//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Shadow of the Guardians // by Warmblood //------------------------------// Salvation in darkness by light of fire truth in blindness in sands ablaze North star southern cross shine on -Vol II, book one, Prophecies of the Archmagus Star Void Shining Armor blinked. For a moment the strangest sense had passed over him, an intense deja-vu that hit him like a blow. In its aftermath his surroundings seemed keenly hostile. He was suddenly all too aware that the sun was fading, and he felt dark things beginning to stir. The hair on his neck prickled from root to tip as though about to stand on end. His shoulders were tense and taut beneath his skin. Windborne snow brushed past his face like a soft and subtle caress, sent by the same cold breath that grasped his thick, coarse grey fabric scarf and snapped it like a pennon over his shoulder. A shiver swept through him, a shiver not born of the ice and wind that ruffled the coat of his flanks. No, it was deeper than mere trembling in his extremities: it was a chill through his core and a flutter of his heart buried deep within his chest. It was anxiety, it was worry, it was fear. Ephemeral and instinctual, his magic wound itself around the hilt of his sword. He could feel the blade’s weight by his side, and trace the familiar wrapping on its hilt. A broad flat hilt, heavily padded for better grip in the mouth. Sturdy crossbar to protect the muzzle and nose. A thin strong blade of silver-steel alloy and a sharp edge, cold as ice within its padded scabbard. He trusted it would serve to banish any evil creatures that crossed his path. Comforted for the moment by the soothing pulse of his magic and the security offered by his sword, Shining Armor looked back towards the city. After a moment he lifted the rough, narrow-slitted snow goggles from his eyes, resting them on his forehead just above his horn. He squinted. Even at dusk the sun’s rays reflecting off the whiteness of the snow was almost too dazzling to behold. In the distance he could see, even from this far out, the crowning spire atop the crystal palace, and its proximity should have calmed him. He had grown to love, more or less anyways, the great monument that was the symbol of the Crystal Empire and all the ponies who dwelled within its borders. Its brilliant ivory spires, reflecting the pale blue sky, stood for the love which had reinvigorated the once lost kingdom— the land it was now his duty to protect. Of course, the sharp lines of the crystal castle didn’t possess—in his eyes— the same sort of beauty that Canterlot possessed, but it was home now. His and Cadance’s. Shining’s brow furrowed in concentration. Why am I so anxious? Why should I be afraid, and of what? he wondered. This is supposed to my home after all. But still… His eyes scanned the surroundings, but although the shadows of the icy crags had begun to lengthen, he saw no immediate threats. Now more than ever, he wished for his wife’s unerring skill to name and soothe such feelings. She would say to him: “It’s nothing but a passing shadow. Just a peaceful bird in the sky.” Or, “I trust you, Shining, you’ll protect me.” Or some other carefully crafted yet so utterly genuine reassurance of her love, to be dispensed in perfect little packets with her characteristic enthusiasm. The sun was starting to set. Maybe that was it. Celestia’s warm yellow sun which bathed the land in its beneficent rays was settling to its sleep in the far west. A full moon was on the rise. Shining reminded himself that he ought to respect Luna’s pale and delicate moon just as much as Celestia’s sun, but the truth was that the night lacked the sun’s power; it failed to stay evil’s hand. Dark things emerged in the night, lost spirits and revenants, relics of King Sombra’s evil reign. Shining looked into the sky and shivered. The full moon would bring them out once again, stalking through the night, hunting for prey. It was his job to make sure they didn’t find any. It was his job to make sure all the citizens of the Crystal City were safe. Tonight though, something else rankled, something felt wrong. He moved on, hoping motion would distract him from his anxiety. I’ve fought monsters before. He reassured himself, recalling the grip of his lance, his sword slicing through demon wraiths. They had died, or at least went back to wherever they came from. A blade with a silver-steel alloy did the job. He trusted that ability. Yet the feeling of wrongness dogged him through the snow and ice, until he reached the outskirts of the city once more. A sentry hailed him there, at the outskirts of the city, a grey pony in bronze armor. He stood beside a crystal arch that served as the unofficial ‘gates’ to the Crystal Kingdom. “Hullo Captain! Returning from your patrol now?” “Yes, Sergeant Greymane.” Shining told the veteran guardspony. “Night is almost upon us.” “Aye, Sir Shining. And ‘tis a cold night coming on outside, by the looks of you.” Shining Armor gave a deep sigh, shaking off a bit of snow that clung to his coat. “You would be right about that, Sergeant.” The Crystal City was a strange place. Almost immediately upon entering the outskirts, the bone-chilling cold abated. Now that he was inside the protective barrier, Shining removed his scarf, no longer needed, and stuffed it in a small pack at his side. Greeting him was nothing more than a mild breeze that smelled faintly of flowers. Even the sky itself seemed brighter, or perhaps somehow clearer, and looking up, with the clarity of the air and the setting sun, he could just make out a few of the brightest stars beginning to emerge. Greymane waited patiently for his senior officer to stow his gear. After that Shining turned to the guardspony again. “How goes the watch?” he asked. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Sir. Not many comings and goings. None in the past four hours.” “The trade wagons?” Shining inquired. “No Sir, they must be still at the station. Maybe didn’t want to risk the dark.” “Mhm” Shining chewed his lip. The station was safe enough. So long as they kept their wits they would be fine. Shining reflected a moment on his surroundings. The far north was certainly a vastly different place from where he grew up, though at least the land in the immediate vicinity of the city reminded him more of home. There were many fields here, peppered with crystal monoliths, with trees and crops being grown. The grass was green and soft, just like the fields near Canterlot. It was truly an oasis, an island in an icy sea. Shining thought to ask more questions of the sergeant, but quickly reconsidered. The strange sense of wrongness still bothered him, but the simple truth was that the worry in his mind was too vague to voice. Something felt off, out of place, almost like deja-vu—but whatever it was, it wasn’t here. He nodded farewell to the Sergeant, and set out towards the city proper. The Crystal City was built in a strange style, at least to Shining’s eyes. Its many crystal walls sparkled in the dwindling evening light. Each structure was slightly different, angled askew, a little taller or a little shorter. As the light waxed and waned throughout the day, the faces illuminated on each home and shop changed. It was odd, then, living in the city, because it seemed different all the time, as though the whole city was metamorphic, alive. It was an understandable thought considering the way the crystals seemed to grow out of the ground. Simply walking down the crystal streets in the evening gave a very different feeling than the same avenue in the morning. Yet, the architecture reminded Shining just vaguely of old fashioned Canterlot. Buildings, or perhaps crystals in the shape of buildings sprouted balconies and flower boxes, and were crowned by high peaked roofs. It was as though it was contemporary with Canterlot, but different, and unique all its own. All the stranger it was that the smooth slabs of crystal showed no signs of wear for all those years. It truly was as though the city had been frozen in time. Nearing the palace at the heart of the city, Shining passed a few ponies out on the streets. He recognized a middle-aged mare he had spoken to a month or two ago. She ran a small flower shop on the outskirts of town, selling both locally grown and recently imported flowers to anypony who would buy them. Their conversation was just small talk mostly. Shining learned that ponies were enjoying the flowers from the rest of Equestria, but that was about all. She was quiet, if seemingly a tad obsessive over her flower sales. In truth, she hadn’t made that much of an impression on Shining. Later though, he overheard a cleaning pony saying that the mare was known around the city for her sometimes eccentric behavior, and claims that she was sure, absolutely sure, that she had once had a foal, and yet no one else remembered her having a little filly or colt. In the glow of the crystal streetlamps her face was half in shadow, for a moment seeming strange and alien. He caught her eye for an instant before he looked away. Another beat and she was past. Shining resisted an urge to look over his shoulder after her. The last stretch, with the immense bulk of the crystal palace looming closer and closer, went by in silence. There were a few carts parked to the side of the road, but no ponies to be seen. A few lights glowed in upstairs windows, and thin trails of smoke drifted out of some chimneys, but for the most part the streets were quiet. There was nothing out of place at the steps to the palace, though the arched entranceway at the base of the Crystal Palace was similarly nearly devoid of equine activity. Only a few guards stood watch beside the portal. Next to them rested the other guardians of the palace, larger than life statues of two gryphons in bright seafoam-colored crystal. Shining considered giving the guards on duty a word of encouragement, a demonstration of solidarity from their commanding officer. First things first. Other concerns weighed on his mind. Fears both shapeless and distinct, ever more mingled together and unpleasant to dwell upon. Most of all, there was one thing he wanted to make sure of. “Where’s Princess Cadance?” Shining asked the guardspony to his right. Shining knew the fellow as Guard Highhoof from the training grounds and the night patrols. A good, reliable pony, the sort who must have seemed destined, even as a foal, to be a royal guard one day. The guardspony betrayed himself with just the slightest hint of an upturned eyebrow. “Sir?” “I mean, has the Princess left the palace since I’ve been gone?” “Ah!” The guard snapped to, catching the drift of Shining’s tone. “No, not to my knowledge, sir!” If he had thought that hearing those words would ease his worry, he was proven wrong. He knew he would have to see for himself. “Sir?” The guard said in askance. “Huh?” Shining grunted, his mind focused elsewhere. “Sir, did you see any ice wraiths out there?” “Uh uh. Nothing.” “That’s a good thing, isn’t it, sir?” the guard asked. “Yes, yes.” Shining started to step over the threshold, paused, and swung back. “But that doesn’t mean you should be any less vigilant soldier! Now tighten that chinstrap!” He had a responsibility as commanding officer to set a good example for the guards, after all. He allowed himself a brief smile as he turned for the door, but it was gone a moment later. Inside, the palace was just as quiet. A soft hum of activity echoed off the crystalline walls, but the sound seemed far away. Like an an echo chamber, the palace tended to reverberate to sound. Shining knew it had something to do with the flat expanse of crystal walls, and the sharp corners that a pony had told him “liked to trap the sound”. All he knew was that the palace was in need of decoration, and not just for aesthetic reasons. Once those were in, it ought to start feeling more like home. At least that’s what Shining told himself. The stairs though, he might never get used to. He stared up the first flight, as always cursing the obtuseness of the palace’s architect. If only the palace wasn’t so tall! As though the builders thought they needed to build something to reach up to the sky! Who decided to build it like this anyway? He resolved to ask somepony when he had the chance. He made his way up the stairs, climbing flight upon flight. On the fifth landing he passed a cleaning pony carrying a bundle of bedsheets on her back. He nodded to her absentmindedly as he walked by. It was then he heard it. A whisper, an echo. His ears swiveled, searching for the source of the sound. There! It sounded like somepony had a teakettle on in the kitchens, and somehow the sound was reaching him on the stairs, distorted and strange. But then it came from his left. He turned to a blank wall. To his right, the bannister. Then it was louder. It was behind him! His ears shot back as he spun. He faced nothing. Nothing at all. For a moment the change refused to register in his brain. Then he realized. The cleaning pony was gone. How could that be? He had just passed her a moment ago. She had been right there! She was just there! At that moment he realized his ears were filled with an eerie silence, a silence beyond mere quiet. A total lack of sound. He wanted to scream. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. Then sound came rushing back, suddenly louder than before, a torrent of sensation assaulting his ears. He heard the reverberation of a far off cry. No, it was his own, still echoing. And the whispers returned too, mouthing words his ears could not understand. Their tone was violent and harsh, punctuated by a guttural hiss. He gasped for breath. As abruptly as they had began, the sound and the whispers stopped. His head was spinning, around and around. It wasn’t until he had regained some semblance of balance that he could even tell up from down. The palace was still there, but he saw it from a different angle. He noticed his ankles touching the the soft carpet, the silky touch strangely out of place at that moment. He deduced, slowly, that he must have fallen to his knees when the sound struck him. The sound—what was it? There was little time for him to wonder. As he began to piece his thoughts back together another noise broke them apart. It was a scream. Beyond that, it was a mare’s scream, a scream of fear and shock, shrill and piercing. He recognized the voice. In the silence that followed, Shining thought he could hear his heart pounding through his chest. How he got to his hooves so quickly after that, he could not say, but in an instant he was surging up the stairs. At the same time a shout tore from his throat: “CADANCE!” His head was still spinning. Under normal circumstances he would have taken at least a moment to rest and regain his bearings. This was not normal. Even impaired, half blinded with a stubborn dizziness that dragged at his focus, he rushed the steps three and four at a time. It cost him. His hoof missed a step and his leg went out from under him. He went down, hard, on his right foreleg, a harsh, jarring blow. It did not feel good. As he got up the leg popped with a sickening crack. With the next step it sent a shiver through his core, the kind of grating twinge that suggested in no uncertain terms he should stop. He ignored it. There was no pain at that moment. Still, it was clear that leg was in bad shape. He shifted as much weight as he could to the others, but his pace hardly slowed. “Cadance!” He shouted again. There was no doubt in his mind about the source of the scream. He knew his wife’s voice. He knew she was in danger if she had screamed like that. She was not one to go into hysterics. She was strong. If she had been that frightened… she must be in danger. “Hold on Cadance!” Shining hurdled up the last few flights to a larger landing. His legs began to burn from sheer exertion. Every step brought jarring impacts on his injured right leg, but he continued on until he crested the final few steps. The landing opened up in front of him, a sort of balcony from which one could look down to the entry hall below. It was a long way down from the bannister at the edge to the stone tile. Opposite the balcony were three evenly spaced doors. The two on the sides were large guest suites, while the one in the center led down a hallway to the royal library and quarters. She would not be in the throne room. It was far too large, too formal. She would have just had dinner, and after dinner she preferred the library. That’s where he expected Cadance to be. That’s where he ran. Shining burst through the center double door. He quickly noted that the doors to the quarters had not been opened before he arrived. He ran past several side doors, his hoofbeats an irregular pattern, heavy on the front. At the end of the hall was another set of purple colored doors. Shining could see the one on the right was just slightly ajar, a bright green light, like that of a green tinted lamp, streaming from the gap between them. Shining focused all his effort on the sight of those doors. His horn began to glow with a luminous white light as he ran. Closer and closer they loomed, teasingly, as though in slow motion. There was a flicker in the light cast from the door, but no time to slow before he threw his shoulder into it. He was prepared to level his horn at whatever lurked in the library beyond. Rebounding off the door, which slammed to the wall, he found himself engulfed in light. It was a noxious green, like the leaves of poison ivy, surrounded by a deeply violet aura. In its wake, shadows of lamps and chairs and other furniture flashed across the tall bookcases lining the walls, and at its center, a pony was suspended like a ragdoll. Shining recognized the pink coat amongst the tongues of green, and the shadows of purple and black. “Cadance!” Shining yelled. She floated at least two ponies’ heights above the floor. At his call, her head snapped to him, large liquid eyes reflecting the green light that swirled around her. “Shining!” He took a step forward at the sound of her voice, his desire almost involuntary to protect her from whatever this madness was. “No!” She shouted to him. “Don’t! It’s a trap!” As if sensing his presence, the spell of whirling light and shadow began to intensify. In a moment Cadance began to slowly spin through the air, pirouetting like a marionette on tangled strings. Shining backed off for a moment but was not deterred. “I’m getting you out of there!” He yelled over a steadily increasing din from the spell. “No!” Cadance shouted back. “You can’t! The spell can’t be stopped once it’s cast.” Her voice trembled unsteadily. They were desperate words that came and went as she was spun around. Around the room, several open books had pages flapping as though caught in a gale. A rumble filled the space like thunder, a static buzz in the air. “What spell?” Shining yelled, as his horn glowed a brilliant white. Cadance saw his horn alight, and looked at him with desperate, yet steady eyes. “Don’t you even think about it, Shining Armor!” She turned her neck to try and track him while she spun. She seemed to sigh, although any sound it might have made was lost amidst the chaos. “Haven’t you figured out by now that I know more about spells than you?” Shining thought he could see a trace of a smile on her lips. “What spell?” Shining demanded. “D-Don’t worry about that, Shining,” Cadance told him. “Everything will be okay.” “You’re lying.” He took another step forward, the rumble of the spell changing in tenor even as he did so. “Please! Stop!” Cadance cried out. Her voice was wavering, choked. “You can’t… You can’t.” “What spell?” Shining asked once more, a terrible fear building inside of him. “Just… listen.” Her mane swirled around her head like a pink and purple nimbus. “I don’t have long, so I’ll just say it. I love you, Shining… I love you more than anything and…you have to listen...” The light of the spell seemed to morph and change, rotating faster and faster, a kaleidoscope of color painting the walls in sickly light. Shining kept his eyes fixed on her’s. “...I have seen his plan, he wants you to chase him. He wants you to forget who you are…” “Who?” Shining shouted above the howl of the magic tide. “Don’t!… Just… remember… I… love…you….” Suddenly the vortex of light and magic coalesced around her. Her legs were flung out from her sides, her mane splayed out around her neck. She was held upright, silhouetted by the implosion of the spell. That moment all was quiet, until the spell exploded once more. The light was blinding, like staring into the heart of furnace, and the spell roared with a banshee scream. In an instant, all sight of Cadance was lost amidst the blast. Then the shock reached Shining. A force like a tidal wave hit him, hurling him back. Shining remembered a feeling akin to floating. How long it persisted, he could not say. The world he saw was a haze of searing red and inky black. In the center, a single figure, legs outstretched. Frozen in place. Nothing moved, and time seemed strange and indefinite. True consciousness returned some time later. It was marked by pain, and a blinding peek of true light under fluttering eyelids. He felt distant, out of touch with the world around him. Yet at the same time he was pressed down by an immovable heaviness, as though his limbs were made of lead. There was a pounding in the back of his skull. Not a headache with a sharp, irritating pain, but rather a deep pulsing throb, robbing him of any desire to move, and all beyond the ability to lie there and endure the pain. Nevertheless, he was still aware. Something hard and ice cold pressed up under his chin, a sharp edge digging into his skin until his head was lifted up. His dazed body protested, and the throbbing at the back of his skull grew more intense. Nevertheless, his eyes opened to at least a narrow slit, and beyond the fading red afterimages burned onto his retinas he saw a shadowy figure towering over him. The details came into view as his eyes adjusted. He saw a white reflection on a shiny metal surface. It took a moment to recognize this as his own reflection from the other pony’s chest plate. Shining realized the armor must extend down to the hooves, likely to metal hoof-boots. Like the one digging into his neck. The owner of the armor showed little patience for Shining’s gradual recovery. The edge of the metal boot pressed hard against Shining’s skin, forcing his head higher. He found himself looking into hideous red eyes, slitted like a snake’s. Around the irises blazed a toxic, sickening green. It took a moment for Shining to realize he was looking at a pony’s face. The face was strongly angular, masculine. He had some sort of black mask that descended from forehead to nose, emblazoned by twin grey chevrons. On his forehead was a thick, upward curved horn, blazing red like a sword fresh out of the forge, and above it, a shiny silver crown topped by steely horns and a red-winged emblem. At the edge of his vision, Shining could just make out a patch of deep red fabric draped over the pony’s shoulders. Even in his dazed state, images of shadow and fear flashed before Shining’s eyes. Time had passed, but those memories had not faded. King Sombra cocked his head slightly, like a mildly bemused foal in the process of crushing a bug under his hoof. His lips opened into a feral snarl, a vicious grin marked by curved fangs that protruded beneath his angular snout. “Ah.” The sound hissed out of the old king’s teeth. Under Shining’s chin, the hoof-boot ground into his skin. His head was forced higher. He was forced to look into those red eyes. Neck muscles ached under the strain of being pulled upwards against their will. “You survived.” Sombra’s voice was dripping with malevolence, yet only mild disappointment, as though the difference in outcome was all but insignificant to him. It was strange; despite the snake-like appearance of the king’s pupils, his eyes did not have the cold stare of a reptile. They told of Sombra’s emotion, insofar as that emotion was hate. It was clear in the set of his black eyebrows and unflinching, contemptuous glare— he made no attempt to hide it. In the distance Shining saw a pink shape over the King’s shoulder. He couldn’t believe Cadance had survived the blast. He wanted to call out to her, but Sombra’s hoof pressed up against his jaw, making the task of opening his mouth almost impossible, even if he had the presence of mind to coordinate it with his vocal cords. Sombra saw his eyes looking that way and laughed with what can only be described as a cackle. “Yes…she remains. Her body, at least.” Shining’s eyes flicked back to Sombra’s pair of black slits. “But her soul is mine, princeling. Now and forever.” Sombra watched his words strike home. “Hah. You did not even try to save her, did you?” He asked with a sneer. Shining forced his mouth open to respond, but only a few sounds gurgled out of his throat, and nothing distinguishable as speech. Sombra harrumphed. “I thought so. Pathetic.” The king’s steel boot thrust back into Shining’s neck, driving into his windpipe and forcing out a startled breath. Still dazed, Shining toppled over backward, vision once more spinning. Within moments his throat felt like it was closing up. He was choking, suffocating. Shining’s mouth hung open as he gasped for breath against the floor of the library. Every breath was a struggle.The dark shape that was Sombra in Shining’s narrowed vision turned and strode a few paces away. There were sounds coming to Shining, although distant, as his own world narrowed to the fight for air in his lungs. Somewhere behind him he heard shouting, armor clanking. There were loud hoofbeats that sounded like many ponies ascending the stairs. Ahead of him, he was dimly aware of Sombra’s voice. “You were a fool to think you had defeated me, and a fool to think you could. Nopony now living can kill me—I saw to that.” By force of will, Shining struggled to keep his eyes open. He saw the world around him in still-life, moments passing one by one on each indrawn breath. “Tartarus and the Crystal Empire were only the beginning. You will see in time.” Sobra fixed him with a steady stare from his burning eyes. “It’s better this way, don’t you see?” he hissed. His muzzle showed a twisted grin. “Death is too short a penalty— for insolence.” Shadow congealed around King Sombra’s form. Swirls of violet and black cloaked his shape, obscuring him from view until his outline became vague and indistinct. Then it seemed as though there was no pony standing amidst the whirlwind, only grains of sand blowing away on the wind. A moment later the black clouds gave way, and where Sombra once stood nothing remained. Shining had no conception of where he went, only that he was gone from the room. Revealed by his passage once more was the shape of a pink pony lying in the center of the room, a circle of torn pages and open books lying about her. She did not move nor make a sound. The shadows were closing in. Shining felt himself slipping into darkness. He heard the shouting growing closer, hurried hoof falls coming his way, but as his vision faded, all he saw was that image of Cadance, and all he thought was that he had failed her, and he surrendered to the dark embrace of sleep.