The sun was shining bright and cheerily, broadcasting to all that the day was to be a beautiful one. Birds darted lazily about, their uplifting songs joining them in soaring through the air. Throughout the town market, ponies trotted casually, talking and joking happily as they surveyed the wares. Little colts and fillies romped and played with youthful abandon. The streets were suffused with the scent of baked goods, fresh produce, and sugar.
It was nearly unbearable.
The creature lurking in a, somewhat-kinda-sorta-almost, dark alley hissed to itself as the nauseating stench of fresh cooked apples and pastry crust assaulted its sense of smell. It glared spitefully at an orange pony hocking pies from a little cart-stand across the street, her honest, cheerful voice as much an affront to its ears as her merchandise was to its nose. The cloaked and robed figure marked the pony in its mind; if ever the opportunity arose…
But now was not the time. The crowd was too numerous, the sun too bright. Secrecy still needed to be maintained. It could not reveal itself just yet. With another raspy hiss, it turned and skulked down the alley, moving stealthily into the rear courtyard formed by the surrounding buildings. Even here though it was too bright, too clean, too…peaceful. What sort of sickening paradise was this abominable world? There were a few bits of trash cluttering the ground, but not the slightest scent of decay or rot or muck. A rat scampered by, too clean, too fat, and far less nervous and twitchy than any wild rodent had a right to be.
The creature approached one of the back doors, laying a long fingered, cloth wrapped hand to the well maintained wood. It felt nothing; there was no threshold over the building, despite the obvious signs of it being a dwelling. Now that was interesting indeed. At least there was something to be satisfied about here. It tried the doorknob, and was actually a little surprised to find it locked.
Not that a simple lock was any impediment to the creature. It just turned the handle a bit harder, and the brass warped in its grip. There was a series of sharp, metallic pops and clicks, and the entire mechanism shattered within its casing. The door swung open, and the creature stalked inside, and finally found a place with something approaching normality.
There were dirty dishes sitting in a sink of cloudy water, a trash can overflowing onto the floor, and a spill of some harsh smelling liquid drying in a sticky puddle on the counter. Yet even this bit of mess was only a temporary veneer over swept floors and clean countertops; the leavings of a life being lived rather than the neglected debris of despair.
The creature prowled out of the kitchen, finding the rest of the house in a similar state of disarray. It also held the feel of something oft repeated but ultimately transitory. The mess was nothing but a thin film over the interior of the home, something that could and would be removed before it truly sank into the fabric of the furnishings or the crevices of the hardwood floor.
There had been a party here. Wild but contained, boisterous but respectful. The aura, the psychic residue of the event still lingered, and it filled the creature with disgust and puzzlement. Hard drinks had been served, wild music had been played, lustful thoughts had been stirred up. And yet the repercussions that normally skulked along with such an event were pitiful. There had been no fighting, no more anger than what might have been a brief exchanges of glares. No physical or sexual boundaries had been violated. Here there was the sense of someone falling into a moment of despair before being buoyed up by some intensely cheerful presence. There a whisper of a mind badly altered by too many drinks. But neither impression was as deep or pervasive as it should have been.
What little darkness had been stirred up was stunted, pitiful, and every bit as fleeting as the mess. The joyful companionship of the event had utterly crushed whatever negativity had been born of it, and it was doubtful that the participants would really even remember anything but the good times.
What was this horrible place?
Moving like drifting smoke, the creature ascended the stairs, following the single, soft sound that had entered its ears. A gentle, contented buzz of sleeping breaths, coming from a room just off the top landing. It slunk within, and beheld the figure sprawled out on a badly disheveled bed. The pony was an unappealing pure white, save for where some food or drink been spilled upon her side and left to soak into her coat. A tattoo of a musical note covered much of her flank, and a pair of enormous violet glasses rested at an angle across her muzzle. The tip of a short, spiraling horn poked out between the wild mess of her two toned, electric blue mane as she lay prone on her back, legs sticking out every which way.
The creature stalked forward, coming to stand over the bed. The unicorn stank of drink and food and sweat. She never stirred as the robed figure crouched down, her snoring unbroken as the creature reached a hand up to its cloth wrapped face, and tugged down a strip of fabric to reveal crooked, blunt, dirty yellow teeth. Thin, flaking lips curled into a smile full of malice as it leaned in close, one hand pressing the pony’s head down to better expose her neck. Its jaws opened, and a leathery tongue writhed within its mouth like a mottled snake.
And then the creature paused, its body locking ridged as something else filtered into its nose. Something almost hidden beneath the other scents, and yet even more unpleasant than any of the others. Slowly its hand lifted from the prey’s head, a finger coming to its malformed teeth. It bit down on the coarse fabric encasing the digit, and tugged the cloth aside to reveal a single, jaggedly broken nail. It reached down, and with a suddenly swift motion, slashed neatly across the pony’s neck.
A thin, delicate line appeared, barely visible beneath the white coat. The unicorn grunted and grumbled, but did not wake. A spot of brilliant red welled up, and the creature recoiled at the smell. The blood was…foul, toxic smelling, wrong. It gleamed, a vile lie of the usual promise. And yet, and yet the creature could not help itself, could not stop from touching a finger to the spot, from lifting the small stained tip to its mouth. Its tongue slithered out from between the broken teeth, and hesitantly, almost reluctantly, tasted.
Pain erupted from the contact, searing agony that all but hurled the creature upon the floor. It burned! It burned right down into the creature’s core, raking hot coals across its very being, chewing at the dark well of power that sustained it. The creature howled, thrashing wildly. An arm struck a chair, sending the furnishing rocketing away. Glass shattered as the chair struck one of the room’s windows, and voices outside shouted in alarm.
The creature shrieked again, in pain and frustration, and the voices fell into a stunned silence at the sound. The unicorn blinked open blurry eyes, and slurred around a yawn.
“Wha…’m up, ‘m up, party on…”
The creature fled the room before the pony could spot it, stumbling and scrambling on all fours as the searing pain of the blood, of the pure light contained within ripped at its innards. It all but fell down the stairs, striking a decorative topper from the banister as it did. It crashed into a wall, leaving a crumpled dent, and wobbled for the rear door. Gasping, it hastily pulled the cloth back over its face, tucked its exposed fingertip into the folds of its robe, and lurched out into the sun lit day. Inside, it could feel the burning blood ring in a harmonious response to that light, could feel the same power contained within both resonating with each other.
What was this place?
---------------------
The tea was really quite excellent. It wasn’t exactly Rashid’s drink of preference, but it was one of those things that was nearly a universal concept. He really couldn’t think of a place he had been that didn’t have some form of plant life steeped in a boiled liquid, and his role as Gatekeeper had carried him to more of Earth and the Nevernever than most knew existed, even within the White Council. He’d been served far, far worse forms of the drink; his current cup was actually rather indistinguishable from any he might find back home.
Which was something of an oddity. Truth be told, much of what he had seen of Equestria thus far was unnaturally similar to Earth, especially given the inhabitants. Faerie was not nearly so much alike to the mortal world, and it was closer than any other part of the Nevernever. And it was inhabited by beings that, for the most part, were at least bipedal. Rashid’s experience with the nature of reality was at sharp odds with the world he found himself on. That it wasn’t actually in the Nevernever itself was really even more baffling; it was easier to excuse bizarreness in that realm of pure magic.
He supposed it just went to show that, no matter how much knowledge one acquired, there was always plenty still out there to prove how little one actually knew compared to the whole of reality itself. So the Gatekeeper sipped tea that could have been mistaken for any dozen of blends from Earth, set down the cup that was absurdly ill designed for creatures without hands, and settled back into the chair that made no sense for a race of quadrupeds to use. There were bigger questions to focus on, more important issues highlighting the limits of his knowledge.
Celestia was perhaps the biggest.
She did not fit into the standard template for beings with power on the scale she possessed. As best Rashid could judge without using his Sight, she held power of a level somewhere between a Lady and a Queen of the Faerie courts. He was almost tempted to behold the Truth of her nature, but it just wasn’t worth the risk. He’d Seen too many horrible things in his time, and while his instincts told him that Celestia was very unlikely to give him nightmares, True Goodness could be every bit as stressful as True Evil. One never knew which mind searing memory would be the one to unbalance the perceiver’s sanity.
Fortunately he had means even other wizards did not. His false eye provided him with a middle ground between the safe but limited range of normal senses, and the dangerously unfiltered perceptions of the Sight. Granted it was not nearly as powerful this far from the Outer Gates, but it was still a potent tool. Unfortunately he did not have a proper frame of context or a starting point to make full use of what information it had provided him.
Celestia was mortal, but only in a very loose sense of the word. Death might claim her someday, but it wouldn’t catch her with time alone, and it would take more than just an unfortunate mishap to see her life ended. She held more power then even a semi-mortal being had any right to, and somehow she had managed to live with that strength for centuries, perhaps longer, without being seduced by it. Rashid could hardly imagine the will to achieve such a feat.
Power corrupts. Perhaps not quickly, perhaps not entirely, but none that hold true power are ever free of its influence. Possessing power is the ever constant temptation to use it, and to use power is to be altered by it. Even those with the most noble of minds and pure of intentions could and did fall to temptation and circumstance. Desperation had provided the rationalization to abandon the high road for untold numbers of well-meaning individuals.
Time often claimed those that extremes of circumstances did not. Rashid himself knew he was capable of deeds now that he would have forsaken as unthinkable in his youth. Time had hardened him, had worn at him, had dulled the horror of certain actions from unimaginable to merely painful. His conscience still fought to uphold what was good and decent and right, at least as far as he could judge such things, to be aware of how and when and why he used his power, to seek to be responsible with the way he influenced the world around him. But he knew that his innocence was long dead, his soul tainted and stained in numerous ways.
It was something that happened to all mortals really, so far as experience had shown him. Life and time wore at everyone to some degree, just as wind and water eroded earth and rock. It was always harder on wizards, holding power as they did, seeking knowledge, facing the truth of reality. It made them more vulnerable, exposed them to the erosion more readily. And they had longer to be worn at.
Mortality was one of the great checks on power within the universe. It kept the balance on the long term, as even the extended life of a wizard was but a brief tick of the cosmic clock. Balance was important to the universe, or to whomever had designed it. Power never came with perfect freedom to use it, and where death did not maintain the scales, other forces did. Immortal beings were constrained to times and places and means when it came to their power; the greater their power, the more constraints were laid upon them. Perhaps not always equally, not always in proportion to their strength, but the limits existed.
Only Celestia did not seem to have any. Immortal power without immortal constraint, mortal life without a mortal fate. Free will, untarnished by the temptation of magical might and political strength. Princess she was titled, but Rashid’s eye had shown her to be the highest authority of the land. Equaled perhaps, but not surpassed by any other. She had ruled for centuries, had wielded unimaginable power for even longer, and yet her own subjects paid her only token diffidence. She sat even now among them as if all equals, and freely exchanged small talk and banter with them.
What was she?
“Two bits for your thoughts?” a voice cut into his musings, and Rashid glanced down at the brightly pink pony that had sidled up beside him.
“Merely contemplating the human condition,” Rashid replied.
“Which aspect?” Pinkie Pie asked, as if such a purposefully cryptic response make perfect sense to her. The wizard smiled slightly.
“The way we try to simplify life,” he told her. “How we tend to view the world, and then label the things within it so that we might neatly catalog and file them away. How we tend to forget that those labels are only meant to be an abbreviation for the sake of simplifying the complex. We habitually start to see the label as the thing itself, to forget all the little nuances and differences that aren’t part of the label, because it is difficult and sometimes frightening to realize how little the universe cares about our ability to understand it. And then we run into something that does not fit into our ordered world view, and we either try to force it to fit somehow, or we must let our minds open and deal with the added complexity, to add some grey to the simple black and white.”
Pinkie tilted her head from one side to the other, looking thoughtful, and then slapped three golden coins down on the table.
“That sounded like it would be worth an extra one,” she said brightly.
Rashid picked up one of the coins, turning it over in his fingers. One side contained a clear image of Celestia’s profile, the other an image of the sun. Its weight suggested it was indeed the gold it seemed to be. He considered the currency for a moment, then pocketed it before pushing the other two back towards Pinkie.
“Two bits for your thoughts?” he asked, and the pink pony looked rather serious for a moment. Then her face brightened.
“Hmm…well, confetti spreads out better and covers more ground, but streamers can be chucked further and make less of a mess to clean up, especially were frosting is concerned.”
Rashid blinked at that, and hummed thoughtfully. Fortunately he was saved the trouble of trying to work out a proper response by Celestia’s musical laugh. He looked up to find her watching him, a smile tugging at her mouth.
“Well, I know when I am in over my head,” the wizard said. “Perhaps it would be best to just move on to the matter at hand.”
“Are you sure?” Celestia replied lightly. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”
“Quite sure,” Rashid told her politely. “I appreciate the hospitality, but I see little point in further delay.”
“Very well then,” the princess said. “Which protocols would you prefer?”
“An exchange of questions and answers?” Rashid offered.
“That would be acceptable,” Celestia nodded. “As my guest, I invite you to begin.”
Rashid nodded back. “Very gracious of you.” He fell silent for a moment as he ordered his thoughts, and then asked, “How did you know of my arrival so swiftly?”
“The wards that surround Equestria do more than merely conceal its presence,” the princess replied simply.
“Ah, of course,” the wizard said. “Impressive work those. Strong, subtle, even when I became aware of them it was quite difficult to perceive their presence. I never sensed the alarm ward among the illusions and compulsions.”
“My sister does fine work,” Celestia agreed with a smirk, earning a raised eyebrow and a thoughtful look from the wizard. She did not give him time to start contemplating that bit of information though. “And on the subject of the wards, how did you defeat them to arrive here?”
“I did not,” Rashid told her, pulling his reeling mind away from the idea of a second being such as the one before him reluctantly. “I was not aware of the wards at all until I was already mostly through them. I was following a trail which lead me here.”
“A trail?” Celestia asked, and then sighed. “Excuse me, that was out of turn. Please…”
“Quite alright,” Rashid said with a mild smirk of his own. “I believe you might find your answer in my next query at any rate. Have your wards, pardon, your sister’s wards detected an intrusion within the last few weeks by a being that…” He paused, giving a thoughtful look around at the trio of ponies closely watching the exchange. “…has no rightful place in our reality?”
Celestia’s expression flattened, and she too cast a glance around at the surrounding company. “Yes, and on that subject, I’m afraid I must insist that this conversation become private.”
“What!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
“Awww,” Pinkie pouted.
“Princess?” Twilight said respectfully, though there was clear disappointment in her tone.
“I am sorry girls…” Celestia began, but Dash wasn’t done yet.
“Come on, it’s not like we don’t know what he’s talking about,” the pegasus protested. “He means that freaky demon thing that tried to…”
“Rainbow Dash,” Celestia snapped. She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t let any hint of anger color the words, but there was a sudden, mountain deep strength underlying the implied command. Dash jerked and cut off as if she’d been physically struck by the simple uttering of her name in such a tone of absolute authority. “This is not open for debate.”
Dash’s head dropped, her eyes staring hard at nothing on the floor. She looked like a child that had been reprimanded for something she hadn’t known could get her into trouble. Celestia herself enforced the impression, her expression and posture one of a loving mother having to deal with a rambunctious child; unhappy to do so, but unwavering and uncompromising in the task. Twilight and Pinkie stood in shocked silence, themselves filling the role of siblings having had the misfortune to witness the event, awkwardness and trepidation making them work hard at hoping no one would notice they were present.
Dash took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “S-sorry princess,” she muttered to the floor.
Celestia considered the pegasus for a moment more, then let out a unhappy sigh and rose. She walked around the table to sit beside Dash, and once again wrapped a great, white wing around the smaller pony. Her head dipped, and she spoke in a tone too low for Rashid to hear. Whatever she said, it took the harshest edge off Rainbow’s unhappy expression, though she still looked mortified.
“Go on girls,” the princess said gently as she stood. “What is important for you to know, you will be told. But for now I ask that you trust me when I say that there is knowledge that can be dangerous by itself, if you do not have the proper experience and understanding to handle it. I will not risk exposing any of you to potential harm when there is not reason to do so.”
Twilight offered the princess a slight bow of acknowledgement, and suggested to her friends that they could go out for something to eat. Dash gave a noncommittal grunt, though Pinkie seemed to regain her high spirits quickly enough as she agreed. She slipped up besides Rainbow as they headed for the door, starting up some conversation that was pulling shallow, reluctant laughter from the other two even before they had departed.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Celestia said stiffly as she returned to her seat opposite of Rashid. He waved a hand.
“No, I am sorry,” the wizard offered. “My journey here seems to have worn me out more than I thought, for I appear to have drifted off momentarily and missed whatever was said after you expressed a desire for privacy. I hope it was nothing important.”
Celestia smiled slightly and huffed out a small breath of mirth. “Nothing important in regards to our conversation. Perhaps you need something stronger than tea to keep you awake?”
“I will manage, now that I am aware of the issue,” Rashid replied with mock seriousness. It turned to true seriousness with his next words. “So, an Outsider did manage to find its way here?”
“It did,” Celestia told him. “Though that makes two questions in a row for you.”
“I might argue that it was the same question phrased more directly.”
“Might you now?” Celestia half smiled.
Rashid sighed and held up a hand in acquiescence. “In this instance, no. Please, ask two of your own to balance the exchange.” The princess nodded graciously.
“Who are you, that you would actively seek out an Outsider? What do you intend to do if and when you locate the creature?”
“The answers to those questions will depend on how much you know about Outsiders.”
“I know more than most, though detailing it would be impractical for a host of reasons.”
“Yes, that is often a stumbling block when discussing such matters,” Rashid admitted. He pondered the situation a moment, trying to find the right phrasing to judge Celestia’s knowledge without giving away more than he should. It was an annoying factor when it came to Outsiders, that even tiny bits of information about them could lead to dire consequences.
Ultimately Rashid decided to take a bit of chance. Beings as old and powerful as Celestia were rarely stupid, and almost always had at least a general understanding of the greater nature of reality. So he leaned forward, and brushed one long finger near his fake eye. For just a second or two, the bright steel changed, replaced by an icy, crystalline substance. It would mean nothing if she did not know, but if she did…
Celestia’s eyes widened, and Rashid could all but see her mind casting back through her memories, heading down paths long laid dormant.
“Wall Watcher,” the princess breathed softly, staring at him intently. Rashid blinked at that, but then nodded.
“Yes, though you have taken the title through a slightly different path of translations I think. The position is known as The Gatekeeper now.”
“Gatekeeper,” Celestia mused. “It fits as well. And I suppose that answers both my questions neatly. Though I must now inform you that your journey has been an unnecessary one. The creature you seek is gone, I banished it myself.”
“That is good to know,” Rashid said. “Though tracking the Outsider was only part of my task, and likely the least of it.”
Celestia frowned at that, though she restrained herself from asking the obvious question, and waited for the Gatekeeper to take his turn.
“I know where the creature crossed into your realm. I should like to see where it was summoned, and where it was banished as well. All of that together might provide me enough to determine where it crossed the Wall. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“If you think it necessary Gatekeeper,” Celestia said. “Though now I must ask, how did it cross the Wall? I thought that was the point of the Outer Gates, to be a deliberate weakness in the great barrier, so that summoned Outsiders would always cross into our reality from a single point, so that the inevitable weakening of the barrier between existence and the vast nothing beyond would occur only at that single location where it might be ever vigilantly guarded.”
Rashid nodded. “That is indeed one of the Gate’s functions. The simple, unfortunate truth though is that they are not perfect. The weakness there is not sufficient to cover all of reality. Thus the Gates were placed to cover as much of the universe as they could, and to cover the locations most likely to contain beings foolish enough to call to the Outsiders. Your realm here is too far from the Gates, far enough that the summoning required less power to call the creature through the Wall itself instead of through the Gates.”
“And that is your true purpose here,” Celestia stated in understanding. “To find where the Outsider crossed in order to inspect the Wall, to determine how badly it might have been weakened.”
“Yes,” Rashid confirmed. “One entrance we can guard effectively. Two, we cannot. Especially not spread so distantly apart. We could never move troops fast enough to respond, and would thus be required to divide our forces to cover both.”
“And the Outsiders could then concentrate all their attention on but one at a time, and face only half the resistance they now do.” Celestia stared gravely down into her tea cup. “And as the breach would be close to Equestria, even my sister’s wards would likely not be able to keep us hidden with the kind of attention and scrutiny that would follow.”
“Likely not,” Rashid agreed. “And I would be only slightly less aggrieved to have Winter turn its eyes upon this land than I would the Outsiders.” Celestia cast him a quizzical look, and the Gatekeeper shrugged. “You have made a real attempt at paradise here. It is a very rare thing to find someone in power who truly wishes for the very best of their subjects, who constantly and actively strives to better the lives of those under them.”
“You’ve hardly been here half an hour,” Celestia pointed out calmly, though Rashid would have sworn her cheeks took on the slightest hint of color. “And you've spoken with me for less than half that. It is quite a judgment to make in such a short time.”
Rashid smiled, and tapped his false eye. “I took a look when I arrived. I did not see everything of course, not even the majority, but enough to be certain of the impression I have received. This world is not heaven, but it is closer than any place I have ever been. I would be damned before I allowed something this beautiful to be unmade.”
“Then I need not worry about you revealing us I should hope.”
“You need not,” Rashid told her. “To that, I swear, upon my power.”
“Thank you,” Celestia replied softly, a hint of tension easing from her, and then her voice turned wry. “Well then, I must only worry about monstrous beings from beyond dragging the pitiless forces of the Sidhe into battle upon my doorstep.”
The Gatekeeper gave her a sardonic smile, which slipped from his face as a hideous shrieking cry filled the air. It forced its way into the library as if the walls were no obstacle, and grated harshly at his ears. Rashid was on his feet before the sound had faded, and Celestia was only a second behind him.
“What was that?” the princess demanded.
“Trouble I should think,” the Gatekeeper replied grimly, the fingers of his right hand touching a ring upon his left. He let his focus fall into the metal band for a second, extracting the spell he had copied within, and once more his form shifted to that of a small, grey pony. It was harder to do without a circle, but easier than working the magic alone. “I think it would be wise to investigate.”
“I concur,” Celestia agreed, already striding for the door and flinging it open in a burst of golden light and power.
Rashid followed after the princess, and hoped that he had misheard the cry, hoped that it had been warped and altered by distance and intervening structures. If it was what he thought it was, then he dreaded what they might find at the source.