Forgotten Ash

by BlueDragon64

Rating: mature
Tags: Violence, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Death, Main 6, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Dark Souls, Horror, Profanity
Length: 4817

Forgotten ash wakes again, even though it would rather not.

When the age of fire began a Pygmy rises from the Dark Soul deep beneath the earth.

When the Age of Fire was threatened and the lord of fire Gwyn burned himself to sustain the dying First Flame, an old Undead Pygmy took his place and burned themselves in the First Flame to keep the Age of Fire alive.

When the First Flame started to fade yet again the same Undead Pygmy becomes the Chosen Undead and once again burns in the First Flame to keep a dying age of fire alive.

When a tired Ashen Undead that was once a great Pygmy wakes in an age of fire extended long past all reason and purpose a new fate awaits this rotten world.

As that Ashen Undead felled the Red Hood at the end of all ages a new idea took root. Why keep this endless cycle of fire and darkness? So instead this ancient Pygmy took the last embers of the First Flame and the gathered Dark Soul and took both of them into death with them.

But there is no rest in death for an Undead, and after an impossible length of time an Undead, a Pygmy, an Ashen Lord in all but name from the dawn of all things, wakes in an age that has forgotten almost all that came before it.

Forgotten Ash wakes for the fourth time.

Published 2024-07-13 19:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-14 19:58:36 UTC

Ash Forgotten

Ash, endless ash falls over the twisted and shattered ruins of this shattered and rotten world.

I stand in front of the last embers of the First Flame, withered and flickering.

I am tired, I have watched age after age, kingdom after kingdom rise and fall, but now it's all gone, and nothing but the ash and wind remain, along with me.

I stare at the withered and degraded blade that stands in the ash before me, the blade the Red Hood used in our final battle, and as I stare at it I wonder, what is the point of all this?

The gods are gone or dead, all that remains is the rotting carcass of this world, and if I cast myself into this flame what good would it do? To extend this age of fire? To prolong this endless suffering in the name of a dead god?

But if not the flame then what? What else is left? The deep dark? An age yet to come that may never pass, an age that would just be supplanted by the First Flame once again.

I heft the large blade and let it rest on my back as I walk to the bonfire that sits at the end of the world. I could smother the fire? But it will return, just as it has done before, again and again, as it always will.

But if not the dark or the light, then what? I reach into a small box on a necklace and use my horn to pull out something darker than the night itself. This, the Dark Soul of Humanity, gathered over an unimaginable time by a warrior who was a slave only to his promise in the end.

This is a darkness that will never die or fade, something that even the gods and the First Flame could only chain, but never destroy. But chains go both ways and just as the fire may chain the darkness in us all, the darkness may chain this flame that refuses to die.

But to chain such things you need a vessel to hold them, something that will not break or wither or degrade with the endless marching of time, and I know of only one thing that can do such a thing, me.

I remember waking among the first of Humanity so long ago, I remember all others dying while I alone endured. Now I stand alone among the ash, and I know that this cycle must end. No more fire, no more dark, for I will chain them both, me.

The world will be aimless, but it will break this cycle and finally, something truly new can begin. I reach my armored hoof into the Fist Flame while allowing the Dark Soul to settle in my body. These two things that both refuse to die shall share a hollow grave with me.

A moment later I collapse, and I scream. The fire burns, it burns worse than anything else I have felt, but I've burned in this fire before and it will not stop me.

I feel the First Flame rage and fight against me, while the Dark Soul does the same. Neither of them wants this, but I don't care if this will end now or it will never end at all.

The flame burns me from the inside out as the darkness pulls at the last parts of my will, but I have fought these things time and time again. I refuse to be broken by a withered flame and a damned shadow! I refuse to let this continue!

Even as I scream, even as my very being burns away I REFUSE! Time blends as the world around me grows empty of all things, and as I sink deeper and deeper into myself I pull the flames and shadows with me. If they are bound to me and each other then they may come with me into death.

I feel the pain fade somewhat as the last of my will seals these two endless things within me. There is nothing now, no light, no dark, only a void and myself, as I drift into a sleep that may never end. Finally, some rest.

...

...

...

Time stretches on with no meaning or purpose as I simply stop remembering. How long have I been here? Does it matter? We will stay here until... Until what? The fire fades? Will it even fade here?

Even if it doesn't that simply means I must never leave, an endless guard watching over the very chains that now bind them.

So I let time wash over me as it loses all meaning. It ebbs and flows and I never even notice. I lose myself in a dreamless sleep without meaning, for I have nothing left to dream of.

...

...

...

I feel it now, after however long the First Flame and Dark Soul have only bonded closer together. I never let the chains slip for a moment, and each time they weaken I only tighten them more, slowly crushing them together.

And endless duty or an endless hell, it matters not for it will be done.

...

...

...

I don't know what it is now, but the pain has stopped, the First Flame and the Dark Soul are gone now. They became so crushed together that they fused and mixed, and now I hold something new altogether.

But that is not what woke me, for those things happened so long ago. I feel something, far off and small it is but it pulls me from rest with a panicked will. I ignore it, this prison should remain forgotten and me with it, but I do listen to that call.

At first, it is nothing but magic and will desperately grabbing at anything it can find, and then it is panicked as it runs from something unseen. It is weak yet holds great strength, and it reminds me of things long gone.

I turn away and decide to go back to my rest, but I stop when I hear it. A faint cry, the cry of the young and scared, the cry of a desperate life so short. I listen before turning back to the magic, nothing should cry like that least of all something so young.

For a moment memories of all the smiles I have seen and all the faces I've helped flash in my mind. I had a duty once, and though I have thrown away all of what it once meant, I will not let something cry so. I reach out to the magic, and pull.

Author's Note

I had an idea!

This story will be updated much MUCH less often then my other story as that's my priority.

A flickering flame

It comes slowly. First is the bitter chill. Then the familiar sound of embers. And finally faded light coming from somewhere.

I don't move for a long moment as my weary mind pulls itself together. I have slept for so long, why wake now?

Because something calls us.

I tilt my head up and feel the armor on my body shift. Where … am I? The first thought that comes to my mind as I stare down at an all too familiar sight. Some dark cavern surrounds me as an old coiled blade stands in a smoldering fire that beats back the darkness.

Fire? I ended the fire, how? I stare for a moment and hold out an armored hoof like so many times before. I feel something shift in me, the endless pit that rests in my soul calls to it. But unlike so many other times the flames do not come, no, they bend to the ring of fire in my soul.

I pull back. I feel it, the First Fire rests in my very soul. But ... it does not ... hurt? Why? The question seems to have no answer.

I remember my actions clearly. I took the First Fire and Dark Soul with me into death. And yet, I am here? Did death not take me? Even now? I look down at the accursed campfire, the source of an endless cycle. How many times have I fallen only to wake up here?

I can feel the last embers in this campfire calling me, they want to be taken back to where they came from. This should not be here, the Fire is within ME, and that is where it WILL stay. I reach out and rend that flame back to me with a will that the gods themselves could not match.

The flickering flame shifted and rose to wind up my limb, it climbed higher before sinking into the gaps of my blackened armor. I braced for the inevitable pain that comes from the First Fame... But, it does not come. It melds into the ring around my soul and feels... Whole again?

The campfire dies after a moment leaving me in the comforting dark. My resolve fades for a while. Why did I wake? I was at rest ... was it this little remnant of flame that woke me?

No.

The call I heard was more... Desperate. But why? No being should call upon something like me, I am nothing but a smoldering ember of an age now long past... I think, my rest calls to me again. But that call, it was so... Young.

Nothing that young should cry so.

I abruptly stare up at the wall of rock in front of me, the small round passageway of a cave leading somewhere. And, once again I hear that call. Now it was... Afraid... And alone... I know such things far too well.

Rest can wait.

I reach out with my hood and grab coiled blade's handle. The twisted metal starts to glow and smolder at my touch, welcoming the very flame that it was forged in. My rest may come later, something calls, and I promised to answer all those in need long ago.

I rend the blade from the stone and ash as embers with shadowy smoke start to flicker off of my body. I use the light and walk towards the passageway. It ascends, slowly step by step I walk higher and higher.

All the while that cry keeps calling, almost as if it knows I am listening.

Eventually, the dark is broken by more than just my blade and armor. Sunlight? At first, I almost didn't believe it. It's been so long since I saw it… The sun… But it was an illusion then, so what is this then? I stand on a cliff edge, above a seemingly endless plain of snow.

But even with the snow falling around me I can feel it, the sun is there. But, it is not the sun I know... It's... Different. As I stare up I again feel the call, the snowstorm parts a little from the wind and for a moment I see it. A city gleaming in the light.

The call comes from there.

Then that is where I will go. It is time to once again greet a new age.

Do not worry little one, this smoldering ash comes to answer your call.

Endless Snow

The seemingly endless snow lashed at the black form as it walked with steady steps against the freezing wind.

The cold feels both distant and near to my heart. I feel the firm will of my soul beat away and embrace the cold around me all at the same time. I wonder... What rests in me?

I feel the fire of the First Flame that I burned myself in and the shadow of the Dark Soul that clawed me back from death again and again. Even now the cursed brand aches above my heart.

How long have I done this? Walking to another unknown land, in another unknown age, all after what should be my final rest. But that is the fate of the Undead is it not?

To die and return as something less each time, again and again, only to Hollow. But even that fate was denied of me, even that which took the other Undead has forsaken me, for I can not Hollow.

Once I was called Chosen One. An Undead that fled from the Undead Asylum, only to burn in the First Flame as Lord Gwyn once did. I see now that this Undead was a fool then.

The First Flame burned my soul, it was a hell of its own. But then it ended. Something dragged my withered soul out and made me rise again. Only to have me cast myself in the flame like it was not damnation, and this fool did as asked, did as duty commanded.

Yet, I rose AGAIN. I was nothing but ASH ... Ash of a world that should have died ages ago. I was tasked to tend to the dying flame again, to bring the risen Lord's to their hell. But I cast that all away, I let the Age of The Deep Dark come. But now things are ... New.

The sun is there, but I've seen the end of all things.

The endless ash at the last of all ages.

But I feel it, the dull warmth on my armor from the light, the shining light that me and my fellows once fought with all our might to sustain.

I miss Solaire. I miss so many. But they are gone now, and I remain, I always remain. Why?

Does it matter? No... No, like all times before, like all times that may come. I have been called from rest, I will do my duty, what little of it that is left.

I push quicker through the snow as the shining city nears on the horizon. Shining in this wasteland of white so reminiscent of that Faded Painting. And yet the cold bothers me none, what am I now?

I was once Pygmy, then Undead, then not but Unkindled Ash. So what am I now? The endless flame and darkness that dwell inside me, waiting... No, EAGER.

They wish to be used, to touch this world once again at my command. No Undead has ever held the entirety of the Dark Soul, nor has anything touched the First Flame so closely and yet lived, not even the Lords of old. Yet I know it would take but a thought to cast my will over them both.

But they are not two things anymore, are they? No, they are so intertwined and mixed as to make something new altogether. I feel it in my shadow, I feel it in the embers that burn off of my body into the air only to vanish. I am the First Flame, and I am the Dark Soul that hides in the flame's shadows.

I abruptly stop my march and stand still in the cold. A moment passes as my thoughts will a tiny flame to appear in the air. It is not bright, or large, or even very warm. But no matter how the wind howled, or how the snow falls, it ENDURES. NOTHING would make it cease.

Nothing but me. I watched the flame flicker away and continue to trudge through the snow, but then I felt it. Like the bell towers of old, something called, more desperate than ever the wail of a crying small soul. So weak, so scared, so... Cold.

Eons of battle experience moved my mind at a blistering speed and I felt the flame and darkness move to my will. My armor heated and bent only to cool into a new shape moments later. The coiled blade at my side glowed with embers older than ages past.

I felt it, the weight on my back, the shifting of something unknown, something new. Wings, of flame and metal, of a will not my own. The flame and shadow called to me. FLY.

...

The cold air flowed past at a blistering speed as I went faster and faster. I could see it now, on the highest building of the shining city, a palace of some form resting in the snowcast wind.

I did not care, it all didn't matter. The little one cried out and it WOULD be answered. I see a window and dive, the wind coming ever faster... Before finally, a loud cash.

The feeling of a great blow hits my body as my body shatters glass and my armored hooves crack smooth stone.

The cracked floor covered in glass and lit by my torches shows a large room.

And on the stone floor, cold and alone, a small form cried out to anything that would listen. "Little one. Why do you cry so?"

Author's Note

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. :}

This is proving to be interesting to write, but continue to expect very slow updates.

Cracked Stone

I let a ragged breath out as my lungs burn in pain.

Despite the pain I keep moving, but no matter how many I block or dodge there is always another streak of twisted black magic flies towards me. When did it all go so wrong? I try to distract myself from the pain in my aching limbs and burning horn.

It was small at the start, a few weapons going missing form the armory's, a few guards that didn't show up on time. But as the days pasted it got worse, more small things changes, so many signs that we missed. We even assigned a pony to investigate, not that it helped to prevent what happened next.

To little too late I suppose.

We all learned how wrong things have gone when a guard tried to attack me, they failed and where captured. But they never said a word, not a one, they just started at a wall blankly in their cell, waiting I suppose.

I nearly trip on a look chunk of stone from a shattered wall.

I could just give up? We may lose but there is still hope. But... Her cries. I don't even remember how long I've been fighting, and how long he's been protecting me. His shield blunts most attacks but with each blow we lose ground, with each step we draw closer to my precious little one.

I try to retaliate but that foul thing simply shifts from one shadow to another as the torches adorning the walls are smothered one by one. "Running are we? How pitiful!" That damned voice breaks through the darkness.

I resist the urge to shout back and instead focus my waning magic to cast a blinding light before retreating with my love.

This cursed monster come from some shadow calling itself a king, warping the minds of our guards, twisting them and turned them against us all. The only thing that saved us was my loves quick action and watchful eyes, but it was far too late.

I slam the heavy door closed behind us only to feel something shift. My tired body and mind didn't react fast enough as shadows twist to lock the door. A moment later I notice how empty the room is, it's a trap.

I don't have to say anything as my love moves at my side.

His shimmering shield cracks from a blow aimed at my neck, a selfless act that was repaid with sharp pain. The dark blade slashes him on the side and my mind rears in utter RAGE. No one hurst my love, NO ONE!

A blinding flash blinds me as my legs give out and I catch my love.

Everything hurts, but even as a fait glimmer of hope wells in me, it is dashed. The shadow just reforms again seemingly unfazed. "HAHAHA! You entertain your king well, maybe I'll keep you around?"

This things twisted voice mocks me. "NO!" I scream back as he glances over to my little one under her thin shield on the floor. I hate hearing her cry so much.

I use EVER last bit of myself to will my magic. The flash is so blinding that I feel my fur singe and eyes throb even when closed. I can't stand anymore, my legs feel like dead weight and nothing else.

I feel my love try to stand. Why? WHY? ... It's the only thing I can wonder as the shadow starts to take a more permanent from.

As my mind blurs, trying to find any glimmer of hope, anything at all. The sound of glass breaking, stone cracking, the scratch of metal on stone.

I do not turn my head for fear of losing sight of the monster to what must be another attack from the twisted guards. But as the shadow reforms, and as my love stands again, both just... Stop... Then turn to my little one.

"Little one. Why do you cry so?" It's as if something... More, spoke. The voice sounding soft and something, something unnamable underneath it. I manage to turn my head through the pain only to feel more dread fill my mind and body.

Metal, fire, darkness. I thought the monster we have fought twisted shadows, this was worse, I see that now.

What ever this is, it stands as tall as me. Encased in armor that looks both rotted and eternal. The black metal twisting and bending in ways that could never be forged. But above it all is the fire and darkness.

Wings of twisted flame and metal, embers flickering off it's from. Coming from nowhere, disappearing to nowhere. It's chest piece having a pit of darkness blacker then anything craved into it, a ring of moving flame around it to cage it. All this fire, and this darkness, it mixes.

It twists and turns in on itself in impossible ways, shadow and flame as one. A blade of coiled metal pierces the stone with far too much ease. The helmet with twin eyes that burn like smoldering embers turn to the monster. "That dark thing. Is it thou's soul?"

Author's Note

I got bord.

Forgotten Rage

"That dark thing. Is it thou's soul?" The word sounds in a voice that I barely recognize anymore.

It's been eons since I've saw a truly new form of darkness, but this thing wakes old memories in me.

The Shadows twist and turn around them, but they are... Less. A shadow of a shadow and nothing like the true darkness of the Dark Soul I boor witness to. I can feel how feeble this Shadow truly is, a wispy and fleeting thing. yet still, it reminds me of the souls of the Undead and those taken to the Abyss so long ago.

They all fear me, I see it. But more importantly than that I see something that wakes a rage I never could forget, a rage against the Lord's of the Age of Fire.

Those so-called gods who created a waking nightmare by chaining the First Flame to our Dark Souls and extending their DAMNED Age of Fire!!

But my rage pauses at the sight of the winged Lord of this age, for the young one still cries out. I glance at the young one to see something... It is a young Lord itself, a young Lord?

I turn back to the Lord looking away from its young one and really look at their face. So much is there, pain exhaustion, fear... So much fear. She's just scared for her young. I pause for a moment and steel my will while crunching that smoldering rage.

This is not about the Lord's, this is about this crying YOUNG ONE, and my oath.

I rend my blade from the stone floor and turn to the Shadow again. It looks at me with form hidden in the shade of its power. "Who- No. What are you?" It demands with a voice that speaks of venom and ill omens. "Souls? You... How do you know, that? no one could know that!!" My question sparks rage in it.

It pulls blades from shadows and readies to battle, such a pity.

Such a pitiful thing would fight me? Very well, I shall end this Shadow's rage and let it rest. I feel the... No, MY, fire and darkness shift with a will of their own, eager to be used once again.

But, the young one is near. I stare back and feel the darkness move to my will with a gentle touch. It shifts the young one over to the Lord and I push them to a corner of the stone hall. The Shadow tries to will the darkness to stop me, but fails. "That is not for thou to command withered shadow."

It rears back with a hiss as the First Flame spills from my wings in endless embers. "I- I AM KING SOMBRA!!! You have no right to deny me, ABOMINATION!!!" The so-called king rears back before shifting into the shadows and moving quickly to my side.

Sparks flash as its black blades slam into my coiled sword, a blow that feels far slower than it should. I feel the weight of its blows and slam a wing into the ground from above it. "HISSSAHHH!!" A scream rips free as flames spill freely from my metal wing to coat the Shadow and floor alike.

A shift of shadows again as it tries to move to the dark corners of the cold and empty stone hall. "No, you are but a fleeting shadow!" I slam my coiled blade into the stone and let the ancient fire flow and consume freely to its own will.

It climes on everything it touches. The stone glows and melts as the Shadow is pushed back from the advancing fire. "NO! YOU! I am a master of darkness! Mere fire will not! Stop me in my hour of victory!" It calls with blinding rage while forcing shadows to descend on the flames.

The First Flame outlasted god and mortal alike, and I feel its indignation and RAGE at this pitiful Shadow's attempt to smother it. The fire rises more as the shadows themselves BURN and smolder to ASH like all before it!

I stand tall and feel my darkness move to my thoughts, my perspective shifts. One moment a sea of fire separates us, but now I stand next to the Shadow. Its shadows hide its form no longer, and what I see only rises more rage in me, a TWISTED mockery of a true form.

Even its HORN is twisted by magic accursed! "Eons have passed, but ones such as you are forever the same!" The darkness in me rends into its shadows apart as it tries to bring them back in a panic. I move and slam a hoof holding it against the stone wall as it cracks and chips.

"N-No, I- 'ache' I can't!" I silence its words by rearing it back, slamming it into the wall, again, and again, AND AGAIN! I only cease when there is not but the sound of crackling flames and the cries of the young one.

I stop and look at the bloody and cracked black armor of this Shadow that dared command the darkness to fight me ME! I was here before shadow, I was here before the fire's first light.

The descending quiet consumes what remains of my rage in the face of victory.

I feel the flames follow my will again, then shift and moves to crawl back into the fire of my wings. The five returns to rest with the First Flame and the Dark Soul now apart of. I let the Shadow fall to the cold stone and turn to the lying forms within the dark hall.

I stare at the Load and her young Lord, I also see the form of a guard covered in blood weakly watching me with heavy eyes as they attempt to stand and bring their weapon forward again. The guard can barely stand and holds nothing but a shattered blade and hilt.

And yet, they stand against me with a look of defiance so strong it overcomes any fear they may show.

As I stare at them I feel that familiar rage try to well up, but it has no place here, not now. I embed my coiled blade in the stone once more and stared at the lying form of the Lord. "Tell me oh Lord of this age, who are thou?"

Author's Note

Thanks for reading.

This entire story is just for fun and I'm talking the complete piss with everything. If I find an opportunity to make this into an classic villain monolog I will.

I got really board, enjoy more of my nonsense.