Thorax awakens in the dead of night for the fourth time this month. In his dreams, he was coerced by an unfounded fear, as if death was approaching, destruction was imminent, and there was no way back, and all he could do was wait or run to death himself.
Unable to sleep, he wrote to friend in a foreign land. There was no turning back when he realized that he had sent his only trusted kinsman to reside in Ponyville. He was at the top of his new empire and felt isolated at times. He insisted on leaving the title of Patrol Leader vacant, but deep down he didn't believe Pharynx would return, and the position became a tombstone for those whose whereabouts were unknown. With the patrol being run by a handful of squad leaders, all of whom were once Pharynx's follows. Though they are now as docile as ponies, there are remnants of the old days in their eyes. Thorax doesn't know how to trust them.
This is not to say that they lose their temper with their new ruler-the evolved changelings have given up that habit. So when Thorax saw a statue of the old changeling at the crafting activities, he was not angry; when he sought an interview with the author of the crafting, he was still not angry; and when the changeling on the other side of the room gently questioned him about getting the whole clan to accept the pony's magic in the first place, Thorax never got angry; he had rejected that habit of disrupting harmony. As for where the anger that should have been directed at others burned now, he didn't care.
Only, whenever mildly challenged by the colorful Changeling, Thorax would dream that night. If the dream had been about the pack forcing him to abdicate, or Pharynx strangling him to death, perhaps he wouldn't have cared, but he was just standing alone on a craggy cliff, with tangible and intangible fear approaching him, and behind him the path branching out to almost anywhere, and he stood at the end of one of those paths-whoever, or maybe it was just himself, made so many choices that ended up making the world a better place for him to live. that had made so many choices to finally get him here. There were no choices ahead, and he could no longer turn back.
The nightmares brought him more fear and depression than anything he'd faced during the day, and the only way out of the long state of panic was surprisingly to think of Pharynx-somehow the only one who wasn't associated with destruction.
Thorax is ashamed when he realizes this, ashamed that he still relies on the changeling form that has left, ashamed that he couldn't convince Pharynx, ashamed that he never considered that"the most despisedThorax in the clan, living under the wing of his elder brother"became the ruler, and that he didn't have any other staunch followers other than Hearty! The questions about his legitimacy never cease, but the questions never reached his ears. How horrible it is.
Pharynx, his first protector and last enemy, is still unaccounted. Impossible to find him and impossible to forget him. In the eyes of the military, in the crafts of the old changelings, in the shadows trailing from each changeling, in his own nightmare ravings, Thorax spies him everywhere.
Thorax remembered that he had sent him away from the nest before the war, and he said that if all went well,Thorax would be back in few months. In Pharynx's plan, he would become ruler and build a nation where his own brothers could live in peace. He himself did not want to stay in a country where his brother ruled.Thorax felt hatred for a moment, which was quickly lost. That day, before Pharynx left, perhaps he should have said to him,"If all goes well, you can come back in a few months."The country would be so good by then, so good that he would have to recognize the superiority of evolution and have to return. ButThorax didn't say it then, and doesn't do it now. As long as there is still a changeling with remnants of the old days remaining in its eyes, and a changeling making statues of the old changeling in a nostalgic mood, gently questioning him,Thorax will never have the credentials, and the courage, to speak that word. Pharynx then went from being the only thing he had to being the only thing he had lost, even though he was never really had byThorax and never really left.
What Thorax doesn't understand is what the destruction really has to do with himself, with the Pharynx. He was still young, occasionally described as naïve, and neither he nor any of the changeling had ever been as healthy as they were now—no more starvation long enough to devour themselves, peace, no need to watch out for cruel rulers, and military training that gradually becomes perfunctory will sooner or later become an emotional forum limited to soldiers. And there's nothing wrong with that. All signs point to the fact that he has made his dream come true.
Thorax wrote his nightmare in an exhaustive letter, interspersed with subjective speculations about the real-life prototype of a nightmare and complaints about his daily troubles, without using the slightest bit of reason, and by the time he stopped writing, he had used five sheets of letterhead. So heavy and delirious was this letter that when Hearty, far away, opened the envelope, the paper inside was soaked with non-existent tears, but the handwriting was still legible, and Hearty could see beyond all doubt that Pharynx's name was interspersed with all the unconnected lines.
Ten days later Thorax received a reply to his letter, marveling at the royal coat of arms on the envelope, and Hearty claimed to have consulted an expert on dreams on his behalf. Princess Luna has broken the nightmares of countless ponies, including herself, and has shown an equally strong sense of duty to the troubled ruler of a friendly country.
In her letter, Luna confessed that she knew firsthand how important it was for rulers to maintain their physical and mental health, and she wrote two full pages of speculation about the source of Thorax's nightmares, based entirely on the five pages of letterhead that Thorax had sent, and thus inevitably tainted with a dreary, damp odor. The only dry, undoubtedly real-world letterhead bears a contract that Luna is willing to extend her magical powers to the New Empire as part of her obligation to guard the dreams of the changelings, as long as Thorax signs it.
Thorax readily agreed.
The night he signed and sent back the contract, Thorax was still dreaming, a seasoned stranded man, traveling up the same narrow crags of no return night after night. He had never been more awake than he was this night, not only aware that he was dreaming, but able to remember when that unprovoked fear would probably strike. He thought of the few changelings that had whispered behind his back during the day, with no evidence that they were saying anything unfavorable about him, but which had kept Thorax on the edge of his seat all morning; he thought of Princess Luna's letter, which he had read three times but could not recall a single word beyond that extraordinarily dry contract.
A sudden fear bordering on death seized Thorax, earlier and more violently than on any previous night, and a thousand heavy, delirious whispers rang out. They said that he can't, he shouldn't. But Thorax did not know what he can’t and what he shouldn’t. For no reason at all, he shuddered with fear, his head was high and his wings tightened, his exoskeleton softened and became indistinguishable from his skin, the blackness around him faded to a bright, vivid color- he looked like a pony. The premonition of impending destruction reminded him of Pharynx for no apparent reason, and somehow Pharynx was still the only one who had yet to be associated with it. Death casts a shadow. Suddenly Luna's voice rang out,"Are you all right, my friend?"
Author's Note
I know a story with a complicated pre-plot and where the author doesn't go into detail but instead recommends you play an interactive video in a foreign language is annoying. (As annoying as this long sentence)
Thank you for reading. It will have a sequel, which will be released shortly.
In the setting of the interactive video, "Evolution" allows the changeling to stop feeding on love and change their appearance, but the side effect is to weaken their fighting ability and make them gentler.
And Pharynx, the only changeling that insisted on keeping the Empire independent (or at least militarily self-preserving) has left. So in this ending the Changeling Empire is in a sense a vassal state of Equestria. And the contract signed between Thorax and Princess Luna - in the sense that Thorax ceded some of his sovereignty, invaded the privacy of his kinsmen, and once again didn't ask their opinion - establishes this point once and for all.
The Thorax of this story is, in short, a ruler who made a decision and regretted it. He originally chose to "evolve" out of recognition and desire for a pony-like life, and coincidentally had the opportunity to "evolve" the entire clan at once, so he did so.
Apparently he didn't ask the opinion of all his kinsmen ahead of time, and he gradually realized that he had done wrong. The psychological pressure made him start having nightmares, but he was not yet fully aware of the final consequences of his actions oriented, so the nightmares were insubstantial in his fear.
Till the contract was signed, he added another brick to his country's grave again. And so the death of his dreams took shape - Luna.
