Frozen Through the Ages

No sooner had the door opened than I was face to face with Father. He offered a smirk and nod. He turned about, and I followed without a word. Weathered Horizon was undeterred. Even in his eyes, my eyes, there was nothing but a resolute understanding. I didn't need to say a word, he knew. My heart had been pounding on the way back. I'd worried Father might be reconsidering his advice. I'd be filling the same shoes Dam left behind. It hurt not noticing what that might imply.

"It took to you?" Sire asked.

We took our seats at the kitchen table. A single candle sat between us. The wax was worn down to a nub. Father had clearly had it going since he'd returned home with a flickering ember to light my way home. It was like one of his lighthouses when ships needed to make it through the black waters in the moonlit seas.

"I think so. The mares there are nice and strange, but I think that's okay."

I offered a smile. It felt warm, as if I were recalling a bonfire during the winter solstice festival. It felt right, and that gnawing worry in the back of my mind loosened for the first time in days.

Father let forth a chuckle, like gravel in a twister; it made me laugh with him. Father shook his head and pointed to my forehooves. They'd frozen over again. The unnatural blue spread down from the knee but did not stop with my hoof tips. The wood of the table I'd sat them on was spider-webbed with the same blue ice. I yelped and raised my hooves over my head. The ice ceased its progression, but the webs it formed remained.

"Somepony is getting too comfortable with freezing my property," Father said.

I offered an embarrassed cough and placed my hooves back on the table. I concentrated on the ice. The thin spindles obeyed and evaporated into a thin mist, leaving my hooves as they were. I blinked and willed the ice to withdraw; it kindly informed me it would be doing no such thing. I tutted and crossed those same hooves. I'd have to deal with them later when Father wasn't there to tease me.

"How goes your education on magic, Colt?"

I hummed and met my father's gaze. The answer could have been more hopeful. Whenever I think I understand magic, I'm informed how far I need to learn. Foresight's lesson on tenets was helpful. The books I'd been given could have been more present or specific on such things. I couldn't blame that on the books themselves. They weren't exactly meant for ignorant pegasi to begin with. They'd helped, even if a little.

"I'm not sure. Magic is really complicated. The fact my magic is so rare makes it even more so. Foresight taught a few things while I was at the Night House."

Father tapped a hoof to the table. "That stallion is quite the character."

I cocked my head. "Is that a bad thing?"

Sire shook his head. "Nothing ill meant by it. He is simply who he was always meant to be. Same as you, same as me."

"Well, that's esoteric, isn't it?" Freya asked from the open seat beside mine.

"I want to go back if that's okay?" I pulled the papers Foresight had given me from under my wing. "He said you'd need to sign these."

Sire grunted and pulled the papers to his side. He read the first page in complete silence. Some parents might have just signed them and moved on. Weathered, spent all day amongst unrefined seafarers and water-bound merchants. He read a lot of contracts and a lot of shady and seedy documents. I'd seen some of the stranger ones Father kept for proof of just how absurd ponies and even griffons could be.

"Reads like any other apprentice form." Father hadn't looked up, and I guessed he'd been talking to himself more than anything. He stood without a word and retrieved a quill and ink from a side stand by the closest window. "Fine." Father signed the first page before moving to the next. Within minutes, he'd scanned, rescanned, and signed page after page.

When he laid the quill aside, he gave a sharp sniff and blew on the ink. I'd never considered if the whole blowing on ink made much difference. The ink itself was quick drying, from what Mrs. Brew boasted by her in-house brand. Not many complain about Mrs. Brew's anything, honestly. She was a miracle worker on the best of days and most of the worst days, too.

"Everything done?"

"Should be dry in a bit. Don't forget them when you go back. I assume that's tomorrow?" Father asked.

"Yes, sir, I apologize."

Sire's face twitched, and one ear flopped to the side. I'd caught him off guard. I held a restrained smile. It didn't help that Freya was happily chortling to herself beside me.

"Apologize?"

I nodded. "If I'm working at night, it'll mean we won't see each other as much." The words were bitter on my lips. I'd hated saying them out loud more than I'd hated thinking them. The reality was flipping schedules would mean I didn't see my friends as much either.

Foals, my age, didn't work full weeks, especially when starting out. Whoever took a foal on would have to balance productivity with teaching, and many shops and artisans couldn't afford to spend every waking hour teaching a foal who'd just got their cutie mark the ropes. I couldn't blame them for that either. Small towns like Bogwood might not be as cramped or busy as Baltimare, but we were big enough to keep such things in mind. If Azure or Tally's apprenticeships were anything to consider, I'd work three or four days a week, which wouldn't be that bad. However, flipping the sleep schedule is where things get interesting. The girls had already forfeited any complaints when they'd advocated so hard for me to join the Night Guard, to begin with.

Father scoffed and rounded the table before I had a chance to protest. I was under his wing before I'd had the opportunity to protest. In truth, I didn't mind. Father was a big stallion with a matching pair of larger-than-average wings, which he used to pull me taut to his side. It was a cage of soft, feathery fatherly defiance. Human pride fought pony instinct. I surrendered for no reason other than Sire deserving what time I could afford in the near future.

"How cute," Freya said, wrapping Father's neck in a phantom embrace. An embrace that earned not so much as a single hair out of place.

"Work isn't easy and rarely accommodates. It was only a matter of time before you were off doing something, Night Guard or not. I won't complain that my colt is growing up."

I nuzzled into Father's side. The warmth clashed with the icy chill that followed me wherever I went. The contrast was calming, reminding me where I'd come from and where I would go forward. Father's words were a balm upon my frayed nerves. There was so much left to learn. Every step forward led to more questions than I'd like. A future that may be long after I am dead and gone. A present that left me fearing the time I had would only grow more complicated with time. Which it would have been if I had been able to guess. It was clear even now I'd choose the hard way whether I wanted to or not.

"Thank you."

That was all I could say, all that needed to be said. Words were not Father's strong suit, and he'd never needed to compromise that part of him before now. Actions were a currency in these lands, and while bits were the preferred proxy, they'd mean nothing without a strong back and sweaty brows to carry them. I smirked at my thoughts. They drifted in a random myriad of wistful discord. Or I'd simply leave reason and meaning in the cold. I'd have my fair share of the cold and ice. For now, I was content with the warmth of a welcoming home.

"Nothing to thank me for, Colt. That's what family is for, is it not?"

I attempted and failed a wing shrug. Even the weight of Father's wing was enough to rebuff my efforts. "I suppose it is. Even if a certain stallion deserves thanks."

If that is the case, then I have no choice but to accept them, even if the colt giving them does so for no reason at all."

Sire opened his wing and looked down at me, a smile chiseled in contrast to his rugged, tired eyes. He planted a hoof on the top of my head. "Now, I believe it is best we both find some rest. Lest we both shirk our responsibilities on the morrow."

I couldn't argue that point. If I flip my sleep schedule, I'd need to prolong my sleep as long as possible. Judging by the yawn that followed those thoughts, it would be more challenging than I thought it would be.

"I might stay up a little longer. I don't want to be tired on my first night, right?" I asked.

The look Father gave me was a perplexing mix of pain and acceptance. I raised a hoof in question, only to let it fall back to my side. Father patted my head again. "No, we would not. But know your limits, Colt."

I nodded. "Right."

That said, Father wandered off to bed, and I was left with naught but a wax stump lighting the blackened house. It was a peaceful darkness. The shadows danced in a ballet of their own making. Freya floated into Sire's seat and drummed a beat on the table. A beat that only she could hear.

I'd always found the silence in the dead of night peaceful, a sort of natural breath being held. The night was a living thing, drought with unknowns and terrors, beauty and serenity. A fickle beast that should be respected, lest it devour you whole. Perhaps it was the thestral in me, but the rules that so many ponies couldn't understand, such as the laws of the night, were simple to a fault. Luna hadn't been wrong when she thought others feared her and her domain. Ponies were a prey species. A time when the beasts, sharp of tooth and claw, hunted was the time the herd would fear most.

In this darkness, where even now, consumed by her envy, Nightmare Moon would gaze down from her prison and watch us all. Even if Luna was trapped within a monster in her moon, she was still there, watching over her children. In our dreams, we were closest to the Princess of the Night. Thestrals were lucid dreamers from birth. Even those like myself, only half thestral, were far more aware than most of the dreamscape. Before Hal found his way into my head, I could not recount a single time I'd had a nightmare. It was chilling, unnatural, and stewed in paranoia and dread. Father had told me what little I knew about thestrals, what they really were, and what made them who they were as a pony tribe. What he did know was all learned from Dam and her side of the family.

"Glace, you in there?" Freya asked.

I was ripped from my thoughts; Freya smiled across the table, waving merrily. I wouldn't call my trance sleep, but I was left bereft of how long I'd waxed poetically about thestrals and our beloved Princess of the Night.

"Just thinking."

"Thinking, really, Glace? Let's not kid ourselves. Thinking is not your forte." I leveled Freya with a terse look. I'd have been offended if she wasn't smiling wide enough. It barely fit on her ghostly face.

"Really?" I asked.

Freya nodded. "That aside, we have a bit of time before your poor foal body can't keep those glowing eyes of yours open. So, let's get some things sorted."

I motioned in her direction. "Such as?"

"Well, the first thing that comes to mind is how will we relay the changes in your head to your friends and father? You've decided to tell them, right? All of it?" Freya swayed in place, hoof on her chin.

"Right, yes, I have. You're also right about making a plan. I have a feeling it will be a mess no matter what I say. It's funny, though. All these memories, people, and places I have never seen and may never see are as vivid as this room in my head. All of that, and I'm still just a colt, talking to my imaginary friend about if I'll get in trouble over a secret."

"Firstly, I take offense to that slander of my glorious self. So, shame on you. Secondly, did you expect it to become easier to become a wizened stallion overnight? Information without application is as useless as not knowing at all. You silly little pony."

Freya had a point, knowing how a TV works in a world without the technology or means to create one, reducing Hal's knowledge on the subject moot. Still, it felt like my foalish problems should seem so trivial when I have decades of memories to recontextualize them. But that wasn't so. I was still as clueless and overwhelmed as any other foal my age. All Hal's memories did was muddle everything further. If I went to Celestia with the knowledge of her sister's redemption, and by the grace of Faust, she believed me, would it even make a difference? Either way, Luna would be saved by the Elements of Harmony, and Celestia would finally have her sister back. The same could be said for any of the timeline's future problems. Most of Discord, Sombra, Tirek, and so on were inevitable. My warnings, at best, would only slow the threat but not halt it. If any of these events are real and would happen at all.

Start small. Have some definitive memory that would dash any doubts." Freya said. She once again pulled me from the chaotic storm of thoughts rumbling around in my head.

"Hm, that is going to be quite the task. What could I tell everypony that would convince them all at once? Should I aim for a human experience or one of Hal's memories about Equestria?"

Freya leaned back, phasing through the back of the chair and staring back at the kitchen. "Both are going to be hard to prove. If any of it is real, that is. It is one thing to have another set of memories; it is another for it to be something that doesn't exist in Equestria and that then has knowledge of the distant future. No pony could be blamed for thinking you've lost your mind."

I shook my head. "No, no, they could not. The fact is, waiting on telling them, holding on to all of this by myself, it can't be good for my brain."

"I think your best bet is to start with things they can relate to, things about Equestria that not many know but do have witnesses." Freya leaned back up and huffed.

"That's probably the right call. The Crystal Empire, maybe, or Discord? It'd be so much easier if I didn't think Celestia would throw me into the sun for even suggesting some of it."

A sudden flash of inspiration, a wayward memory, brought a smile to my face. It might work. The perfect chance to learn what is and isn't real. Freya leaned over the table, brow furrowed in concentration. A look that earned a raised brow from me in return. Things that were real and things that weren't. All I needed was the right approach.

"Glace."

"Yes, Freya?"

"That smile of yours is starting to scare me." Freya was no longer in her seat. She pointed an accusatory hoof at me. Her straight as lace mane billowing in a nonexistent gale. "Stop it."

My brow rose higher, and my grin grew wider. "I have no idea what you are talking about. It is just a smile."

The moment seemed to ebb on, unwilling to part with Freya and my stalemated stare-down. The seconds ticked by, but neither of us budged. It wasn't until a rather jaw-wrenching yawn escaped my throat that my grin broke, and Freya seemed to relax a bit.

"It is still too early," I said, waving at the window.

"Maybe, but as your dear sweet sire said: 'Know your limits, little Glacie.'" Freya wagged her hoof disapprovingly. A mood she couldn't manage through her amused smirk. I offered the she-devil my best facsimile of a human gesture. She stuck her tongue out in kind.

"If I go to sleep now, I'll never make it through tomorrow's training." I yawned again. I was beginning to regret my schedule change already.

"And how do you plan on fighting back nature, foal?" Freya asked.

"You mean besides night terrors?"

"Besides those, yes," Freya said merrily. The smile she wore was infuriating. She could smile through the end of the world. In some ways, I envied that. I liked to believe I was pretty good at hiding the dread that came with knowing too much of nothing at all.

"I think I might go to the dock and talk to Luna. Even Hal doesn't know how her prison works, or even if she could hear me, would it be Nightmare Moon or the real Luna? But maybe she can hear me. It might brighten up her night."

I hopped out of my seat. Freya didn't follow. I paused and looked back at the ethereal filly. She was staring at where I'd been as if not noticing I'd moved. The thought to call out struck me but was dismissed as quickly. Whatever she was thinking, she'd tell me when she was ready. Of that, I was sure.

The aged wood of the dock was cast in the gentle blues and whites of the moonlit sky. It seemed like the idyllic fantasy of a poet. An ode to Luna from a time before her imprisonment. It sent a pang through my heart. It was a beauty lost on so many. Those of whom were terrified of what went bump in the night. A reflection on the efforts of the enshrouded and unspoken. It was comforting. I wasn't sure if that was simply the nature of the moonlight or the thestral in me seeking its natural inclinations. I stood caught between staring at the dock and wanting to sit upon it and bask in that same light. The stars added a chorus of twinkling strobes that seemed to make the very air sparkle against the river's gently flowing water.

"Luna…" I said. I took a step closer to the dock. The night's ambiance seemed to swell with my approach. I caught myself holding my breath. A second step and the shimmering light welcomed me into its periphery. A third, I was at the edge of the dock. The wood creaked under its own weight. My icecapades earlier that week had not helped steady its boards.

"...If you can hear me. I thought maybe you'd like some company." I stepped onto the dock. The light had wrapped me in its glow. The wood shuddered but held. I didn't weigh that much; pegasi were, of course, lighter than the other tribes. If the dock had given under my hooves, there would have been far more damage than my ice would have done.

I looked to the moon, dazzled by the sparkling spotlight I'd intruded upon. "I know I'm not one of your children, not fully. My dam is, though; she always talked so highly of you. Back before you ended up The Mare in the Moon. She misses you. She did even before she left. Now, I miss her. A lot of thestrals have given up on Equestria. They've taken refuge in the icy caps east of Equestria. I'm sure you already know all of this. I'm sure I'm not the first to talk to you. At least, talk at you or Nightmare Moon if Luna isn't around to hear us. I'm stuck second-guessing everything I do. I've got memories and thoughts that aren't my own. They know things about you, about the future. If that future is even real itself. They know when you'll come home, but even if they are true, no one would be there to prove it. No one but your sister."

I took a deep, shaky breath. I felt so small beneath the moon and the stars. The longer I talked, the smaller I felt. Even so, airing out everything, all that bottled-up fear and confusion. It felt nice, like a pressure being pulled off my chest. My heart seemed lighter, my thoughts clearer. Maybe even now, Luna had taken pity on me and pulled that weight free from my soul. To carry it so that I might find solace. I couldn't say for sure. It might be in my head. Either way, I was thankful.

I looked away from the moon and into the water below me. The moon's reflection gazed up at me in turn. "I'm afraid to tell Celestia what she might do if she doesn't believe me if she takes offense. I don't want to fear her, but I do."

"Fear is natural, you know."

I let out an eep, and the hair from my tail up my spine and to the tip of my muzzle stood on end. I could hear the laughter that followed before I could turn around. Freya sat in her ghostly way in the same spot I'd stood moments ago. I snorted in response.

"Freya."

"It's okay to be afraid. Celestia could take offense, get angry, lash out in grief. She could do all of that and more," Freya said. She held a hoof out frog side up. "She could also take comfort, be thankful, have faith." Freya turned up her other hoof. "We can't know for sure."

I had no words, no comeback, and any irritation from her entrance had dissipated. She was right, but the truth was, my fear was the same as any other creature on Equiss: the fear of the unknown, the fear that if something could go wrong, it would. I rapped my hoof against the dock's planks. A wave of cold air raced away from the point of impact.

"I think Princess Luna would agree. I think even she was afraid. So, a silly little colt in over his head isn't as bad as it may seem…" Freya floated over to me, stopping just out of hooves reach. I shuddered. My breath clung to the air; it, too, bathed in the moonlight. "...But it's not just Celestia, is it?"

I shook my head. "No."

Freya scoffed. In a sudden motion, she leaped forward and bopped me on the nose. "We've been over this. You really need to learn some faith, Glacie. All this paranoia is not good for your development. So stop it."

"Faith?" I asked. The thought wormed inside of me with a fervor I did not like. It was two parts revolution and one part anger. "Faith!"

Freya nodded. "Faith."

"In what?" I snapped. My teeth gnashed as I took a heavy-hooved step toward Freya. Her smile didn't waver; she simply danced around me. She did not glitter in the moonlight. No, her pale visage seemed to ignore the nightlight altogether. She was unchanging, eternal, cold, and alien, which made her words sting all the more.

"Not what, nope. In who? And you know exactly who I mean."

I growled. "Didn't we just discuss this inside?"

Freya shook her head. "We discussed what you should do. This is about whom you should trust. Similar? Yes. The same? No."

"I don't see the difference, you crazy ghoul."

Freya's absurdist claims and her overwhelming need to play with my emotions were beginning to grate on my last nerve. This entire week had whittled down my finite pool of good intentions. I just wanted some peace, something I'd had in abundance before my mark came. Now, in hindsight, I missed it. I missed the daily rhythms, the mundanity of it all.

"That's okay, you will, in time. We'll start with the conversation with your friends. That will be as good a place as any to spread some faith. Azure Brew, Writ Tally, Tender Crop, Wayward Horizon. They're your friends, right?"

I nodded silently.

"So, you silly little colt, start there. You know what you're going to do. All you need is the intent that comes with it."

"You make it seem more complex than it is," I said.

"Do I, or are you the one complicating things?"

Was I? I honestly didn't know at this point. I was tired and confused, and I missed being normal. I could feel the ice creeping up my legs, the rigid frost on my tail. Then there was my magic, cryomancy. Lately, it was the only thing that seemed to have rules. I may have yet to learn all of them, but there were rules, all the same. Ponies didn't have rules.

"I don't know." My heart was beating out of my chest. My face was hot and burning, and I hated it. Freya was so ready to cast it all aside. I was not.

Freya smiled, something twinkling in her eye. It was not moonlight. "And that is okay. We'll work on it."

For Freya, it was as simple as that. We'd work on it because it can all be fixed. I can be fixed, these memories can be fixed, every pony who looked down on me, who looked down on my dam. "It! Can! All! Be! Fixed! It's all that easy, so simple!"

Then, the night went silent. The water, the wind, the critters hiding in the trees. It was all so quiet, and in the silence, the ice was my shield, my shell, my home. It had moved further up, passed my forehooves, and chased lines across my withers and down my neck. My back hooves matched my forehooves. A suit of armor forged from magic and the writhing mass of my own icy fury. There was no enemy, no target, just the cold clasp of ice biting the world. The further it crept, the less I felt. I was numb to the world around me.

"Glacial, you need to calm down. Your magic is going wild." Freya's words were cold, a sentiment accompanied by the pity-stricken grimace on her face. I barely heard them, barely reacted at all. "Glace, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

Freya nodded. She attempted a smile. It didn't fool either of us. "Good, now, you need to relax. Your magic is a bit unstable. I get it; you got a little upset; it's all just reactionary. But it's okay now, so just let go. Please."

It made one think. As calm as I was, Freya only seemed to be driven to push my limits. I did not enjoy making Freya so upset, so beside herself. At the same time, I wanted the ice, the peace, the disconnection between reality and my future. Tomorrow began the next trial, the following weight to crush me beneath it. Freya only wanted to help. I wanted to help as well.

The ice cracked, from withers to fetlocks, and the shell fell away in sheets. The moment they touched the ground, they reduced themselves to slush. As it all fell away, the heat returned to my body, blood rushed like a tide, and the numbness vanished in an instant.

"Fine," I said.

The relief on Freya's face was frightening. The horror gave way to something I couldn't place. She had a haunted look, something unsettling behind her eyes. I felt pulled apart. The numbness, the anger, a battle in my mind. I let out a sigh so deep it touched my very soul. I was at my limit. Father's words tang in my ears. I yawned. Even as the grasp of sleep beckoned. The memory of Hal's nightmare clung to my frail grasp on my sanity.

"Glace?"

I looked over my shoulder to the river, still basking in Luna's light. It didn't feel quite as welcoming now. A spider's web that sought out the nearest fly to snatch away. The Nightmare was more than in my head. My breath ebbed on the borders of panic, the strained irregular intakes matched by the elongated exhales. My vision swam.

"Glace, maybe you should go to bed," Freya said. She'd floated up beside me. I refused to meet her gaze. "Okay?"

"Okay." I agreed.

"You scared me," Freya said. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I know. Sorry." I was still scared. I cracked, and the ice reacted. It was odd, like a muscle being coiled. I could understand why such talents were rare. It was less the command of ice and more the ice was alive, deep inside. A place I think a unicorn was best suited to control.

The more profound truth, the part that dragged me down, was how right it felt. The ice was Glacial Zero, as much as any other part of me, my hooves, mane, and wings. I shook my wings, flecks of frost falling like fresh snow.

"Glace, it really is okay. You can be scared. We can be scared together."

Freya pulled me into a hug, and for the first time, I felt it. A gentle embrace like the winter breeze. She clung to me, and I wrapped a hoof around where her power white neck should be. It was only for a second, but I could have sworn I felt something solid.

I shook my head and let all of those what-ifs fade to the back of my mind. I had more pressing matters. The first of which was a bed. As Freya pulled away, she offered a gentle smile, one I returned happily.

"Together then. One step at a time."

Freya nodded excitedly. "Together. But Glace."

"Yeah, Freya?"

"If you ever try to freeze yourself like that again. I will kick your butt all the way to the moon. Then, Nightmare Moon can have some company for a while."

I snorted. Freya smirked, and the dam broke. The both of us burst into hysterical laughter. I fell on my back, wings twitching as I grabbed my gut. Freya had slipped partially into the ground as she tried to roll on the ground.

When the laughter stopped, the silence returned. I did not feel better, no longer in control. But, for now, at this moment, that was okay. I struggled back to my hooves and let out a gaping yawn. I rubbed over my eyes. The world was bleary.

"Okay, for real this time. Somepony need some sleep. We can't have you passing out at work," Freya said, gesturing to the house.

I nodded. I have a feeling it is going to be a long day or night—whatever. As I began the walk back, my ear flicked to the side, and my eyes scanned the dark.

"You okay?" Freya asked.

I turned back to the house, a pout on my lips. "I thought I heard humming."

"Humming?"

I shook my head. "Never mind." My ear flicked again. A gentle noise was lost to the breeze.