Wizards tamper with all sorts of things. Life. Death. Elements. But none have attempted a thought so simple. Shapes? They laugh. All laugh. But one. And any wizard bent on showing proof, on showing power, should be feared.
Wizardry. Reserved for unicorns, correct?
Of course not.
Wizards tamper with all sorts of things. Death. Life. Natural elements. But none, to this day, have attempted a thought so simple. Shapes? HA! The world laughs.
They all laugh... But not today. Today, the world will know. The world will learn. The wrath of a wizard bent on revenge is not easily stopped. So run, you cowards. Run from change. Run from your world.
Clicking echoed importantly, bouncing tree to tree, through hazy darkness. Birds dare not break the unspoken promise of silence. No being in the world did.
But one.
Unusual, some may say. Unlikely, say others. But be it or not, it was truth.
To the top of one such great oak lay the location of a residence. Many question the lodger’s motives, yet none collect courage enough to face him. Many fear him, each to their own ‘reasonable’ cause. Be it terror of jinx, or curse, or misplaced spell, or devouring wood.
But relentlessly, he is there.
Clicking ceased. Silence reigned once more upon the Whispering Forest, broken only by a great creak, caught by fog.
The night itself was divine. The Princess had certainly spared no expense. It was the Winter Solstice, after all. Points of diamond stuck in blackness shivered in their chilled reaches, but casting beauty in every direction all the while. Not a creature on this good Earth would deny their magnificence. Silence was broken once more as a cold wind passed through nature’s pillars, waking sleeping leaves, and tossing them about.
Treetops pass. A home, suspended by luck, lay. Logs formed structure, and planks formed walls. Leaves of great stature prided themselves on being the roof of such a building. Small in size, large in meaning. Today. A home such as this, hidden as it may be, could not go unnoticed. For nature held beauty beyond imagination. Beyond time. Beyond this world itself. Many marvel at the man-made. Gasping at gadgets. Applauding appliances. As such, nature has lost many admirers.
Try as they might, none shall defeat the created. Nature rises above all.
...Right?
Windows pass. A single, lone character rushes between book and flask, eyes mad with movement. Hooves at delicate work with orange and green concoction, head swinging side to side frantically. Not a single essence in such a trade so much as attempted to remain stable. Not one thing.
But failure? Unforgivable.
A sprinkling of crushed petals, stained yellow, manipulated green liquid to blue. Hoof tilted one flask over another. Red resulted. It spread like blood through orange, unrestricted.
Finally. It was complete.
...But was it truly ready? ...No. The world would never be ready.
“...I’ll make them ready then.”
Red coated the floor in moments. Liquid seeped through cracks, dripping slowly, passing leaf by leaf, to the stopping ground.
Contact was made, and the Earth trembled. A great voice boomed it’s deep toll. A toll that would bring about the greatest unknown fear in all the expanses of space, past the limits of the universe.
A word.
A single word. Seemingly so harmless. So overlooked.
But known. And now? Feared.
And the word rang from the sky itself. It rang to the core of the planet. It rang to the ears of all. Rocks trembled. Trees, towering, shivered to their roots. The living stirred in fear, lost in their dreams.
And that word was etched in stone from that day onward. May it never be forgotten.
Magenta eyes shot open. An echo, immense, cascaded over walls. Nothing dared move. Time slowed. Eyes shot from doorway, to ceiling, to window.
After eternity, echo faded to shadows, lost by turn of wind.
Hooves made contact with cloud. The mare’s head snapped as far right and left, in turn, as possible. No threats. Her muscles relaxed.
Too soon.
Or too late..?
The world shook. Impossible. Clouds float. Clouds don’t experience earthquakes.
Normal earthquakes.
Footing was lost. The cyan one found herself upon the flooring of her home, hooves to the ceiling, shaking with the universe. No damage would be done; the nature of clouds would not allow it.
...Normal earthquakes.
Light broke shadow. Eyes were blinded. Vision; blurred.
World; changed.
The will of one, desires twisted as they may be, affect us all. Dormant fears return to life.
The cyan one opened her eyes once fleeting light had gone. As she did, one word crossed her mind.
Impossible.
This… was… impossible…
And blackness enveloped impossibility as consciousness fled.
“Rainbow Dash?”
“Ugh…”
“Rainbow Dash?! Where are you? Are you ok?!”
“...Ugh… Yeah. I’m fine.”
Clouds broke.
The world came flooding back.
...What had happened?
The Will of a Wizard is a curious thing. Many tamper with life and death, theurgy or necromancy. Others attempt to harness the natural elements. Fire, ice, storm. But none, heard of, have ever tried geometry to their desires. What good would it do? The other mages laugh. Useless!
Useless? If it exists, it is not useless. If no one believes, they will be forced.
“Fluttershy… do you see what happened to us?” The cyan one raised herself from the puffy flooring.
“Yes, but I’m not sure how it happened. The only odd thing I noticed was a big, loud boom last night. It scared all the animals.”
Rainbow walked over to the nearest wall with unmatchable caution, and prodded at it like it was a new substance.
Which it was, in reality.
“Well, I’m not sure how we’re going to get around like this…” her eyes covered her hoof, examining changes. “Maybe Twilight knows. We should ask her. But I can’t fly. Not like this.”
And it was true.
“Well, you could do what I did to get here, and use a cloud.”
“Or you could all just plummet to the ground.”
At the unknown voice’s command, the ground opened. Two Pegasi, incapable of flight, prepared to meet their demises. The dotted ground flew up to meet them.
...But the Will of a Wizard was prepared.
The ground reformed. Spreading. Widening. A world of pointillism is quite malleable, according to the Wizard. Darkness seeped forth from the depths of Equestria.
And two screaming souls were captured that day.
The Will of the Wizard demanded it.
But plans were to be put in order. Things were to be done.
They would see. They would ALL see.
Black liquid coated the floor of the small hut in the Woods.
It was time. The progression was undeniable. A boom locked itself over the skies of the world of calm.
Another change? So soon?
Very well.
The boom, alike the first, was the birth of a new world.
Their screams were caught; their world was done. But only for that day. That sole day. The start of the end. The end of the start. Perhaps. Say then, the world began. It must have. So let it begin anew.
The figure in the woods snickered. Shadows clothed him; light dare not give him away. For this world would end in shadow…
...And begin anew in more than the rainbow. Light would proceed. Light would conquer. Pure? Incorrect. The pure would be purged. Wavelengths vary. Lights change, with times. Yes… light and time.
Greet your new rulers.
A world of beings, beasts, creatures and plants, yet six are targeted. Solely six. A reason? Wills need not a reason. Though they shall exist, acknowledged or no. For this true purpose, six would be caught. Killed, need be. For six control six. Beings control elements. Six belonged to two, before. The “rulers” of this land. Yes…
Blasphemy shall be purged with the corrupted light. Rulers shall be struck down, their lives, eternal, crumbling at their feet. They shall be no more.
...Eight would be caught. All killed? Perhaps. For six elements control the universe. Indirectly, through the strength of celestial bodies. Bodies unaware of change. Indestructible.
What nonsense.
The keepers of days and nights would, in turn, channel the power of six. Six become two. Two become one. One. One, conquered only by one ruler, controlling two. The Will. The Wizard, King of Time and Light. King of all. King of geometry.
They would see… And let them all perish. May their flesh form as one, and their screams drowned by droning! Let their pain show as they scrape against the ground! MAY THEY KNOW WHAT OUTCAST IS! WHAT PAIN IS! MAY THEY FEEL UPON THEMSELVES THEIR GIFT UNTO HIM! THEY WILL BURN AS ONE!
And as one… One body. Infinite soul. And may their blasphemy teach them… May the “rulers” learn of their lies. Their falsehoods. May they be shown pain. Show them agony. Let them watch as six control the suffering of their followers! MAY THEY FOREVER FLEE FROM WHAT THEY HAVE CREATED! THE SPEED OF LIGHT ITSELF SHALL BE NO MATCH FOR THEIR OWN! FOR THOSE WHO SCRAPE, THOSE WHO ARE ONE, THOSE WHO WILL BURN WILL TORTURE THEM IN RETURN!
...And for their sins they will die. Time and time again, death shall embrace them. Chillingly, grippingly. And they shall be reborn. Two become one. One flee the infinite. Six power them all. For, truly, each one shall line. Line themselves together, joined at their ends. Their beginnings. For lines know no bounds. No stop. No finish.
And may the base of this world be set as geometry would have it. Six sides. Six forces. One essence, preventing entirety. Collapse.
...Long live the Kings. Long live Time. Long live Light.
Long live the King! Long live THE WIZARD!
And a toast was made to the earth that night. And the earth partook. It fed upon it’s gift. Blue liquid seeped into it.
And at it, another toll was taken. From it, may the world shift again. May the King be known as loudly as the change! May the earth tremble and shout his name!
For booms in the sky coursed fear throughout the land. For the earth itself shook in fear as it’s own structure was shredded. For time before, the world was of dots. Followed by lines. Each boom told a tale. Of death. Rebellion. And all in the name of One. One whose Will was enough to shatter the immortality of the eternal. For for the blasphemers, punishment was finally at hand.
For this was no longer the world.
“What is going on here?!” A purple figure prodded at the ground, examining herself and the new base she stood upon.
“Nothing. And everything.”
“And can someone tell me what’s with the voice in the sky?”
"I am you. You will be me. You will be the source. A source as one of six…”
“Oh, be quiet!” she shouted. The world was made of triangles, after all. She was tired of irrationality.
“Silence… Silence is not of my own will. I will no evil upon thee, harmless one. For the source of all is One. The Will of One… has... corrupted… me…”
“Who are you? And what in Equestria are you talking about?”
“...I… I am your land… I am the voice… I speak as the land…”
“No, really. Who are you?”
“I… I have told thee, harmless one. I… I a-aaAAmMM YyYY….”
“...Sorry?”
“...I am your end.”
And so it was. The shattered mass beneath the figure split. As land broke, ends were met. And with an opening, the based fell. Tumbling. For the corruption, for the PURE, claimed another. Another bearer of the new world. For geometry would have it’s way, bent through His Will. For this world had ended. This world…
May it lay shattered. And may three become six. Six… the fuel to power the world. The true world.
My, you really went all out, didn’t you? Oh! Sorry.
*Ahem*
Some say the world will end in elements; fire, ice, water, air. And quite a scary topic that is. The apocalypse. Who’s mind would dare think upon a thought such as this? Few, for only the brave.
And the insane, of course.
*Ahem*
Taking energy from the strongest of the weak… Taking fuel for the Force… for Him…
It is what must be done.
For what is done is irreplaceable. Say, true, power is corrupting. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. As does Redemption. Solitaritation.
Alienation.
And to those who deny the life they live, may the see their FAULTS. For their world is nothing, and everything. Spirits are no true thing. The physical world is simply the end. So may they feel their Physicality.
May their souls be made physical, and their pain be made spiritual. MAY THEY SEE THEIR FAULTS FOREVER BOUND TO THE FREEDOM OF 60 IMPOSSIBLE SECONDS! FOR NONE SHALL FREE THEM SAVE TIME ITSELF!
And time will abandon them… Their lives will be bound to the will of the CARELESS. The ANGRY. They will give up on them, and let their souls BURN. For color shall no longer be a thing of beauty; no, no more. Color shall no longer be a thing to admire. No longer an anomily.
May green, and red, and blue... may purple, orange, and yellow shine with FEAR, and not love. Beauty is far more than a simple showing of perception. It is a revealment of what the world around them hides. For they are blind; they see no fault. No shame.
No terror…
For they do not see their world in it’s entirety…
So they will see His world. His… NEW… world…
And so, made potion was spoiled; to the eyes of the mislead.
Yellow liquid coated the ground under the hut in the trees. And the skies rang out with the voice of terrified Angels and Demons, and the Earth knew it’s end approached, and trembled in fear.
Rightly so.
So their voices cracked the sky, and shook the world to beyond it’s foundation. For settling was no longer a concept, and the end became common knowledge.
The warnings had not been taken. The Wizard had spoken, but deaf were the audience. Now they would listen.
The world, beaten, shattered, regrouping once more. Cubes and boxes reigned. The land in geometry's hands. To twist, and crack, and weld. To show the blind their anger. For those who laughed, let six points end them. To those who failed, may they burn spiritually as one, and one infinite in number, pointed only unto itself. May Time and Light be merciful only to those who believed.
And be that, let the world burn.
A glance around the room scrambled eyes, hiding from the Rulers in her home. Yet may no location be safe. Pointallistic clouds and triangular cities reign. Linear life forms and cubic covers shine throughout the pentagonal dark. Yet King of Kings yet not be named. No. The time yet to come had almost come to pass, and the Grandest of the Great was nearly upon itself.
May wave upon wave of flame, be poison, spread, share in the redemption of the land. Let the Second of Kings merge. May Light see through Time, and Time solider the tin of the world through the reign of Light.
Rarity scrambled out of her boutique and ran as quickly as she could from the world. But He was ready. Ready to force this land to be His.
"Being! Halt in your tracks! Lesser than thee shall be spared shall thee listen."
It was time.
The running pony stopped dead, glancing around with terrified eyes.
"You are one of six. Six... Six become two. Two become one. One. One, eternal, infinite in number, who burn, who scrape upon the ground, and Time be their only savior! BUT TIME WILL ABANDON THEM! AND TIME HAS ABANDONED YOU! I am your world. I am your King."
"You are me..."
...Welcome home.
And the cosmic anvil of fate descended from on high to the running, and it's form failed. Ended.
Fin.
It joined four, the fifth of Six. Of King of Kings. The land. The one who dared to save themselves as the final means to an end showed their foolishness. Their Rulers have not yet escaped them. Five wait, burning as two, as one, for the Finale. For the last hath no fury unquenchable as the rage of He. For The Wizard knew of this. One such hut, hidden in the shadows of the failed world, the new world, of itself, became the source.
Shadows pulsed through themselves. Backwards. Forwards. Differences set sideways. The linearity of square equals point. And point equals the King. And the King?
The land. Of six. Of two. Of one. One...
...For these things work with secrecy. Shadows tell lies, but cannot hide. He who Changed the World is more than shadow. He is mist; the Righteous Bringer of Hell. They failed to listen. Let the deaf hear. May the blind see. The prophecy of geometry hides in clear view. As atoms rip themselves apart, and as the few of none who dared be spared flee for their own lives, may they see.
See your new rulers. Six set no such agony forth before as this.
Not all who hide in the shadows are shadows. The mist that dare not be seen. The world of six become two, become one, and the finality of such a mortal plane shall be rewarded with immortality. May the Colors of more than the rainbow shine down, and in, and through. Time's cruel numbers and hands running backwards be simply neutral. For their lives shall be bound to the Will! And the Will has shown it's punishment! FOR TIME WILL BE THE KING OF SOUND! MUSIC SHALL RAIN FROM THE MOUTHS OF THE PUNISHED THROUGH THE TICKING OF 60 UNIMAGINABLE SECONDS!
And sound...
The music of pain and anger shall be their most joyous melodies. They will see as they burn, and as their glass of bones be shattered on end, their mistakes.
Merciless is no word. Nor work. Through an infinity's half, through shadow's light, words and works be bent. Shadows shine bright. Time blocks. Backwards. Slowly, periodically. The Will controls.
