Metamorphosis

by Alondro

Fight to Flight

The sheltering warmth of the Sunstone shrank steadily under the relentless onslaught of endless false winter until at last all the Flutters huddled close to its fading glimmer in the royal glade while the windigoes stalked just beyond the reach of its waning light across the narrow ring of remaining copses of flowers, eager to devour their fill of living souls.

The indecision of the Queen, thankfully, did not last long. Before the week had passed to the next and after nights spent in sleepless consideration of their scant choices and urgent instruction to her daughter in matters of leadership should misfortune befall herself and Lacewing be required to suddenly take up the mantel, she announced the option upon which they would cast all their final hopes.

“The inclemency of our destruction is all too obvious. We must attempt to find a new home, no matter how dire or dangerous the risk, nor how arduous the journey,” Damsel declared sternly. “The Sunstone will fail in due time regardless of our choice, and to remain here is certain doom.”

“But where in this world is safe from the windigoes?” one frightened mother whimpered, clutching her young foal against her slender form. “In what direction will we find warmth when the windigoes seemingly fly everywhere?”

“To the south is the most sensible way,” Lacewing responded in the confident tones adduced by her mother’s coaching in the pre-dawn hours. Clear to the eyes of all, she’d grown if not so much in stature than in poise and grace, transfigured both by her mother’s instruction and the catalysis from within her own awakening. “The Sun shines much more strongly there. It may be that the windigoes will find it hard to endure in those lands.”

“I know that beyond the valley in that direction lies warmer land,” said Queen Damsel thoughtfully. “In my youthful excursions, I spent some days in those distant places. There are deserts that bake under the Sun and snow is known by its aboriginal inhabitants only as so much fairy tale nonsense. It is difficult for me to believe that even the windigoes could chill such searing sands, for not only are they scorched by the Sun, but vast reaches are nearly uninhabited and the demons of ice would find scant souls upon which to sustain themselves. It is a far trek, I will not deceive you, and would require a full day and night’s worth of the swiftest flight by the fastest fliers to reach in even the best of conditions. As we are weak and weary…” Her confidence faltered and her voice lost its edge. “It could take weeks if we cannot at least leave behind the storms.”

The little crowd of Flutters murmured amongst themselves, doubt and hesitance abundant in tone and word. “We should have left long ago, when the demons first appeared,” some grumbled, forgetting that they had oft been among the most ardent voices for remaining stalwart in the face of adversity. “It’s too late. We might as well just die now,” others despaired, imagining themselves locked in the icy embrace of eternal death, their bodies empty shells frozen forever while their spirits suffered a protracted, anguished extinction within the frigid demons, denied even the hope of paradise beyond the mortal plane.

Among these mournful voices, however, did rise one very pertinent problem which demanded attention at once lest even their meager chance be lost before they even began: how were they, inquired a few of the wiser Flutters, to slip past the ever-vigilant and hungry eyes of the windigoes which now gazed wickedly upon them from every angle? Was it not certain that the moment they began to move that the demons would sweep down upon them?

For this, Damsel did have ready an answer, as ominous as it was encouraging. “We can take the Sunstone with us. We must walk as it is, and so it will not slow us in the least to carry it upon a bier which we can fashion of willow branches. For a little while yet it can shield us even as we travel. And when it fades further there one last chance.” Here she hesitated a moment and Lacewing too appeared troubled, for she also knew the tenuous nature of this sliver of hope. “The Sunstone is not a ‘one-trick pony’ as most believe. Not only passively can it defend us from the windigoes. There is a spell passed through the royal line which has never been put to use… for reasons which will become clear shortly,” she added, noting some mouths on her subjects moving in preparation for obviously indignant inquiry. With a foreboding furrowing of her brow, she continued, “The Sunstone may be used as a weapon… only once, if there is no other option than our total destruction by an enemy. It was never meant for this purpose, but our ancestors coaxed this function into its crystal matrix by careful study and application of fragments of the mostly lost arcane arts taken from the long-lost alicorn race of lore … and I tell you now the hidden truth that they were more than myth, my subjects, but I will say no more of their ways or the story of their fall. With the aid of the great unicorn sorceresses who first bound the Sun and Moon when the light of the world had been broken by the Ancient Enemy, we worked this craft into the Stone. Should it be our last option, I will cast the spell. And should it function as the elders predicted, all the power remaining in the Stone will be expelled in one great burst. It cannot be controlled, it cannot be focused; it will roll over friend and foe alike. The spell was only constructed to eject every mote of potential power within the Sunstone hastily outward in an ever-expanding inferno until it burned itself up, along with everything around it for miles.”

The Flutters’ stunned silence allowed Damsel to prepare her thoughts for the process of convincing them of the need for this drastic course of action. “Obviously, had this spell ever been used when the Stone was fully empowered, it is very likely every living thing in the Valley would instantly have been incinerated and the hills melted into glass. This spell was not made to save, only to destroy at a time when death appeared preferable to falling into the talons of the evils of those dark days. Hardly the sort of thing which would be to our benefit now, you see. But now the Stone’s energies are almost spent. It may still possess enough power within it to singe us, but we should easily survive the release. And the greatest hope in this desperate attempt will be that the windigoes shall surely be driven back miles by the heat and magical force, along with their devilish winter itself. It is then that we can push forward with all our remaining strength, a final dash for safety when all other hope is lost. We must leave at once, though, and cross as many leagues as we can with the best speed our legs can muster, saving our wings for the last sprint in the race, should it come to that.”

The muttering began again, though here and there mixed among the still-despondent a few more hopeful voices could be discerned.

“Couldn’t we use the Stone now and fly for it?” one of the stronger stallions snorted, stomping and fluttering his glimmering wings as if spoiling to challenge their hated enemies at once.

Damsel said nothing and instead looked to her daughter, who responded with a light nod of comprehension. Lacewing well knew her readiness to lead was crucial now, and every opportunity to practice and demonstrate it had to be taken when presented. “It cannot be done now,” Lacewing spoke in a voice of practiced authority, sounding to all a regal figure of maturity and regality well beyond her youthful appearance and stature, gleaned in the few days of her mother’s intense training. “There still may be enough power in the Stone to kill many of us were it to be released at present. And regardless, the distance is still too great to cross with no defense remaining to us. We would fall far short of our intended destination, for we would soon enter the domain of other windigoes between here and the desert, and how would we repel them then?”

There was no further objection, for no other argument remained. This truly was the only hope remaining. But, at least, with the clarity of this dire realization, all remaining determination and focus shifted at once into preparations.

They Flutters needed only brief instructions from the Queen and Princess now. What had to be done was obvious to all and they worked with the frantic order of bees in the last days of autumn before the frost, storing for the long winter ahead. Every last flower was plucked, the nectar drained to the last dregs and stored in hollowed stems and branches, sealed with wooden plugs and wax. Each Flutter Pony took only the most useful of their belongings, their mats of dried, sweet-smelling fern and grass-weave blankets to stave off the worst of the cold they would be facing in the mountains if the Sunstone went out, fashioning them into bundles. Here and there, a little item of personal sentiment found its way into the bags and crude packs of crucial necessities. A little broach, a small fondly remembered toy carved by a parent, a delicate glass bud vase from an old friend; but all else was left behind.

It was during this time of urgent, desperate preparation that young Lacewing demonstrated clearer direction and assertiveness than she’d shown in all the rest of her life. From the fashioning of the willow bier upon which they’d carry the Sunstone among, to organizing tallying the supplies of nectar and other few consumables they could find and determining rations, she grew into her role at a stunning speed, tirelessly working, as though a switch had been thrown inside her and she glowed brightly with royal light. Damsel, while she observed proudly as her daughter truly became a Princess of her people, yet lamented the terrors which had catalyzed her transformation. No pride had ever been so bittersweet in her experience. Inwardly, she blamed herself for their plight, the awareness of the damage done due to the delay her pride had caused circling round and piercing through her mind ever more accusingly. Her spirit bowed all the while daughter’s rose taller.

In a mere three days, they were as prepared as they could be and none could fathom anything more they could possibly take from their home that would aid them in their retreat. Four Flutters hoisted the Sunstone in the midst of their herd, who clustered about it as Damsel and Lacewing stood at the forefront to lead the way.

“And now we leave our beloved Valley, my subjects,” Damsel spoke calmly and a tone uncharacteristically humbled. “But perhaps not forever. It may be that when we reach the deserts, we will one day find the means to drive back the windigoes and reclaim what we lose today. First, however, we must reach those distant lands. Follow me, and should I fall along the way, my beloved daughter will lead in my place. You have all seen and heard her inner strength these past days. I know she will lead you well when it is her time. So let us go forth in the hope that we will have a long future ahead for us.”

Lacewing’s rallying cry scarcely resembled the small voice of the little fairy creature who’d once been most comfortable in her mother’s shadow. The flame of resistance kindled within her burned ever brighter as she rallied the Flutters, “We go into distant lands

The Flutters gave a little cheer, though somewhat halfheartedly. In spite of their Queen’s reassurance and the Princess’ fiery exuberant confidence, many could not help but hold in their hearts a measure of diffidence, suspecting rightly that it was little more than an embellished mask covering thinly the true desperation of their plight.

Still, the Sunstone yet shone and staunchly shielded them as they disembarked upon their lengthy emigration with a steady march. Windigoes furiously beat against its protection appearing incensed to the point of self-destruction at the notion that their prey would have the audacity to dare and escape them, some attempting brief incursions into the dome of magical warmth to their own detriment as they steamed and evaporated and were flung back at last, whimpering and retreating for a time.

A day passed by like this, and then another. The assault by the Windigoes at last began to lessen in intensity. The numbers of the fell demons waned little by little as they apparently became frustrated and seemingly left to pursue more unprotected prey. The Flutters began to dare to feel a little real hope as they crested the rolling hills of their edge of the valley and gazed ahead to the distant first ranges of southerly mountains dominating the horizon.

Hope failed them shortly thereafter. In the middle of the frozen, flat plains between their dead valley’s bordering hills and great peaks, the windigoes returned. Alas for the Flutters, the wicked spirits had not merely departed without purpose; they had gathered their fellows from across the land and collected into a shrieking hoard of wrath which en fell upon the dimly lit dome of protection offered by the Stone.

“To the Stone! Get close to the Stone,” Lacewing cried in frantically, realizing instantly this onslaught was more than the feeble shield could bear. Even so, it was too late and the border quaked and retreated at the impact, exposing several unfortunate Flutters who were swept up into the demonic gale of hateful, hungry windigoes and swiftly turn into frozen fragments by the feral frenzy; their guttural, agonized screams cut so suddenly, horribly short and replaced by savage screeching neighs of triumph. What little respite the dreadful feast of the demons of offered, it ended all too soon and the empowered demons resumed their attack, assailing the Flutter’s flickering protection in waves of terror, their swarming numbers striking wantonly from every direction.

Damsel at once understood if she didn’t play their last card immediately, she would not be given the time to reconsider. Reaching deep into memory, calling forth the ancient words which she spoke in a voice unused since learning the way as a maturing Princess ages ago in the caverns known only to the elder members of the royal family, she recited the spell.

At once, the Stone shone as it hadn’t in many weeks, growing in brightness and glory, fierce radiance pouring from its gleaming facets. In moments, none of the Flutters could bear to look directly at it and the fearsome calls of the windigoes faded to screeches of shock as they fled away from the unexpected eruption of power, a number of them vanishing while moaning a feeble wail. A harmonious thrum sounded across the plain, accompanied by soulful bell tones with each emanation of energy.

“Mother!” Lacewing exclaimed. “This is the magic from the Ancients? It is marvelous! If only the Stone can last a little longer, the windigoes will flee so far, we’ll easily reach the mountains at the very least!”

“No, my dearest,” Damsel replied worriedly as the Stone’s choir wavered and the steady light appeared to shake and stutter. “This was a last resort, a desperate grasp on a foal’s hope. Had we left sooner, we would never have needed to rely on this terrible spell at all. The consequence of my failure to leave when I should have will fall upon us shortly.”

No sooner had she proclaimed this portent of doom, hairline fissures spread swiftly across the Stone’s every surface as the resonant tones shortly lost their harmony and splintered into broken voices, escalating to ghastly chords of pitched crystalline torment. Damsel knew the truth of it, the spell had still been too dangerous to use in their close quarters… but what other choice had there been? Her arrogance and pride has led them to this place. She would bear the worst of it. She was their Queen and she would save what was left of her people. “Get down, all of you!” she bellowed and gathered the fractured Stone between her hooves, taking to the sky with all the strength her wings could bear.

“Mother?!” Lacewing called after her, but not a second later a shockwave of brilliance and blistering heat burst from above and washed over the little cowering herd of Flutters who'd flung themselves into the freshly boggy meadow of brittle freeze-dried grasses and mire, eliciting yelps and gasps as the flash seared the fur upon their silken manes and backs and warped their wings. Here and there, a hissing, jagged fragment of crystal struck the ground and steamed in the mud, glowing no longer from the now-spent magic but simply from its heat.

When Lacewing’s eyes recovered from the blinding brightness, they did not see her subjects slightly smoking forms, nor that the ice and show around them all was melted away. She did not even notice that the entire foul flock of windigoes not vaporized in the outburst had been driven far beyond view. All her attention was drawn to the little limp, charred figure tumbling from the sky, trailing a mist of crimson and sparkling stars.

Author's Note:

Proving that I can be as cruel to happy little colorful magical ponies as any run of the mill grimdark author... just without all the swearing,sex, and gore.

Comments

[Wasko736]

Bravo, I'm applauded. I really hope you continue this story.

[A_Stupid_Name]

All her attention was drawn to the little limp, charred figure tumbling from the sky, trailing a mist of crimson and sparkling stars.

....Senzu bean! ...? ...!

You know, something that is bugging me is how those windigoes feed on the living force of their pray. Why?
The only reason I can imagine is to make them look somehow scarier (which doesn't really work all that well, it is just needlessly gruesome and ends up being kind of silly in this pony contest). The imagery of hate making your heart grow cold until it kills you is as beautiful as it is (we are also going to speak of changelings there, wouldn't it be cooler to see that feeding on love/hate contrast?).

Unless this just another of your convoluted jokes, and that's all part of your plan. You were writing about the project of the Death Star after all... hmmm.

[Alondro]

7781960 Think "Bleach" and Hollows for the simplest and most blunt comparison of why windigoes eat souls. Windigoes can approach when there is hate, and then they make it cold, and then they feed on souls for energy. Lots of evil mythical things do. It's pretty standard evil spirit/demon mythos.

[Alondro]

7781928 It'll take some time, but it will get done.

Chapter 4 is already half-written, as is Chapter 5. I need to finish up the primary text and then do my edits for continuity and tone.

[A_Stupid_Name]

7783305

Oh, I didn't know that.

[mastermenthe]

I love this.
You are a top tier writer!
Please release more of the flutterpony's history!!!

[Alondro]

7790992 I just need to get some free time. It's been busy in the lab.