Finding Avalon

by Syn3rgy

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 10363

It all started with the color Blue, that imperfection in the Skybox. It all ended with the Elemental Incarnates, those imperfections in Paradise.

[size=12]*best read with 'dark' background setting*[/size]

It all started with the color Blue, that imperfection in the Skybox.

A lone Stallion walks among the roads of a fabricated paradise and wonders if there was a time before it all; before the Skybox descended, blocking out the sky. Before Discord ruled as the supreme leader of Avalon- the last city on the planet they say; before every single Avalonian became so brainwashed and before Celestia and Luna blinked out of existence.

His wondering leads him to discover a secret underground organization that has the answers he seeks, and soon, he’s pulled into a world of terrorism, truth, and tribulations.

He’s given a momentous task, one which would change the face of Avalon permanently if he were to accept it. And yet the question stands; to what extents will he go to make a better tomorrow? To what extents will he embrace his new purpose, and to what consequences?

It all ended with the Elemental Incarnates, those imperfections in Paradise.

Big thanks to Elliotshoe on DA for the excellent picture. Seriously guys/gals, check him out.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-02-19 01:42:51 UTC

The Imperfection

To understand the present, one must learn about the past. Let me direct you to this 1000 word story that will give you just that.

Jagged walked down the quiet, clean road, humming to himself; his lackluster mane and fur absorbing the surrounding lights that lit the city. Occasionally, another pony would brush by him, gray fur on gray fur-a tentative glance or a friendly nod-before going his or her own way in the mostly empty streets of Avalon. Avalon the domed city, Avalon, Jagged’s home. The roof far above him-the Skybox it was called-was lined with light. It was still Lights On… he had time.

He picked up the pace and promptly stopped humming as he drew nearer to the Imperfection-the only imperfection of the city that he knew of-that spot in the Dome where there was nothing but blue. Blue. He didn’t know why he called it that, but it just felt right. It was deep, reflective, and yet energetic in a grounded way.

It was hard to reach though, the Imperfection. He had to climb up a ladder he’d placed to hop the fence into the scrap yard, and then feed the dog with a slab of processed chow so he wouldn’t get mauled, but this was routine now, and the amount of effort always paid off. Sometimes, he’d see white, which would disappoint him because black and white was all the city was; white buildings, black streets. But then often enough he’d see pure, untainted blue. Wonderful blue.

As he arrived at the fence, he levitated the stainless steel ladder out from behind a pile of discarded metal and hardware, brushed whatever flecks had settled on it over Lights Off, and propped it against the fence. Without a second guess, he climbed the makeshift and fell safely atop a worn mattress on the other side. Just as he was getting up, the low growl from the scrapyard dog started, and the burly beast rounded the corner. When he smelled a familiar pony, however, his growling cut off and he hurried over, nudging Jagged’s hoof in a gesture that could only mean ‘feed me’.

“I’m on it boy,” Jagged said, flipping open his saddlebag to grab the treat. “You ought to stop taking bribes so easily! I remember the time when you actually gave me a bit of a scare. The guard you once were!”

In a playful gesture, Jagged raised a hoof and nudged the beast. He fell over as if he’d been bucked. In a rather sudden fit, the unicorn felt gloomy.

“Well, join the crew. I was never a guard, but, well, you know. Curiosity kills us all. I hate questioning, but now it seems as though it’s all I do.” Suddenly, Jagged’s tone was morbid “I’ve broken away from the mold, boy, and I’m still deciding if I like it or not.”

Lowering his ears, the unicorn made his way to the spot he’d cleared. Months ago, he’d placed a similar mattress there, as it was far more comfortable lying on that, than the ground of the scrap yard. Closing his eyes, Jagged tipped his chin up and at where the Imperfection would be.

He liked teasing himself. Looking up for the first time that day, or week, was half the fun, as it was a gamble- was the blue tinted with white, or was it not? Taking a deep breath in, he let the world come back to light, and smiled brilliantly; the color was a solid blue, what joyous luck! Staring at that Imperfection always made him fall into reveries, and as expected, this time was no different.

He thought; thought about the city, how it was called Avalon by the Ponies of Old, and yet it seemed as though it was the opposite of a paradise- more so a containment chamber. He didn’t know what was outside the Dome, but the fact that he had inside of him the knowledge that there was in fact an ‘outside’, was a feat in its own. He was never taught that in school; for all the ponies of Avalon knew, the city was floating through empty space. He often wondered if he should bring somepony else out here to see the Imperfection as well, and yet the fear of accidentally making them question always deterred him. To question is to lose Avalon, to lose paradise; he’d thought he live in one till the day he found the Imperfection by mere accident. Curiosity kills.

But there was something else that doomed him to a life of skepticism- his necklace. In all reality, ever since he was given it he’d had endless urges and a dangerous curiosity; it was as if the simple jewelry piece was the sole catalyst in driving him to his prophesied revelation that the Dome was not everything.

But what is done, is done, and he knew that more than anything. He’d lost his mother; no point trying to bring her back. It reassured him some that as a final action, she’d handed the necklace down to him; on the contrary, she also doomed him to question- he was still deciding if he should hate her for that, or love her.

His father was an aristocratic stallion, an honest worker and a flawless patriot; not a good match, considering Jagged had lost all his patriotism. This city was full of lies, and yet he could never prove that fact. Lucky for him, he no longer lived with his father, as University had forced him to move out and get into residence. Everything happens for a reason, Jagged knew that, and he was grateful that it was only after he’d moved out,  that he found the Imperfection.

The dog whined and turned to look at something Jagged couldn’t see, his ears perked and swerved, picking up on the minute sounds that only a dog could hear.

“What is it, boy?” Jagged asked, his focus falling back to the white ground. “What…”

Before Jagged could ask again, the dog was off, barking at a hidden shadow that had entered the Scrap Yard; this was his signal to skitter. Casting a final tentative glance at the Imperfection, he galloped out of the yard, using the mattress and a bit of levitation to spring him over the fence and onto the ladder on the other side.

Descending it now, he quietly took down the makeshift steps and hid them back in the pile of scraps before turning tail and calmly trotting back home. As his heart-recovering from the shot of adrenalin that had been pumped into it in the initial flight-stilled he took a deep breath and began to hum again; it was an old foal’s rhyme, a calming little tune that his mother had taken the time each night when he was younger to sing to him. It would always make him drowsy; he’d lost track of the times he’d used it to put himself to sleep in residence. So maybe his mother had left him with something good.

It had been five minutes since the Lights Off warning, and he had about ten more before the darkness would settle and all the power would be cut until the following Lights On. He was on the home stretch, but wasn’t looking forwards to it; the ‘home stretch’ meant walking past the creepy old alleyway that was a mere rock’s throw from his dorm. It was so strange there, and often, he’d heard an odd grating noise.

And yet like everything else nowadays, it called to him, tempted him to explore and unravel its mysteries. Clenching his jaw, and loudening his humming, he passed by The Alleyway. Just as he was about to clear its gaping entrance, pitched in a perpetual gloom as looming towers on both sides blocked out the majority of light, he stopped and turned, suddenly frozen to the spot. In the half-light, he could make out a cold brick wall, white, but tarnished and scuffed as if somepony had been dragged across it.

What happened in there, what could ponies get away with? It was clear that no one who worked for the city was daft enough to enter, as it was clearly dusty; Avalon never left a street, walkway, or path dusty. So then why did he want to? It didn’t make any sense. And yet he felt his hooves move forwards, and with his heart in his throat, he began to canter. As soon as the shadow of the looming towers fell over him, and the temperature dropped, all of his resistance crumbled, and he allowed his body to pull him where it wanted. He’d already walked into the ally, done the unthinkable, so why turn back now?

He moved his hooves to feel across the wall, and his searching hoof outlined the nook where two bricks didn’t quite match up; were imperfect. There was a hole there, not too big, but there nonetheless, and the wall was warm. It was as though something had a home there, or somethings… A faded voice from somewhere came to him like a distant memory. It took him a second to clue in that there was nopony in The Alleyway, and that the exclamation had come from the other side of the wall. He could hear ponies on the other side of the wall! Just as he pressed his ear against the brick to listen in, the lights went out.

Panic set in. Numbing panic amplified by the fact that the world had been plunged into the darkness of Lights Off. Something brushed by his side and he shouted, springing away from the wall and making a blind dash in the opposite direction. From the corner of his peripheral, Jagged caught sight of two glowing orbs. His heart leapt and he lit his horn, initially giving off a blinding blaze until he calmed himself enough to regulate the amount of magic he was exerting. As the light dimmed and the surroundings several paces around him were lit, the thing with glowing eyes, with demon eyes if there was ever such a thing, fled, disappearing again into the darkness outside of his glowing dome of light. He didn’t wait around to see if it would return, exiting The Alleyway as if he was still being chased and full out galloping to his home, built into the side of the great Avalon Mountain with the rest of the dorms. Flying up the flight of stairs to his front door, he swung it open and then slammed it shut behind him, flicking on the house lights and dousing his own. Safe on the other side he collapsed, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest. He would never return to that horrifying alleyway.

Taking deep breaths in until he was stable enough to get back up, he walked over to his bed and flung the covers open, diving in and pulling them close to his sweat dampened shoulders. Using a careless bout of grayish magic, he flicked off the main lights and turned on his desk lamp. It was a simple thing, and yet it carried some sentiment. His father had given it to him, he’d joked at the time that it was to ensure Jagged didn’t have nightmares, as he was ‘afraid of the dark’; he wasn’t, but it was a funny comment anyhow.

Maybe he should be though, especially after what had just happened; the very thought made Jagged sweat, and he clutched his necklace close. It was strangely warm, and it felt nice against the bases of his cold fore-hooves. Relaxed again, he pulled his mother’s gift away from his hooves and levitated it with the pewter chain still around his neck to eye-level. The beautifully flowing design of a star, surrounded by smaller white ones came into focus, and he smiled. It was a sleek design, and when it wasn’t making him question or explore things he shouldn’t be, it gave him a firm sense of reassurance.

Maybe it was questioning that would finally free him from Avalon; this mock paradise of black and white or hollow ponies with animated expressions. Maybe, in a twisted sort of way, it was his ticket out. It had led him to the blue, given him that drive, or so it seemed, so could it not eventually allow him to touch that blue, be engulfed by it?

Jaded

…Class, today we will be going over the creation of our wonderful city, Avalon.” The professor’s voice crept into Jagged’s daze; it was gravelly and demanded his attention.

Rousing himself, Jagged pulled out a few pieces of lined paper and a ballpoint pen. Sure, he’d written this note a few times over the year, but he wasn’t going to complain; each time he heard it anew, he’d find more flaws in it as his mind expanded ever outwards with critical speculation. Let the professor speak, let his classmates believe they were being told the only truth; sometimes, ignorance was bliss, as they say.

“In the beginning there was turmoil, chaos, and then our pious leader Discord arrived, ostracized from the peaceful heavens that were his home by the tyrannical sisters, Celestia and Luna…”

Celestia and Luna, the goddesses of what the Ponies of Old called the ‘sun’ and ‘moon’; two words that drew such a passion out of Jagged’s chest. What did the sun and moon look like, were they blue; now that would be something.

“...Discord had spoken out against their horrid ways of manipulating the ponies of the Old World- burning them with scorching heat waves, or killing their crops with prolonged cool droughts. When Discord had finally made his stand, he was defeated because they had cheated him by poisoning his food the Lights Off before the duel. The following Lights On, Discord found that his magical capability was next to nothing, and he quickly lost without the chance of a fair fight…”

Discord, the name they all knew and loved; their ‘pious leader’ who still reigns from the beautiful mountaintop palace known as the Tower of Avalon. Jagged was neutral on that particular fact, as there was no proof dismissing or encouraging the theory that Discord was the good one; Luna and Celestia, the bad.

“…When he fell to the ground below, he found that the poison had not worn off, and he was left unable to return to his wonderful home. At first he roamed the Old World trying to find happiness, trying to help, until he had come in a full circle with nothing more than a few faithful followers, a hundred or so out of the millions he had crossed paths with. With these followers, he created the Tower of Avalon, and then built the city up around it. When Celestia and Luna found out about Discords attempt at making their world a better place, they threatened him and his subjects with a firestorm that would wipe them off the Old World. And yet Discord held firm, and dared defy the vengeful goddesses that threatened him with death. Seeing that he would not budge, Celestia and Luna conjured their worst heat wave yet, one so potent that everything it touched melted and burnt. As the heat wave approached the settlement of Avalon, Discord used all his remaining magic to create the Paradise Device, a combination of rustic technology and pure magic. When he activated it, it created the Dome and protected the inhabitants inside, all the inhabitants. Little did he know that blending in with his faithful followers were six sinful mares…”

The story of the Six Sinful Mares always intrigued Jagged. He felt drawn towards them, and couldn’t help but feel in the pit of his stomach a connection to those illusive villains of the past. He knew, however, that he would never act as irresponsibly as they had, they had the gall to share their revelations with others, in turn causing a mass panic that pitched the dome into chaos. All the more drive that kept his own lips sealed and he alone suffering in the pain ‘reality’ liked to give him.

“…They were the very bane of his existence, and spread the word of Celestia and Luna like a sickly plague. The ponies, once peaceful and friendly-innocent-began to adopt the Sinful Six’s ways, and turned against their generous leader. This was the time known as the Twenty Year Hate, a civil conflict which Discord finally ended by capturing the ringleaders behind the barbarity-those six hateful mares-and executing them. As you know, our Celebration of the Purging was created to remember that wondrous day when the Sinful Six were finally eradicated…”

Furthermore, the punishment that had been bestowed upon the Sinful Six would only be replicated if he himself spoke up and preached what he’d discovered. Ignorance is Bliss.

“…Things eventually calmed down enough for Discord to reestablish his will, and the city again relaxed in the bliss he’d given them initially.”

Finding that he had no more space to jot down notes, Jagged blindly reached into his desk and pulled out his second piece of paper. With it, a small letter dropped out and onto the floor by his rear hooves; he scrunched his face up in confusion. Was it his? Flipping the parcel over with a quick flare of magic, he scanned the surface for a name, only to find that it was flawless and smooth, unmarked by pencil or ink. Curiosity kills.

Without thinking he nonchalantly picked the unmarked message up and stowed it away in his brimming saddlebag. Jagged returned his attention to the front and found that he had missed the end of the lesson. This only deterred him slightly, as all the good parts had already finished. Attempting to shrug off the mysterious letter, he reorganized his binder and pulled out another piece of lined paper in preparation for the second lecture on the wonders of Discord.

***

The perpetual cacophony of clinking plates and conversing voices was a relaxing din, and as Jagged brought the soup to his mouth and felt the warm broth slide down his throat to warm his stomach. He rummaged through his saddlebag and pulled out the unmarked message he’d found earlier on that day.

Class was long since over, and he had a two hour break before his next one started up. He was here at the university to gain a double major in Literature and History, and hoped to be a Text Historian and Analyzer if the future presented itself in a favorable fashion. He’d always had a natural inclination to knowledge; the drive had been with him long before he had acquired his mother’s necklace, ever since his mother, an intellect in all respects, showed him the library she worked at. Ever since then he’d been irrevocably driven to learn more, to stretch his mind to new extents. It had been a godsend that he’d been given the opportunity to work at the University’s library, a goliath of paper and binding in comparison to the quant one back home in the Far Northern reach of the Dome on the other side of the mountain.

He had fond memories of traveling to the University; shooting right through the mountain to the other side had been almost surreal. When he found the library there, he would have immediately shown his mother, if it hadn’t been for the fact that she had already passed on, taken by a rare case of Horn Rot.

With a sigh, Jagged flipped the envelope over and tore open the top. In a swift move, he tapped the covering on the table and allowed the message inside to tumble out. What he saw next filled him with wonder. There, scribbled in the messy jaw-writing only a hornless pony could create, a line had been written; but that was the normal part. What really stood out to him, really rattled his nerves, was the fact that the line was the same color as the Imperfection in the scrapyard. Blue! Somehow, through some arcane method, the writer of this message had taken the color from the Imperfection and put it on paper. The vibrancy was so marvelous, that Jagged almost forgot to read the actual note.

It said, in that scribbled jaw-writing:

‘Do you like the color *blue** at Twelve Noon?’*

Peculiar. Flipping over the note to see if anything had been written on the back, and nothing was, Jagged scrunched up his muzzle in inquiry and re-read the message.

‘Do you like the color *blue** at Twelve Noon?’*

It was only after a third read through that the cryptic message revealed its meaning. It seemed as though the writer was asking him to go to the Imperfection at Twelve Noon… to meet him or her, but why? It was that simple nagging thought that kept him from springing up from his seat and heading to the spot immediately. Why him? Was it something to do with his necklace, or maybe the questioning nature he’d adapted; could it be a representative from Discord’s Court luring him in so that he too could be Purged; his death celebrated in a national holiday for years to come?

As always, it’s the questioning that kept him in place; the possibilities that bad could come out of a new situation always made him hesitate. He didn’t like that fact about himself, but it was something he had to live with; better safe than sorry. For what he knew, not a single sole in Avalon was aware of what was happening to him, where he was going. He was very secretive, and ensured that all tracks that could jeopardize his activities were cleaned up. The fact that somebody knew about his private spot chilled him to the bone.

He was about to tear up the letter and forget about it, when his damned necklace began to prompt him to get up and figure out the truth. He lowered his half empty bowl and began to walk out of the cafeteria, tucking the letter away for keepsake. Carpe Diem. Curiosity kills.

***

The streets, more than ever, were empty. The fact that there was not another soul in sight was unnerving, and only went to reinforce the fact that for the first time, Jagged had seen the streets of Avalon when everypony was at work or school. Jagged had never been a slacker; he prided his work, and strove to be as punctual as possible, but with the recent happenings, he’d lost some of that punctuality.

As Jagged rounded the base of Avalon Mountain, the bleak walls of the Scrap Yard came into view. The bleak walls which ironically hid something so beautiful within, that all the mundane and blatant plainness in Avalon could not stifle it. The Imperfection, and now, the mysterious writer of the note was concealed by those bland walls as well.

His routine of pulling the ladder out gave him the reassurance that the mysterious letter writer hadn’t arrived yet, which was good. He preferred to get their before anypony else, as it allowed him to feel a bit more in control, and often enough, gave him some time to prepare himself.

Hopping over the fence he fell lightly on the mattress below, bouncing once before coming to rest on its downy surface. With a content sigh, he arose and began to make his way towards his resting place. Closing his eyes as he entered the small clearing, smiling foalishly to himself, he walked towards the direction he thought the mattress was in. Was the sky pure blue or impure blue today?

Before he felt his mattress, however, he bumped into something else. The dog; it definitely felt organic, it was silky smooth and had a warmth of its own- it smelled sort of sweet though. He realized with a start that he hadn’t been confronted by the beast yet. With a smile, he opened his eyes… and the smile crumbled, being replaced by a tense line that both showed embarrassment and insecurity. There in front of him, giving a verging-on-lewd grin, a pegasus… with flared full-fledged wings—

His observation stopped there. This was something else; he’d never seen a pegasus with wings before… or at least not full wings, as all the pegasi nowadays had small deformed ones that didn’t help them to fly. Actually, most simply got them removed, as they were unneeded appendages. But not this pegasus, no, her wings were full… and metal? His observations were again digressed as the stranger spoke.

“Well hello there, Stallion, feeling a bit friendly?” The grin split into an all-out perverted smile.

Jagged sucked his breath in and blushed deeply.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I had my eyes closed and…” Jagged stuttered.

“Mhmm yes, I’ve heard that one before,” the Pegasus interrupted with a disbelieving roll of her eyes.

Jagged knew that his only salvation left, lest he be inflicted by total embarrassment, was changing the topic. Uncomfortably shifting his eyes from the females piercing stare, he mumbled something under his breath and pulled out the message.

“Did you write this to me?”

He lowered the note so that she was forced to break eye contact with him. As she lowered her gaze, her stare turning from seductive to analytic, Jagged let out a silent sigh of relief.

“That I did. I’m impressed you came. What took you so long; you’re nearly ten minutes late.”

“Can you blame me for being slightly apprehensive?” Jagged retorted. “I don’t know who you are, what you want from me, or how you know where I like to spend my alone time.”

“Alone time?” her voice, contradicting her eyes, still retained that seductive quality to it. “Well, I should have peeked in once or twice.”

Jagged clicked his teeth as her sentence soaked in.

“Not like that. When I’m over here I look up at the Imperfection and think.”

He pointed to the blue far above. The pegasus followed his hoof.

“Then you’re the right stallion, I thought Rust was right.”

“Sorry, what?” Jagged questioned, his ears perking at ‘the right stallion’ and ‘Rust’; questions started to trickle into his racing mind.

“What, what?” the Pegasus exclaimed.

“You said I was the right stallion for the job… and who’s this Rust you’re talking about?” Jagged queried.

Instead of answering his questions immediately, however, the female circled the edges. “Oh, I do like informing the newbies on what exactly I’m doing confronting them in these secluded places. You should sit down and open your mind a bit. You deserve some answers. I’m here to give them to you, so long as you can listen.”

As the female sat on the surface of the mattress, Jagged hesitated.

“Oh, come now, Stallion, I don’t bite- unless that’s what you like; and if that’s the case…” she drawled off and began smiling predatorily again.

Jagged gulped and scratched the back of his mane before reluctantly sitting next to the dazzling pegasus. He squinted a bit as her chrome wings reflected some of the light from above, and felt another question rise to the forefront of his conscious.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you have wings?”

“Oh, these?” She flared them out, reflecting the light back at him in abstract patterns. “I have Rust to thank for that. He gave them to me,” the Pegasus explained.

“Rust. You keep mentioning his name. Who is he?”

“I’ll get to that in a second. If I drop it on you all at once, I think you’ll feel a bit overwhelmed. Hmm, where to start?” There was a moment of silence as the pegasus assessed her options. “Could I take a closer look at that necklace of yours?”

“I don’t know…” Jagged replied, feeling the apprehension boiling up from his chest to be caught in his throat.

“Pretty please?” the Pegasus whimpered.

Whatever laced her voice now seemed to do the trick, and reluctantly, Jagged unchained the necklace from around his throat and handed it over. When it caught the light, it shimmered with a diffused glow. When Jagged again looked up from his keepsake to stare at the pegasus, he took note of a new look that had fallen over her face, softening her features into a picture of practical innocence.

“What is it? Is it what you were looking for?” Jagged asked, wondering why he sounded so hopeful.

“Yes, yes it is. Wow! I- I can’t believe Rust was right. I mean this is… wonderful!”

She pounced on Jagged, pinning his body under her shaking hooves; her eyes were ablaze with raw elation.

“Rust had said it was true. I was more than apprehensive, but it’s here, it’s true, it’s right in front of my muzzle. Rust was right, that wonderful bastard! I can’t. Believe. He was right.”

The pegasus’ eyes got really big-like a foal-and she stared deep into Jagged’s; he couldn’t help but stop his squirming and stare back into her depthless orbs. Though he didn’t make a habit of staring deep into pony’s eyes, hers did look subtly different; he could see a spark in there, a notion, maybe an idea. He wondered in an offhoof way if he had the same sort of eyes as hers.

“Sorry, what is it?” Jagged pondered, breaking the silence that was becoming a bit stifling- and more than a bit uncomfortable.

The pegasus rolled off his chest and stared up at the Imperfection. Jagged followed her gaze, and for another moment, silence ensued. It was the pegasus’ turn to rupture the atmosphere.

“I can see why you like it here, Stallion. Blue is such a wondrous color.”

From the corner of his eye, Jagged could see the pegasus’ wings beginning to unfurl.

“I wish I could fly up there, Rust had said it was so freeing, so…” her voice cut off, only to return in a hushed note, one stooped into a level of intimacy that surpassed seduction; she was as in love with that color as Jagged was. “Stallion, what if I told you that I, Rust and I and rest of em’, are trying to make the whole dome *blue*?”

Yet again, Jagged found himself caught off guard, and he rolled over on his side to gaze curiously at the pure gray pegasus, who in turn lowered her gaze to meet his.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. What’s your name?”

“Jagged,” Jagged replied, nodding. “And you, what’s yours?”

“Jade.” The reply was given in an almost secretive fashion, as if her very namesake was a threat if too many ponies knew about it.

“That’s a nice name,” Jagged said sincerely.

“Thank you. Now where was I…” she drawled off.

“You had mentioned making the whole dome *blue. What does that mean?” He was genuinely enthralled; the very concept of so much *blue** was fantastical- it almost felt fictitious.

“Of course, I get so ahead of myself sometimes. But I digress.” She took a breath in, and then exhaled; it smelt sweet, just like her…. She seemed to be preparing herself for what Jagged scotched up to be a long-winded response. “This dome, this prison, its ponies, the state… everything. It wasn’t always like this. There was a time long ago where there was color, where there was thinking; intellectualism, the whole shebang. There was a time when the ponies didn’t like the Dome; the years had worn on them and as disillusioned as they might have been about the outside world, they were still drawn to it. Now I’m by no means a historian, Rust has only told me so much, but I’ll pass it on to you and you can choose how to take it.”

Another moment of pre-emptive silence descended on the two ponies, and Jagged shifted his position to a more tentative one.

“When things started looking bad, when Discord began suppressing the unrest, an order was created, led by none other than Rust. Many rumors surround Rust, how old he is-if he’s even still alive-as the only way to get in touch with him is via a TV screen in the Prompting Hall… oh, sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

Jagged smiled dismissively.

“Not to worry. Please, continue.”

She cleared her throat.

“So, this order was created, and it was called the Knights of Valor; their credo, their purpose, per se, was to stand against Discord. Long ago, when they still had some ground in Avalon, they were known by the other civilians as the Guardian Angels; those shrouded ponies that were behind every big protest and riot. Alas, as time went by, even the order lost the fight; silenced not by losing its member’s, but by losing the ponies it strived to liberate. They had become Sheep, Jagged, and the Wolves became feared. Any act of speaking out was extinguished by the ponies themselves, Discord didn’t even have to raise a paw.”

“Why are you telling me all this? Where do we fit in? Why me?”

“I’ll get to that in time, Jagged.” Jade explained, sighing. “I’ve got to build the foundation before I drop the house.”

An odd analogy, but one Jagged understood. Reluctantly, he bit his tongue and gestured for her to continue.

“Thank you. For a long while, it seemed as though everything was lost; that there was no point in fighting anymore- then we came about. Rust calls us the Elemental Incarnates. I don’t really know what he means by that, but it’s something to do with our necklaces.”

Jade looked down to where she had dropped Jagged’s necklace mid-ponce and gave it back to him. With a relieved sigh, Jagged took it from her grasp and snapped it back into place around his neck, smiling at its familiar weight.

Getting up suddenly, Jade reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a matching necklace- almost matching, actually, as the design engraved on the front formed something jagged, shooting out of something fluffy. Two unknown objects that strangely felt so right together.

“See, I have a similar one as you! They differentiate only in the design, and apparently, there are four others who have identical necklaces to ours. I don’t know why I’m supposed to bring them together, but Rust seemed rather insistent. Somehow we’re going to make the dome blue, Jagged. So you’ll join us then?”

“Wha- what?” Jagged spluttered at the sudden question. “Do you expect me to simply drop everything in my life, my education, my commitments, and just join?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” Jade replied a bit too bluntly; her tone aggravated Jagged to no ends. “What’s the point of a so called ‘education’, or ‘commitments’, when you know what you’re doing is only going towards fueling a fabricated system?”

She had a point, but Jagged wasn’t so easily convinced. Getting up to stand nose to nose with her, he said: “Life isn’t like that. If I were to just disappear, don’t you think suspicion would arise? And these Elemental Incarnates you speak of, you don’t even know why you’re looking for them. Blindly trusting anything is as a bad as ‘being a sheep’, as you had put it,” he prodded.

“I’d put my bits in with Rust any day. I tell you, Jagged, he knows things. He sounds like the sort of pony I’d want to side with. Think of what we could do, Jagged. Don’t you want to open the eyes of your peers, your family?”

Definitely not, that directly contradicted Jagged’s philosophy. He would feel so guilty to pass on his sickness, his questioning nature, to some bloke who’s more than happy with the world he or she lives in.

“No. I’d only cause problems. I would hate for any other pony in this city to know what I know.”

“So you’re selfish then?” Jade growled.

“Actually, I’m generous. Why disrupt the preconceived concepts that the majority of ponies hold so dearly to their hearts. Ignorance is bliss, you know. I often wish I never began questioning things in the first place.”

“So you’re a coward.”

“No! You’re all wrong with your accusations!” Jagged’s temper was beginning to flare up. “All you know about me is that I’m Jagged, and yet you act as though you’ve known me for years, as if you know who I really am. I’d recommend you stop throwing such foalish accusations my way and take a second to think, Jade! You know, that thing you apparently do.”

“You’re bucking unbelievable, did you know that?!” Jade hissed, taking an ominous step towards him; he flinched a bit as her wings spread, tripling her size. “You act as though you're ‘looking out for the ponies of Avalon’, when really, you’re hurting them; allowing them to ‘blindly follow’ a fake way of life, a hollow way. Why don’t you see that? Are you afraid; I know you’re afraid, Jagged, I can see it in your goddamn eyes; how disappointing.”

“Just let me go home.” Jagged said, feeling as though the upper hoof he’d been given in the debate had deteriorated hopelessly.

He hated to admit it, but when she had mentioned that he was afraid, she’d hit the nail right on the head; Jagged disliked when his underlying motives were exposed- it made him feel naked.

“Just let me go home so I can think on it. It’s a lot to take in. It’s just, it’s just too much.”

In a sudden action, Jade’s anger deflated, and she lowered her wings to gaze dejectedly at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Rust.” She looked up to stare into Jagged’s eyes; her own were a bit damp- she looked hurt. “I suppose I should be saying sorry to you as well. I failed to convince you—“

“It’s fine, Jade; I’m just not ready for this. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying no, I just…” Jagged’s voice drawled off as her sniffling made his heart plummet.

“Ok, I understand. Listen, if you reconsider the offer, and by Celestia, I hope you do, walk to the abandoned alleyway by your dorm and knock by the hole in the pattern of that old foal’s rhyme you always hum. It’s how we know you’re friendly, ok?”

“Yes, yes of course. I have to leave now, Jade, I might not see you again, but, well… bye.”

Jagged shut his eyes in frustration; he was well aware that the way he had closed his sentence was pretty lame. He felt as though Jade deserved better, but in all honesty, his mind was racing so fast at the moment that he could hardly think straight.

“Jade-“

His re-attempted farewell was cut short as emptiness met his gaze. She’d disappeared, most probably flew away. All that was left was the Scrapyard, a severely shaken pony, and an Imperfection- gazing down on the dreary scene with an omnipresent glance.

Rust

Unease, restlessness- a sort of nagging energy that wouldn't leave Jagged alone as he paced lengthwise to and fro in the cramped dorm. The week following the mysterious visit by Jade in the Scrapyard had been breathtakingly painful.

At first he’d been nervous, as the treasonous words passed between him and Jade-if overheard through some fluke or accident-would not go without severe punishment; nopony, not a single one, could know about the meeting. He recalled rather suddenly the execution he and his father had attended years back.

The pony in the chair had been charged with Outspoken Heresy. She had a muzzle on, one with small spikes so that if she tried to speak out, they’d impale her. The vein at her left fore-hoof had been hooked up to a bag of murky liquid; a drawn-out death through lethal injection.

Jagged could clearly remember the executioner cantering up to the stage, and the crowds energetic mumbling simmering down to a tense murmur. He could remember the heavy feeling in his chest, and his father’s excitedly beating heart. And then the executioner spoke-his words muffled by a mask of stone-naming off the crimes the prisoner had committed against Avalon. He remembered the fear that emanated from the doomed pony; the splayed ears, the grimace, the sweat. From the darker stain on her gray coat, it was evident that she had relieved herself in the peak of terror. And yet still, his father’s heart beat excitedly.

Two alien emotions had entered Jagged’s chest then; hate and fear. Hate for his father-as he was still trying to figure out why death was such a spectacle for the older stallion-and fear for the poor pony in the seat. When the plastic tube began to dribble the murky solution into the prisoner, she began to shiver, and as the first convulsion wracked her body she couldn’t help but moan out in pain. Her maw had been impaled by the spikes of the muzzle. It was then that Jagged saw red for the first time, and ever since then, he’d tried to forget how it looked. As the second convulsion arrived, her moaning had gotten louder- her shivering more intense. The red pooled at the spike wounds before running down her macerated muzzle to mix with colorless tears of pain. And as she died, cringing after a final convulsion, she looked up.

Forcing himself away from the reveries, Jagged returned to a reality that was not so far from his recollection. This time, however, he was the prisoner; not captured by Avalon, but by his own inner turmoil. He wanted change, and yet he didn’t. He wanted to show Avalon the Imperfection, and yet the care for the ponies within held him back. Ignorance is Bliss. Ignorance. Is. Bliss.

Ignorance is… death.

A dream only lasts for the time one sleeps. A self-induced façade of innocence, like youth, eventually crumbles. Jagged had woken up, and yet like a foal he chose to be selfish. He realized then, gazing up at the white ceiling with an awe stricken expression-as if he had only now woken up -that he had created a life of lies to protect him from the reality he had discovered. It was not that Jagged wanted his fate to be his alone, nor was he protecting anypony; he was afraid that he would end up like the prisoner from the execution- stripped of dignity, spilling red across pure white teeth. He was hiding from the unseen and the unknown, playing it safe so that his own tail would remain unscathed.

This had to stop.

In a swift move, Jagged arose from his bed feeling renewed and hopeful; the image of Jade projected itself on his conscious- he wouldn’t let her down again. Turning off the lights in his dorm, he ignited his horn and walked out, looking for a final time behind him; all that met his stare was stagnant darkness. He began to canter towards The Alleyway, his hooffall increasingly sure at each step onwards.

***

Gallop onwards to Canterlot Court,

To see the fine mare in her gilded fort,

With gold on her head and gold on her hooves,

Her warm embrace your heart it sooths.

Jagged hummed the foals rhyme with subdued enthusiasm, and altered his canter so that he matched the pace that he was singing at. He’d never felt so calm before, especially when it was Lights Off, and even more so, when he was anywhere within a rocks throw of The Alleyway. It was as if his mother was there with him now, trotting beside him- edging him on.

As the towering walls engulfed him, the temperature dropped, and with it, his odd sense of invincibility. To his horror, his natural doubting nature began to express itself, and try as he might, it was an uphill struggle. Out of all the times he’d done something foalish, this one time seemed as though he had finally gone too far, and all the prodding and provoking his necklace could do would not be enough to sway his resolution. A few paces away from the imperfection in the wall, Jagged collapsed, shivering bitterly. Who was he kidding? He was not some revolutionist or rebel, he wasn’t witty like Jade, or even that assured of his own potential at that.

A shuffling noise broke Jagged from his wallowing, and his head shot up- eyes wide and searching. Flaring his horn revealed only more wall and empty space. Just as he was about to get up and leave, less sure than ever before, the red orbs appeared-those demon eyes he had seen two weeks before-wreathed in the darkness just outside the reach of his flare spell. He hated red. His heart jumped a beat and he let out a muffled gasp- he froze. For a moment the orbs simply stayed there, hovering in midair, keeping their distance. Within that minute however, they had begun moving towards him.

“Stay back!” Jagged threatened, shuffling a pace back to maintain the distance.

“Or what?”

The distorted voice from the orbs had surprised Jagged almost as much as when they had suddenly appeared. He quickly recovered his composure, however.

“Or I’ll…” his voice trailed off, only to return a bit stronger. “I’ll zap you!”

It was a bluff; Jagged had an array of weak defensive spells, but next to no offensive.

“Really? You think I’d fall for something like that? Ha, offensive magic,” the orbs mused, moving another pace nearer; suddenly, the clippity clop of hooves echoed around the alleyway.

The noise intrigued Jagged; he had initially supposed that somehow, the orbs were their own entity, as only a muted shuffling would announce their arrival. Now, however, he was not so sure.

“Are, are you a pony?”

“Sort of, and now it’s my turn to ask a question.” Another pace closer. “Why are you here?”

“I, I ah…”

“Speak up, colt.” The voice had intensified. “Speak up before I make ya.”

Jagged found himself teetering on an unstable precipice. “I’m. I’m…”

“Eh?” the orbs demanded.

“I’m here for the Knights of Valor.”

“Who are these Knights, and what makes you think you’re in the right spot? Last time I checked, this was a door-less alleyway. My Alleyway.

Jagged realized the cover-up immediately, and despite his fear induced state, he smiled.

“Now look who’s bluffing. I talked with Jade.”

At the name the figure stiffened-then relaxed-uttering a brief sigh; Jagged knew then and there that he had said the right thing.

“You must be Jagged then, one of the Elemental Incarnates?” Though the title, seeming to be so high and mighty, repelled Jagged, he nodded anyway.

The figure had moved close enough to be illuminated by the soft glow. He seemed to be a pony of sorts, and yet it was hard for Jagged to determine exactly what stood in front of him, as it was swathed in a black vest of some sort that covered him from tail to hoof.

“I thought you weren’t gonna turn up, but Jade said otherwise. The damn mare is too optimistic I tell ya. Ah well, looks like I’ll have to dig into my damn savings and pull out a few bits…”

“Sir?” Jagged asked.

“Ah, yes, of course. Forgive me, I tend to drawl sometimes,” the figure admitted.  “Do you know the pattern?”

“Yes, I do.” shaking the dust off his coat, Jagged nodded and got to his hooves.

Now that his panic attack had finished it was becoming easier and easier to remain collected. Humming the nursery rhyme to himself, he tapped the wall by the imperfection according to the syllables in each line. For a moment there was silence, and then a deep grating noise arose. Before he knew it a door had appeared.

The first thing that Jagged noticed on the other side of the entrance was the fact that unlike any other building in Avalon, the walls and floor were black- whilst the trimming was white. The second thing was the dust. It covered the ground and permeated the air.

“Was this what you were looking for?” the figure asked, allowing a bit of sarcasm to slip into his tone.

“It’s dusty and, and inverted,” Jagged mumbled stupidly.

“Ya, totally alien, right? Ha, you Toplanders are a disillusioned bunch.”

“Toplanders?” Jagged asked as he followed the figure down a long hall.

“The ponies of Avalon.” He replied.

In response to the accusation, Jagged harrumphed. “And you’re not? You are living here, aren’t you?”

“I am and I am not.” The figure said. “Right now we’re walking through the oldest part of Avalon; it was made in the first few years by Celestia and Luna—”

On hearing the two familiar names, Jagged stopped mid-trot. The figure stopped with him and turned to gaze questioningly.

“I know those names; you mean the two goddesses were in the city at some point?” Jagged asked incredulously.

This was indeed a twist on the indoctrination he’d been taught in school.

“Longer than you would expect.” The figure said, continuing his canter; Jagged ran to catch up.

“How long? Last time I checked, the only connection the two sisters had with the dome had been sending in the Sinful Six.”

“The Sinful Six! By Chrysalis, what are they teaching you in those damn universities? Ridiculous.”

The sharp words did little to deter Jagged from pressing on. Moving so that he walked beside the covered figure, he continued.

“How am I to know? That’s what I was taught; I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Then forget. It’ll be the only way you’ll keep your sanity when Rust tells ya the truth.”

And then his pace picked up, and it was clear that the conversation had ended. Sighing dejectedly, Jagged followed behind the figure.

***

The room Jagged had been left in was extremely minimalistic. Black walls on a black floor on a black ceiling; a single groove in the ground that Jagged could rest in, and a white trimmed screen of sorts smack-dab in the center. At first, he had been confused, but he had then recalled Jade’s explanation that the only way Rust remained in touch with his Knights was via a television screen. Was this how he was to meet the mysterious revolutionists as well?

Gulping as the door to the chamber closed, he walked to the center of the room and waited. It was a mere minute later when an image appeared on the screen- emerging from a bout of static and white noise.

“Jagged, you’ve arrived.” A face, covered slightly by a black hood, greeted him from the pane of glass and electricity.

“Yes, are you Rust?”

“I am.” The slightly distorted voice replied with a nod. “But we do not have time for idle chitchat, as there is a more pressing matter at hoof. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obliging, Jagged sat down and shifted his weight so that his flank fit snugly in the smooth indent. His silent staring signaled that he was braced and ready.

“Good. Currently, you are in Old Avalon- a network of underground tunnels and chambers that run beneath New Avalon. New Avalon was built mostly after Discord won out against Celestia and Luna in the Twenty Years’ War that had ensued when those willing to leave the Dome, and those happy with it, combated. Many of our own died in that fight, I recall that the streets had run with red…”

Red, Jagged shivered at the word. He hated red. What startled him even more so, however, was the fact that Rust had made it seem as though he had been there to witness the event. Could it be that Rust was old, or was it a simple succession line of those who impersonate themselves as Rust to keep the legacy going?

“…Those who had lost in the Twenty Years’ War retreated underground and built a network of tunnel systems. It was around this time that the Order had been created. We were the Knights of Valor, liberators of providence and compassion; brave ponies that fought relentlessly from our hideouts, staging coups and protests. A new generation of foals was born, and we strove to show them the truth- that there was a world out there.” The tone dropped then in a despairing manner. “We made little leeway.” There was a moment of silence, as if Rust was mourning that first disillusioned generation. “Discord had been swift in his indoctrination over Avalon. He had already changed the education system, and the Skybox, to his advantage, had fogged. Nopony in that first post-war generation could see the sky, or the moon, or the sun.”

There it was again, those two words that evoked such an intimacy in Jagged.

“Alas, like foalish colts and fillies we continued to fight until we had shunned our name- sullied our reputation. The ponies of Avalon didn’t like their delicate reality being contradicted anymore. Eventually it got to the point where a single soul, if identified as a Knight, would be outright lynched- or attacked in the streets. Seeing how the tide had turned in Discord’s favor and that most of our once-faithful followers had either abandoned the order to be Mind Wiped, or died of age, we disappeared. But maybe it was best, because those who remained suffered a far worse fate. It haunts me still to this day. Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Applejack, along with me and the dwindling followers of The Order, were attacked whilst we slept one night by Discords guards. Making the ultimate sacrifice the Mane Six, known vulgarly by New Avalonians as the Sinful Six, hid the rest of us and held Old Avalon till they were finally overwhelmed and captured. Weeks later, at their execution, I was given a note. Right before they had been arrested, they had hidden their elements.”

“Their elements?” Jagged asked.

“Yes, Jagged. And this is where you come in. As I’m well aware, Jade has already introduced a title to you; Elemental Incarnates, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The Elemental Incarnates is to be the next Mane Six.”

Jagged scrunched his muzzle in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“The necklace around your neck, given to you by the late Starshine your mother and a member of our order, is more than just a necklace. I’d imagine you might have figured this out already, though. Have you experienced an instance when the necklace seemed to have a mind of its own? Has it tempted you to do anything?”

“Multiple times,” Jagged said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s gotten me into endless trouble.”

“Then it has found its host. The engraving on your necklace is the deceased Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark: the element of Magic.”

Jagged snorted.

“Then it probably picked the wrong pony; I’m a lousy spellslinger at best. My magic is refrained to lighting my horn, see?” he ignited the tip lamely.

“Jagged, what you know now is not what the necklace was drawn to, it is what you already have inside of you, and yet have not been able to access. It’ll help you with that. Twilight Sparkle was a masterful mage, at the time of her existence; it was argued that she was the most powerful unicorn in Equestria.”

“Equestria?” Jagged asked, blanching at the new word. “What’s that?”

From the looks of it, Rust’s demeanor seemed to deflate- but that could just be because the screen was going through a momentary fit of static that partially obscured him.

“Equestria is everything outside of the Dome.”-The topic quickly changed-“but I digress. Did you know that the powerful mage in which you represent almost failed her first major magic test? Back then, ponies were taught a far greater variety of spells, so she had no excuse.”

“Really?” this was news.

“Yes. And yet here you are beating yourself up over the ‘lack of spells you know’, when they hardly cover the most basic ones in your whole educational career nowadays. It’s foalish. You have potential.”

“Oh…” Jagged muttered, feeling oddly pleased with the praising words. “So what about the engraving in my necklace?”

“Of course. The necklace around your neck is an Element in disguise. There are five other ones scattered across Avalon, wielded by unsuspecting ponies or griffons. We already have two-three including yours-in our ranks. You met Jade, who is the element of Loyalty. She is the representation of Rainbow Dash- they are strikingly similar in a few ways, actually.” Rust mused. “Diesel, the one you met at the entrance, is the element of Honesty- the representation of Applejack.

“So, there are three of us here now?” Jagged clarified.

“Yes,” Rust replied simply.

“And how did you know that they were the Elemental Incarnates?”

“Because their necklaces behaved in a similar way to yours,” Rust replied with a shrug. “When an Element has found its new owner, it will slowly manipulate its host until it has filtered out the other bad traits- leaving behind a perfect representation of its Element. Honesty is expected to be honest; Loyal is expected to be loyal, and so on, and so forth.”

“Ok. I think I understand. When one of the Elements finds a host, they slowly change them so that they represent said Element?”

“Exactly; you’re a quick learner. Diesel took ages.” A static filled chuckle. “Now that the basics are out of the way, let me explain to you the plan. There is a very particular trait that your Element has. Since it does not stand as Honesty, or Loyalty, but Magic, the manipulation works in other ways; good ways. Aside from boosting and refining your magical potential, it gives its owner a very strong pull to the other Elements. Historically, it was Magic that united the Elements in times of need to fight back a greater foe. The powerful attack unleashed when the Elements are united, The Harmony Ray, has been used three times in recorded history. The first was against Bane, a giant demon who assumed the image of an Ursa Major, Nightmare Moon, when she had returned to wreak havoc on Equestria, and Discord, when he had returned from his stony prison to cause pandemonium. The Harmony Ray now needs to be used again, against Discord. In reality, it’s the Knights of Valor’s final hope. I’ve built a new underground resistance over time, but we’ll never be as strong as we used to be.”

“So I just have to unite the Elements together, and wipe out Discord? That doesn’t sound too challenging.” Jagged admitted; to him, all he had to do was talk to three others and get them to join the team.

“Oh, if only it was so easy!” Rust’s exclamation made Jagged shrink in on himself. “You misunderstand, Jagged. Uniting the six of you is only the beginning. There are many other steps that must be accounted for. Whilst I get the remaining Element holders together, you and Jade have a task to fulfill.”

“So I won’t be finding the others? But is that not what my Element is for?”

“It is, but I can easily track the others down without even making an appearance.”

“And how do you do that? Are there spies around the city?”

“No. There are cameras, however.”

“Cameras!” Jagged began to shake.

Cameras meant surveillance. All his outings to the taboo Imperfection could have been viewed by Discord! His talk with Jade… no. Cold sweat began to sully his lackluster coat.

“I, I should leave.” Jagged chattered.

“What? Why?” Rust exclaimed.

“The cameras. I would go to this Imperfection in the dome. Trespassing. Discord could see me and I’d end up like, like that mare at the execution. I could jeopardize The Knights—”

“Jagged, get a hold of yourself. You misunderstood.” Rust interjected.

“I, I did?” Jagged responded unbelievingly.

“Yes. Though there are cameras, I have access to each and every one of them.”

A revelation dawned then on Jagged, and he blushed in embarrassment.

“Were they set up by The Knights?”

“No, Discord set them up after the Twenty Years’ War.” Rust’s tone then became icy and ominous. “To first tame, one must be broken to the point where they no longer want to question. The cameras had been put up to monitor every action across the city- those that stepped out of line would be publicly humiliated, tortured, or executed.”

“Really?” Jagged said, eyes wide as he computed how terrifying that time must have been.

“Yes. However, these cameras have recently become the silent guardians of the city. I can keep track of the happenings that are occurring, and I can spot the other three Elemental Incarnates. But I digress. Before we can march up and topple Discord, we need to first sympathize with the Avalonians. Think of it like this: if we were to kill Discord at this point in time, we’d be confronted with a mass uprising to avenge the death of their ‘pious’ leader. This will not only dismantle the second part of the operation-that being the lowering of The Dome-but also terminates The Knights once and for all. What we need to do is wake Avalon up. Only once the citizens become ponies-as currently they are no more than propaganda spewing machines-will we be able to focus their anger to lead a revolution like no other. Turmoil will ensue for a while-closely monitored turmoil-and then we will come in, rally the masses and overthrow Discord. So now I ask you a question, Jagged: are you ready to paint The Dome blue?”

For a moment, the unicorn was silent. He thought, and thought; bouncing pros and cons, benefits and downfalls. He thought back on his life, and the state of Avalon, and his mother who, as a parting present, gave him his necklace; his mother who was a Knight. But then the shadow fell and he shivered a bit as he recalled the execution of the mare; how she had had her muzzle punctured, how she had wet herself, how she had cried.

He looked back up to Rust, silently observing him from behind the screen—