//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 - Choices, Legacies and Tea // Story: PonyScape: Where the Heart is // by GuthixianBrony //------------------------------// PonyScape: Where the Heart is Chapter 3 - Choices, Legacies and Tea Aliks scrutinized the apparition, running her words through his head carefully; was that a joke? It had sounded like a joke, but the smile was hardly genuine. He had no way to gauge how powerful she was; this was, after all, the being responsible for his marooning and giving her cause to do something unspeakable to him, (like laughing out of turn), would be very, very stupid. “I’m sorry,” he asked hesitantly, “But was that a joke?” Faust ignored this and gestured at the pair of comfortable looking cushions that had suddenly always been on the “floor”. She sat down, unhindered by the wings or flowing mane and tail, and busied herself with the ornate tea-set that was next to her. Aliks enviously regarded the soft blue aura that skilfully manipulated the crockery; Young God or not, she had an astonishing aptitude for telekinesis. “I imagine you have a great many questions, World Guardian,” She filled two cups and sent one floating towards her guest, who eyed it suspiciously, “Please, have a seat. I will answer all that I can.” The mage cautiously accepted the floating cup and gave its steaming contents a sniff; he wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing at the impromptu tea-party. His host blew on her cup to cool its contents before answering. “A memory of my favourite blend, which I believe you’ll find to your liking. Please, sit; there’s no reason to stand on formalities here,” she drank deeply and immediately grimaced, “Oh, Titans,” she retched, “That’s far stronger than I remember.” “It helps if you add milk.” Aliks found himself saying, taking his seat and sipping tentatively; it had a slightly bitter, earthy taste to it. He briefly considered sweetening it with a drop or two from his hipflask, but doubted it would really make a difference in here. Better to stay sober anyway… for now at least. “You must excuse me,” the alicorn apologised, “It’s been a long time since I’ve entertained, let alone spoken to, anypony other than my dear Stardust, the mare who guided you here; she has been my sole friend throughout these dark days, as I have been hers,” she took a sip of her now milky tea and smacked her lips appreciatively, “I do hope she didn’t cause you too much trouble.” Aliks rubbed the lump on his forehead; mental projection or not, it was still throbbing. “I’ve had worse,” he confessed, a small smile playing over his face, “Though being smacked ‘round the head with a book was certainly novel.” He smiled hopefully, but was met only with a quizzical arching of an eyebrow; so the previous puns had been coincidental. Shame. Taking another sip of his tea, which had now always been milky, the mage pressed on. “So, you said you’d answer my questions?” His host nodded behind her cup. “Then I’ll start with the obvious; why am I here?” “That’s rather existential,” she forced a small chuckle, “But I take it you either mean ‘Why am I on this world?’ or ‘Why am I on the threshold of my mind?’” She set her cup floating to one side, and cleared her throat, “The latter is because this is the easiest way for me to communicate with you; by linking mind and memory, we are unrestricted by the chains of language that previously fettered you and my dear Stardust.” Aliks nodded behind his cup; that saved him having to ask why he was able to understand her, at least. “As to the former,” her forced smile was quickly replaced by a truly wretched expression, “I must confess that your arrival on this world is my fault.” “I’d guessed that much already.” “You misunderstand,” Faust replied, “What I mean is that your arrival was accidental; I had intended to attract the attention of another.” This needled the mage; being caught on a line was bad enough, but being told it was reserved for a bigger fish was just insulting. “So,” he set down his cup and tried to appear unoffended, “If I wasn’t the target, who was?” “I had hoped to seek the aid of The Green Stallion,” Faust sighed sadly, “Alas, you are living proof of my plan’s futility.” “Wait, what?” “It doesn’t matter now; I would appreciate you not asking me further on this.” Aliks bristled; after all he’d been through today the least she could do was be plain with him. Then again, it would probably be better not to push the issue; his host was clearly in no small amount of distress over this topic. “Alright then, next question: You mentioned ‘linking memory’ earlier; Is that what those images were?” “Correct. They are what I consider to be defining moments in both my life and the world’s history,” a mirthless smile tugged at her mouth, “They were intended to apprise The Green Stallion as to how the world came to be in such a dire state.” “Then why show me?” Aliks all but shouted, having had enough of cryptic replies, “If I’m not this green-horse-thing, why cram your life story into my head? I’ve more than enough unpleasant memories of my own without yours thrown into the mix!” Faust said nothing while the mage ranted, and sipped at her tea thoughtfully until he’d finished. “I am truly sorry for any discomfort you experienced during the link,” she began, setting her cup aside, “The amount of information was not intended for a mind as young as yours. In truth, I am amazed that you are able to contain such a wealth of memory.” She shifted slightly on her cushion and fixed the mage with a probing gaze; Aliks was put in mind of a hungry dog wishing there was more meat on its bone. “If you would permit me a question, World Guardian; how much you remember from the link?” Aliks rubbed the back of his neck; her stare was more off-putting and invasive than Stardust’s. Not wanting to offend her further, he screwed up his face in an effort to remember. “Bits and pieces, mostly; a lot of it didn’t make any sense,” he responded lamely, shrugging in apology, “All I really got was an image and a strong sense of whatever you were feeling at the time.” “I see.” Disappointment flashed across Faust’s face. “But,” the mage continued, “I look at you and I… know things about you; why you had to leave your home, why you chose to come to this world, and why you’re bound to the Heart,” wincing, he massaged his temples, “My head hurts if I try to focus on any of it, though.” Faust’s stare glazed for a moment, preoccupied with her own thoughts, before becoming attentive once more. She nodded her head in thanks. “Then your mind has successfully assimilated the memories, but I’m afraid it will be some time before you can understand them,” she paused to drain her cup, which immediately refilled itself, “Although, since speaking with me seems to have eased my personal memories into place, you could theoretically hurry the process by exposing yourself to specific external stimuli.” “So, the memories unscramble themselves if I look at something relevant?” “More or less,” Faust admitted, cringing at the oversimplification. “However, there’s clearly too much for your mind to understand at once," she cautioned, "It would be better to let the memories come at their own pace.” “So I can look forward to headaches for the next few weeks,” he replied wryly, “Good to know. But that still doesn’t explain why you crammed all of this into my head in the first place.” He picked up his cup and drank; it wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. Faust shifted again and cleared her throat. “As I mentioned before, the link had been intended for The Green Stallion. In my current incorporeal state, I had no way of knowing who Stardust had brought into the Vault and no reason to suspect it would be anypony other than Him; only an entity of great power could resist my magic,” guilt flashed in her eyes as she absentmindedly toyed with the folds of her robe, “Only after the link had been established did I realise my mistake, and by then it was too late; severing the link prematurely could have ripped your mind apart.” Aliks nodded in understanding; having another person’s life sloshing around his head was certainly preferable to spending his life as a cabbage. He drained his cup and set it down, ignoring that it had refilled. “So, next question; what happens now?” “Now?” Faust set her cup down and stood up, the tea-set and cushions ceasing as she did, and offered a hand to the cross-legged mage, “Now you have a choice, World Guardian.” Stardust sat on the far side of the platform, hugging her knees tightly, watching her metal foe. Fnip lay sprawled out in front of the Heart where he’d collapsed, with Tant using the former’s hat to fan the recumbent figure, pausing every so often to throw accusatory glares her way. She could hardly blame it, being partly to blame for its partner’s current state; in her defence she’d had no real way of warning Fnip about the side-effects from making direct contact with Mother’s consciousness, but truth be told she hadn’t expected such a… violent reaction. Her own experience had been little more than a light headache and a sensation of vertigo; full body seizures and collapsing was certainly new. She’d tried to make her new friend as comfortable as possible, cushioning his head with his satchel, in addition to checking for any injuries he might have suffered during his fall; the vault had not been designed with comfort in mind. All of this would have been significantly easier if Tant hadn’t been attempting to punch, kick and head-butt her shins, wailing like a stuck cat all the while; the thing had only calmed down once she had retreated to her corner, obviously more concerned for its companion’s wellbeing than exacting vengeance on his behalf. That had been half an hour ago. Stardust sighed and shifted her position; her rump was going numb from sitting on the cold metal for so long and her back was stiff from hunching over. An aggressive, metallic chirping drew her attention back to the centre of the platform; satisfied it had her attention, the diminutive creature, sporting its angry birdwing slit of light, pointed at her and slowly shook its head. Its meaning was quite clear. Do. Not. Move. Her tail flicked in irritation. Who did this thing think it was? This was her home; they were her guests and it was beyond unfair the way this… toy was persecuting her for something that had been completely beyond her control. Not to mention that she was cold, sore and incredibly hungry; it felt like hours since the dried apple. She had had enough! Getting to her hooves, Stardust groaned with relief as blood began to work its way through her stiff limbs. An indignant squawk drew her attention to the centre of the platform; Tant had dropped the hat and was waddling over, with as much authority as the stunted toy could muster. The unicorn snorted; time to set a few things straight. She waited for Tant to draw closer, before lifting a hoof and bringing it down as hard as she could. The chamber rang with the sound of hoof-on-metal, freezing Tant in place; its eye-slit morphing into a wide circle as it stared at the slight buckling in the metal underhoof. Stardust looked down at where it had stopped, arched an eyebrow and raised her hoof again, menacingly. The little machine gave a few worried tweets, before quickly turning around and scuttling back to its friend. Satisfied that she’d made her point, the mare stretched, sighing contently as various joints audibly popped back into place, whilst ignoring the buzzing from her leg; it had been a stupid waste of energy, but definitely worth it. She glanced at the glowering machine as it tried to keep itself between her and Fnip, and chuckled. “Don’t worry, its bad manners to eat houseguests,” she teased as she walked around the platform, hobbling slightly as her leg protested from the earlier abuse, “Besides, I’m not that hungry,” her stomach grumbled as if on cue, “Well, not yet anyway.” The little toy glowered at her some more, before chirping something unintelligible and resuming its nursing. Her visitors were certainly a strange pair. Stardust turned from the centre of the platform and retreated to its edge, resting her arms on the railing and staring into the dark below. Was she an idiot for daring to hope? Was this strange ape the answer to her troubles? Was she going to have her life back? She shook her head; who did she think she was kidding? She’d thought it herself: Myths didn’t answer the prayers of frightened and lonely fillies. She looked down into the gloom below again, her eyes stinging; this was her life, whatever was left of it, and no amount of clothed, blank-flanked apes and chirping metal toys would change it. A groaning from behind her interrupted Stardust’s thoughts. She hurriedly wiped her eyes on the back of her wrists and composed herself before turning around. Fnip was sitting up in a cross-legged position, massaging his forehead with one hand whilst the other was waving away whatever ministrations Tant was trying to offer. He gave a hacking cough and garbled something incoherent at the metal creature, which then backed away and seemed to fold in on itself; its little head and limbs retracting into its body in an almost tortoise-like fashion. The ape grimaced as he massaged his throat, before opening up the satchel that had recently been serving as a pillow and pulling out a small silver flask. Unscrewing the lid, Stardust watched him take a large draft of its contents, before smacking his lips and letting out a sigh of appreciation. “I needed that!” Stardust’s jaw dropped. The chamber’s echoes had to be playing tricks on her ears; there was no way she just heard that. Smiling and seemingly unaware of his new tongue, Fnip looked over to where the mare was standing. “Care to try some?” he asked, offering her the flask, “To be honest, you look like you could use a little pick-me-up.” He shook the flask for emphasis; it made a seductively inviting sloshing sound. Stardust stared at her guest; it hadn’t been a trick of the acoustics after all. Fnip, who had previously only ever spoken his own guttural language, was now speaking fluent equish; his accent put her in mind of a scholar, or a teacher. She was at a loss. Should she answer him? Was there any guarantee that he’d understand her? Just because she could understand him didn’t necessarily mean it would work both ways. Fnip sighed. “Look, it’s perfectly safe!” he said, shaking the flask again, “If I wanted to hurt you, I certainly wouldn’t waste good whiskey to do it.” Deciding to stay on her newly bilingual friend’s good side, Stardust walked over to where he was sitting and accepted the flask. It was clearly well crafted, with some form of curling script etched on to it. She sniffed at its contents, wincing slightly as the fumes burned the inside of her nostrils. Fnip smiled and nodded encouragingly. “Go on; you’ll thank me for it, if I could understand you, that is.” The mare shook her head in disbelief; Fnip really was oblivious to the fact that he was speaking equish like his first language. She turned her attention to the flask at hand, and gave a mental shrug. What was the worst that could happen? She lifted the flask to her lips and took a large swig of its contents. She immediately regretted her actions. Liquid fire burned down her throat and into her stomach. The poor mare coughed and spluttered, trying her best to wash away the burning taste from her tongue. Fnip, however, was hooting with laughter. Stardust shot him a murderous look as the ape continued to snigger and snort. “I-I’m sorry,” he managed to splutter, tears streaming down his face, “B-but that has to be the best reaction I’ve seen in years!” The silver flask spinning through the air and hitting the giggling fool square on his forehead quickly sobered him up. “Ouch.” He grumbled, rubbing where the flash had struck, “You’re starting to make a habit of that, you know.” He looked up at the belligerent mare and smiled apologetically, “Although I probably did deserve that one. Sorry.” Stardust’s frown softened, and she inclined her head gratefully. “Apology accepted.” Now it was Fnip’s turn to look dumfounded. He rubbed the spot where the flask had struck him again. “Must’ve hit me harder than I thought,” he muttered, retrieving the fallen projectile and draining its contents in one gulp. He looked back up to where Stardust was staring at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “Now what?” He asked testily, shifting uncomfortably, “The whole staring thing is really starting to annoy me.” “You can understand me?” the mare asked, a slight quiver in her voice. Fnip’s brows furrowed. “You can understand me?” “Of course!” Stardust replied, a massive grin splitting her face, “You’re speaking perfect equish!” “I am not!” Fnip retorted, trying to stare at his own lips, “Am I?” Stardust looked at the poor confused creature, and did something she hadn’t thought herself capable of anymore; she laughed. For the first time in five years, the emotional dam broke and the mare was washed away on a raging tide of relief and mirth. She laughed so hard that she thought her sides would split from the strain; she laughed so long that she worried she wouldn’t be able to stop. All the while, Fnip just sat and looked on with an expression of utter bewilderment plastered on his bearded face. “Was it something I said?” Aliks looked on in bemusement at the hysterical horse-woman. He honestly had no idea how to react to all of this. He briefly considered waking Cres from sleep-mode, but all that would do was add an annoying automaton into the mix; Cres took its companionship programming very seriously. Instead he opted to wait for her to calm down. From what he knew from Faust’s memories, this mare (the word didn’t even register as odd) had been through one heck of an ordeal; it was probably for the best that she let all this out. Aliks pocketed his now empty hipflask and tried to make himself more comfortable as he waited out the hysterics; Stardust had now slumped against the platform’s railings as she continued to giggle manically. He wondered if the alcohol he’d given her was intensifying the hysterics. The mage stole a quick glance at the gravity-defying gem next to him. No doubt he had the Young God within to thank for his crash-course in horse whispering. Normally, Aliks’d be worried about a god manipulating his mind so effortlessly without his consent, but in this case it hadn’t proved to be detrimental yet, so he simply chalked it up as another mystery for another time. At this rate he’d need to start a list. A cessation of noise from the other side of the platform drew the mage’s attention back to the still slumped form of his host. Stardust was gulping down the air in ragged breaths, tears of mirth still shining on her cheeks, her toast rack chest rising and falling with each. She looked absolutely drained, but on the plus side, she was still smiling. Aliks got to his feet and ambled over to the hyperventilating mare, who was now drying her face on the sleeve of her grubby garb. Remembering to breathe through his mouth, the mage smiled and offered a hand to the recumbent unicorn. “Feeling better?” he asked. Stardust nodded, her breathing finally slowing down. “Much,” she grinned, taking the offered hand and getting to her hooves, “I haven’t felt so… free in ages!” “I can imagine,” the mage replied, deciding not to elaborate on just how accurate his imaginings were, “So, now that we’re somehow speaking the same language and no longer assaulting each other,” Stardust grinned sheepishly, “I think it’s time for proper introductions,” he held out his hand again, “I’m Aliksandar, pleased to meet you, “ he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his resting companion, “The overbearing tin-can is Cresbot, or Cres if you prefer.” The mare hesitated for a second, before grabbing the offered hand as firmly as she could manage. “Stardust,” she replied, “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Aliksandar,” she rolled the unfamiliar syllables around her tongue, trying to get a feel for them, “It’s a much nicer name than what I had been calling you.” “Dare I even ask?” the mage chuckled, as he let go of her hand. Stardust grinned apologetically and she looked down at her hooves, “It doesn’t matter, now.” she mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She looked back up at Aliks with hopeful eyes, “Can you help us?” The frankness of the question surprised him; he still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be “helping” with; Faust had merely mentioned he would have a choice to make, before shunting him back to reality. “Honestly? I don’t know. Your friend,” he nodded towards the Heart, “She wasn’t exactly very open about recent events,” he shrugged apologetically, “Heck, I wasn’t even the one she was after; all I wanted was a quiet afternoon’s fishing on the beach!” He failed to notice Stardust retreat back a few steps, her ears pressed flat, “Instead, I get dragged to a world of winter, chased by a sentient blizzard, lost in an underground temple, beaten on the head by a book and to top it all off, have an entire life’s worth of alien memories shoved into my mind! So, no; I don’t know if I can help…” The mage trailed off, realising that not only had he been steadily increasing in volume, but his audience had retreated to the far side of the platform, a look of panic plastered on her face. “But,” he continued in a softer tone, looking the worried mare in the eye, “Since I’m here, I’m willing to try.” Stardust smiled nervously as she walked back over. “I think that’s all Mother would want.” Aliks sighed inwardly; he could try and run from it all he liked, but it would always catch up with him. This was his life, and no matter how often he played Portmaster, or Happy Families with Ayla, it would never change. “So, where do we start?” he asked. Stardust walked back to the far side of the platform and leaned over the railing. “Down there.” She called over her shoulder. Aliks ambled over and peered into the gloom far below. “Terrific.” He muttered. Stardust pushed off the railing and tugged on her grumbling companion’s sleeve. “There’s a ladder near the entrance; back this way.” She reached into her pocket for the candle and reignited it with a spark from her horn. She turned back to Aliksandar, who was retrieving various items from around the Heart; the hat was placed on his head, the stick was hung from his belt by the crook, and the sleeping toy was impossibly and, (to her personal delight), unceremoniously crammed into his satchel. “Ready when you are.” “Follow me, then.” Stardust turned and set off along the catwalk, her candle casting just enough light to see by, not that she needed it. To be honest, it was more for her new companion’s sake than her own. A tell-tale fnip-fnap on the metal catwalk told her that Aliksandar wasn’t too far behind. “So what exactly is down there?” his voice called from behind her. “Mother’s Legacy.” “And that is?” Stardust smiled to herself; she was, to her surprise, quite enjoying holding power over her new friend in this small fashion. She wondered if this was how Mother felt all the time; to know all the rules of the game, whilst everypony else was left to guess. “You’ll find out soon enough, Aliksandar.” “Just call me Aliks, please; the only time I’m called 'Aliksandar' is when my wife is angry.” This piqued the mare’s interest. “You’re married?” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” “Have you any foals?” An awkward silence descended for half a minute before, “…No.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be; it’s not your fault.” Stardust resolved to keep quiet until they reached the end of the catwalk. She extinguished and pocketed her candle, then turned to face her friend. “Just a moment,” She closed her eyes and focussed her magic; she couldn’t afford to be stingy at this stage, and both hands were needed, “You might want to close your eyes.” she warned. Her eyelids reduced some of the sudden flare, and the startled cry from Aliks told her that he hadn’t taken her advice. She sighed and smiled at the gently pulsating orb of light that now orbited her. “How on ‘Scape did you do that?” Aliks asked, furiously rubbing his dazzled eyes. “Magic,” the mare replied matter-of-factly, pointing to her horn, “Do your people not possess such abilities?” Her friend shifted awkwardly, “Well, yes and no.” Stardust arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “It’s complicated,” he conceded, “I’ll explain later. So, where’s this ladder?” The unicorn pointed at her feet; the “ladder”, such as it was, was a series of iron bars bent into shape and then hammered into the rock wall of the cavern. Aliks gulped nervously. “Ladies first?” he suggested, making a sweeping gesture towards the mare, who laughed aloud for the second time in one day. “And everypony says chivalry is dead!” she teased. “It is,” Aliks responded, “I just feel safer having you in front; that way I know you can’t hit me over the head with anything.” Stardust grinned; this was the most fun she’d had in… well, a very long time. Carefully, she lowered herself over and down the ledge, making sure her hooves were secure before taking hold of the top rung. “Give me a minute before you start,” she instructed, “And don’t worry; I’ve made this climb once a day for the last five years, it’s perfectly safe!” “Uh-huh, sure,” Aliks muttered, “Just make sure you keep your eyes forward; don’t try looking up my robes, okay?” “Oh, don’t worry,” she gave him a sly wink, “There’s nothing interesting up there, anyway.” Leaving Aliks to mutter into his beard, Stardust began to climb down. The ladder held no fear for her; its rungs were old friends, polished smooth by her daily climbs of the last half-decade. She grinned to herself; all that was behind her now. For the first time in what felt like forever, she truly felt alive; there was a chance, no matter how slim, that she was going to live, but not only that, there was a chance she was going to get her life back! She became aware that Aliks had just called something down to her. “Sorry,” she called up, “What did you say?” “I said: “So what’s your story, then?” The mare shrugged as she continued downwards. “There’s not an awful lot to tell. I’m an orphan, I grew up on the streets with my big sister; it wasn’t an easy life, but we had each other,” she smiled fondly at the memory, “Then, the winters started to get worse; food grew scarce and medicine scarcer, and of course nopony was going to give hand-outs to a couple of urchins.” She paused and wiped her stinging eyes, “So there we were, cold hungry, abandoned by society, when the Daughters found us.” “Whose daughter?” Stardust rolled her eyes. “Mother’s Daughters. That’s who we are. They took us in, gave us a roof, fed us, clothed us, told us that we mattered, that we had a Mother who loved us indiscriminately; unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, she didn’t care. We were all her children.” Silence from above, and then, “Pegasi? As in horses with wings?!” The mare sighed again. “Yes, they manipulate the world’s weather, but that’s not the point.” “It’s still a lot to take in,” came the voice from above, “So what happened to your sister, and the rest of the Daughters?” “My sister volunteered herself for Mother’s Legacy,” Stardust smiled sadly, “She always said she’d make the world a better place for me, no matter what. As for my adopted Sisters, they…” she trailed off, her mind revisiting the dark memories of ponies screaming for mercy, the sound of metal biting into bone and the sickening smell of roasting meat. Stardust gave a cry of surprise as her hoof missed its footing, the sudden surge of adrenaline shocking her out of her dark reverie and back to the present. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine! I just slipped, don’t worry!” “If you say so,” the voice shrugged, “So what happened to the other Daughters? Why’re you alone down here?” The mare hesitated for a moment before, “They’re gone. Just… just gone. And I’m not alone; I have Mother with me. And her Legacy, I suppose.” “You keep mentioning this 'Legacy' of yours, but you haven’t told me a damn thing about it.” Came the rather irate reply from upstairs. “Not much longer now, I promise,” she retorted, “Anyway now it’s your turn; I’m assuming you’re not The Green Stallion, so who are you and more to the point, what are you?” “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” the voice above chuckled, “Well, what I am is human; I come from a world called Gielinor. As for the who, I’m nopony special,” she could hear his unfamiliarity with the noun, “Just your average itinerant scholar with a taste for fine whiskey and pyrotechnics. And that’s the truth.” “There’s got to be more than that.” The mare protested. “Not really,” came the reply, “I enjoy my books, I enjoy my drink and every once in a while I blow something up; its pretty standard, to be honest,” there was a pause, and then, “Is it me or is it getting colder?” “It is,” Stardust shivered, “Mother designed it this way; the cold was ideal for her Legacy’s gestation.” “Gestation?” She ignored him as her hooves touched the stone of the cavern’s floor. Stardust quickly extinguished her light-globe and pulled the candle out of her robe’s pocket, igniting it once more. “Come on,” she called up, “Not much further.” Aliks watched the candle light below start to bob away from him. “Hey, wait for me!” He let go of the ladder and fell the remaining distance, landing heavily on the cavern floor. He cursed as he massaged some life back into his protesting legs, before jogging after the retreating light source, paying little attention to the lines of ovoid stones that stretched along either side of him. Again, he couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly his new friend could move despite being so underfed- The ground suddenly failed to be where it was supposed to be, leaving the mage falling forwards in the gloom. Fortunately his foot didn’t fall far, landing with a splash in some sort of canal running down the corridor. He cursed again, shaking his sodden foot, hoping it wasn’t anything too unpleasant. “Stay away from the centre of the aisles,” a distant voice warned, “The oil in that channel is highly flammable.” “Thanks for the warning.” The mage muttered, removing his sandal and wringing it out. Replacing the soggy article, he decided to take this opportunity to examine his surroundings; not wanting to poke Cres awake, the mage opted instead to use his wand again. Bathed in a small circle of warm, orange light, Aliks stepped over the shallow trench and approached one of the egg-like statues. Faust certainly had interesting taste in decoration, he mused as he held his wand closer to the stone monolith; it stood about two and a half metres tall and, like the masonry in the rest of the complex, it appeared to have been carved from a single stone block. The stone itself was what caught the mage’s eye; it seemed to impossibly shift and flow as his wand-light passed over it, like a dark liquid. Tentatively, Aliks reached out with his free hand to touch the shimmering surface. A slender hand snatched out from one side and grabbed his wrist, prompting a startled yelp from the mage. He turned to see Stardust scowling at him. “Don’t.” She warned, before letting go and starting off down the monolith-flanked corridor again. Suitably chastised, Aliks followed her, extinguishing and sheathing his wand as he did. They had walked past at least a dozen more of the squat monoliths before the mage finally broke the silence. “What the heck is all this, Stardust?” he asked, gesturing at the shimmering stone eggs, “I think I’ve earned some answers now.” Sighing, the unicorn stopped and turned to face him, “Alright, you’ve waited long enough. This is it, Aliksandar,” she gestured around her for effect, “This is Mother’s Legacy.” The mage peered into the gloom, bewildered, “These giant egg-things? This is what all the fuss and secrecy is about?” “Yes and no,” she beckoned, “This way. I’ll explain everything.” She started at a slower pace this time, allowing Aliks to walk alongside her. “How much did Mother tell you about our history?” she asked, still striding purposefully down the corridor. Aliks whistled through his teeth, “Everything. She filled my mind with what she considered 'defining moments in history'; she told me it would be some time before I could understand them,” he grinned apologetically, “But it’s in here somewhere, though.” He tapped his temple for emphasis. Stardust nodded, “Then I’ll try to be brief. Mother created her Daughters to ensure that relationships between the three equine races remained harmonious; for a long time it worked. We worked from the sides, making sure that nopony did anything too stupid. Then one day, everything just went wrong; I don’t know what exactly, this was long before I was even born, but I do know we were denounced as a cult, branded 'enemies of the state' and forced to go into hiding.” “Okay, but how does this relate to your 'Legacy'?” “I’m getting to that,” the mare sighed, “For a long time we tired our best to preserve harmony from the shadows, but things grew worse; the three races had always tolerated each other, but now they loathed each other, caring more for the advancement of their individual kingdoms rather than the world that relied on their cooperation.” “So, then what?” Aliks asked, feeling that he should have brought snacks. Stardust looked wretched, “Then… Mother grew desperate. She decided that if the three races couldn’t be shepherded, then they would have to be forced. She began searching for something, anything, that would force the three races to work together again.” “And she found it.” Aliks muttered darkly. The mare nodded, “She did what she thought was right,” she defended, “She had no idea that the windigos would grow so powerful once released; so little was known about them, and even then they’re only mentioned in myths. Mother never told anypony how she knew where to look.” “Her greatest mistake, huh?” Aliks muttered, “I’ll bet she never told you who told her where to look, either.” “Pardon?” Stardust asked turning to look at her friend. Aliks shook his head, “It doesn’t matter,” he answered, “So, this 'Legacy' is Faust’s way of making amends for unleashing these windythings?” “In a manner of speaking,” she replied, wincing at his casual use of the name, “but it’s much more than that; it’s a symbol that the three races can accomplish wonders, miracles even, when we put aside our differences and work together.” “Okay, but what is it? Some three-way engineered weapon to drive away the windiwhos?” Stardust stopped in front of one of the monoliths, setting the candle on the floor, “Not exactly,” she replied, “I think it would be better if I showed you.” Carefully, the unicorn lowered her head until her horn was barely touching the shifting surface of the monolith. There was a spark of saffron light that caused the surface to ripple and Stardust quickly pulled her head back. Aliks watched the gently pulsating liquid, wondering what was coming next. Stardust tugged gently on his sleeve. “I’ll need to borrow your cloak.” “Why?” asked Aliks, arching an eyebrow. The mare grinned, “Because I’ve seen how easily you blush.” “Oh… kay, then.” He unfastened his cloak and handed it to his companion, just as the monolith’s surface began to violently froth and bubble. Aliks opened his mouth to shout in alarm, but was left dumb as he watched the boiling surface dissolve away, revealing the figure inside. The mage gaped; it was clearly equine, the hooves and tail attested to that, but its skin… shone with an ethereal glow, like a diamond catching the midday sun. He felt his eyes burn as he looked at the creature, but he couldn’t look away, either. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the creature more clearly, though two particular details stood out. Now his face was burning, too. Doing his best to ignore Stadust’s giggling, Aliks turned his back on the scene and squatted by the oil trench, grumbling incoherently about how women seemed to be the same no matter the world. A light hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his funk. “It’s safe for you to look, now.” Getting to his feet, the mage ambled over to where Stardust had left the other mare, who appeared to be sleeping soundly under her makeshift blanket, blissfully unaware of the embarrassment she had caused. Whilst not as harsh as before, she still radiated a soft aura of light from her body, her shimmering cyan fur seeming almost transparent in the glow. “Who is she?” Aliks wondered aloud, “What is she?” “She is Mother’s Legacy,” Stardust supplied, “And with your help, she is going to change this world for the better.” Aliks shook his head in disbelief, “And how are a couple of dozen shiny ponies going to achieve that?” Stardust said nothing. She picked up the candle from where it was sitting, weighed it thoughtfully in her hand and threw it into the oil trench. The effect was almost instantaneous, as a line of yellow fire snaked its way throughout the cavern, illuminating the ranks of ovoid monoliths that stretched almost beyond sight. “Good Guthix…” the mage whispered.