Preparing another set of records for the Cloudsdale Weather Archive on the second largest hail storm of Trottingham, Wind Scribe hummed a peaceful little tune he knew from when was just a foal. Why he did this, he really couldn't tell. He just felt in such good spirits that day that he just really did not care.
“Hey, you mind keepin’ it down?!” A furrowing voice asked him politely from his side. It was Feather Sign, another pegasus that worked in the archives and a longtime friend for Wind Scribe; at least, a pony he used to call a friend.
“Oh, sorry Feather Sign. Didn’t mean to bother you.” Wind Scribe replied in a whisper.
Not to be taken the wrong way, He still thought of the pale yellow pegasus as a friend but, for some time now, he and Feather Sign had become…distant. At first, it just seemed like the pale yellow pegasus was just having a bad day and would get over it but the longer Wind Scribe tried to convince himself of that, the less convinced of it he became. Soon enough, all his friend would do was to come to work, do his job, and then leave without a word. Wind Scribe tried to cheer his friend up multiple times, each attempt only earning him more mortar to the wall of rejection that his friend built. Surprisingly enough today though, Feather Sign did not seem quite as rude as he usually was in that he has not cussed out the poor stallion that tried to help him. Though this was still far from what the two pegasi used to have in terms of their relationship.
Wind Scribe looked up at the clock hanging from the archive room wall to see that his day was nearly complete; his friend, Feather Sign, who was just finishing his shift with him as well, stood up to leave when, all of a sudden, he stopped. It was odd: he just stood there in the middle of the room like a statue and was honestly starting to creep his fellow coworkers out. Some even started to whisper among themselves. Wind Scribe cautiously approached and asked him then what was wrong but the only reply he received was with a hungry and malicious grin and a few unfathomable words that were spoken in a hissing voice Wind Scribe never before heard, let alone coming from his one friend, “It issss time!”
Further worry ensued along with a wispy chill that made Wind Scribe’s skin crawl with uncertainty.All of his confused questions were answered before he could even ask them as his so-called friend ignited in a haze of fiery green light. The scene nearly made him jump out of his own skin, many of his other coworkers having abandoned the scene altogether, before Feather Sign reemerged from the vapor as a creature he only knew from reading his books; a Changeling. His friend, or rather the thing that posed as his friend, hissed and grinned with an excited expression of pure ecstasy upon the transformation’s finish. As he gazed with much fear upon the lead-black Changeling, he guessed he was not the only pony that almost suffered a heart attack from such a horrifying sight; from other parts of the Cloudsdale Archives, Wind Scribe could hear the terrified screams of fellow coworkers he knew all his life echoing throughout the building in a choir of panic.
He knew, at that moment, that this was more than just a coincidence but his reverie was not allowed to last as the changeling before him hissed, “You’re coming with me, pony!”
Wind Scribe shuddered at the Changeling’s remark as it pounced upon its trembling prey. But a primal instinct, one that even a sheltered stallion such as he knew, managed the only thing his feverish thoughts could come up with at a moment like that: he turned his back on the insectoid creature just as it bared its teeth and shot a fear driven buck straight in to the incoming aggressor. His back hooves made contact and sent the Changeling back in a dizzying tumble across the ground and him on a slight somersault forward from a hasty reaction. He picked himself up shortly after and, without a second thought, bolted for the door.
The archive was a vast collective building of all things weather-related in Equestria and, as such, it made the corridors of such a structure hard to navigate for the inexperienced visitor. Though having worked at said place has given the Charcoal pegasus the knowledge he needed to navigate the facility and pilot through a few shortcuts along the way to the archive’s lobby. Yet, outside in the archive lobby, things were in even more chaotic state. Fellow coworkers he knew for a long time flew for their lives as they were being chased down by even more Changelings. Some were already captured and were being hauled away to parts unknown. The sight alone turned Wind Scribe’s blood icy cold. One of the insect-like creatures halted in his flight as it noticed that none of its siblings had seen the petrified stallion that just burst into the lobby. It took less than a second to change its flight course and break away from its group to capture him. Wind Scribe saw the shadow of the Changeling dive bomb for him, the menacing creature hissed as he made a break for the archive exit. Fear-induced adrenaline surged through the fleeing stallion and kept him mere inches out of reach of the Changeling’s snapping jaws. Wind Scribe narrowly avoided colliding with other ponies in his mad dash and every face he caught a glimpse of held nothing but cold fear. Fortunately for him, the Changeling that gave chase was not quite as fast or as maneuverable, having to redirect its flight pattern just to keep up. Unfortunately for the pony the Changeling collided with, though, another was now at the mercy of his attacker and screamed in vain as more of the matte-black creatures around him.
Wind Scribe did not dare chance a look over his shoulder to check if his pursuer was still there and kept up his pace regardless. Upon the final stretch of his speedy flight, he all but crashed through the archive exit only to be subjected to a scene far more heartbreaking than what he had already been through: the entire city of Cloudsdale under attack by nothing short of an entire legion of the dastardly, malicious Changelings. Everywhere he looked, ponies were being rounded up and hauled away for whatever plans the despicable insectoids had in store for them. One thought, however, took precedence over all other thoughts at that moment to Wind Scribe: his family. He had to find his wife and foals and flee the city before these creatures laid a single hollowed hoof upon them. Perishing any thoughts of concern for himself, Wind Scribe flared his wings and kicked hard off the ground to fly home as fast as he could.
All throughout the city, other ponies and Changelings nearly collided with him mid-flight. Everywhere he looked, panic and fear was at everypony’s throats. His luck, as it seemed, proved to be holding out for he was able to fly just under the zone that most of the action was taking place. Fate must have been listening to his unspoken prayers as he was nearly halfway there when a terrible sound echoed around the entire city, which seemed to shake the very fabric of the air around him.
Right at the moment, as he was passing Cloudsdale’s all-important Weather Factory, the entire facility exploded. Debris shot out in a cascade of concussive shock-waves and compacted cloud structure that rattled the Charcoal pegasus to the bone. He knew ponies that worked in that factory, all of them exceptional friends that he prayed were nowhere near the place at that very moment. With yet another light of resolve igniting in his heart, Wind Scribe sliced through the turbulent skies to reach his home. He will get to them before any changeling and take them to safety, anywhere away from Cloudsdale to protect his family. His brave thoughts however, were silenced as he was rendered unconscious by a piece of debris that spun out of control and flew directly in his path.
--o0o--
“I’m always scared, April. Scared that I won’t do the right thing. That I would lose you one day.” He was gazing at his wife and foals. They were all, the three of them, looking at him with smiles upon their faces; smiles they reserved for him every day he came back from his job but his eyes were fixed upon the grey almonds of his wife. He had always thought of the grey color as one that is both cold and dull up until he met her in the silent weather archives of Cloudsdale where she was documenting research material for her university studies. This odd preference of color was an issue that accompanied him since his colt-hood when he used to be picked upon for the odd contrast between his vivid-red mane and dark-grey coat but that matter never again bothered him when April Showers smiled at him shyly, at first, and then boldly remarked at how strong his colors were in contrast to the dark forest-green of his eyes.
At first, Wind Scribe could not believe that this lovely pegasus with a maya-green tail and mane, that much resembled raindrops at the ends, was speaking to him but her sparkling grey colored eyes gave him his first inkling that his life was about to take a huge turn in a different, and happier, direction.
Their romance was one that brought a happy sigh to many as they watched them be swept in a whirlwind of courtship. In the end, two lovely foals was the proof of their devoted love. His life since the moment she set her golden eyes on him had been countless moments of blessing that followed each other with no end to their happiness in sight. He was a family stallion and the welfare of his family meant everything to him.
In her gentle voice; a tone she always used whenever she saw the love reserved for her alone in her husband’s eyes, she crooned, “How could you lose us when we’d never leave you?”
As she spoke those comforting words to him, she raised her hoof to touch his head. For a reason he could not fathom, the gentle touch of her hoof caused a throbbing headache but he did not care much for that; he was so lost in her loving eyes that nothing else mattered. Something was off, however, for when she went to place her hoof down to his chest, atop of where his heart lie, as she would always do to set his mind at ease, her touch became as cold as ice. He looked up in a start and felt his heart skip more than a few beats upon what stood before him: no longer the visage of his lovely, dedicated wife but the malevolent, cheshire grin of a blackened creature that bared its fangs; a Changeling. It hissed and chuckled in its slithering tongue and pounced on its traumatized prey. Tendrils of pure darkness exploded from the creature’s body to encase the surprised pegasus. He did everything he could to escape but to no avail; the attack was too quick and the world faded into an abyss.
***
Wind Scribe awoke, sharply gasping for air that had eluded his lungs. A throbbing headache and a terrible ringing in his ears accompanied the recovering stallion and became worse with the regain of his senses. He tried to open his eyes but the pain increased with each attempt to gather his strength for such a simple task. In that confused moment, he pondered the ringing plaguing his ears, at first believing it to be the frightened scream of his lovely wife, April, but it was like a continued din that would not diminish. He was at least aware that he was still on a cloud due to the feel of fluffy white cotton under his hooves and belly but his entire body ached for reasons he could not begin to remember.
But, like a tsunami, it all then came flooding back when he realized that the ringing in his ears was actually the screams of ponies that were still in the under-sieged city of Cloudsdale. He rose at once, swaying slightly from the pain, but willed himself to search the skies for the floating metropolis. The sight that met his eyes was more than he could handle and his heart sank immediately; the once great city was now aglow with billowing towers of smoke and terrorized screams. Tiny specks, he saw, zipped across the skies in vain escape attempts but were engulfed in a veil of black the moment they fled.
Wind Scribe fell back on his haunches gaping at the scene of it all and in that moment of despair, he was almost certain he could hear the frightened voices of his wife and kids crying out for him as they were being taken away like the others. He had failed; not only his family but himself as well and now there was no way of getting back into the city without being spotted, let alone captured. He did the only thing he could think of and flew; flew as far and fast as his wings could carry him and away from the blockaded city, tears streaking down his anguished face as he felt with every beat of heart fracture his very soul till it shattered like delicate glass.
Yet his will did not last long and his body surrendered after a mile or so of flight. Quite carelessly, for a pegasus, he glided down to the earth and curled into himself to wallow in self-pity and torment. Nothing mattered anymore for the poor stallion now that his family and home were gone. Dark thoughts swirled within his mind; he might as well hoof himself over to the Changelings right this moment. Maybe then he might have the chance to see his family’s smiling faces one more time before the end.
Wind Scribe closed his eyes, surrendering to despair; a rustling sound in nearby bushes forced them wide open and paralyzed him in fright. His breath came in and out in shallow gasps as he turned his head in the direction of the noise to his port side and watched the leaves rustle again yet accompanied this time with a low groan. Feverishly, he searched the grounds for anything he could use to defend himself but all he found was a flimsy-looking branch, which found its way clenched between his teeth.
The low groans continued as Wind Scribe inched his way towards the patch of shrubs, shaking like a leaf caught in speedy winds. Deciding to take some sort of action before he changed his mind, Wind Scribe flung the shrubs out of the way but what he found dumbfounded him; it was another pony, a little more beat-up than him but a pegasus nonetheless. He looked a little younger than a stallion and had a coat of icy blue fur and a short cropped, dark blue mane. His cutie mark was a triplet of overlapping snowflakes each in different shades of blue and white. The pony was still half asleep by the looks of it, or still recovering his senses because he did not notice Wind Scribe just yet. Wind Scribe, on the other hoof, was in the middle of a mental battle, trying to decide what to do next and ultimately came down to a decision. With the stick he still held in his mouth, he began poking at the semi-unconscious pony a few times to further rouse the colt. The pegasus finally began to take note of the rude awakening and pulled himself up to a sitting position. Wind Scribe suddenly realized what he was doing and began to rethink his decision. He backed away and tried his best to make himself look as intimidating as possible.
The pony with snowflakes cutie mark massaged the sides of his head, “Ow, what happened?”
With his heart pounding in his ears, Wind Scribe stuttered, “Y-you there! umm, don’t move or try anything funny… I-I have a weapon!”
Still apparently dazed, the colt looked around until he found the pony that was talking to him. He looked at him first, then at the so-called weapon that he supposedly had with a more than curious stare, “A stick?”
In the back of his mind, Wind Scribe reprimanded himself severely for not thinking of a better plan for this situation and now resorted to plough, “U-uh, yes… Don’t you think I don’t know how to use it!”
But for everything, the snowflakes colt appeared more confused than scared and replied in an offhoofed manner, “Alright, then. I won’t try anything.”
Wind Scribe sighed in relief. For that one sigh, he felt so light-hearted and at ease but took it back as another thought passed his disoriented mind, “You’re not a Changeling, are you?” He asked around the stick in his mouth. The colt looked at Wind Scribe as if he was gazing at a mad pony but decided to play along to avoid confrontation, “No. I’m not.”
“Prove it.” Wind Scribe ordered as he watched the colt concentrating hard on finding an answer. After a few silent moments, the colt shrugged, “I don’t know how. But listen, I’m not a Changeling. I was attacked by them in Cloudsdale and…”
But Wind Scribe cut across his words and asked, “Wait, you were in Cloudsdale too?” His attempts to be threatening all but forgotten.
“Yeah.” The colt answered back hastily, “At least until those Changelings attacked me and the others at the Weather Factory. I barely escaped after I overloaded the snowflake production facility.”
Wind Scribe’s jaw dropped, along with the stick that was in his mouth with a muffled clatter, and shouted, “You blew up the Weather Factory?!”
At the oral assault, the colt blinked his eyes wide and stammered, “Y-yes. But I did it to create a distraction for my companions and I to escape. I didn’t expect the system to meltdown that fast…Did you see anypony escape the Weather Factory since the explosion?”
Wind Scribe’s ears folded back as his expression shifted to downcast. He did not at all expect such revelation for he now guessed at what took him off his path and goal, “N-no. I was on my way to get my family when the Weather Factory blew and knocked me out.”
Deep despair welled inside him at these words. He did not know how long he had been unconscious, he did not know where his family was and, worst of all, he feared that the explosion might have harmed them even before the changelings did. A spark lit up in Wind Scribe’s mind as these black thoughts swirled in his mind and suddenly eyed the other pony with fury.
“You! Because of you, my family is in hooves of those Changelings… or worse!” The weight of his tirade coming down on thundering hooves. “I was nearly there, I could have saved them! But now…” The spark faded, cast off like a candle’s flame against the night wind, leaving him to be filled again with boundless remorse, “but now they’re gone...”
Wind Scribe sank back to his haunches again as memories of his family assailed him once more. His family was still gone and taking out his anger on somepony else wasn’t going to bring them back.
The snowflakes pony looked upon the grieving stallion before him and felt a pang of regret for what he had done. In an effort to assure him, the colt hesitantly spoke, “Look, I’m sorry for what I did but I was only trying to save my friends. If I didn’t blow up the factory, neither of us would be here right now and probably in the hooves of the Changelings as well!”
Wind Scribe quelled his sniffling as he listened to the other pegasus, who still spoke with great spirit, “We both have a chance to right our wrongs now, so why don’t we team up to save our friends and family?”
Wind Scribe took his time to contemplate the words he heard, as he gazed at the sincere eyes of the young colt before him, and found that he had nothing to lose by accepting the other pegasus’ offer and so spoke the mystifying question that had been nagging on him ever since he woke up, “Okay. But how do we save our loved ones? Where do we even begin?”
“I have family in Canterlot that we can ask for help!” The colt answered with enthusiasm now that a plan started to form in his mind, “Maybe even get an audience with the Princesses. They need to know what has happened to Cloudsdale.”
With a sigh, Wind Scribe conceded, “Sounds like a plan. I guess we should get flying if we are to get there.”
The other pegasus nodded. “Right. Oh yea, my name’s Azure.”
“Wind Scribe,” the stallion replied, finally putting a name to the face of the snowflakes pony.
With that, two pegasi, a colt and a stallion, took to the skies. They were careful to fly just above the canopy of forest to avoid being too far out in the open. The flight to Canterlot, though always a cheerful route to journey, now felt like a horrendous path in which a pegasus can spread their wings into but, with silent flutters, both pushed on in their quest for the city on the mountain.