//------------------------------// // 85: One of these days the sky's gonna break. (SS) // Story: Xenophilia: Further tales. // by TheQuietMan //------------------------------// One of these days the sky's gonna break. Chapter published 29th July 2017 **************** Spring - 1243AC (Three decades since Lero’s arrival in EQ) The grounds of Canterlot Castle ********* My father can move remarkably swiftly when he wants to. With my elder sister at my flank, I spur myself forward, pushing myself as hard as I can to keep up with his longer strides. I may be the youngest person in our little group, but, I am ashamed to say, my lifestyle is certainly the most sedentary of us all. Big-sis Scootaloo is at father’s side, her rapidly beating wings easily keeping her pace equal to his. Through the castle’s many corridors we race, Father’s long legs pumping away as he gallops, or sprints as it is known when he does it.There are few times in my life when have seen father run full pelt, but today is one of them, and I am in danger of being left behind. Scoot turns, sees me struggling to keep up, turns her attention back to Father and calls out. "Hey, Pops! I know you’re like, really spooked, but I’m not as young as I used to be. Can we slow it down a tick?" As we round a corner, my front hooves loose traction, my forelegs threatening to slip out from under me as my barrel collides with the wall, my momentum carrying me far enough down the hallway that I can regain my footing without falling. Father glances back, checking that I am allright. I motion him onwards, we don’t have the time to slow down. If he needs to go on without me then I wouldn’t hold it against him, even though I know in my heart that he never would. A large set of double doors leading out to a courtyard looms closer, Father doesn’t even slow down, instead pushing a shoulder forward and barreling through them, the large slabs yielding to his sizable mass, the wooden panels crashing against the corridor walls. Before they can even begin to swing back inwards my sister has caught them with her magic, her careless push very nearly ripping them from their frames as we steam past. Out into the courtyard we run. Finally, Father slows, his hands coming up to his head as he stares up at the sky above us, utter disbelief etched across his features. Disbelief and something else... something I’ve never seen from him before... fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. All across the heavens it is as if the clouds are boiling - twisting and bubbling and churning as they are. Impossible colours streak across the sky, ribbons of pink and green and purple and blue winding and twisting around each other like a barrel full of angry eels. I can only imagine that this is what the world would look like should Princess Celestia’s mane decide to turn evil and attempt to take over the world. Lightning flashes across the horizon in huge, jagged arcs- but no thunder rumbles in its wake, no clouds are illuminated by its passing. Where the lightning hits the castle’s towers it spreads across the building’s structure, creeping and crawling along the gleaming stonework like a living, breathing entity, oozing malevolence as it disappears from view wherever it can find a gap in a window or doorway. From above us comes a scream, the blood curdling sound cut off just as quickly as it begins. A few seconds later a body hits the ground not far from where we stand. It’s a royal guard, his armour scorched and steaming, his smoking corpse crumpled on the cobbles of the courtyard, the balcony far above now bereft of its guard. The lightning comes again, the lack of rubble making the unnatural arc of light all the more unnerving. A pair of pegasi do their best to dart out of its way; one makes it, the other is not so lucky. I doubt that there’ll be enough of her left for her family to identify... if they’re lucky. As if powered by the lightning, the coloured ribbons are growing in brightness, gathering together, coalescing if you will. They twist and turn, weaving around each other much as my family’s customary mane braids do. One end of the gathered ribbons moves across the sky as if pulled by an unseen hand. It’s heading towards the throne room, where we are to meet the princesses and the element bearers. Our mothers, their friends, they all await us, await Father. What we will find when we arrive, I do not know. We have to hurry. "No, It can’t be!" Father stops, dead in his tracks, the words still on his lips, his hands against the sides of his head. He looks like he needs to throw up, needs it as much as he needs to breath. I worry that he is in physical pain. My medical training spurs me forward, my magic reaching out towards him, ready to check for any injuries, my mental triage checklist kicking in like second nature. I find no wounds, no external trauma, but his breathing is erratic, his heart-rate skyrocketing. I busy myself measuring his pulse, though I can’t help but notice that my own is on the wrong side of concerning. Father staggers, coming to rest against an ornamental sundial, one hand blindly grasping at it for support. I move closer, my magic braced against him,.taking some of his weight. His eyes search the sky, pupils flicking from side to side, heavily dilated. He’s sweating heavily, but I can't tell if that’s from the running or just another symptom of the oncoming state of shock. "No, No, NO!" He grits his teeth, hissing between them. He turns, looks directly at me, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before they fall out of focus, the muscles in his face slackening as his jaw drops. He looks, but he doesn’t see. His gaze passes through me as his breathing slows, his pulse rate dropping. He stays that way for almost a minute, his breathing and heart rate leveling about at around where they’d be during REM sleep. I can hear Sweet Spirit asking me if he’s alright, can see Scoot at the edge of my vision torn between checking on him and helping the guards that are falling all around us. Another body hits the floor, barely missing me as I hold my father, keeping him from falling, the hands of my magic pushing away a fallen tree branch as the wind whips it towards us. All that matters is him. After what feels like a lifetime, he blinks, eyes meeting mine again. I see fear, concern, apprehension. His eyes flick from me to my sister and back again. I see love in those eyes... love followed by anger, anger followed by fury. "Pops. You ok?" Father turns to face Scoots, the anger in his eyes causing her to recoil, to pull back the hoof she had been holding out to him. She’s probably never seen him so angry. I know I certainly haven’t. I turn to my sister, but she looks just as scared as I. To affect father like this...? Just what in Equestria have we stepped into? It feels like a dream... a bad dream... one I wish I could wake up for, one I wish Luna could come and take me away from and tell me everything’s going to be alright. Father stands, unaided, looking around him. He takes in the bodies strewn about, charred and smoking; he takes in the coils of animalistic lightning as they jump from wall to wall, roof to roof, swallowing up any poor soul that gets in their way; he takes in the large pair of double doors across the courtway from us now, so near and yet so far. He reaches out, beckons Scoots closer, catching the lapel of her battered old flight jacket and pulling her closer, her slowly beating wings keeping their heads level. "Scoot, listen to me, this is important. I need you to take the girls and run. Go back to Ponyville, find Lyra and Sky, gather up as many of the youngsters as you can find and just get as far away as you can. I want you all on the next train out of country. Pull rank if you have to, use my name, use Rainbow’s or Twi’s. Heck, use Luna’s if it comes to it. Just go, no arguing, just do it. Now. before it’s too late." "Where? Should we go to the Crystal Empire? Or the Emerald City? Queen Aurelia would help us-" Father’s hands move to Scoot’s withers, bodily turning her so that she’s looking straight at him. "NO! Don’t tell me, don’t let me know. I don’t care where you go just as long as it’s as far from here as you can get. But whatever you do, do not tell me where you're going. Don’t leave me a message, don’t leave clues, no notes, nothing  Just get as far as you can and stay away." "But.. why?" "Because it’s the only way to be safe. Walls mean nothing to these things, Scoot, they won’t stop them, won’t hold them back. You need to hide... go as far as you can and hide. Don’t look for me, don’t even speak of me, or of them, ever. It’s the only thing that’ll work. Please, Scoot, trust me now. Now and never again. Go, please." Scoot turns her head, taking in the scene: the boiling sky, the grimly littered courtyard, the screaming walls. She leans in closer to Father, her voice barely a whisper. "She’s here, isn’t she?" It’s as much a statement as a question. What else could it be. This is real... this is really happening. A thousand and one nightmares, all become real. Father pulls her closer, the side of her face against his chin, his lips against her ear. He speaks to her softly, words just for her to hear. I can tell she’s blinking back tears as he pulls away, just enough that he can plant a soft kiss on her eyebrow, right on the jagged scar that runs all the way up her forehead and out across her ear. Their eyes meet, she nods, wiping her eyes with a hoof. She pulls away from him, her wings carrying her back, giving him space. He comes to me, wrapping a strong arm around my neck, pulling me closer. I feel him pull my sister in with his other arm, the two of us held against his chest just as he did when we were children. I can hear his heart through his chest, my ear pressed as it is against his breast. He’s warm, and strong, but holding us so tenderly. Waves of nostalgia flow over me, moments of my youth flooding my mind. We’re in the middle of a warzone and I want nothing more than to stay right here, deep in my father’s embrace. "Stick with Scoot, you hear? She’ll keep you safe." He kisses my forehead, before doing the same to my sister.   "Let Sky and the others know how much I love you all. And I’ll see you all again soon, ok?" He lets us go as he stands tall. He reaches out, patting Scoot on the withers. A look passes between them before he turns from us, towards the other side of the courtyard. Breaking into a run, he bounds across the cobbles, reaching the double doors in seconds. Pushing through the doors, he passes into the shadows of the corridor beyond, and is gone. "Come on, girls. you heard the man. Let’s go." Scoot turns, wings taking her back the way we came. I stand, motionless, eyes still fixed on the now closed doors. I’d heard the words, you see. I wasn’t supposed to, but I’d heard. My diagnostic spell had still been running; the minutiae of his heart, his breathing, still running through my ears. I’d heard what he’d said to Scootaloo. I’d heard the words, the tone, the message he’d hoped to convey. He’d left us in her care, trusting her to do what was right, to do what it took to keep us safe. And then he’d said goodbye. Not in the way of family parting ways for just a little while, or an old friend going on a journey, but in the way of a man who knows he may never return, that these few words may well be the last that they share. And I’m terrified he may be right.