//------------------------------// // 24. The Temple of Love // Story: The Halfling // by Scarheart //------------------------------// Edited by TuxOKC. Reign Cloud awoke, irritated at having to wake up again. His temper was already on a short fuse and he had choice words for the foalnappers. Thoughts shifted as he opened his eyes, listened with his ears, and remained as still as a corpse. Ears picked up chanting. The voices were female. Eyes found little lighting as where he was had far more shadow than light. His nostrils flared as he made a slow inhale, testing the air. There was a musky scent, several, really, and some of them made him feel uncomfortable. The colt tried moving and failed. As more of his senses came to him, Reign began to understand his limbs were bound, his wings wrapped against his sides. A muzzle had been put on. His anger faded fast, replaced by fear. Where am I? He was laying on his side, his heart beginning to pound faster as his fear threatened to become overwhelming. The colt looked around as much as his bound body allowed him, searching out for Maggie. She had been with him. He could not smell her. A chirp escaped from his throat, muffled by the muzzle. Reign struggled, frightened and frustrated. Movement to his right grabbed his attention. The shadows morphed and shifted, forming a tall, familiar figure. Green eyes glowed in the darkness and a jagged horn lit up the room like a torch. Zeala was without her usual robes and she wore a smirk on her narrow muzzle. “Your mother almost ruined it,” she began as she moved towards the bound colt. Reign hissed at her. Zeala circled around him like a shark sizing up a wounded fish. “I’ve hated you, my little prince. I’ve always hated you. You marred my perfect face.” Her tone was conversational as her hooves clip-clopped with mincing steps over the stone floor. “I hated you so much, but I also realize you offered to me a purpose. Your purpose. I brought you here to bring about a dream I’ve held on to ever since I lost my love and my purpose.” Another hiss was given in reply. “My enemy is time, Reign Cloud. I needed another month for the spell to be completed. I had to let your hate and pain fester and germinate for a little bit longer,” Zeala said, then clucked her tongue. “The bitch ruined it. She just had to show up and ruin you as a vessel. I had prepared your body for so long, only for everything to be ruined. Ruined!” she shrieked, appearing with frightening speed in front of Reign’s face, her muzzle almost touching his. Reign mumbled something at her, but his words could not form properly. As much as he quivered in fear, he also felt his hate for her grow. It was frustrating. She was monologuing like a cheap dime novel villain. Now his ears were ringing. The smile forming in front of him was crazed. “But not all is lost. Something can be salvaged from all of this. My efforts will not be wasted. Ten years is a long time to invest in something wanted, wouldn’t you agree?” Her lit horn brightened and Reign felt magic envelope his body, lifting him in the air. Zeala turned and trotted from the room, with Reign in tow. Her gossamer wings buzzed and flitted against her sides and her eyes were round and darting. “She’ll come. I know she’ll come. She knows you are in peril. I don’t have much time. There will be confusion. Yes, there will be that. I think I can use that to my advantage.” She carried him down a torch lit hall, past small rooms where robed acolytes sat and chanted ancient words. There were changelings with them. Reign tried to figure out where he was. Was this the Temple? Was he on the sacred ground? He tried to look as much as his limited movement allowed. Soon Zeala brought him into the main chamber of the temple, the nave. It was open, the floor as smooth as glass. The vaulted ceiling was supported by smooth columns. A great chandelier hung from the center. Candles were lit upon them, giving a ruddy illumination. There was only one window, as changeling religion was a love affair with shadows. The lone window was large and circular, stained glass depicting the First Queen in all her loving glory. All changelings beliefs in love and the other emotions were based off of Her writings. They were reputed to be over ten thousand years old. Upon the floor and arranged in a circle were more acolytes of the First Queen. They were robed in white and all facing the altar at the center of the room. Around the altar were flowers and lit candles. The changelings were whispering in voices Reign could barely hear. Their horns were pulsing with magic. The altar pulsed with them. Near the walls and standing as still as statues were several unrobed changelings. They appeared to be guards. “Thank you, Daughters of Love,” Zeala announced as she stepped towards the alter. “The Communion will begin shortly. The colt must be cleansed. The First Queen will cleanse him.” One of the acolytes spoke, casting a worried and pitying look at Reign, “What of the other one, the nymph that came with him? Is she also afflicted with evil?” “No,” Zeala replied, giving a gentle smile, “she is innocent and but a victim. As soon as the son of Shining Armor is cleansed, then shall she be free of the dark influence coming from him.” She drifted Reign over the alter. “Bind him.” “Yes, Priestess.” Reign Cloud was placed upon the altar. Four acolytes closed in on him, bearing leather straps. With them, he was tied down. A fifth acolyte approached and began muttering in strange tongues, all the while flicking water on him with a thin wet brush that was dipped in a bronze bowl. The colt struggled against his bonds. It was useless. His heart pounded in his chest, his blood sang in his ears. Screaming against his muzzle, his muffled sounds caused the acolytes to give him pitying looks. “Will she come?” asked a deep and feminine voice. “High Priestess, what of the one who birthed him? What of the heretic?” “I have no doubt she will,” Zeala could be heard replying. “I do hope you have eyes and ears looking for her. I do not need you here, good Queen Myra. Allow me to do my duties so you may fulfill yours.” “Just kill the little abomination and be done with it!” hissed the voice. It was approaching the altar, the sound of hooves striking the floor drawing nearer. “Not one step closer!” Zeala snapped. “The cleansing ritual must be performed. I told you of this. I will not tolerate any more outbursts. This is a sanctuary and I will not have violence done without proper instruction from the First Queen!” A frustrated hiss issued over the droning chants of the acolytes. “Very well. I am reluctant to leave that thing untouched. Its very presence offends me!” “Leave me to my work, my dear queen.” Zeala’s voice was honeyed. “Be watchful for an unrepentant heathen. May the Eyes of the First Queen be upon you.” Reign heard a harrumph, its owner turning and storming away on her hooves. “May the First Queen find favor in your toils, High Priestess. Come, my warriors. Let us await Chrysanthemum.” Buzzing wings followed, joined by others as changelings departed in haste. Reign Cloud felt a sense of dread for Chrysanthemum. It was an ambush! They wanted her to come and try to rescue him! What if Momma and Poppa came? Would they also be ambushed? Would they be attacked by this Queen Myra, whoever she was? Was she one of the Black Queen’s enemies? “Where is Igor?” Zeala asked. “Is he still with the nymph? Fetch him and have him bring her. She must bear witness of the cleansing.” “Yes, High Priestess,” answered one of the acolytes. Wide-eyed and terrorized, Reign found Zeala standing over him, peering down with eyes tinged with glowing magic. Purple and black danced around the edges of her whites, as if on an unfelt wind. Fresh waves of fear rushed through his body and he panicked, making frantic struggles against his unyielding bonds. Zeala shushed him, putting a hoof to his barrel and pressing down. A mocking smile graced her muzzle. “Struggle more, my prince. Let your fears flow from you. Hate me as you have never hated before. You were born for a purpose and I will see it completed this night.” The chanting changelings intensified their voices, tilting their heads back. One by one, their eyes rolled back into their sockets, their horns shifting from green changeling magic to white. The beams joined above Reign’s body. The acolytes went rigid, still chanting, their voices becoming a monotone song. The song was incomprehensible, the language one not heard in over a thousand years. Zeala stepped back from the altar, taking in her acolytes with a cool expression, going to each one before smiling again down at Reign Cloud. “They are committed,” she told him with a dark chuckle. “The young fools. Such sheep. I have prepared for this moment. It is a pity I cannot see my plan to full fruition, but I can make due with what remains. Your mother ruined it. She ruined my chance at resurrecting my love. You would have been a vessel for my king. “I envied your mother,” she went on, peering down at the colt. Reign was frightened now to the point of being immobile, his round eyes fixated on the crazed changeling. “She had what I tried to create for him. The one thing I wanted to give my love, I could not, though I tried. Oh, how I tried, my prince. Once I heard you had been born, oh how I wanted to know more about you! So many changes had happened in the past thousand years and I was in the middle of reaching out to descendants of my old friends. It was I who revived the old superstitions. It was I who drove the Castes towards a coup d'état. I gave them the old fears, reminded them of the old prejudices. I convinced them. It was so easy!” Reign stared at her, not knowing what to think. “There is time yet while they sing,” Zeala told him, brushing a strand of mane from her eyes. “What better way to wait than to tell you how your life was planned? I think you might appreciate the lengths I went to bring you here. I had to move quickly, of course. I was an ancient priestess remembered only in lore. I had great influence then and I found it increased only more in the shadows and among those who kept secrets. I was able to convince the ponies I had been a victim of circumstance under Sombra’s reign. I was able to use what he taught me to guard myself from accusation. The very spells he used to make a nation forget, I used to make that nation forget whom I once stood with. “I was a beauty in the past. I was the same beauty when we awakened. I sought out my love, but he bade me to be among the slaves. The Alicorns were coming, for they had always coveted the Empire. They intended to usurp my beloved king and put their own puppet on the throne. He warned me because he loved me. I made him a promise. I made him a promise in blood and magic that I would return him to the mortal realm should the worst happen. If I could not do that, then I would bring it all down. This I swore to him. This was what I swore to King Sombra.” Zeala by now had leaned in and was whispering like an ill wind into Reign’s ear. “You ruined me, my prince,” she said, showing Reign the scar on her muzzle. “You bit me, marred my perfection. Luckily for you, I remembered the bigger picture and did not kill you on the spot. I remembered the hope in my heart and stayed my hoof from crushing your tiny little skull. Your mother begged me to give you to your father, as the enemies I created to chase her had finally brought her before me. All of my plans had succeeded. I could finally put within you a gift that would germinate and grow within you. I had to make you weak. I had to break your body. I enjoyed doing that. I enjoyed the suffering you endured for the next ten years. The medicine I gave you was not for you. It was for what I had put within you.” A rough, growling voice echoed from the antechamber, “Priestess! Priestess, I come! I bring the little one, yes!” Zeala scowled, pulling herself away from Reign. “Lower your voice, you idiot!,” she hissed. “Put Maggot into the circle.” Reign could not see what was going on. All he could see now was the light above his head, forming a globe of rolling, dancing magic. The humming filled his body, giving him a calming sensation. He tried to remember the breathing exercises Momma had taught him, closing his eyes and just focusing on his breathing. There had to be a way out of this! Would they come for him? Would they know where he was? “Igor! Why do you dawdle? I told you to put Maggot into the circle!” A cowed, hesitant voice replied, “But this is your daughter. This is my daughter. This is our daughter. I watched over the egg, tended the egg, yes. I tended it as you commanded and it hatched. Igor was happy when the egg hatched. Our egg. Why sacrifice?” “Maggot is no longer needed. Her purpose comes to an end this night. There is one last task for her and then she will no longer be a reminder of my foolish inhibitions,” Zeala snapped. “Put her in the circle or I will flog you, Igor! I will flog you until your chitin is cracked and broken! Then I will throw you to my king’s legacy!” Reign could hear Igor whimper. He had never met the gnarled and twisted changeling. Maggie knew him and said he was nice, if a bit weird. “A-as you wish, Priestess. Igor is not happy, but Igor obeys!” A sob broke out. “You pathetic worm! I told you not to get attached to her! I told you what was to come! Yet you went and tried to bond with her, didn’t you? Idiot! Fool! Imbecil!” The acolytes went on chanting, ignoring Zeala as she ranted at Igor. Maggie chirped, calling out for Wilda. Her vocalization was filled with fear and panic. Zeala roared, “Silence her! Why is she not wearing her muzzle?” “Igor does not like the muzzle! It is a cruel thing to put on a nymph, yes!” whimpered the hunchback. “Why is Zeala cruel to her own child? Why do you hurt Igor by hurting your daughter?” “Damnation! Get out of my way, you simpering weakling!” Reign could hear Igor cry out in pain, followed by a loud and meaty thump. “You stay there! You watch! The very thought I allowed you to touch me sickens me! Every day I look at you, I am reminded of my mistake. Every time I look at Maggot, I am reminded of your seed inside me!” After long moments of nothing but chanting changelings, Zeala’s head popped into view. “My apologies for the interruption,” she hissed with a manic smile, “but I had to prepare the sacrifice. Virgin blood isn’t as important as the fairy tales say, but young blood, now that’s a different story! I want you to feel anguish the likes of which you have never known, my dear prince. I want you, in your last moments of clarity, to understand how much I hate you. But, all will be forgiven in the after, when your vessel is destroyed and your soul is fed to my pet. It was to be my beloved’s personal pet, but since I am to be denied my Sombra…” A horrid visage of hatred and fangs leered down at Reign. “I will destroy this city. If it cannot be for King Sombra, then all will be turned to ash. Then the eternal storm will cover everything with ice.” Her lower lips quivered, her features softened. “You will be the catalyst, Prince Reign Cloud. All of history will know you as the pit from which the monster had come.” Her horn lit up. “My daughter. My Maggot. I freely present her as the first meal. Do you know what a Windigo is, my dear prince?” Zeala smiled again, this one of a teacher prompting her student. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories. Your mother, the princess, she read you many bedtime stories, yes? Of course she did. She told me time and time again over tea. Always tea. Sometimes wine, I’ll admit,” she said, becoming thoughtful. “No matter.” Reign struggled, but it was a feeble, worthless effort. Tears formed and fell. He didn’t want to die. He pinged the silence of the Hive Mind over and over again, only just now realizing the connection was still there. When had it been reconnected? A comforting presence took hold of his mind. It was alien, but he knew who she was. Reign wanted to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. She was everywhere. I am coming, my son! Rage. Unbridled rage roared through the bridge between his mind and hers. It was the fury of a firestorm and crackled all around him as though he was in the eye of a hurricane. Oh, my son, what has she done? What is she doing? Let me see through your eyes! I beg you! “The ponies are coming!” cried an echoing voice from somewhere in the temple. Zeala lifted her head. “Stall them! It is nearly complete!” Her eyes darted to the acolytes, then back down to Reign. “It is too late,” she crooned. The white magic above Reign shifted in a sudden pulse to black and purple. The colors raged in the ball. The acolytes cried out, their horns sputtering out. They fell as puppets with their strings cut. Zeala’s horn charged with ferocious energy, the changeling gasping and gritting her teeth. “The ritual is complete! My beloved’s vengeance begins now!” she cried, the tip of her horn touching the ball of evil hovering above Reign. With a cry, she pulled it down, slamming the magic into the colt’s body. Momma! Reign screamed in his mind. It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! His body writhed and spasmed. Deep within himself, he felt something stir. Newfound terror took hold as whatever was in him began tearing and clawing its way out. Magic crackled and ravaged his small body. Writhing in his bonds, Reign tried to scream, but found he could not. The spasms would not even let him cry out. It felt like his body was tearing itself apart from the inside. Give me your pain! Another presence filled his mind. It was not nice. Darkness came and with it, unimaginable cold. There was a whinny, terrible and hungering. Magic began to leak from Reign’s mouth and nostrils. A sudden urge to vomit made him convulse. He couldn’t breathe as his lungs seized up. His pounding heart felt as though it would burst at any moment. The raging magic flew from him, having lost its color and becoming a pale and ominous blue. The chamber became cold. Frost appeared in Zeala’s breath in the few moments he did open his eyes. “Yes! Come to me, my pet!” she exalted. There was an unnatural scream. It did not come from Reign. The reforming magic above him was taking shape. An elongated muzzle appeared on an equine face. There was a powerful neck and shoulders. Forelegs formed. A mane formed along the neck and head, appearing like a flowing snowstorm. Flakes of snow flew from it, swirling and filling the room with freezing air. The thing’s eyes opened, blazing with cold blue flames. It whinnied again, growing ever larger as it took shape. It thrashed and spun in circles in the air, knocking against the chandelier. It rocked, the candles flickering and dying in the blast of cold air coming from the fiend. The whinny became a scream of rage. Reign felt cold. His body froze with fear. His heart skipped at the keening cry of the Windigo. It was as though his soul for a moment flickered, leaving an emptiness. Despair wracked his thoughts as it felt as though there could never be hope again. Zeala cackled with glee, watching with adoration at the abomination growing in strength and size before her. “Feast, my pet! Feast upon the nymph I have brought for you! Feast upon her sorrow and fear! Let her blood give you strength!” The Windigo’s movements slowed. It rose up, knocking hard against the chandelier. Its chains snapped and it fell. The Windigo saw this, snarled, and swept it aside with a toss of its head. It shrieked with rage, breathing upon it with a blast of its breath. A glacier of ice flowed from its jagged maw. The falling wrought iron struck the floor and shattered. There was a clucking noise, drawing its attention with a snap movement of its neck. “Wonderful!” Zeala was grinning. “Come to me, my pet. Come! Let us feed you!” The massive head drew near and it sniffed at the priestess. It was massive, being larger than the changeling. Its body filled half the vast chamber. She pointed at Maggie. “Feed upon the nymph. She is here for your first meal!” She noticed Reign was still alive. “Why aren’t you dead?” Zeala demanded as though insulted. The magic had shredded the bonds binding the colt. He was free now, but drained and in agony. His lungs were on fire and his head was swimming in pain. The priestess drew her muzzle to within inches of his, narrowing her eyes and prodding him with a hoof. “You should be dead,” she told him in indignation. “The Windigo should have shredded your body. Unless it was the preparation taken to make you a vessel? Most curious. Ah well, it gives me the chance to finish you off and be done with you. Maybe let the Windigo have you for lunch, hmm? Would you like that?” Gathering what little strength he had, Reign sprang at her with a snarl, latching his fangs on Zeala’s snout. His wings flopped and his legs kicked. Zeala reared back, hissing in surprise and pain. Flinging her head, she threw the colt from her. Reign had the sensation of flying before the ground caught him. He tumbled and slid until something stopped him. Groaning, he tried to right himself, his legs making feeble little kicks. “My face!” howled Zeala, putting a hoof to her muzzle. It was covered in blood. “My beautiful face!” She stared in horror at her own blood on her hoof. “You little bastard! I’ll kill you!” She bared her gleaming fangs as hot breath steamed the cold air. The Windigo watched, pacing in the air like a caged tiger. Its hungry gaze fell upon Reign. It whickered. The sound of that whicker was terrifying. Its eyes flickered to Zeala and narrowed. Fangs were bared, but it did not strike. It screamed in frustration, shaking the room. Zeala advanced over the cold stone floor. Her face was etched with dreadful intent, her horn aglow. Hissing as she came, a dagger appeared from her robes and was floated next to her head, its point angled downward. A sudden crash of shattering glass jerked her attention to the stained glass window. Shards of the First Queen’s image fell, followed by a black form shimmering in emerald magic. Behind it was a great ball of pink emanating love. The green ball was chittering in hot rage, with blazing eyes like emerald fires. A massive curved sword was poised to one side, glinting from the glow. It dove straight at Zeala, a battlecry filling the temple. Zeala turned her head, frozen in place, her eyes round as her jaw dropped in shock. The blade flashed once in a sweeping motion. Zeala fell in two pieces. Her head lifted with a shallow arc through the air, her eyes blinking once before falling with a meaty thump to the floor. The body crumpled soon after, a leg twitching. Queen Chrysanthemum skidded past Zeala’s twitching corpse, her hooves sliding and fighting for purchase. She made it look easy as her body turned and she stopped, putting herself between Reign Cloud and the Windigo. “Well,” she noted, staring up at the now raging Windigo, “there is something one does not see every day.” The sigh of a mare who found her list of things to do always having something new added to it escaped into the cold air. The Windigo lifted its head and wailed. It was a keening sound and it felt as though it threatened to tear hope from all hearts. The vibrations of its voice made teeth chatter and knees buckle. Ears bled as its voice pierced higher and higher. Reign clamped his hooves over his ears and screamed. Looking behind him, he found Maggie unconscious. Grabbing with his hooves, he pulled her close and bawled as though this was the darkest end of times. Maggie stirred at his touch, her little face scrunching in pain. “So noisy!” she moaned, covering her ears. Holed legs planted themselves firmly around them. Reign looked up and found the scarred belly of his birth mother filling his view. Her wings were spread over the the colt and the nymph. “You cannot have them!” roared Chrysanthemum. Another sword materialized next to her and she spread both blades wide from her shoulders. Under her breath, she muttered, “Any day now, Shining.” There was a flash and a pair of forms clad in polished armor appeared. One was a big unicorn, the other an Alicorn. Reign never felt more relieved in all his life. Both had their heads turned up to gawk at the Windigo, but they moved with purpose closer to the queen and the two little ones. The Windigo inhaled a deep breath, cocking its head back. Its eyes were huge and filled with dreadful intent. “Shiny!” Cadence cried. “I know!” he called back. His horn flared. A pink bubble formed around the group just as the Windigo unleashed its freezing breath upon them. The blizzard struck with a wailing fury, raging against Shining Armor’s barrier. He appeared unfazed by the monster’s breath, his chin set in determination as he glared up at the legendary beast. Cadence was unleashing her own magic, filling the bubble with her love. Reign’s hope renewed and his heart soared upon seeing Momma. A happy chirp erupted from his throat. “Oh, that’s quite tasty, Princess,” Chrysanthemum snarked with a wry grin. “Shut up,” Cadence told her, “and step away from my son.” The queen did so, her face a mask. “Of course. You have changed, Cadenza,” she observed as Cadence nuzzled her son. Chrysanthemum averted her eyes, choosing to look up at the raging Windigo. Its attack had ended and it was staring in bewildered fury at Shining Armor’s barrier magic. Her swords twirled in the air before she willed them away. “Can you beat that thing?” Shining Armor smirked. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? Our priority is to the children and the citizens. The temples need to be evacuated and all non combatants moved away from the area. That thing is eventually going to sense the Crystal Heart and will make a beeline for it. It will want to destroy the Heart. Good emotions can keep it at bay, but we’ll need more than good feelings to kill it.” Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “Well, shall we hug it to death, then?”