Wandering

Cadens Lucem

Entry #13

3rd of July, 02:36

Location: Foothills of Mount Cresting, the Crystal Mountains

520m ASL, Clear sky

Temperature 11º C, Wind Speed 4 m/s S

My head was not being merciful to me this night.

We had kept going rather late into the evening yesterday to make up for the morning's lost time, not making camp until the sun finally decided to go down on us. That aside, the scouts had finally managed to determine our position; the peak we'd finally landed on was apparently situated square on the northern border of Equestria, almost exactly two flights north of Canterlot.

Feelings were mixed among the swarm. On one hand there was immense relief, now that we were no longer lost in the wilderness. On the other, as Chrysalis so aptly had put it before giving her subjects leave to rest:

“We are now in enemy territory. I know you are all relieved to be out of the unknown lands of the Frozen North – regardless of how terribly ill-fitting that name is – but do not make the mistake of letting your guard down. One slip here, and we may lose the entire swarm. The ponies do not forget easily, so neither must we.”

I had tucked myself in, my mind mostly stuck in thoughts of home – seeming ever so much closer now, after what happened yesterday – and for once, I'd actually managed to forget about the half of my mind that wasn't reallymine. It had become a lot easier to do, with Elytra in a body of her own and all, but suffice to say that ignoring the presence of what amounts to a full set of muscles in your body that move on your own – except it's in your head, but you get my point – is not something you can easily accomplish. Even this time around it was probably mostly due to exhaustion, and magical exhaustion at that. Which wasn't even my own in the first place.

Aye, there's the rub.

Sleep fled me, but the strange dream stayed where it was, firmly chiseled into my memory.

On one hand, there probably wouldn't be anyone who'd be overjoyed at me waking them in the middle of the night because I had a bad – well, weird at least – dream. On the other, I remembered the images Elytra had shown me, from these “Mercurial Archives” or whatever it was.

More importantly, I remember the emotions going through her while doing so. A scholar like her, with the oldest piece of history their species had – she revered every second of that memory, and I'd be damned if Chrysalis didn't value them just as much herself.

Sure, it might well be that my mind – for some reason – decided to start making me randomly dream about ancient changeling history, and all that I'd seen tonight was just an elaborate fabrication.

Except. The dream remained clear in my head. Too clear – no dream would ever have stayed for this long, not to this extent.

Except. It was just that bittoo strange of a dream for me to have made it up, while also being just that bit tooreal to seem like a believable dream. It wasn't a choppy, jumpy mishmash of scenes that didn't make sense – it was a single long cohesive...memory.

Except...

I rubbed the back of my head. I hadn't thought of it when I went to sleep, but now that I could feel how sore I'd got, I was definitely regretting my own lack of awareness on the point. I'd been sleeping with something round and hard under my head, and there was exactlyone thing in my entire pack that fit that description.

The Mercury Star.

And the Mercurial Archives. Just how dumb I'd been not to makethat painfully obvious connection right away, I'm not sure. Other things to think of, I suppose. Chrysalis probably had – likely that was the reason she'd been so hesitant to use the thing.

There wouldn't be any big important discussions this night, however. Chrysalis was sleeping soundly – ever since yesterday morning, she'd been present in the back of my mind like a small knot of emotions. Much like Elytra, but very different at the same time. And Elytra herself was down and out, just like she had been since only hours after we returned to the swarm yesterday; using her magic that much had quite apparently taken its toll on her. She was back in her original quadruped form, snoozing away a few meters to the side of my sleeping bag.

That ruled out the entirety of the changeling population that I was more personally acquainted with, and I really needed someone to vent a bit on. This was getting a bit too much, even for my standards.

In hopes of finding one of the swarm's scouts, I unzipped my sleeping bag and untied my sandals from my pack, putting them on. In the half-light of the borderline dawn I had no trouble spotting my target circling above the camp; I sprung up into the air and let my wings surge out, eagerly welcoming the pleasant sensation of near-weightlessness the magic brought with it.

I was several meters up in the air before I realized what I'd done. Or, more accurately, what Ihadn't done: namely, filing a humble request to Elytra to use her magic on me before I started flying.

I have been a rather staunch atheist for the most part of my life, and what faith I have had has been in the clear and obvious fact that the world works against me. Surely, if realistic pessimism was a religion, none would have accused me of heresy.

So it was a decidedly unfamiliar thought that took considerable time to process, before I could finally realize what it was; I was worried for my soul. Quite evidently I had one, as had been proven several times these last few days. And just as evidently, it was no longer possible to define it as human.

In hindsight I should maybe have realized the occurring change earlier. The ever growing sense of familiarity with the swarm, the near-telepathic connection to Chrysalis I felt at times...

And the fact that I had fused my soul with that of achangeling, the day before finding the magical element ofchange, the night before using said element tochange dimensions twice in a matter of hours, the day before I finally wake up one early morning and feelextremely stupid for not catching on. Again. Being a realist in a fantastical world does sort of... throw off your sense of direction, sometimes.

This was no time to be thrown off guard, however, and as I idly swept through the air on wings of stolen magic I rummaged through my memories – or were they Elytra's? – of changeling society. I had known for some time that Chrysalis had some sort of control, some kind of hive-mind connection to the swarm under her; I'd never bothered gathering the specifics of it, simply because it hadn't exactly seemed relevant at the time. Well, fool me once, and I'll beat your nose in the second time you try something weird, as the saying goes. Now that I was standing with one foot practically within the swarm's ranks, I figured it was better to inform myself before someone pulled a fast one on me. If there was one thing in life I was never suited – or willing – to be, it was caged and enslaved into servitude.

Inclusion, it's called. On one hand, it's not so bad as one might think – the connection is one-way, and is essentially a flow of information from hiveling to hivelord. A form of tax, I suppose, for the sustenance they provide, since changeling society is largely non-material. Essentially, Chrysalis can – theoretically – see and hear everything that the swarm does or thinks. Sort of explains the lack of criminality Elytra mentioned – she struggled to understand a few of my memories, and explanations had to be made – if you know someone could potentially be watching not only your every move, but yourthoughts as well, from inside your own head, well, even the most hard-boiled rebel would think twice before breaking the law.

But as you may have guessed, I didn't have much of an interest in sacrificing my freedom of thought either. There wasn't much I could do about the current situation, except one thing: hurry up and get Chrysalis to her kingdom so I could get back home, before this wholesoul deal got any worse. That, and try to figure out some way to keep this power for my own.

Suddenly, venting my ever-growing list of worries to some random night patrol didn't seem like such a good idea anymore, and I flew a few laps around the camp in silence. Going back to sleep would take a while – being an insomniac isn't fun – but hopefully Elytra wouldn't go rummaging too deep in my memories of this night, and failing that she'd hopefully just write whatever she found off as dreams. Changelings dream too, I know as much from experience.

Besides, I'd hardly be able to get much else done. I could feel the strangepull on what I could only presume was my soul, drawing me towards the center of the camp where Elytra was sleeping. It wasn't exactly painful per se, but from the way my entire being felt like it was beingstretched whenever I strayed a bit too far from my other half, I suspected it wouldn't be particularly comfortable if I tried to put any further distance between us. If I even could bring myself to do it, that was.

With thoughts of chains and paranoia blending with my newfound thirst for magical power, I finally made land a few meters away from my pack, and – with a sigh of regret escaping my lips – dispelled my wings and their magic. Trying not to think too hard about anything, I navigated myself into the verdant nylons of my sleeping bag, and closed my eyes.

Sleep did not, of course, come quickly. Unless I'm physically exhausted, I seldom have that luxury. What I did was the same as I had for many years of sleepless nights; focusing my senses inward and moving not muscles, but the nerves themselves. It was the base of the usual meditative exercise I did when I couldn't find sleep fast enough, stimulating skin and muscle with neural impulses stronger and more plentiful than normal, sending prickling tingles through my body until my entire being was like a constant, static shiver. Dark colors swirled before my closed eyes, forming images I knew I should recognize but couldn't quite grasp.

As sleepiness eventually took me, a nagging suspicion growing in my mind made itself heard. Somehow, I was almost sure that my little exercise had some connection to this new, strange magic I'd gained. Magic, at once so very alien yet so familiar I hadn't even realized it was my own until now. I was missing something, here. Some small connection that once found would seem painfully obvious, but until then would sit content haunting me with its presence from the sidelines of my mind.

I fell into an uneasy second slumber filled with strange dreams of the vision from my first, and ominous whispers of powers mercurial.

-/-/-/

One thing I certainly had not expected was to wake up in a darkness deeper than the one I fell asleep in. It was one thing to do that in deepest winter, when you spent the five-or-so bright hours of the day mired indoors with work or studies; to do so at the height of summer, when not even the darkest night quite managed to be black, was perplexing. Naturally once my brain started thinking logically again I reached a rather simple conclusion; barring yet another sudden dimensional hop, I had either managed to sleep through an entire day, or someone had blindfolded me.

Just when I'd stopped having to sleep with a shirt across my face, too. Bloody typical.

On instinct I tried to brush whatever it was away from my face, but when I only found my own bare skin with my hands, I started to feel a certain amount of doubt in my theory. What exactly was going on here?

I was just about to voice that thought, when I heard Elytra – back inside my head, for once.Don't make any sounds, Martin. We have to be quiet.

Certainly not the morning call I'd expected. Shifting my voice to the sort of telepathic kind Elytra used wasn't easy; I'd never had to bother with it before, and forming coherent words in your head actually takes a bit of practice before you can get it done with any reasonable ease.Good morning to you too, grumpyface. Did Chrysalis decide to bring the sky down on our heads or something?

The mental equivalent of a head-shake was sent my way, and my companion's “voice” returned.An Equestrian border patrol got here. The scouts gave enough warning for the swarm to break camp, but pegasi are faster than changelings. The queen took the others and went ahead, but we couldn't wake you in time to get you flying without being spotted. So we're hiding from the patrol. I transmuted the mountain on top of us; we're lying under a small rock at the moment.

Slowly my mind caught up to what she was talking about, and my changeling senses –not Elytra's, as I had first assumed – confirmed the fact. Muted bundles of emotion wavered around above us, dominated by vigilance and curiosity. In all but one of them, at least – the last of the bundles shared parts of those feelings, but was otherwise completelybrimming with the burning light of love.

Well, the energy generated by that emotion, at least. It was decidedly hard to focus on that sort of rationality, though, with the changeling equivalent of a giant tub of ice cream in front of me. Not that I got much of an urge to gorge myself or anything, but because Elytra's emotions were going all haywire on me.

So why aren't you just feasting away, then? Why are you holding yourself back? I thought at mycompanion, who seemed quite surprised at my words.

Are you an idiot? She would notice! You have felt for yourself how it is to be fed upon. It may not be painful per se, but it is definitely noticeable. And before you ask, this one knows the feeling of it, and what it means. I've felt that signature, even seen her, before. She was in Canterlot during the invasion. A brief pause, and a small measure of shame made its way into her tone.She was the Queen's target.

An image entered his mind, of a pink-and-violet pony with feathery wings and a horn encircled by a small tiara, shining with a dazzling light and staring defiantly toward him as he – no, Elytra, since it was her memory – tumbled through the air at breakneck speed, desperately trying to regain control of her flight. A few more, less dramatic views of the Princess Cadence flashed by, along with a brief flash of her name on a profile in some dark-brown musky paper folder, but I didn't pay much attention. Much like everything the Internet serves, changeling information comes in much greater amounts than you usually need, so I'd grown used to filtering things away.

And so I did, until I realized that I'd seen the mark on her flank before. Or to be precise, I'd seen the object that her flank-mark depicted before. Two nights back, in fact.

It was the Venus Star.

Elytra, we need to get a hold of that princess.

Naturally, this only riled her up further.You are insane! I just showed you that she's got enough power to swat away the entire changeling swarm like a bunch of flies and send them halfway across the planet with the wave of a hoof! And you want us to go after her? Why?

Her frustrated outburst made it hard for me to form words inside my head, what with her jittery mess of fear and desire leaking over so much; so I gave her the quietest whisper I could manage. “She has the Venus Star stamped on her flank. I don't know what it means, but I intend to find out.”

I probably had my changeling senses to thank for delaying the onset of claustrophobia until that point. I could feel the air bouncing back from the earth covering us, only a few centimeters above my head, and the echo was eerily quick in its bounces. I steeled myself best I could, but was almost scared witless when another voice spoke up beside me, in a not all too muted whisper. “Who has what?”

It took me a second to recognize the voice – and the bundle of emotions attached to it that I hadn't noticed until now, thanks to the stupid flaming love beacon blaring away above us – as a definitely changeling one, and yet a few more to place it as the scout I'd briefly spoken to a few times. “I thought we weren't supposed to talk?” I replied, still whispering.

The scout shook her head. Not that I could see her, but I could feel the air moving. That's how close she was to me, howbloody cramped the space we occupied was. “No, it should be fine now. The patrol is moving away. On hoof. In a minute or two they should be far enough away that we can sneak past them and get up in the air.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise; I certainly couldn't tell anything like that from what I felt. Perhaps it was some specialty of the scout-caste. Elytra had mentioned something like that, at some point. I nodded slightly – or at least tried, what with the ground above me restraining my movement quite effectively – and was about to praise her for her sharp senses, before a small logical fallacy presented itself to me.

“Pegasi on foot?”

I felt a nod from the scout. “They probably found something that was too heavy for them to carry while flying. They're moving quite slowly, so they're likely quite encumbered.”

As I had been made quite aware of during my days with the changeling swarm, there were precisely three material objects present in the camp during the night. One was my walking staff, a two-meter length of sturdy birch that I'd stubbornly clung onto despite it being rather useless in the air – until Elytra showed me how to transmute it back and forth, at least – that I always kept close out of sheer habit. The second was my sleeping bag, which I was currently quite snugly wrapped up in.

I sincerely doubted that a troop of five pegasi couldn't manage to carry a stick into the air, and I was equally doubtful that they'd decided to bring with them a random boulder from the mountaintop. All other alternatives ruled out, I came to a most dreadful conclusion.

The ponies had found my backpack.

My backpack, which aside from a good number of material objects that I placed considerable value on, also contained the one thing that could safely get me back home to Earth. The Mercury Star.

And my bloody phone, too.

“Clarification, Elytra. We need to get a hold of that princess, and while we're doing that, we also need toget my bloody gear back. Hopefully before the ponies realize there's one of the strongest magical artifacts in the world inside it.”

Elytra's answer was decidedly non-verbal, but her shame and despair was verbose enough for me. The scout's, on the other hand, was not. “Phaetoles, you sand-raking idiot,” she hissed, planting a hoof square in the middle of her face.

Had I not been quite so chiseled into the mounds of the earth I would likely have mirroredher gesture best I could. As it was, I simply heaved a loud, irritated groan. Murphy, it seemed, had found my number again, and the line was about to run depressingly hot.

This wasnot a good morning.