//------------------------------//
// Chapter One 
// Story: Call of the Siren 
// by lola2901 
//------------------------------//

	The Everfree is restless, but it’s not fear that’s on my mind; I’ve long since gotten accustomed to the creatures that nest here. But it’s been

three months since I’ve been so close to Ponyville. Without meaning to, I start trotting faster, fighting a smile. I have to

remind myself I can’t visit the farm, or risk being seen. But at least I’ll be able to get

some news rather than just staying up all night worrying.

The ground feels glad to see me.

Groaning, I get off, shooting a glare at the root I tripped over. Me and my big hooves, back in action. I’d like to blame my clumsiness on the

fact my true form isn’t a pony, that I’m not used to having four hooves. But according to every thing I’ve heard, sirens were supposed to be 

graceful creatures no matter their form. 

I sure do great at living up to my legacy, don’t I?

Sighing, I roll my eyes, smiling as I duck into the small clearing, dominated by a familiar looming mossy tree. I hurry up to the door set in the 

tree’s trunk, knocking quickly. “Zecora? You home?”

There was a pause, then the door swung open, a familiar wrinkled face smiling. “Brio Vespers, long time no see. I trust you were seen by no 

pony?”

“There was a spot in back at Vanhoover,” I admit with a grimace. “Barely made it out of that one. But I got away, and look!” I say, brightly, 

pulling off my saddlebags. “I brought you some dried ice iris leaves!”

Zecora, however, was not distracted. “You should be more careful when you 

roam. They may use their magic to follow you home,” she chided, opening the 

saddlebags to gather to leaves I’d gathered. 

Pausing, I clear my throat, managing a nervous smile. “Speaking of home, how... 

how’s Sweet Apple Acres doing?”

Zecora smiles, shaking her head in amusement as she sets the dried leaves in a bowl and begins grinding them with a pestle. “I can see 

behind your casual mask. You’ve been impatient to ask.” She chuckles, then pauses, wincing at one of the aches that had come with old age. “All is 

well with your family. Apple Jack is as safe as can be. And if I may add from what I hear, you may have a half-sibling near.”

“Really?” I say, blinking in surprise. “That’s-that’s great,” I say, nodding hesitantly as I trot across the room to dig out my mattress. “She’ll be a 

great mom.”

“She’ll love you less you presume, than a child from her own womb?” asked Zecora gently, offering a sympathetic smile.”

Hesitating, I shrug, shoving the straw mattress into the corner before flopping down on it. “No! Well, yeah, a little bit. I mean, I wasn’t a choice. 

I wasn’t even a normal pony,” I say, trying not to sound quite so bitter. It doesn’t much work. “Now she can have a son or daughter to raise on the 

farm, to take on the family trade and work the farm, her own child born from the pony she loves.”

To my annoyance, Zecora only laughs, smiling as she shakes her head, pouring the powdered leaves into the cauldron at the heart of the 

room. “Foolish boy! to Miss Jack you’re rather dear. I know she’d be glad to know you’re here.”

I try to think of some sort of clever response, a witty comeback, but everything

that comes to mind is stupid, so instead I just let out a huff, sinking into the mattress. It’s not exactly Canterlot satin, but it’s better than sleeping

outside in the mud. Taking a long deep breath, I sit up, glancing to Zecora. “I hope you’ve been taking your rheumatism medicine.”

She grimaces, avoiding my eyes. “I do not approve of the doctor’s pill. I think I’d rather feel ill.”

“Come on Zecora, at least take the pills until I find some dock root for you to make your own,” I argue, letting out a frustrated huff. “I don’t like

leaving to get you things like those ice irises when you’re feeling this poor.”

“My ailment is something they call old age. Illness is just another word on the page,” she said, coughing with a wince. “Does something smell

not right to you? I know it is not the scent of my brew,” she said, lifting her head to sniff the air.

Pausing, I raise my head, breathing deeply. I can smell the heavy scent of the various herbs and plants hanging from the ceiling as they dry,

and the spicy-sweet smell of the potion she’d been mixing. Beneath all that, there’s a faint heavy smell, growing stronger quickly.

Smoke.

By the time I’m on my feet, flames are slowly starting to gnaw right through the walls. Beyond I can hear guards shouting orders, magic as

they speed the fire’s rage. Before I can react, a beam of wood shatters, falling across the door, blocking us in.

No one but Zecora knows I live with her now, and she’d never tell. They’ve tracked me here. I’ve put her in danger. “Zecora!” I yell, hurrying to

her side. “Stay close, I’m going to get us out of here!”

“No!” she suddenly says, her voice vehement. “You must run and flee! It’s you they want, escape quickly!”

“I’m not leaving you here!” I insist, focusing my magic. The gem in my chest glows as I try to fight the fire. But it’s no help. I’m not good enough

with magic. “Do you have anything we can use to put up the fire!?”

“I can handle this attack!” Zecora said fiercely, her lines face becoming almost young. “Escape through the window at the back!”

“But-”

“Get moving you cow! I said now!”

Chewing my lip, I grab my saddlebags, throwing them on. “I’ll come back for you, alright?” I say, hurrying to the back window. I want to make

her come with me. The window is too high. She’s too old, too fragile.

“Now!” she yells, grabbing a series of elixirs and potions. She casts me one last glance before I leave.

I drop out the back window, kicking free of the burning tree. Gritting my teeth, I run. Guards shout, cast spells, throw spears, but I just run.

Their fear, their anger, it fuels me, feeling me with energy and anger to match. I fight it away, pouring all that power into my legs, forcing myself to

run faster, racing until the shouts of the guards fade into the distance and my magic is drained.

I run a while longer at that, as if I can outrun what happened. Finally, I pull out into an empty clearing, with no one but a few singing birds and

a quiet stream. Collapsing at the edge, I drink eagerly.

Pausing, I look to the sky, back the way I came. A trail of smoke pirouettes upwards, fading as it grows wider. Since leaving Sweet Apple Acres,

Zecora’s tree hut was the closest thing I had to home, and now Celestia’s taken that from me too.

But even that blow is nothing compared to Zecora.

She was always there for me, always willing to give me good food and a place to sleep, willing to lie to keep me hidden. But there was a look 

in her eyes when I escaped the tree. It was a fierce look, the look of an old warrior woman headed into her last battle. I promised I’d go back for

her.
But there might be nothing left to go back for.

Tearing my eyes from the morbid sight of the stained sky, I glance back at the stream, staring into my own warped reflection. It’s the face of a

pony, just another ordinary Equestrian, but I know it’s not who I really am.

Do I really deserve this? Because of what my ancestors did, because of what I am, do I deserve to never had a home or a family? No one and

nothing?
Pausing, I blink back tears with a grimace, looking away as I force myself to my feet. I can’t stay here long, or those guards, useless as they

tend to be, might track me down eventually. I need to keep moving.

I will never forgive Celestia for what she’s done to me.