//------------------------------// // NMoO 1: Memories // Story: Nightmares of Oblivion // by Scarheart //------------------------------// Memories Pain. His world was pain. Pain remembered. Pain felt. The surge of the past roared into his mind like a vast unstoppable wave. A voice called to him, but was swept away as he stood in the center of...something. Where was he? Why could he not remember nothing more than the past? So many faces passed before him; pony, dragon, griffon, camel, and many others. Male. Female. Young. Old. They came to him, went through him, screamed silently at him. It was their pain, their agony. The fear in the air was thick and heavy, the scent of burnt flesh seared itself into his nostrils. The past surrounded him with those countless faces. The voice called again. He thought he should know it. He struggled, found he could not move and was held fast by others. What others? Why was there so much death around him? The horror was so much as he could not eve cry. No tears fell. They could not. They took his tears, his sorrow, adding it to their hate for him. It surged like the tide, washing over him with despair and the pain of loss and ultimate suffering. He noticed he was standing in a wasteland, a desert bereft of life. There was nothing but rocks and sand all around him. In the distance, all around him approached those faces. So far away, indistinct, but he could make them out. A dead forest with dead trees. Moving towards him, reaching out hungrily. Clear starless skies covered him, the darkness nearly absolute save for an oddly familiar white beacon in the air and just above the horizon. His body shivered, yet he felt nothing. A ghostly presence engulfed him, dark and familiar. He tried to scream, not sure what was going on. Reacting violently, he tried to break free, screaming his terror and somehow finding the will to resist. The faces parted as he strode forward, his hooves striking the unseen ground, showering his vision with sparks. It was a dead gallop, full out and relentless. He had to get away! His fear told him to run and he did so. His name fell upon his ears, they flicked towards the source somewhere behind him, receding. Everything. It was all around him. Everything! Nothing would go away. The looming face of a monster hovered above him, grinning wickedly as a glowing ball of red hatred mocked him. Vast wings shrouded his world in inky shadow, concealing everything. Was there anything to see? No, those faces were gone, seeing the thing chasing him and fleeing from him. He could sense them more than see them. There were no forms to those mouths and eyes who screamed soundlessly. The ponderous flap of great wings chased after him, always there, as if all the owner had to do was but reach out and pluck him up with little effort. Another soundless scream of abject terror fell unheard from his lips. It pealed in silence through the dark air. He spread his wings, seeking refuge in the sky though he dreaded his chances. Yet surely there was no alternative. Always had they been there to carry him on powerful strokes and sure familiarity. He faltered as they felt weak and useless, yet they did carry him from the ground after one, two, three bounds. Aloft! Yet the Thing chasing him did not relent. Remember. As he tore at the thick air with his wings, his heart pounded in his chest wildly. Gasping for air, he fought against his fears, not knowing what they were nor why he was afraid. Remember me! A tiny voice called to him, pleading. It felt familiar. It felt strange. It felt helpless. Everything around him went darker, the Thing going away somehow. It would be back. It would return. It was a memory and a most terrible one. He knew this, yet not why. Before him, in the distance was a soft light - a shaft imploring into the pitch black imploring. It was a beacon. The little voice came from it! Surging with renewed hope, the flier pumped his wing muscles as hard as he could. The dead followed, screaming at him, hungering for him. He was beginning to understand those faces now. His fear returned doubly. Don't be afraid! implored the voice from the light. Words failed in a tightened throat. The mouth formed those words desperately, yet nothing could come forth. Renewed panic and now frustration welled from him. A white dragon came before him with crimson spikes atop her head and along her spine. She was a beautiful creature with cruel golden eyes. She leered down at him, her long tapered snout curling a sneer. Long, sharp fangs gleamed as she tilted her head towards him. Vast wings held her in a perfect hover and her tail danced slowly beneath her lithe form. Her soul was dark and filled with flames. He could see within her, knew her. Utterly evil... No, not quite. As she took him in with her attention, he noticed she was not looking at him. No, her claws went out and gingerly held a tiny, tiny, tiny little form in her cupped talons. Her hard gaze softened as a small white form spoke to her gently, even warmly. "Draccaria, this is your brother," the small white creature said. She was a changeling, a queen. She was beautiful and felt...sad. Somehow, she was the mother of the dragon, this Draccaria. He came closer still, no able to fathom why this was so. What was the form in those formidable claws? The sneer faded away as those words fell upon her like a warm blanket, inviting her to accept them and wrap them around her. The dragon known as Draccaria peered closely at the little unseen thing hidden within her massive yet gentle grip. "He's so small," whispered the monster. "He'll need a big sister to watch over him," said the changeling. She encouraged the dragon, letting out her love to both of her children. They were the only ones she would ever have. Somehow the observer knew this, as if this had been told to him once before. "I won't be around forever. Your father will soon be aware of what I have done. After that, I don't think I'll be able to protect the both of you." "I don't need your protection, mother," growled Draccaria. The white queen paled noticeably. "Yes, you are quite correct, my daughter." She offered a weak smile as she placed a holed hoof to a monstrous foreleg, caressing the scale lovingly. "Will you at least watch over him when I am gone?" "Do not say such things!" hissed Draccaria sharply, her golden eyes going with with fear as she snapped her attention from her brother to her mother. Her gaze saddened. "I could not bear losing you, Mother." The mother buzzed away, shifting around the extended paws until she drew near her son. A soft smile formed as she lifted him from the dragon's grasp with her horn. Cradling the little thing, the observer noted it was a pale yellow thing with a tuft of red bearing a single streak of black in his mane. His short, stubby tail was the same way. Tiny pegasus wings flittered and shifted at the movement. She held him to her bosom, cooing and showering the little foal with kisses. Oddly, his left foreleg and hind leg were dark and pitted with holes like his mother. "I charge his protection to you when I am gone," said the mother, looking up meet the staring dragon's gaze. Her harlequin eyes were firm, yet gentle, pleading. "You know what your father will do. Promise me!" Draccaria became absolutely still, save for her great wings keeping her aloft. She might have been a statue as even her breathing seemed to have stopped. Her form began to fade, as did the mother and the newborn. "I promise..." It occurred to him now the pain he had felt was not his own. Personally, his own feelings and sensations were dulled as if the darkness around him shunted such sensations. No, the focus seemed to be to the hidden things out there, whatever they were. The light drew nearer still and the flyer noted he could not recall his name at the moment nor who he was. The answer seemed before him, looming ever closer. If he could just get to the light, he would remember who he was! The memories seemed important to him. But why so many faces? Why was everything so gloomy and sad? Why did death follow him? Why did those pale faces have such hate for him? The answers... That light! With renewed focus, he set his jaw determinedly, his eyes becoming slits. With energy erupting unbidden from deep within, he surged forward with stubborn wing beats. Behind him, the looming dark thing made its presence felt, unseen save for the pressure of crushing evil threatening to envelope. Don't stop! Don't look behind you! Keep coming to the light! Another fade. More darkness. The thing behind him disappeared. He saw the white queen laying upon a simple yet luxurious couch showing her little yellow foal the holes in her legs. The little thing kept poking at one particular hole, batting at it like a kitten, his little golden eyes wide with wonder. "Do you know why changelings have holes in their legs?" she asked him softly, nuzzling him. The foal blinked, craning his neck backwards until his eyes found hers. She tilted her head to one side, allowing him to chirp happily. Rolling on his back, he suddenly found his mother's muzzle very interesting to cling to. A black forked tongue rolled out and began to clean the foal slowly, with paced motions. Between licks of this bonding, she smiled and cooed at her baby for a few moments before answering her own question. "Changelings have holes in their legs because the magic that made us was not perfect. The realm from which our kind was molded from passed through a barrier forced open and crudely held open. When we were given form and the first of us given life, our bodies were not whole and our souls were lacking in emotions. Within each changeling is a hole in their soul where happiness once was. The price of our being was being able to feel happiness. We cannot feel it, so we must take it from others. Love is our greatest strength and greatest weakness. It powers us, yet we cannot hold it. Emotions flee from us and we must take from others to feel whole. That is our story. That is our legend. That is our myth." The foal giggled, closing his eyes as his mother continued to clean him. Her carapace shone like reflective pearls as her gossamer wings flittered with a soft buzzing sound. Obviously she had nothing but love for her child. "Of course," she went on, turning him to face her. "Queens such as myself are supposed to give love to our children. Or they will. You will learn love and I shall be your teacher of its meaning. You are so special to me, my darling. Your sister will watch you when I am gone." The mother placed a hoof upon his little round belly and rubbed it gently, bending in with her muzzle shaking from side to side as she bopped him with it. The sadness in her eyes appeared when she looked up and away from her child, heaving a weary sigh. "You will be a symbol of peace and love, my son," she told him when her attention went back to her playful offspring. He had found a strand of her mane and was chewing on it happily when she had lifted her head for the brief moment. "You will not be a thing of war. You will not be a machination of evil! You will not be...be..." Faltering words eventually died as a tear streamed down her cheeks. "How long have you been watching?" she demanded in a broken voice to something off to the side and unseen. "Long enough, beloved. Long enough. I think you've had enough bonding time with our son." The rumbling voice was mocking, yet gentle. "He will not be an instrument of war, but a part of the final solution. He is a nothing, yet at the same time the very thing I had hoped for. The mantle I have prepared for him will bring out his greatness." "I forbid it!" she cried, clutching her baby to her chest and bowing her neck protectively over his little form. The foal was startled and suddenly frightened. He began to cry fitfully. There was dry laughter. "Forbid away, Dalesong, my beloved. You came to me knowing this would happen. Did you honestly think you could change me? Did you honestly believe your love for me would 'save' me?" Clenching her teeth and baring her fangs, the changeling snarled at him, "Yes!" she cried out to him again, with anguish. "You have so much to offer this world to benefit all! Why destroy it, my love? Why!?" Meanwhile, the foal wailed. Dalesong bounced him lightly, her angry face quickly becoming soothing before her baby. "Shh! Don't cry, little one. I am here." A black alicorn stallion emerged from the nothingness, his singular red eye blazing with a hunger that was terrible and insatiable. Flaring his dark wings, he approached the white changeling mother and her foal with cautious steps, ignoring the adult and focusing on the foal. His own expression changed, even softened if for the benefit of not scaring the young one. Without asking, his horn lit up and took the child into his own magical grasp. Losing contact with his mother renewed his mewling cries. They changed to alarmed chirps when he found himself looking into the visage of evil. "Have you come up with a name for him yet?" he asked mildly, staring for a moment into the foal until the cries died away to pitiful sniffles. With his magic, Flamespyre turned the foal this way and that, getting a good look at all the details making up his newborn son. "I thought you wanted to give him his name," she said cautiously, fearful as she fidgeted, rising in the air on nervous wings. She buzzed, her eyes upon her child and his father. "Was that not what you wanted?" "Oh, it is. I have a name for him, but not until he is older. Not until he has earned it." Flamespyre smirked. "You may give him whatever name pleases you until then, beloved." Clearly enjoying her distressed appearance, the Dragonking floated his son to the awaiting mother's hooves. Eagerly she swept the foal up and drew him close. "We are leaving. Draccaria!" Flamespyre called out. "Care for your brother while your mother and I attend to things." A familiar pale form came into view, vast in size and graceful in movement. "Yes, father," she called out as Dalesong presented the baby to her. Gently Draccaria encased her tiny brother in one massive claw, once again the gentleness overcoming her as she and her mother shared a smile. "His name is Famulas," she whispered with a smile. "He will serve this world well." She drifted towards the awaiting alicorn, his attention upon her an unreadable mask as he knew she was up to something. He knew! Yet, he did nothing more than to offer a quick and possessive nuzzle to his queen. Dalesong loved her husband dearly, having spent a better part of five centuries with him. They knew each other so well this old marital game had become a battle of wits having grown more and more dangerous with each passing year. To Draccaria he commanded off-handedly, "Your mother and I will be home late. We may even be gone the night and well into the day. Until then, your brother's care and well-being is your responsibility. He will be in the same condition he is now when we return." "Yes, father," Draccaria rumbled with narrowed eyes. Worriedly she wondered and even feared for her mother. In her massive talon lay her tiny brother, a stark contrast as ever there was between the two siblings. A disembodied voice whispered in his ear, "So long ago...I barely was able to hold you...He wanted you to be a monster. He tried to create another monster. I would not let him. I could not let him. I refused to let him. You were my bright star in a world of madness. I tried to save Draccaria, but his grip upon her was too great. I tried to save both of my children. I sought out Discord for help and as he was the most independent and unpredictable of his father's children, he was the only being powerful enough to do what I needed to be done. I wanted so much to hold you, to love you, to be there for you, but your father... "These are my memories, Famulas Silent Wing, my son. I have nothing else to give you other than the love magic used to sever your father's control over you. Discord hates your father, yet did nothing against him. Flamespyre could not destroy Discord because Discord was created from chaos itself, a spirit as uncontrollable as a wild god. You cannot speak now, nor will you until you reach the light. Go forward, my child! The world groans and you must stop your father! You have everything you need to do so." The strange voice left, leaving the chimera bewildered and confused. Suddenly, he was hurled forward, his wings seemingly taking a life of their own. He wondered how this would be possible. Things were still fuzzy, the past still mostly beyond his grasp. What he could remember came back in snippets, like water dripping from a faucet. The Thing again loomed behind him. Was it a memory? He dared to peer over his shoulder, glancing quickly to see a vast ragged shape menacing after him with a singular slit of an eye set upon him. Silent Wing's eyes widened in terror and he emphasized his need to get to the source of that light! No! He didn't want to even imagine which memory it was if this was true. For the first time in his life, Silent Wing was utterly frightened. He had known fear before and understood it about as much as his short life as the ward of Queen Chrysalis. Anyling living in the shadow of her rule understood a thing or two about fear. But he loved her and had never been afraid of his eventual adoptive mother. He had felt fear when the assassin had gored him two years ago, nearly taking his life. Silent Wing felt fear for the well being of his beloved sister, Atlanta. She was perhaps the only changeling in all the world he loved with as much conviction as Chrysalis. Even Captain Myzanum, the formidable and dangerous giant changeling warrior had stirred hard swallowing moments of hesitation and was the only changeling Silent Wing had ever been afraid of. His sheer presence could stop a regiment cold in their advance should he appear before them. But Flamespyre, his father... His last and only remembered memory of the Dragonking was of his father tearing every fabric of magic from deep within his body, cracking bones and rupturing organs. Muscle had spasmed, torn. Nerves of white-hot pain had wracked his small frame and the colt had been helpless to do anything about it. Through the whole ordeal, the prince could feel his father impart his will, holding him as a crocodile might hold a hapless deer in his maw. And he felt the monster's enjoyment. Flamespyre delighted in the pain and suffering of his own offspring as though he was addicted to it and could not wait for the next meeting. Silent Wing most definitely did not want to meet him again like that! He put speed into his flight, thinking this a dream and he was still asleep. Where was Luna if this was true? Weren't dreams her thing? He tried to call out her name, but his voice still failed him. The Thing kept coming after him as if the chimera's speed meant nothing to it. There was no wind, no sensation of flight, but the light drew nearer still. It was so familiar to him! Had he seen it before? Was it something from his past dreams? Closer he drew, nearer came the Thing. It wasn't his father, but a memory. It was a terrible memory. Or maybe there was more than one? Silent Wing didn't know. He didn't care. He didn't want to see what was in that inky blackness determined to swallow him whole. Murderer...You cannot escape... It seemed to say to him. Too late! In a sudden surge, just as those voices spoke, the Thing overcame the prince and sucked him in. No! He stood on top of a gently sloping hill, tall grass touching his underbelly as he stared out over a vast plain where two armies were locked in battle. It was difficult to see who was who, but great war banners waved in the air through the dust and the smoke. Alicorns darted in and out of the fray, leading Pegasi. Swarms of changelings clashed against them in the air while sentient creatures of many species tore at each other in fierce combat. Griffons seemed to be fighting for both sides as more than a few were battling other griffons. The cries of the wounded and the dying filled the air and the battlefield was littered with a carpeting of dead soldiers. Silent Wing could smell the blood in the air. In the center of the battlefield, there was what appeared the burning buildings of a village, its inhabitants fleeing towards the hill upon which he stood. Gouts of flame licked at thatched rooftops. They appeared to be a mixture of races, as if the village had been a melting pot of sorts for them. They carried their meager belongings, families in ragged groups, mothers and fathers carrying their children. "Kill them, my son," spoke Flamespyre next to him indifferently. "Kill them all." Silent Wing looked sharply at his father, again hiding behind his Alicorn form, dressed in wicked steel armor battered and smeared with the blood of those he had spent the day slaughtering. His helmet lay on the trampled grass, his eye sweeping the carnage stretching as far as it could see. A savage grin played across his lips. The colt realized his own body was older, bigger. His father still dwarfed him. The armor Silent Wing wore was likewise a witness to battle, bearing far less damage and wear than the Alicorn, but Silent Wing had a gift for combat. "Show them all your birthday gift, Oblivion Shadow," called out Flamespyre in adulation. "Show them what one feeble creature can do when given the proper instrument!" His eye flared, focused upon his son, compelling. Commanding. Unleashing. "Let them feel the futility of war." An alien, invasive power from deep within him screamed eagerly, swelling forth with terrible power, the magic as ancient as the world itself. Everything flashed in a bright white light. In one brief second, Silent Wing caught the horror upon the faces of the refugees as they had by now come halfway up his hill. The living weapon took over Silent Wing and literally exploded in a fireball not seen since a time long ago forgotten. It was a terrible demon, laughing maniacally and filled the the madness of a thousand wars. The very air cried out against this unfathomable assault, the very earth shattering beneath his hooves and radiating out from where he stood. Flamespyre exalted in the destruction, flinging his head back and spreading his dark wings wide. The faux Alicorn laughed and laughed as the villagers died — whole families — and was followed by the two battling armies like a grotesque dominoes display begun. Silent Wing stared in horror as the shadow of Oblivion hovered over his shocked form like some great carrion bird, its dark etherial form spreading out after the torn landscape. The very magic in the air had been flung from the air and land, the jagged landscape now scorched beyond recognition. Soil had been charred away and stone had been turned to sand. Clouds had been shredded and the place stank of death. Oblivion triumphed in a sky piercing bugle as Silent Wing trembled and fell to his knees. His horror intensified as he saw nothing before him but a sea of bones. "Why?" he begged brokenly, staring up at his father in betrayal. "Why do this?" "It is your destiny, son." Flamespyre chuckled as he spoke as if it was the only answer possible. "You are Oblivion Shadow and you are my greatest creation." Silent Wing screamed, "No!" Tears had started streaming down his face the moment he understood what had happened. "If only your mother could see this!" Without thinking, Silent Wing turned Oblivion on his father. He knew no more... The Thing withdrew from Silent Wing and he reeled from the memory. Out of the corner of his eye, he found the beacon of light beckoning him urgently. It was closer now, but still so far away. Did he do such a thing? Did he do as his father commanded? Did he do it so he could feel his father's love? Oh, Maker, no! The Thing hovered, as if gathering to take him again, growing ever darker and more foreboding. Heh. You think it only happened once? Silent Wing started, staring at the Thing as its voice sounded eerily familiar. He stopped moving towards the light and found himself - despite his abject fear - looking up. The Thing pulsed darkly, looking more and more like something he should know. Slowly, some of his fear fell away. There was just something too familiar about the shadow. Oh, not running away? Feathery wings formed, oily black and stretched out to their fullest length. Nothing else of the Thing could be made out as all else of the Thing was still a sea of shadows. Shouldn't run from yourself, Servant. Silent Wing inhaled deeply, fighting the short breaths he only now discovered he was taking. That's what Mother named me...you...us. Silent Wing flinched, shaking his head as his hooves went up to ward off his own voice. Oblivion twisted our soul, made us act with a power we should not have. The chimera inhaled deeply, feeling his fear welling up again within. The Thing came for him again and he was pulled into another memory. He was older, larger again. Oblivion surged within like a caged beast. Before him was a great fortress, its gray walls containing within the remnants of his father's enemies. The last of the Alicorns lay within and the massive dragon form that was his father sat behind him. The besieging army included his half brothers and half sisters. Draccaria was next to him, wearing the guise of a white unicorn with crimson mane and tail. She regarded him with a look for him alone, one no other could see. Her gaze had a hardness within, hiding the pity. And her failure. The army waited. How long had it been? He could not remember, but having Oblivion felt familiar. It felt wrong. It wanted to be unleashed, to destroy. Oblivion wanted to rip the fortress and all within apart. He rebelled against it, fighting an inner battle for control. "Brother?" Draccaria asked, leaning towards him. "What is wrong?" "Nevermind," Flamespyre rumbled. To Silent Wing he said, "Do as you were made to do. Wield Oblivion, my son. Destroy our enemies and give unto me the world." The Chimera looked down at his hooves, struggling with the horrible thing broiling within. He didn't want it! He never wanted it! Oblivion only wanted to destroy! It only wanted to make things suffer! "No!" he hissed. "I can't do this. This feels wrong, Father!" "Fool boy, do as you are told! Your birthright sings to you. Can't you hear it?" the black dragon declared. "The Alicorns have had their time and it has passed! This is your glorious moment. Pity your mother is not here to see your triumph. Do it, son." His voice allowed for little patience and it was already wearing thin. Suddenly, he remembered frightened faces, fearful eyes coming up a long forgotten hill long ago. He then saw the face of his mother and how sad seeing this would make her. "No! Nononononono!" He took a step back from the fortress, gaping up at the battlements. How many eyes were upon him? How many would die? "All of them, boy. All of them must die. I have no use for them. Now do as you have been told. This is the last warning." "Father," Draccaria cautioned. "Be still, daughter!" snapped Flamespyre. Silent Wing felt the ground quake as a claw thumped hard into the earth, stones rended by his claws. "Oblivion Shadow. My son. Do it." The alien entity within the chimera surged and bucked. Unleash me! I am yours! Use me against your enemies! Make them fear you! They were hollow words. Oblivion knew Silent Wing hated it. He never wanted the power. Why can't he just live peacefully? It's all his mother wanted for him. She had always whispered there were other ways to live the life given him. Violence meant suffering. Suffering meant misery. There had to be something better than endless war. The senseless slaughter had been meaningless, save to push the ambitions of a mad monster. So many Alicorns had fallen before Oblivion Shadow. The chimera hated himself for his acts. He had never been in control of himself, the thing inside him taking over, using his emotions against him. It would take over his body and he would be aware of the slaughterhe had done. The last of the Alicorns lay within. A king. A queen. Two daughters. No more. "I won't do it!" he screamed, spinning to face his father. Oblivion didn't care upon whom it was hurled at, so long as it could destroy. He gathered it together, his intent deadly. "Brother!" Draccaria moved towards him. "You musn't!" Silent Wing violently shook his head, flaring his wings. "He would destroy the world if it suited him!" "We can't go against him," hissed his sister. "Please! Think of what he'll do to Mother!" "Think of what Mother will feel if we let this happen." His words stopped his sister cold. Indecision wracked her mind. "I can't go against the will of our father!" Her body trembled. "Indeed, you cannot," agreed Flamespyre darkly. "This is your last chance to obey me, my son." Silent Wing came to a decision in a snap of a thought. "Draccaria. Go to Mother. Protect her. Tell her I'm sorry. Go!" "What are you...?" her question died on her lips as she felt the terrible power welling up from within. "You're controlling it?" "Go!" he shrieked to her. No, there was no control. There was only stubborn will keeping it in check like a poorly wrought dam. It would burst at any moment. "Please!" Draccaria nodded and flared her horn, disappearing as she teleported. The world exploded as Silent Wing unleashed hell, unable to contain Oblivion any longer. Yet, Flamespyre only laughed uproariously as it was directed at him. Was that laugh masking...fear? There was the withdrawal and the Thing seemed less menacing now. Silent Wing shuddered, wondering if he should wake soon. But no, he had to get to that light! It was important! Something waited for him there, something he needed. He wrestled with this newfound history within him. What had happened? Did the Alicorns survive? He remembered nothing more. They had to have survived. How else would he explain Celestia and Luna? Luna... He still could not speak, but he could at least smile. His fear was still there, the Thing looming there. More bad memories? More of his past unrevealed to him? It made no move towards him, merely hovering there, a part of the darkness, fading in and out. It seemed to be there, then wasn't. It toyed with his sight and his other senses, as if it didn't want him to focus on it. Warm air brushed against his cheek, causing him to turn his head until he caught the pillar of light again. Go...the last memory is for later. Silent Wing broke from his reverie and felt the menacing presence of the Thing fade away. Below him, the faces of thousands of victims glared up at him still, unforgiving and filled with hate. The chimera's heart was heavy and a melancholy settled over him like a rain cloud. There was nothing to be done about the past. Yet the guilt was there. Father just used us as a tool. We were a means to an end, Servant. Magic is not natural to us. We are no different than a pegasus or a changeling. Our dragon blood gives us strength and stamina, our pegasus blood allows us to walk on clouds and play with the weather. Our changeling blood allows us to change form. You have forgotten and no one instructed you properly. I imagine they simply could not see past what they considered a malformed body. We cannot use magic other than what our blood allows. Oblivion was never meant for us, yet Father insisted his youngest son and his built-in ability to wield his greatest terror. He still could never get past the simple truth you cannot use such power. It is beyond your ability, hence it went wild when you unleashed it. The first time, you had no control. The second time, you used far too much and Father deflected it easily. The last time... His... old self? disappeared abruptly, as if he could no longer continue. All Silent Wing could hear was a wispy voice telling him to go on, there was nothing more to be said. Not knowing what else to do, he compelled himself to go away from the darkness. There was a part of his older self that was disturbing. It lingered upon his mind. Part of himself liked it. Part of him enjoyed the power. The slaughter repulsed him utterly. He found himself conflicted and feeling utterly lost. Nothing seem to make sense. None of these...visions made any sense to him other than to tear at his heart. No, they couldn't be his memories! It was another trick by his father. It had to be! What they suggested and showed were simply too awful. There was no wind now, yet he still maintained the sensation of flight. Beneath him the desert was covered with the spirits who followed him, wailing at him in rage and sorrow. Their voices were wane and weak, yet he felt if he were to hear them for too long he would go mad. By now, tears stained his cheeks. This was a nightmare. The pale spirits following him on the ground whispered terrible things to him. Murderer... Foal slayer... World breaker... Death seeker... Abomination... They were words like what he heard in his dreams as a foal, those bad ones sending him scrambling in the dead of the night for Chrysalis' chambers. He bravely bit his lip to stifle his sobs as he pushed his nose against her door and pause at the doorway, seeking her out for a moment. Then, he would scramble into her bed, trembling with fright and nestling for comfort against the dark form of the queen who had taken him in. She would not offer him words of comfort then, but she allowed him his sense of security. He remembered her watching him until sleep took him. Silent Wing would then awaken in his own bed with a chastised wet nurse watching over him with the expression of having just been scolded on her face. His runs to her bed ended when her found her with someling else with her. Silent Wing wanted out of this place. The wails of the dead had grown steadily louder and louder. Stars began to wink to life above him, seemingly concentrated in one place. One by one they appeared, growing in intensity as they assumed an area of black sky near the beacon he moved towards. Slowly as a new star flared to life, the chimera became aware of connecting lines between them. As he came forward, the wails of the dead became an afterthought as the stars grabbed his attention and held it. Mesmerized, he stared unblinking, his fear giving way to awe. The first thing he noticed was eyes bearing down upon him. Familiar eyes. Lines formed around them, taking the shape of a face. A familiar face. About the face formed a mane of midnight blue with brighter stars flaring within and dancing upon an unseen mystical wind. A mouth upon the muzzle spread into a gentle smile. From the beacon emerged a little form below it, a small form a third of Silent Wing's size. As he approached, his attention was drawn to the tiny thing. It looked like him when he was little. His other self, this younger one seemed excited to see him, bouncing up and down, fluttering his tiny wings, a huge grin bearing his little fangs. Silent Wing could hear his own little voice call out to him. "Come on, you silly-willy! We get to play now! I've waited so long and I've been good and I just wanna play! Can we play now? Huh? Can we play in the sun?" Silent Wing was bathed in the light of the beacon now, feeling its warmth as well as the chill. He knew there was much to be done. He knew he had very little power to do it. At last, he found his voice when he landed before his tiny self, mirroring the grin given to him. "Yeah, we can play. We're going to need lots of help," he told himself. Little Silent Wing's eyes went wide as he nodded emphatically. "Yeah! We got Luna! Luna and Mommy and the other Mommy and so many others!" "Okay," Silent Wing said with a chuckle, looking around. "Um. How are we going to wake up?" "Simple," replied a voice next to him. Startled, Silent Wing spun to see Luna smiling at him, her dark form as beautiful as always. She nuzzled him gently. "We end the dream." Then she gored him with her horn.