Kingdom of Shadows

"It awakens. Slumber, interrupted by the currents of fate and time, comes to an end. The gate weakens and soon it will crumble under the shadow's indomitable will."

The silence reigned, interrupted only by a soft hum of magic. It was as if the land itself chose not to cause any inconvenience to the speaker - begging him not to stop; to grace every living creature with more of his wisdom.

The dark figures stirred, whispering among themselves. They talked and argued, unable to reach a consensus, louder and louder, as if a thunderous storm of discord brewed in their very souls. Unrest grew, panic gripped them. The mass of bodies clashed like great waves fighting for domination in a dark ocean. Their quarrels elicited screams and shouts, the dark cloud of ponies threatening to plunge into violence.

Then, as quickly as a falling shadow, they, all of them, stood without voice. The moonlight danced silently upon their masks of overlapping silver stripes. Not even a smallest breath was heard. No words uttered. The cacophony has been replaced with gaping emptiness, as if the very nature of sound was violently ripped away from reality. Silence rang painfully in their ears. The white stag was about to speak again.

"I can feel it in the darkness," he whispered, the quietest of his words shattering the stillness, bringing unnatural calm and ease. "I can feel it in the light." His white coat shone in the gloom like a beacon of untouchable hope - close enough to touch, yet so far away at the same time. "It is calling out," Emmaial continued, his wispy tones permeating the unyielding shadows. No living thing dared to move. "Searching," the whisper came sharp as a dagger in the night. Stag's gaze fell on the gathered ponies, judging them as if to see if they are worthy, reaching deep into their souls to see the truth that lay within.

The dark ponies trembled before the stag's gaze, for no mortal could safely withstand it without burning up in the infinite fountainheads of light that were his eyes. He marveled at the vulnerable bodies of the cultists, looking upon them as they were to him; nothing more then a passing curiosity. They could be of use, though. He closed his eyes, letting the eerie gloom fill the auditorium once more. It was then, that the darkness become a physical thing; splotched of blackness stirred and swirled, floating carefully back to the halls devoid of light and dark, eager to take their rightful place, yet hesitant to venture too close to the luminous creature.

The cultists stirred.

They saw the stag smile. Just a slightest movement of his lips, tiny change at the corners of his eyes, but it smote them down with feeling, strong as the greatest of storms. Ethereal, unreal joy filled their hearts, as they looked upon the alien visage with adoration and worship. Their struggle stopped mattering. Their will bent and twisted, as they lost themselves to the eternal calm and embracing light.

"You have done well, servants of the Queen," the whisper broke the silence once more, shattering the illusion of peace into a thousand little parts that seemed to sing an eerie song of despair. Although his voice was so quiet, the echo thundered, repeating eagerly each and every word with a thousandfold power. "For this, you shall be rewarded."

The stag's antlers ignited in golden light, blinding those who dared in their impudence to look directly upon them. He raised his head high, benevolently allowing the gathered see the magnificent display. With grace and gentleness, the arcane power started flowing down like an eager stream, making it's way down a mountain's slope. Swirling and spiraling, it flew towards the ground, where it coalesced into a tight, luminous sphere. Lines of gold danced and played along it's surface, as the ancient and ageless spell was expertly woven by the white stag.

As the light enveloping his antlers died down, he effortlessly summoned a large, crystal bowl and placed it underneath the golden sphere, letting it ring with a somber note as it touched the stone floor.

The cultists waited, staring at the magic with hope. A single drop of light fell, staining the glass. Then another, and one more. The drops turned to a stream, and slowly, the floating orb poured down, filling the bowl with liquid gold. Small waves formed on it's surface, as if disturbed by some unknown force.

Emmaial laughed, his voice ringing eerily like silver bells. The eager echo answered again. A thought passed him; he could try to stay and hurry things along. No... The summoning spell was already at it's limit. The passageways were still too tight to squeeze more time through. His direct involvement had to be postponed until he was called upon once more. He felt the magic tug at his consciousness; the spell binding him slowly faded. It was trying to pull him back. No matter.

He had time. After all, the eternity waited.

He let go, allowing himself to fall though the shadows.