The Elements of Eternity

by Aura Burst

Chapter 4

I wandered endlessly through burning fields beneath skies blackened by the fires of war, unable to distinguish friend from foe among the bodies of the fallen that littered the landscape. In every direction, the horizons faded into a gray fog that only served to- “SKY GODDESS!!”

“Wha-?!” I flailed blindly about, suddenly forced into wakefulness by the nearby shout. There was a momentary lapse in the feeling of gravity as I fell from the impromptu bed on which I had slept. The sleeping arrangement had consisted of a large cloth thrown over a pile of hay atop a wooden crate. It would have been ideal if not for the lack of any preemptive measures against the possibility of a panicked pony hastily plucked from a perilous potential premonition.

My vision cleared to reveal Morning Dew standing on the ceiling before me. I rolled over and brought myself to an upright position, rubbing the sore area on my head with a hoof, then yawned loudly. All the while, Dew was apologizing and explaining that he had had difficulty awakening me. I stood and lazily wandered to the doorway.

The area chosen to serve as my lodging was the storage area behind Dew’s family home. It wasn’t much, but the weather was nice and the bed was soft, so it was sufficient. In terms of quality, it was far better than any of the other places I’d slept thus far.

“I don’t like that name.” I interrupted whatever it was he was saying. Some ponies may have liked the idea of being a higher power. I wasn’t one. Dew was silent for a moment.

“Well, what am I supposed to call you, then?”

“I don’t know. Think of something.” I sat down just outside, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight against my hair. In this beautiful weather, it was hard to imagine there was snow just a half hour’s walk to the north.

“Hmm... How about Sky Crest?” He sounded hopeful, but I grimaced.

“That sounds like the name of a city. Also, lose the word ‘Sky’. I don’t like it.” Even if it was apparently where I’d come from, it bothered me: not even the idea, but the word itself. It was too sharp, or something.

“Um... Spiral... Riser?” He was struggling.

“I get dizzy just thinking about it. Forget it. I’ll just think of something on the way to the temple.”

Morning Dew approached me with a pair of saddlebags and threw them over my back, explaining that they contained a few days’ worth of food and a blanket. It wasn’t the most substantial survival kit, but it would have to suffice. And how far could it possibly be, right? All I had to do was walk to some temple and renew some seal. I’d be able to figure it out.

“I’m going with you, by the way,” Dew stated in passing. I started to respond, but somepony else beat me to it.

“Like hell you are.” The voice was strong and commanding. I quickly looked up to find the source. An older stallion was approaching from the front of the hut, and he bore a striking resemblance to Morning Dew. He gave Dew a stern look before continuing. “It’s far too dangerous for a pony as young as you to be traveling carelessly through the valley.”

“But Father, it’s even more dangerous for someone who isn’t as familiar with the area as I am! What will we do if she gets lost and can’t complete the task?” I had no idea why Dew’s concern for me contrasted so sharply with the rest of the villagers.

“Whether or not she does isn’t our problem. It’s hers.” With that, he turned to leave. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for a debate.

“But it is our problem! If some monster gets released and starts destroying everything, what then?”

“I’ll hear no more of it! Get the outsider off of my property and send her on her way. I expect you back in half an hour to help me with the harvest.” He left without another word. Dew still seemed angry, but he said nothing in response. I wanted to tell him that I’d be okay on my own, but I wasn’t completely sure, myself. I did know, though, that every moment spent in this village was giving me less incentive to try and save it from being destroyed.

We began the short walk to the westernmost outskirts of the village, where a number of villagers, including the elder, were already waiting. The actual edge of the village was marked by a stone archway. Dew followed me through the crowd, but stopped as I reached the marker, frowning slightly. The elder approached at this moment. I braced myself as she began to speak.

“There is nothing to be said here. Make haste, so that this crisis can be avoided without incident.” She might has well have hissed (though I strongly preferred the sound as opposed to her standard speaking voice). Thrown into a foreign world and forced to help a people I had no emotional connection to, I wasn’t sure how I, personally, had earned any malice. I looked toward the gathering, which collectively displayed a venomous expression in dismay at my presence. Finally, I turned and began the first steps on what would most likely turn out to be a ridiculous journey with no real objective.

What was I supposed to do even if I found this “seal”? Unless there was a handy set of step-by-step instructions etched into the wall next to it, I’d just end up looking like a damned idiot. And how was I to know that this wasn’t a fool’s errand? That elder could have made the whole thing up just to get rid of me. The villagers clearly didn’t want me there.

By the time I was no longer able to hear the angry murmurs and spiteful comments of the ponies I’d left behind, I was thoroughly agitated. So much so, in fact, that I had to stop and stomp around for a bit to relieve some of the annoyance. After a few moments of my childish tantrum, I calmed myself and let out a heavy sigh. At the very least, I had them out of my hair for the time being. Though it wouldn’t constitute forgiveness, maybe they’d be slightly more hospitable once I returned with the news that they were safe until another winged amnesiac stumbled upon their hidden paradise in however many years.

The setting looked remarkably similar to the forest on the opposite side of the village. Either I’d gone the wrong way, or the stories Dew had told me weren’t entirely based on facts. I was leaning toward the latter, due mainly to how ridiculous the concept was. A central, inhabited area that had a different climate on every side? It all seemed far too convenient, especially when adding the part about being unable to observe one “area” from within another.

“Horseapples,” I said aloud as I ambled along the beaten path. I closed my eyes and bowed my head as a preface to a dejected sigh, but I was brought to a dead halt by something that caught my attention. It was a small thing that most likely wouldn’t even notice at all. I, however, had discovered over the course of my brief existence that I possessed a keen eye for spotting the technical aspects of the world. Supplemented by my recently developed hobby for doing just that, the soft crunching of an autumn leaf beneath my hoof raised an immediate red flag.

I lifted said hoof and examined the shattered remains of the specimen. It was pretty average, as far as leaves go (orange, kind of crumbly). The source of my bewilderment was simply the context. I’d spent roughly a day and a half in this forest and explored what I hoped was a good portion of it. If the leaves had been any further saturated in green, emeralds would have dripped from the branches.

Lifting my nose to perform a visual sweep of the foliage only confirmed that statement. I could handle a world inconsistent with my expectancy of reality, but I wouldn’t stand for one inconsistent with itself. Some unseen force delivered unnatural amounts of vitality to these lands, allowing grass to grow in the dark and tropical plants to grow on mountains. I was almost certain that I could deliver a strawberry bush to the darkest depths of the deepest cave and it would still make a fine topping for shortcake. Simply put, this dried-out leaf was a sign of an approaching winter where all of these trees would purge themselves of their previous majesty, unable to stand against the chill of the air.

In this world, that could not exist. The ever-shrinking reserve of logic that I cherished dictated that it could not. And yet, it did. I had stepped on it.

A breeze whispered gently in my ear, advising me to turn around. I complied, quickly circling eastward as though my name had been called from somewhere in the distance. And even had I some expectation of what I would see upon turning around, I could never have expected what happened next.

From just beyond the distant bend of the gently curving pathway, I could sense a rapidly advancing force. Flurries of air twisted wildly as they came into view, carrying hundreds of leaves that had become radiant with the warm colors of autumn. The currents spiraled forward and doubled back, looping amongst one another in such a way that they formed a single burst of air that rushed toward me at a startling rate. The leaves of every tree overtaken by the strange force faded to a beautiful assortment of gold, orange, and everything in between. Finally, the gale rushed past me with an explosion of sound.

I raised a foreleg to shield my eyes from debris, barely able to think as I was blasted with air. As quickly as it had approached, however, the wind disappeared into the trees, and I was left standing in silence, exactly where I had been before. Except that this was nothing like where I had been before. The glossy greenery that once ruled the scenery had been replaced by the overpowering gold, brown, orange, and red hues of fall. The cool, flower-scented, mid-morning air of spring had been replaced by the pleasant warmth of a sunny day closely following the end of summer.

“Alright, everypony just calm down!” I shouted, throwing my forehooves into the air and nearly losing my balance. An awkward moment passed as I realized that I was the only one panicking, in addition to being the only one present. My heart pounded in my chest as I observed the area and its newly adopted color scheme.

I spun around several times before freezing in place, then took a few steps back toward the village. At that moment, I fully expected that the season would change back to the way it had been previously, but no such occurrence took place. But that was normal, right? The seasons don’t just suddenly shift from one to the other in a matter of seconds. At least, not twice in a row.

* * * *

The sun was directly overhead when I reached the edge of the forest proper and transitioned into the “valley” portion of my journey, which was unfortunately a much larger portion than the last. The road disappeared just beyond the apparent treeline as it became too friendly with a fifty-or-so meter drop into raging rocks and jagged water.

I would have been amazed by the scenery had I not been temporarily desensitized to amazing things, so I’ll do my best to describe what I saw as I exited what now held a closer resemblance to a tunnel in a mountainside than a pathway leading out of the woods. I briefly considered that roads similar to these were what connected the village with its surrounding areas, and that it was possible (though somewhat unlikely) that the areas were linked to each other in the same manner. It was something I’d be curious to put to the test later on, when I wasn’t on a time limit. That said, the time restraint I currently observed seemed to grow less urgent every time I thought back to it. Despite my apathy, though, I’d follow through with it. At the very least, if it was a legitimate threat, I’d be helping the one pony who was civil toward me. It wasn’t much, but in my predicament, it was all I had.

I emerged from the tunnel to find that it ended in a depression in the eastern wall of the valley, which I would have argued seemed more like a basin. The walls I could see were rounded into the ground in a near-perfect bowl shape with the exception of my area, which instead fell mercilessly onto stone that hadn’t eroded as gracefully beneath the waterfall as that which I’d previously encountered. I briefly wondered if that was part of some environmental defense mechanism designed to dispose of careless wanderers before they could even begin to do any damage. After all, it appeared to be the only way in or out.

Though the opposite wall was just beyond visible distance, I could easily estimate its location based on the curvature of the walls. That would be the approximate location of the temple, if it existed at all. Attempting to judge the distance, though I should have known better, I determined that the trip there would at least take a couple of days. Alternatively, there was an option that would reduce the time from a matter of days to a matter of minutes. I could feel a terrible idea already beginning to form in my head.

I didn’t even bother to spread my wings and take a stance. The passing thought had been far beyond reckless. In fact, anypony who went through with such a thing would be deemed mentally unstable if, by some miracle, they survived it. With a defeated sigh, I began searching for a safe way to the bottom, wondering how much more elevation I could lose before I ran out of “down”. Expecting my answer to reveal itself in the form of a perfectly-aligned series of platforms, I was surprised and somewhat disappointed to realize that not every obstacle I encountered would be as easily conquered as those I’d faced thus far.

In particular, this problem had no simple solution. The walls angled sharply upward on both sides of the cliff edge, which was about thrice as wide as the path itself, and ended as abruptly as the ground. As it appeared, that ledge might have once extended further out until somepony came along and sliced off a chunk with a rather large knife.

“Figures. The one day I leave home without my comically over-sized ladder....” I was at a loss. The only option available was barely an option at all.

I frustratedly paced back and forth by the edge of the cliff. A clever pony in my predicament would have likely cooked up a pretty decent solution with a few minutes of hard thought. An experienced pony under the same circumstances wouldn’t have had the issue with gravity that I had. A smart pony would have given up on the whole ridiculous quest and done something productive instead. I was none of those things. I momentarily considered how helpful it would be to be able to summon up a staircase through sheer force of will.

Finally, though, I had to fall back on the only solution I could come up with. It wasn’t the most efficient solution, by any means. It would take time that was in relatively short supply. I had to ask myself if I really thought that I could accomplish something like this in less than ten days. But there really was no other choice, so I just had to go for it.

It was time for a crash-course in aviation. I hoped the universe wouldn’t take that term literally.