Book Two: Chapter Four: Lost Dreams
Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara
Book Two: Duties and Dreams
Chapter Four: Lost Dreams
Soft light splashed across the desk where Soir sat slumped, staring at the math problems before her. Eyes scratchy and red, she fought back yet another yawn. The numbers swam across the page, twirling around one another and leaving equation signs in their wake like they were bumpy sea dragons.
The homework should have been easy, little more than basic multiplication, but math had always stymied Soir. She knew how to do it, or felt that she did. Still, the answers stubbornly evaded her. When she did manage to pin something down, it was almost always wrong.
Sadly, magic and math were irrevocably interlinked. Equations in one transposing into the other. Her inability to solve a simple sequence of multiplications translating into an utter lack of talent in the other. Talent! There was a cruel joke. Even with her cutie mark, she couldn’t cast more than the most basic spells.
“I’m the worst unicorn, ever,” she grumbled, slamming her face into her desk in a futile attempt to jar answers loose.
“Honey, you alright?” came Jardin’s voice from downstairs.
Soir’s response came in the form of a long, plaintive whine.
Sliding off her cushions, and dragging her hooves, she made her way to the kitchen and her mother. With no servants or maids, it was upto Jardin to do the cooking, not that she seemed to mind. She hummed to herself as she cooked, tail swishing and moving with a lightness to her step between the ice box, counter, and stove.
At least, that was how it used to be. There was a sullen stiffness to Jardin now as she worked on a simple carrot stew. Her knife had an extra bite, quick, precise, forceful. Tension echoed between her jaws and ears. Jardin didn’t look up or smile as Soir entered the kitchen, either.
“Running away won’t solve your homework,” Jardin quipped as Soir took a seat at the table.
“And I won’t, either.” Soir flailed her hooves above her head. “Was it this difficult for you?”
Jardin hesitated, mouth pressed into a tense line. After a few moments she said, “We’re all different, honey. It’ll come to you, in time. You just have to keep at it.”
A long silence entered the kitchen with only the bubbling pot and occasional groans from Soir to fill it.
“Why don’t you go out and play in the yard for a bit. Maybe some exercise will help.”
“I thought I was grounded until the next age,” Soir mumbled into the table.
“You are,” Jardin shot over her withers, “but, I’ve asked Mother Framboise over for tea, and she’s graciously accepted. If you could do some weeding, I’d be grateful.”
Soir’s eyebrows shot up.
The abbot was coming to visit them? She almost wanted to stay just to listen. It would be boring, though. Adult pony stuff, or discussions about… something to do with Faust, no doubt. Nothing that would interest Soir. And if she were to stick around, they would make her sit and pretend to be a perfect little statue, completely still and silent.
“Okay,” Soir said as she jumped up and dashed outside, adding a hurried, “Anything is better than math.”
Free and clear under sun, Soir crossed their short yard to the rows of planters in the garden. Snap Beans, sweet potatoes, eggplants, and tomatoes filled planters going up the short hill behind the house. In previous years, lettuces, cabbages, and cauliflower had also been grown. With the draughts, their planters had been given over to the less water reliant plants.
Humming as she worked, time soon slipped from Soir as the weeds piled up in neat little stacks. A line of daisies were laid to make a little lane between the piles, allowing ants and beetles to scuttle along. Her trawl swished through the dirt, leaving small furrows, like miniature rivers in the loose, dry soil. Soir giggled, feeling like a giant. Changing motions, she began to draw a little map. The stems of wildflowers denoted rivers, pieces of dry grass roads through rolling hills. Leaves gathered from a nearby tree became lakes and the ocean, and a pinecone a lonely mountain.
Soir plucked daisy petals and placed the yellow divisions of unicornian infantry in neat lines and rows in a semicircle next to one of the rivers. Small stones were added on the opposite bank, Griffonia’s Marangian Guard on the advance towards the left flank of the ponies. Soir began to hum an old marching tune, left hoof keeping the cadence.
She pulled the infantry back. They had to protect their center from the cavalry. Archers were added, hidden in a line of trees. The marching tune faltered, replaced by the whistling and clicking of the archers loosing their arrows. Soir repositioned the armies again.
Now, the Marangian Guard had crossed the river, and the ponies were hard pressed and about to be encircled. If they did not get a miracle, then the griffons would over-run them, and all Unicornia would be open to invasion.
The ponies began to break, their lines collapsing.
Soir looked around, and picked up a shiny white pebble. She placed Celestia with care among a set of hidden ponies further back. A charge was sounded! Reinforcements raced up and hit the Marangian’s flank.
Her hoof came down, scattering the stones.
Blinking, Soir tilted her head and frowned at the destruction.
It was wrong. Two things at once, yet neither.
She began to rearrange the map again, but stopped at the sound of voices coming from the window. Leaving her game, Soir slunk along the side of the cottage and sat down beneath the window. Eavesdropping was wrong, but she was too curious to know why Mother Framboise would visit.
“Her outbursts are getting worse, Mum,” Jardin sighed, and there was a slight pause. “I wish Algol had told me about what I was agreeing to.”
Mother Framboise chuckled, a rattling sound with more in common with a cough than a laugh. “From what we know of her, it is not like you had a choice in the matter. Soir was entrusted to you. If Faust had thought another better suited, she would have made certain it was her in that field that night, rather than you.”
“That is what I tell myself, but, I worry, and wonder, did She make a mistake?”
A shriek from the kitchen interrupted them, the conversation lulling as Jarden left to retrieve the tea kettle.
Soir couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Yet, she could not conjure a reason for the lies. Jardin was speaking in confidence with the abbot of the monastery. Already, it was strange enough that such an esteemed pony would deign to visit commoners.
Heart beating hard enough she worried Jardin would hear each thump, Soir held her breath as her mother returned with the tea and the conversation resumed.
“I don’t know what to do, Mother Framboise.” Cutlery clinked, spoons stirring honey into the little tea Jardin possessed.
“Faust does not give us trials we are incapable of overcoming. You will succeed.” Mother Framboise paused, took a sip of her tea, then continued. “How much does she know?”
“Nothing. How would I explain? She is just a filly… And the way she acts. She knows things she should not. I caught her mixing hellebore into a drink, crushing the seeds with the edge of a knife to squeeze out the poisons. She said she’d done it before to help fillies with horn rot sleep. How could she know such things?”
“You shouldn’t fret, Miss Reves. All is as Faust intends.”
“I’ve tried everything to calm her. To teach her right from wrong, but… She’s just a bad seed. She’s always fighting, always getting into trouble. The other fillies hate her, and she hates them in turn. I’ve failed. I was supposed to keep her safe. I’ve tried. Faust knows, I’ve tried. But, I grow more worried for the other foals. She could have crippled Bella! Then where would we be? What would I have done? House Trembler would have run us out of town. They already hate me. I… I think a mistake was made entrusting Soir to me.”
“If it is your wish, the monastery will take care of her.”
Soir’s breath hitched in her throat. Her heart beat faster, thoughts swirling tighter, ears straining to catch what was said next.
“I… I don’t… perhaps… It might be best. For her. For us both.”
The disc fell out from beneath Soir. She staggered away from the wall and stumbled through the dry garden.
Tears began to cloud her vision as she abandoned the garden and turned down the narrow lane away from town. Her pace varied from languid plodding to almost galloping, accompanied by choked sobs and inarticulate growls. Soir’s heart was torn open. Visions of marching home and yelling at her mother blended with those of them wrapped in each others hooves in tearful confessions.
Each time she began to turn back, the cut of betrayal stayed her hooves, and the wound grew deeper, and the tears grew thicker.
She didn’t understand.
Jardin wasn’t her mother…
Jardin didn’t want her…
No! Soir gave her head a sharp shake to dislodge the idea. It was a lie. It had to be a lie. Jardin was all she knew. She was her mama and had been there always.
But had she? A sinister whisper twisted within her aching chest.
She retreated from the idea, unable or unwilling to look at what lay beyond. The questions posed were each a thorn forming a bramble barrier. A violent tremble coursed from tail to nose and left her dazed.
She misheard. That was the answer. The words had been a little garbled going through the window, and she had twisted them in her mind.
But, what else could her mother have meant? And, she was afraid of her! For the other foals, no less.
Anger burned through dark sorrow like Sol casting out the night, and Soir had to grit her teeth to hold back a violent scream.
They were not the victims! They were not the ones who deserved pity and concern.
Why did her mother worry for them?
Because, Jardin wasn’t her real mother, but some pony on whom she’d been foisted.
Imagined brambles re-appeared, and again Soir refused to plunge into their depths.
Around and around her mind went, skipping off the surface of her fears.
All alone in her thoughts, Soir hardly noticed when her hooves found the overgrown path leading towards the old ruins outside of town. Branches grabbed at her mane and were swatted aside with unconscious flickers of magic, barely more than a puff of aether. As the ivy covered walls came into view Soir turned down the same trail her mother had years before. Her head low, she saw only the ground at her hooves until she reached the charred edge of grass.
Blinking a few times, Soir looked around and at last realised where she’d wandered.
“Oh, Luna!” Soir hissed through her teeth, breath catching in her throat.
Every worry, all the pain that’d carried her hooves fled, driven into the corners by a greater, physical dread. All the foals knew to stay away from the ruins, that ponies who ventured onto the cursed ground were never seen again. Monsters and beasts were pale shadows next to the ruins themselves. Tales whispered beneath moonless nights told of a terrible ghost that haunted the mountains, how the breath of the living would draw it screeching from its sleep, howling and rushing through the trees like a glowing shadow. The ground would swallow the unwary, the forest shift and change so fillies would wander in endless circles, unable to escape, always returning to the ruins, forever lost.
Her coat prickled as imaginary eyes stared out of the trees. Ghosts lingered in the little clearing, old magic heavy in the air, and a wild current she could only just discern. A nicker broke through the building terror, and she scampered back until she was half in the trees and half the clearing.
Laughter, faint as it came through the still air, touched her ears. Soir blinked, and when her eyes opened it was not the old woods and clearing she saw, but a lush, vibrant garden replete with flower beds, and a wide pond surrounded by statues and hedgerows with a red brick manor looming in the short distance.
She recognized these gardens. How many nights had she wandered their winding paths in her dreams? Every path was so familiar, each flower engrained on her heart. The scent of flowers she could not name caressed her face with comforting fingers. A glowing gold light fell in thick curtains between tree trunk and through canopy, wrapping her in a tender warmth.
The laughter came again, louder, along with the faint drumbeat of hooves coming as if from a great distance away through mist and over rolling hills in the moonlight. Curiosity overriding sense, Soir edged through the garden until she came to a field. Two ponies, their shapes indistinct and blurred, chased each other and froliked in the tall grass. The larger of the pair pinned the other, and gave a warbling, indecipherable boast. A petulant whine came from the other, and they broke apart, then vanished like mist caught in a wind, the garden following with them.
Soir stared at the renewed woods, a thick knot of uncertainty twisting her insides. Truth hung in the air, the truth of her past kept hidden by her false mother. It waited almost within reach.
This time, she pushed through the brambles in her mind. She needed answers. She needed to know.
Her hooves began to move of their own accord again. Whispers grew thicker than the trees pressing in around her, twisting and twirling, beckoning her with crooked gestures. A laugh, a yell, somepony singing, low chants; these and more tickled her ears. As the whispers grew, they were joined by haunting scents. Fresh bread, lavender and lilac perfumes, beeswax candles burning deep into the night, wet mane and grass after a rain drifted beside the whispers.
Drawn deeper, Soir made her way to a narrow cleft in the mountain behind the ruins. A dank chill made her shiver, her breath coming in a thick puff. Instincts screamed for her to turn back, to flee and find safety in the embrace of her blankets and Luna dolly. Her hooves scraped on the loose, barren gravel.
She did not run, pulled onward by the need to know. Legs trembling, she slid deeper into the cleft. After a few lengths, the passage widened and turned into a shallow cave.
Here the magic was thickest. Black scars marred the stone in criss-cross patterns of some ancient casting circle. Four deep gouges slashed from the top of the cave to the back, the stone thick and puckered where it’d melted. At the heart of the devastation sat a marker cracked with age.
Unable to turn away, Soir crossed the cave, each step wracking her with ever greater dread.
She raised a hoof to brush away the dust, and then froze at the deep rumble of a voice.
“What do you make of all this, Hades?”
Silence answered the question.
Panicking, Soir darted a look around the empty cave but found no place to hide. She stood frozen, petrified, glued to the spot.
“Ha-ha-ha! Of course not! I meant, why didn’t we notice it before now?”
Now, the disinterested and slithering voice of Hades reached Soir’s ears. “Somepony has gone to great effort to keep this area hidden, no doubt so the mortals would not intrude. Because we were not looking for a site such as this, it evaded our detection. That is all, brother.”
“Pah, you’re no fun.”
Zeus was the first to enter the cave, his head lowered just enough to avoid bumping into the low ledge. He was almost standing atop of Soir when he stopped. Laughing blue eyes darted around the cave, ghosting over Soir as if she wasn’t even there.
He let out a long whistle as he was joined by Hades. “My, my, no wonder they try to keep this place hidden. You know anything about this?”
Hades shook his head. “Why do you persist in asking that question? This is as new to me as it is you, Zeus.”
“You are telling me that a crime such as this escaped your notice?” Zeus snorted and began to wander around the cave, skirting the outer edge of the ancient casting circle.
“It escaped you, as well. Though, that is hardly unusual, now is it?” Hades sneered. He began to say more, than caught his tongue. Smacking his lips as if he’d tasted something foul, he took a few steps back. “The curse on the place is powerful.”
“Aye, I can sense it trying to worm its way into my thoughts.” Zeus bobbed his head. “This is naught like what was done on Gaea. A god didn’t just die here, but lingered in death. It is corrupted beyond redemption. We should topple the mountain and burry this place for all time.”
Soir blinked a few times, at a loss as to why she was being ignored. She could reach out and touch Zeus, he was so close.
“It is worse than that.” Hades scuffed a hoof, upper lip curling to show his teeth. “The Veil is thin, distorted and ripped. I can smell portions of it leaking even now into this world. A single curse could not cause this damage. This took many, one atop the other. You cannot bury this problem beneath a mountain and hope it will go away. ”
“Bah, we will deal with this another day. It has sat untended for over a thousand years, if I were to guess. It can wait a little longer while we gather a greater understanding of what has occurred on this world. This could be one wound among many. We need to find Iridia and Faust.” Zeus waved a hoof and marched from the cave, followed closely by Hades.
Soir remained in the cave a while, heartbeating heavy in her chest, breath as quick as if she’d run a marathon. She did not know why, but the stallions filled her with dread, and not just through the fear of being caught. Turning over what they’d said about curses and dead gods in her head, Soir slowly crept from the cave.
Noon had come and gone, Sol well on her way westward as the afternoon grew old. Soir stifled a curse. Her mother would have noticed her missing by now.
She hurried along the path back towards town. It wasn’t until she’d crossed the town square that Soir first slowed, and then came to a stop.
Mouth dry, and head swirling with a flurry of contradicting emotions, Soir didn’t notice Zeus and Hades’ approach until she was blanketed fully in their shadow. Gulping, Soir jumped up and tried to scamper away, only to bump into the fountain’s edge.
“Ho there, little one,” rumbled Zeus, his thick hoof shooting out to block her path. “What is the hurry?”
“I-I’m running away from home,” Soir blurted, then winced. Great, now she was going to get taken back for sure.
And she wasn’t even certain that was her plan. Or, not-plan.
“Ah, off to seek adventure and fame! Forging a legend for yourself. A noble goal.” Zeus nodded and let out a pleased grunt. “But, where is your spear and shield? Have you no travel rations, or do you intend to forage off the land? Ah, yes, that must be it. Makes for a more gruelling journey. The greater the trials, the greater the glory, after all.”
An exasperated noise rattled in Hades’ throat. “That is not what she meant, brother. When ponies ‘run from home’, it is because they are seeking a parent's attention. Typically, it is a tactic of the young. My little Artemis used to run off frequently into the city and surrounding wastes. Once I found her trying to make a house in Cerberus’ cave, nestled on his back. She’d braided pink ribbons and beads into his shaggy fur. The poor hound was traumatised. Probably why he keeps running off to other worlds now.”
“Indeed?” Zeus scratched at his chin and sent a narrowed glare up at the sky. “I’ve never had that problem. My foals were more likely to flee from an embarrassment of too much attention, never too little. They have all been precious and the joy of my heart.”
“Yet, they all abandoned you.” Hades retorted.
“Ha! They sought to make their own domains, and their father is proud. Whether Slaughter or—Where are you going?”
As the stallions rambled, Soir attempted to slip away. She’d barely gone a few steps before she was flanked by the pair. “I have my own problems. Go away. I don’t need crazy foreigners.”
“I am not a foreigner. I am Zeus! King of the Gods! Lord of Thunder and Storms and Lightning! Bringer of Calamity and Laughter in equal measure. All lands on all worlds are under my purview. Ha-ha-ha!”
Behind his brother, Hades groaned and dragged a hoof over his face.
Soir blinked up at the crazy stallion, then promptly turned around to stomp off. Nothing was as far from her mind as dealing with the intrusions of strangers. Zeus, in particular, was far too chipper, his laughter like sandpaper on her nerves, his smile like lemon juice poured on a cut. She managed only a few steps before a black wing halted her escape.
She blinked at the midnight feathers. Followed them to where they met the swell of Hades’ withers, trailed up his neck, and settled on the cracked horn thrusting through his limp ghostly mane.
Mouth falling open, Soir took a few quick steps back, and came into contact with Zeus’ thick leg.
“I thought we agreed to stay hidden so we could observe the locals without being fawned over.” Zeus snorted, and his own illusions fell away.
“This coming after you so casually give your litany of titles?” Hades smirked.
Underneath the black god’s gaze, Soir shivered. A chill seeped through her coat, and her insides twisted with primal dread. They were alicorns. Like the princesses. But, kings? Were they the princesses’ fathers? Their crazy talk in the cave and moments earlier made a lot more sense, now.
As did their aura of danger, all the more potent now they’d dropped the illusions concealing their true nature.
Ears pressed back, Soir shrunk into a tight ball. All around her the town square came to a crashing halt. Ponies stared. They could not look away.
There was a whip-crack that broke the silence, sending up a smattering of oaths and whinnies of fright. The crowd scattered, reorganised, and formed a wider circle.
Zeus and Hades turned away from Soir, and between them she beheld Faust.
The Queen of All Ponies stood, eyes aflame with indignation, hooves planted wide as if she were about to charge.
“Intruders,” Faust hurled the word as she would a spear. “You interfere in events not meant for you. Leave my world.”
After much careful deliberation, Gilda had come to the conclusion that there was no place on the disc worse than a jungle. It was hot and sticky, the humid air so thick in her throat it felt like she was on the verge of drowning. Mud caked her legs and undersides. Her back was sore from carrying all the provisions. Oh, and hanging upside down from her staff, legs bound by thick ropes, carried like a fresh kill didn’t help.
Next to her, similarly bound, Zubu took their capture with far greater humour.
“Do not worry, cat-bird, if they were going to kill us, they would have done so right away. This a good sign.” He tried to grin, but the effect was lost beneath his scarlet face and dangling ears. The ropes lashed beneath his squat body to support his weight in lieu of his mangled leg did not help.
Prancing along beside Zubu, Orenda laughed. “You should have listened to me,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“Why is she free?” Gilda snapped, indicating Orenda with a shake of her head.
“Because I am a spirit, and they can’t see me,” rejoined Orenda, and to prove her point, she darted back and forth in front of the long coppery legs of their captors.
A low, rumbling laugh, like a wagon trundling through a narrow street followed Orenda’s declaration. She smiled up at the nearest of the apes. A big, toothy grin that only got wider as a copper hand large as her head came down and tousled her ears.
The ‘White Ape’ laughed louder as Orenda said, “Well, most of them can’t see me.”
Gilda glared at Orenda, letting the fierce gaze speak for her.
Since their capture by the apes, Gilda had learned a few things about the creatures spoken of with such fear among griffonkind. That they were not white in the least, and that the legends, if anything, downplayed their prowess. They moved through the jungle as if they were one with it, flowing up the broad trunks, leaping from branch to branch, or simply emerging from foliage like ghosts.
They were tall creatures, upright and with a lean strength. In the sweltering, humid heat of the jungle, they wore little save loose skirts cut off at the knees. Their copper and mahogany skin and thick manes of wiry, black hair, plaited down hairless backs, shone with sweat and oil. Strong, nimble fingered hands gripped short spears topped with barbed bronze heads with leather shields hanging from the other arm. How they could move with such ease standing on only a single pair of such lanky and awkward legs confounded Gilda.
The closest Gilda could compare where minotaurs. Yet, even they fell short. The ‘White Apes’ seemed not to so much as walk as to roll forward in a perpetual fall, always catching themselves at the last second. If she’d not seen them motionless with her own eyes, she’d have sworn it impossible. Nothing should move in such a manner, and it sent confused tendrils rippling down Gilda’s spine.
But, it was their smell that drove fear into Gilda.
They stank of death and decay in a way that only came from habitual consumption of meat. What should have been a familiar odor became gut churning in its overwhelming pervasiveness. The heavy musk, sweat, and grease, when mixed with the saffron and other spices used to flavour their meals, created a pungent cloud. It overpowered everything else, crawling up her nose until it was all she could smell.
Hunters, it was not just Gilda and Zubu they carried, but a boar they’d killed.
Much like Gilda and Zubu, the boar hung from a pole carried between a pair of hunters. It’s head lolled on a broken neck, tongue dangling, with glassy eyes open. How many of the White Apes were out in the jungle eluded Gilda. Getting an accurate count was impossible, but she figured there were no more than a dozen.
“You are fortunate, eh,” the large ape leading the party said. “The Holy One commanded you be taken alive, otherwise,” he indicated the boar with an inclination of his chin.
Gilda could only gape. The ‘White Ape’ spoke Equestrian, with a slight Crystal City accent, if anything.
“Did she now?” Zubu called, lifting his head a bit. “This is good. Zubu would ask her guidance on sneaking into Zerubaba. Empress is up to something. Can’t be good for White Apes if she succeeds.”
The White Ape shrugged, shifted his spear, and dropped his free hand to the curved blade held in a sash on his hip.
All at once the jungle parted, and Gilda found herself staring up at a statue of Faust covered in vines.
Beyond the statue lay the precipice of a great sinkhole in the jungle’s heart. Over a mile in diameter, the sinkhole was filled with fields centered around a small lake. Within that lake sat an island, and on that island a temple of white colonnades and a copper roof. Along the walls, built so as to seem like rock formations and caves to a distant eye, lay the city of the White Apes, Phoenicia.
The namesake magical birds burst into flocks of orange and gold, wheeling through the air, swirling down to brush tail feathers over the heads of playing children.
Down into this hidden city Zubu and Gilda descended, unsure if they’d ever climb out of shadowed depths.
No matter how much she tried, Twilight could not relax. Despite having a nice cushion beneath an awning in the aft-port quarter of the poop deck, a pleasantly warm breeze, and a tray of coffee with little, triangular cut sandwiches on which to nibble, it was wholly impossible to dismiss the nagging voices. Mostly due to them hanging in the awning, twinkling as they nestled among the fluttering velvet fabric.
“I see why you like it down here, Siri,” Rukbat rumbled, her deep voice carrying across the deck. Sirius didn’t respond from her place at the awnings edge. “But, where are the dragons? I was promised dragons. Big gold queens. Flashy bronze lords. Wise browns, and darting greens! Oh, I just love dragons!”
Twilight’s eye twitched. She tried hard to concentrate on the copy of A Sea Officer’s Guide to Sheets and Lines she’d been leant by Miss Navigator. A futile effort, as a smattering of laughter tittered back and forth between the stars just above her head.
Fully a dozen stars, having decided to take it upon themselves to keep her company, had snuck out of her mane in the night and hidden until after Sol rose. On being discovered, the entire disappearance of Orion’s belt was hard to miss, the stars begged, pleaded, attempted bribery, issued a few threats, and eventually pouted until Twilight relented and agreed to let them stay for one day. Her single stipulation, that they remain nearby, was her second mistake.
“Dragons are unfriendly brutes,” sniffed Arrakis. “I should know. I am in the constellation of Draco. No, we should find some pixies or humans. They have such wonderful dances.”
“Here we go again.” Rukbat groaned.
Wrapping the fabric around herself, Arrakis glimmered brightly. “Oh, yes! The way they swish their hips and can kick their feet over their heads. Or shimmy and sashay, draped in gossamer silks and gold and beaded jewels. Twirling, darting hither and yawn, a leap into the night! Caught by a partner, and then spun about! I wish I could dance like that.”
“Yes, well, we were causing problems for the ponies trying to navigate,” Twilight said, turning an unread page of gibberish and nonsensical diagrams. “And you are allowed to dance still, just not all the time like before.”
“I waited so long for you so I could dance though,” Arrakis whined. “And now it’s all rules and do-this, don’t-do-that. Dancing needs freedom! It needs to flow from the soul. To cage a dancer is to cage a bird. The heart stifles, withers, and the will is lost.”
“Are we certain Arrakis isn’t the Melodrama Star?” called Rukbat, drawing a frustrated raspberry from her sister.
Puffing up, Arrakis shouted, “Yes. Well, maybe I will just Fall then!”
A gasp shook the other stars, their lights growing bright in their surprise. Twilight was hit by their combined fear and hurt like she’d been bucked in the stomach. She groaned through clenched teeth, legs curled protectively underneath herself.
Light swiftly changing from an ugly orange to a soft blue, Arrakis darted down on a trail of apologies. “I didn’t mean it, mistress. I would never Fall! I spoke thoughtlessly. How could I leave you just when you’ve finally joined us? Such a stupid, mean thing to say. Please, forgive me.” She darted up to Twilight’s cheek, light tingling the skin beneath.
“I’m alright. You just caught me off guard.” Twilight tried to sound reassuring, and she supposed it worked, as Arrakis brightened, flitted up to kiss Twilight’s cheek, and then zipped off back to her sisters. For the next hour the other stars rebuffed Arrakis, teased her, and darted about like foals in a field as she gave chase.
“How often do stars fall?” Twilight wondered, half to herself, and half to the disc at large. She didn’t really expect an answer. With a dozen of her precious stars so close, she should have known better.
“Not often,” said Arcturus, the Stormstar, floating over to rest on the tray next to Twilight. In a lecturing tone similar to the one Twilight used so often herself, Arcturus intoned, “The last to fall of her own choice was Wynn, the Dervishstar. She, and a dozen others, chose to join Luna in her crusades to protect ponykind of those who sought to enslave them. They called themselves the Valla, and stayed by Luna’s side until she betrayed our trust and stole Zana from her sisters, and we stars became divided in our loyalties. Sirius, Ankaa, Phad, and Antares lead a hundred of our sisters, and became the Moon-Stars. It wasn’t until the emergence of Nightmare Moon that the others began to wane in their support. As our once beloved Luna fell further into madness, and tore more of our sisters from the heavens, forging them into lowly beasts to hurl at Celestia, more and more stars abandoned her until only four remained. They are the most loyal of us, it would seem.”
Twilight listened with rapt attention, book forgotten. “What happened to those who fell?”
“Many things. Almost all have long since passed into the mists of history. The beasts created by the Nightmare slumber in distant corners of the disc, or wild untamed places where ponies won't disturb them. All the Valla are dead. Some stood with Celestia against the Nightmare, and were struck down. Others fell in the times before or since. I know of only one fallen star who yet lives. And, she is the worst among us.”
Taken aback by the venom in Arcturus’ voice, Twilight nearly hesitated to ask the fallen star’s name.
“Algol,” Arcturus spat the name, and all the games of her sisters came to a sharp end. “In times long past, she was known as the Dreamstar, but that is a name few even among us stars remember. All know her now as the Demonstar. The great betrayer. The first star to ever fall.”
A smattering of oathes and curses came from the other stars, and, in her deep rumble, Rukbat said, “She is a dark and twisted thing now. For the longest time we all thought her dead, slain by Wynn after she sided with your mother in the Long Winter. Rage, grief, and so long spent on the disc have warped her, driven her into madness.”
“But, she is a star? Doesn’t that make her my responsibility?” Twilight swung her gaze across the twinkling cloud around her.
“She has long since cast aside any claim to being one of us,” Rukbat growled, her ruddy light turning a simmering red.
Her sisters agreed in a rolling chorus, and then they broke apart, returning either to their previous games or more pleasant discussions. None wished to discuss their fallen sisters further, and after a time, even Arcturus drifted away.
Putting her book aside, Twilight took to peering at the coast of Zebrica, a long line of green hills and rocky shores, broken here and there by fishing villages that made their livelihoods on the pearls to be found in their waters. With trade to and from Zebrica halted but for the black marketeers and smugglers, the few zebrican pearls that made it to the markets of Equestria and the Old Queendoms fetched an exorbitant price. A few such pearls were enough for an entire village to subsist on for a month.
Just after the noon bells, a pair of low hulled brigs appeared out of a narrow bay. Excitement gripped the ship, eager eyes peering towards the two boats as they raced acant the wind to fetch Bellerophon’s wake. They pulled up alongside, striped faces peering up and up the sloped sides of the much, much larger vessel. Somepony—zebra—called out, “Who goes there?” in deeply accented Prench. After a few moments to puzzle out the question, Fighting Spirit replied, she having the watch, in her booming, naval voice across the fifty yards. There followed a brief exchange, and the Bellerophon was directed to steer a little further south to avoid some shoals not on her charts.
As they parted, the brig called out, “Stars be with you,” to which Fighting Spirit replied, “Oh, she is,” setting off a smattering of chuckles across the deck, and the cry of the bo’s’un to, “Mind your fucking duty, bunch of jack-jawed layabouts.”
Twilight’s ears burned red, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Arrakis make to dart across the water. The star made it only a short way before Twilight sharply called her name.
“I just wanted to thank them for invoking us,” Arrakis huffed as she floated back to Twilight.
Rebuffing the star, Twilight noticed Sirius had vanished from among the awning in the commotion. Stifling a curse under her breath, Twilight cast her senses wide in search of the troublesome star. She needn't have bothered, Sirius up near the long lavender pennant streaming ahead of the Bellerophon. Arcturus joined her brighter sister, the two flashing as they spoke in tight whispers. Several minutes passed, worried flickers coming off Arcturus.
At Twilight’s call, the stars drifted back down to the deck.
“Mistress, there is a storm growing in the north,” Arcturus said when she asked what they were doing. Her light shone and shimmered in anxious ripples, and she seemed to tighten like she were curling in a ball. Twilight could not see any storms to the north. There was hardly a cloud that glorious day. “Somepony is making a big storm. A very big one.”
“Well, I’m sure the pegasi of the region will get it under control,” Twilight offered and picked her book back up.
“Few nations beyond Equestria and Hackney have the numbers of pegasi to control the weather, much less organised Weather Management Offices. Even the pegasi of the eastern plains don’t bother,” Fleur said, shaking her head as she crossed the deck. “Prance has suffered drought the last few years as all her young pegasi are drafted for the war effort.”
“Well, why doesn’t Prance just not conscript them?” Twilight could not keep the accusation out of her tone.
A sad smile weighed on Fleur’s features. “And have no fliers when Hackney next attacks? It is not ideal, and there is no good answers, mon amie. We are not all blessed to be sheltered by Celestia from our enemies, real or imagined.”
“Equestria isn’t that sheltered,” Twilight protested, but there was little strength to her rebuttal.
She tried to formulate a new argument, press her point from a better angle, but she lacked the knowledge of Prance and her situation to have enough confidence in any such endeavour. For a few seconds she regretted ignoring politics and modern history. The moment passed, and Twilight instead resorted to a weary grunt and staring off towards the north.
Her stars drew in closer, Arcturus taking on a more and more worried light.
“Right, come with me,” Iridia called out as she hurled open the doors to Fluttershy’s room. She was not surprised at all to find Fluttershy sprawled out on a lounge next to the open doors of the balcony. Likewise, the plethora of birds and beasts resting on perches around the room were anticipated. The vines creeping in through the windows, coiling over the bedposts and dressers, up the walls and down the light fixtures were a small shock, however.
Letting out a little eep, Fluttershy curled further into her leafy hideaway. “I w-would rather not, if that is alright.”
Sweeping further into the room, Iridia let out a short laugh. “Fie, take it from an expert on such matters; moping doesn’t help anything. Now, up. We have far to go.”
“Go?” Fluttershy repeated, lifting her head just a little. “As in, outside? Oh, I’d rather not.”
“Not just outside, but to the Taiga.” Iridia wore a broad grin as she shooed away the birds, squirrels, and an otter.
Still not moving from her lounge, Fluttershy asked, “D-does Princess Celestia know about this?”
“I do not need to ask my niece permission to help one of my daughter’s friends through a difficult transition.” Iridia tutted softly, grabbed hold of Fluttershy, and pulled her up. She gave a mischievous laugh, overpowering Fluttershy’s struggles. “Besides, Cadence asked for me to help out. She seems to think there is more going on than meets the eye with you.”
Fluttershy ceased her resistance, face pasty beneath her coat so she looked like a wilted dandelion. The utter lack of guile did not surprise Iridia. Fluttershy was always her favourite among Twilight’s friends, and not just because she lived away from everypony else on the edge of an old, untamed forest. It was Fluttershy’s open, honest kindness overtop of a steel core that commanded Iridia’s admiration. Fluttershy held many hidden strengths, but deception was not among them.
“Fie, at least make it a challenge,” Iridia chided softly, bopping Fluttershy on the nose before hurrying her from the room. Just before shutting the door, Iridia looked back, and wondered, “Should we send for a maid, or a gardener to clean this mess? I’m sure somepony will figure it out.”
Out in the hallways, laden with bulging saddlebags, waited the Cutie Mark Crusaders and Shyara. Sweetie and the later looked glum, while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both wore large grins.
“W-What are they doing here?” Fluttershy demanded in a creaking voice. “You aren’t stealing fillies, are you? Not that it is wrong… Well, it is. But…” Dropping her gaze, Fluttershy looked away and continued to mutter a few more objections to herself.
Giggling, Iridia pranced behind the fillies and swept them into a hug with her wings. “Stealing? No,” Iridia grinned, “just borrowing them for a bit. It will do them all some good to see a bit of the world. Besides, who could possibly be a better chaperone than the Goddess of Foals herself?” Iridia swept past Fluttershy and indicated that everypony was to follow her.
“But, you’re not the…” Fluttershy lost her words as she grew more flustered, hoof circling a spot on the floor. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’d rather stay here… If that is alright. And, you can’t just take somepony else’s foals.”
“Well, I can’t make you come,” Iridia shrugged and started off down the corridor, calling, “Come on girls! You’ll love the Taiga. It is like the Everfree but even older and more untamed.”
“Yay!” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo cried together, the pair herding along the less enthused Sweetie and Shyara.
Iridia hid a growing smile as Fluttershy sputtered, shifted from hoof to hoof. Wings ruffled, she called down the corridor, “But, you can’t just take them!”
“Of course I can,” Iridia swung around so she was trotting backwards. “I am a goddess.”
Defeated, head hanging low, Fluttershy hurried to catch up. “Fine, I’ll come. But only to keep an eye on the fillies. You don’t know how much trouble those three can be.”
“Hey, we’re right here, you know,” Scootaloo grumbled, and Iridia ruffled her messy mane.
“Don’t worry, I like trouble.” She winked at the fillies, and started to hum a happy tune as she took the lead of the little procession.
Fluttershy kept trying to argue and dissuade Iridia from taking the fillies all the way down to fields where the halla had set up their camp. Her protests bounced off Iridia, who continued to hum a happy little ditty, swishing her tail and wings bouncing along her sides in anticipation. She was going home, and the thought filled her with surprising joy. All the more so for the realization that Thornhaven was where her heart truly lay.
Coming onto the field, all activity among the Halla ceased. Wide eyes gazed on their goddess for a heartbeat before they fell to their knees in supplication.
“Grandmaster River Sparkle,” Iridia called in High Halla as she entered the heart of the camp.
Emerging from her tent, River was alone among the halla in her refusal to bow. There was a brief inclination of the head, and then silence as she waited.
“It is unbecoming of my representatives to Equestria to camp in the palace gardens. You are, therefore, to take the herd to Sparkledale for the time being. Enlist the aid of Baroness Sparkle in setting up a proper hold. Find some place either near Sparkledale itself or Ponyville on which to build longhouses and a place able to receive dignitaries of other nations with the pomp, circumstance, and comfort with which they are accustomed. Afterwards, you may begin to seek a residence within Canterlot from which you may contact the House of Ladies and Celestia’s court, and conduct business with the other ambassadors. Your time among the other grandmasters will serve you well, you will find, as there is little difference in the petty bickering and politicking. I will return in a fortnight with a holy tree to plant in front of our new hold.”
Iridia paused so her brave halla had time to comprehend her commands before continuing onto what would shock them most.
“I’m off to oust those who ignorantly seek to deny me my throne. There is little I despise as much as the day-to-day mundanity of running a nation, but I see now that avoiding it has put my halla at risk. I also want to show my Twilight the land of her birth in its full glory, and this I can not do so long as our home is controlled by those frightened fawns clinging to a corrupt tradition. The time of the Halla cutting themselves off from the rest of the disc is over, whether the Traditionalists wish to accept this fundamental truth or not. I have returned.”
River bowed deep as Iridia finished, and to her credit didn’t argue or ask for clarifications. Not that Iridia had any to give. She’d spoken entirely off the cuff, her mouth charting a course she wondered if she’d be able to navigate. It was one thing to say she would take her throne, quite another to actually do so.
The halla had no such reservations, and a long cheer broke from their ranks.
Behind Iridia, Scootaloo whispered loudly to Apple Bloom, “Whatever she said seems to have made them happy.”
Spinning around to her guests, Iridia put on a grin braver than the uncertainty building in her chest. For an instant she wondered at the wisdom of bringing the trio of fillies or Shyara. Such doubts were easily quashed. The Crusaders were connected to Fluttershy, and Shyara to Twilight. Her intuition told her that they all had roles still to play, and knew better from long experience than to ignore such whisperings.
“Good, now that is out of the way, we can leave,” Iridia said with a firm nod. “Everypony take a deep breath, this is going to be a long teleport.”
“Wait, we ain’t going to take the train or something?” Apple Bloom thrust her hoof up as if she were in class.
Giggling at the silly question, Iridia patted Apple Bloom on the head. “Of course not. Where we’re going there are no rail lines or roads. It would take weeks or more to travel by hoof to Thornhaven. Now, deep breaths, and this might be a little chilly.”
Deaf to the chorus of questions, concerns, and apprehension directed at her, Iridia summoned her magic. Fluttershy was the most vociferous in demanding Iridia wait. Extending the spell over the fillies and Fluttershy, there was a bright flash and shattering crackle as six bodies vanished.
Upon the highest tower of the mountain city of Southstone, where the clouds shroud the disc below in perpetuity, there exists a hidden garden oasis. Around a single, tall Quiver tree grew plants taken from across the breadth of the disc. Ferns from Equestria, flowers from the north, and cacti of the many desserts were all arrayed in pleasing lines. Thick grass provided a soft, springy matt on which the gardens occupants could relax, kept warm by the enchantments carved by unicorn slaves two thousand years prior, when the Griffon Empire had been growing in might. Just beyond the glowing bands, frost and rime clung to the parapets, spreading like sickly veins down the walls to the snowy streets below.
Talona glared at these runes, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, pondering just why they were so pretty.
Her ears flicked to the rustle of grass beneath paws. She grinned. Her new brothers thought they were so stealthy, always trying to sneak up on her. She was the ‘Avenger of the Skies’, however, and couldn’t be surprised. Her chest puffed out thinking about her name, as it always did, and she wondered when Gilly and Blinky would come and find her.
She missed Gilda and Blinka. They’d a nice aura. Pleasant. Warm. Being around them made her happy.
It had been so long since they fell asleep beneath that tree on the edge of the zebrican savanna. Almost like years had passed since they’d been parted, even though it was only a few months. Part of her started to doubt if they were even going to come at all.
There was a slight whump as her adoptive brother pounced, and bounced off her back. Talona blinked a couple times, reminded of his presence, and turned to stomp down on the edge of a wing. Sprawled out, paws and talons flailing, the cub let out a plaintive yowl that drew the attention of his mother.
From where she lay in the tree’s shade, the Queen ordered in a raspy voice common to most griffons for them to fight away from the garden’s edge. “I don’t want to have to catch you if Talona tosses you over the edge again,” she glared at the pair, her eyes two pinched amber orbs beneath thick brows and a gold crown.
Blowing a raspberry, Talona pranced up to the queen, and flopped down between her outstretched legs. Breath prickled the back of her ears, the queen hardly making a note of the pony’s presence, and flipped the page of her book.
Talona jittered and swished her tail, trying to get the queen to pay attention to her rather than the dry, boring book. After a few minutes of this, the queen grabbed her by the scruff and moved her out of the way. Putting on a pout, Talona jumped onto the queen, and nestled in between her wings.
It was from there she observed the one-eyed general who’d taken her from Gilda and Blinka alight on the tower. She glared as the general approached and made a bow to the queen.
She didn’t like the general. There was an unsettling air that hung like a pestilent cloak over her. Every day there was some new excuse to intrude on the gardens, slinking along in the shadows, whispering things to the queen or some attendant.
They spoke at length, but Talona didn’t pay attention beyond the rise and fall of their voices. Until, that is, the queen cried out, “Then the empire is whole at last! Southstone takes its rightful place as the First Aerie. That pretender among the zebras will now be made to kneel. Her invasion repelled, armies crushed, foals made a feast, and she made to beg our mercy. We have the godling, and soon, we will have so much more. The Third Griffon Empire begins to fly this day.”
A little huff broke from Talona, gaze dragged towards the west, and then north.
Her senses prickled. A pleasant tingle ran up her back and made her wings stretch out. It was the same tingle Talona experienced just before she’d lost her home in crashing fire and bloodsoaked screams.
Somewhere, far away, something important was about to occur.
Somewhere, ponies were about to die.
Talona smiled and nestled deeper into the queen’s fur.
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Things are starting to become interesting...
Blinka :
Bleh. Humans. I'm a little annoyed they're popping up, but as long as they don't go full 'chosen one' or seemingly hijack the fic, I can deal with it. I'm most interested in Faust's subplot at the moment, wondering if it's going to end most similarly to the first or second iteration of the fic. Hope to find out soon.
Can't help but feel this is kinda a "filler" chapter... While I love world building... Only the human part was interesting... The Soir part would be interesting if I didn't already read the pride and envy... The upcoming fight better be excellent to make up for this "meh" chapter... Good to see you're back to the old once per month updates...
Shit's happening.
I'm pretty sure I said this last time, but I really hope you don't have Zeus and Hades kill off Faust again. It's just outright tragedy that she would die before her daughters get to reunite with her, her being a terrible mother notwithstanding.
Y'know, it only just occurred to me how ironic it is that Faust and her sister are both less-than-great mothers, considering their divine and social roles.
8117736
Hehehe, well, I guess it is ironic. It's more just a symptom of my own relationship with my parents influencing my writing. Pretty much every parental relationship in the story is strained to some degree.
8117759
Well, their less-than-ideal relationships with their children (and family at large) certainly helps them to feel more 'human' I suppose — which is an awkward thing to say in a story that now contains actual humans, lol.
My my, what an interesting development...
8117695
The humies wont hijack the story. They wont even show up beyond one more mention in all likely hood. There would have been more with them before Gilda and Zubu got cut back to smaller snippets or vignettes of their portion of the story rather than having large, full sections and chapters. I'm actually rather pleased with the shift. It allows me to indulge some of my ideas or whims without bogging down the greater story like they might have.
This isn't a story about ponies and humans, or their interactions. Arrakis' comments about wanting to see humans and pixies dance are brushed off by Twilight, in much the same way if someone said they'd love to see a dragon or unicorn would here. This was intended to show a little of where humans sit within Myths. Twilight doesn't demand clarification, or give it so much as a second thought. Instead, the other stars tease Arrakis, and Twilight focuses on how dancing was causing navigational problems.
If I wish to indulge in writing humans and ponies together, I have the Young Luna anthology stories. Sword and Sorcery, when Luna was a wild and free young mare bereft of the mantle that would weigh heavy on her withers. When all she needed was a sword, flagon of wine, and the open road laid bare before her. I have a few titles in the works set in the period, The Hour of the Moon, Mountain of the Alabaster Throne, and Tamashi; all in various stages of completion.
Sorry for the rambling nature of my response.
8117808
I wouldn't say contain any more than I'd say an episode contains Derpy when she flutters along through the fore or background while the main characters talk or do something in town.
me thinks Faust want Zeus to leave as well as Hades, make me wonder how those two will try to get on her good side
Like Cedric Bale said, I hope you keep Faust alive this time. I also recall you saying once that you intended for her to live this time around, having regretted actually killing her off. If I recall correctly, you actually retconned it in the previous incarnation of the story, or am I mistaken?
Whatever the case, I hope she survives. If only because she's a cool character, and it doesn't feel right that she just sorta dies.
8118855
8117736
Good to see that some of the earliest fans have stayed... I have not seen the first draft... but in the second one the outcome of Faust vs. Zeus was broken limbs and ribs and some burns. So I do not think there is possibility of her being slain. Unless Tundara decides to go full Geogre R. R. Martin on us...
8119119
I am also a "Second Drafter", but that was the one where I could swear that the Death was retconned to simply broken bones and fleshwounds.
8119164
8119119
As I recall, there was the original chapter, which saw a strong backlash by readers. I quickly back-peddled and rewrote the ending. At the time I had strong concerns about Faust and the effects she could have on the story.
Now, I wont say whether I'll be pulling a Martin on her or not. What I will say is that you are making it hard to at least not tease about pulling a Martin.
8119415
I have no idea what a Martin is.
But you better not kill her! I just watched an anime today with a guy who died. I don't need to read about Magic Fate Horse dying, too <.<
What a nice chapter. We got an update of all the major POVs that are not getting their own spin-off story (I already want to read of Rarity). Just missing the Royal Sisters and Applejack.
Ah, mischievous Iridia, creating a situation where River and Velvet will be interacting. Hope we get nice scenes out of that.
8119574
Game of Thrones reference. Killing off all the characters just to torment your readers. I actually don't care much for Game of Thrones for that very reason. Couldn't get into the books, and the show lost me after the first season. So, I mostly know only the memetic aspects from the interwebs. Has a good soundtrack. I liked listening to a cover for the Rains of Castamere while writing.
Though, my song of choices have been Lament for Thorin and Lament for Boromir the last few weeks while I was finishing off chapter 5's first draft.
So much role reversal/mixup it's awesome.
Gota say, the whole description of bipedal motion as falling in action is rather fail, it's been done before and it's highly inaccurate. They have bipedal dragons, minotaurs and who knows what other species, bipedal motion is slightly different than quad, but not by that much that they wouldn't understand the nuance.
And here I thought you were going to phase out the actual descriptive portion of Gilda/Zubu's adventure.
Gota say... hoping the zebras put a hurt on the Griffons... 'foals made a feast' is a very disturbing thing and if that's a common sentiment... than I'd be all for a genocide, as weighty a word as that is. If they can't live in peace than that's the only solution. Very curious what Talona's domain is... and I hope they get to her before she's corrupted by griffon psychology.
8117736 - Killing her off would be very out of character for Zeus and Hades at this point. Especially as they are seeking to actually find the two sisters. Still, the confrontation will probably be nasty, though hopefully not to the whole razing the mountain point... though I guess the 'storm' is of Zeus's work and will be pretty destructive, even if it helps with the drought.
8119685 they certainly feel that way but they dont have the rights. they can request but not demand no matter who they get to talk to twilight because she is... well... a princess. one of the highest ranking officials
8119700
Oh That Martin.
Well, to be fair, he doesn't kill characters to torment readers. He kills them because the world he has created is ruthless, and if you fuck up you will pay the consequences. No one character has died without a reason for it. Pride, cowardice, greed, impatience, etc etc.
But that's besides the point. What's important is that I will personally find you and beat you with a ten pound dead tuna if you kill off Faust again
8120658
Hahahaha! Fair enough!
8117863 I remember when you first brought up the possibility of having humans in this continuity--you were trying to decide how to justify certain weapons designed to be used by human hands existing in this setting, if I remember correctly.
For what it's worth, I'm positive that there's nothing to worry about. You've created a rich world with a deep, intriguing mythology, and a few humans on its periphery isn't going to scare anybody away.
Interesting events. Iridia planning on reasserting her authority in the Tiaga. A storm brewing in Prance. The white apes. And the Talona scene at the end. Will she want to go with Twilight?
Typo.
8124749
Thanks. I'll correct it right away.... *goes off and does something else, and forgets about the typo*
The queen of the Griffons is overly optimistic in her belief that a third empire of Griffons will rise. Given that Twilight is visiting Zebrica their chances against the Zebras are not as good as she seems to think. I wonder how the confrontation between Zeus and Faust will go this time.
Pern reference?
8133582
Yes. I've done a similar reference before.
I need to find new material to reference, it seems. 
8117695 Oh, I don't know. Humans may not be ponies, but if they have a place in the author's story, who are we to judge?
8133958
I'm not judging. It's just when humans start unexpectedly popping up late in a fic where they weren't previously indicated to exist in, I can't help but to cock my eyebrow and voice my thoughts on the matter. Granted, it's not exactly as bad as reading a fic tagged for adventure or comedy only to be blindsided by gore or sexual assault halfway through without warning, but it does draw forth a weary sigh from me. In any event, I'm not condemning this story by any means. Just throwing out my two cents.
8134006
That is fair. Humans, while not present in the story, have been part of the underpinings of Myths' setting for a very long time. As I recall, at first it was an excuse for why objects are designed for humans rather than ponies. For the longest time, humans were a cryptid, a myth. There were a couple attempts to use Lyra for the standard tongue-in-cheek reference/nod towards humans. That fell to the wayside, again, a very long time ago. I don't think I've ever even had Lyra in any story... No! Wait! She is taking Daring Do's class in Dreams.
8120658
Why he does it is a debatable matter. As it stands he did create that world and he sets characters up that people are bound to become attached to and then kills them off. Death for a reason and death to torture readers are not mutually exclusive. It's an unrealistically brutal world.
Shouldn't this be abbess? It's funny because the root word for abbot is abba, "my father", in Aramaic.