falling perpetually into nothingness. He glanced back, seeing a small light break through the black sea. It was a rift in space that showed the cave he called home. He quickly pieced together that Arcana was sending him back to reality, eager to dismiss him and send him on his path of destruction. Throwing his attention back to her, he saw her faintly in the distance, waving at him before uttering a parting word.

“Happy hunting~”