//------------------------------// // 1 - We the hivemind, We the swarm // Story: A Change of Heart // by Silent Whisper //------------------------------// The first thing I can remember is a distant hum. It’s sort of like the sound of a spell being cast, but I don’t know how I know that. I can’t remember anything, not even my name. I try to grasp onto anything that resembles a memory, but it slips away. It’s just me and the noise, a buzzing that fades into the background. It keeps me relaxed, and I take in my surroundings.  My eyes are closed, and I can’t seem to muster the strength to open them. A strange liquid fills my mouth, gummy and sticking to my teeth when I rub my tongue against them. It tastes sickly sweet, like cherry cough syrup. I try to spit it out, but it’s everywhere, even in my lungs. I try to cough, but there’s no resistance, no gagging, no choking. I must be breathing it somehow, even though it’s so thick I can’t tell if it moves at all. I manage to pry open my eyelids after a bit of concentration. Everything is a grayish silver color, and whatever the fluid is, it doesn’t hurt when it touches my eyes. I can’t feel it, only the pressure of its presence. I try to move a hoof, but I can’t tell if it moved or if the liquid held it still. I can’t see anything, but light must be coming from somewhere. A distant knocking echoes through the liquid. It trembles around me, and suddenly there’s more light and the fluid seems bright. Too bright. I close my eyes. Something wraps around my outstretched hoof, and pulls me up. Cold air swirls around me, chilling me to the bone. The humming is loud, too loud, and it hurts my ears. I cough and hack, trying to get the liquid out of my lungs, but it comes up slowly, resisting my efforts. It oozes out of my mouth, my lungs finally getting the air my mind has been craving. I blindly reach up a hoof to wipe my muzzle off, but I miss. I must be pretty disoriented. I can still breathe, but having fluid in my chest feels so wrong, even though I can’t seem to cough it up. Part of me wants to be worried, but the thoughts just slip away in my mind. Odd. Somepony pulls me up gently out of the goo, cradling me in their hooves, and sets me down on a cold hard floor. I feel them leave me, and flail my hooves weakly in the direction I think I remember them being in. Whoever they are, I want more contact with them. Anything is better than feeling nothing at all. A spray of warm water hits my side and I curl up reflexively. It trickles down my coat, washing some of the fluid away. I lean into it and rub a hoof against my face. I feel damp silky fur against my hoof, and it comforts me. I open my mouth and swish hot water around it before spitting on the floor. It did nothing for the taste, but now my tongue can brush against my teeth. I rub it against the front teeth again and prick my tongue. My canines are sharper than I expected, and for some reason I can’t quite place why they feel wrong in my mouth. I brush water off my eyes and turn myself over, feeling the stream of hot water against my back and other side. It feels absolutely wonderful to be warm again! A tentative hoof brushes against my neck, rubbing my main. I jerk back, but something tells me that whoever it’s attached to means no harm. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes. My hooves rest in front of my face. My fur is pink, and the strands of mane covering my face are purple. I don’t recognize any of it. I don’t even know who or what I am. I wonder vaguely why I’m not panicking about that, but something is keeping me calm and lethargic. The cool floor I am resting on is tile, and is broken in some places. I turn my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck. The creature whose hoof is washing off the grey goo from my mane looks like some sort of monster from a fairytale. Its body is insectoid, covered in a pearly black shell. Its legs are riddled with holes that go straight through it. Against her back, for her muzzle looks feminine, are two translucent insect wings, with holes in them. Her mane is a silvery white, and tied in a messy bun, parted around her crooked horn. Her gentle eyes lack pupils and glow a silvery grey, and fangs protrude from her mouth as she smiles down at me. She looks tall, slender, sleek and almost fragile. Every instinct I have tells me I should be afraid of the monster in front of me, but something in the back of my mind urges me not to run. I feel calm, even though my logic tells me I shouldn’t. I am not afraid of this being. Is that good, or bad? I let her wash me. I wish I could be concerned, but I just feel relaxed and tired. Something tells me I’m in a shower, which makes sense, but I can’t figure out how I know that. The gentle monster blocks my view, and there’s a curtain around us. The water flows slowly into the drain, and I watch it trickle down my fur. Sunlight streams through the shower curtain, which is tattered in places. Wherever we are, it isn’t exactly a five-star resort. I’m not sure I know how I know that either. My head is throbbing. I rest it against my hooves, my chin brushing against the cold tile. The humming I’ve been hearing hasn’t gone away, and it isn’t coming from around me. It’s all in my head, I realize, and I wonder if I’m going crazy. That same feeling that told me not to panic at the sight of the monster reassures me I’m not, which only worries me more. “You’re handling this well, for someone who’s been through so much,” the monster whispers gently, startling me out of my thoughts. Her voice is odd, hissing on the s’s with a peculiar lilt.  I try to ask what’s going on, but the moment I open my mouth to speak I cough out more silvery goop. The monster smiles at me knowingly. “You must be so scared, young one. Please, don’t be afraid. I am Pyaxis, but you can call me Pixie Cut. That’s what most ponies know me as.” My mouth forms different shapes as I try to copy her pronunciation, but I give up after going into another hacking fit. Pixie sounds more natural to me, for some reason, so I decide to call her that. She continues, her pearly wings fluttering against her back. “Don’t worry about pronouncing it. Most… changelings need practice to speak our language out loud.” What’s a changeling? Is that what she is? My mind floods with questions, laced with panic and worry. Is she going to hurt me? Am I trapped here? Why is there goo in my mouth? Who am I? Pixie smiles and nuzzles against me, cutting off my chain of thought with a loving gaze. “So many questions, sister. I am indeed a changeling. So are you, partially. I mean you no harm, and you are not trapped here. There is goo in your mouth because you have been… ah, healing. As to who you are… I’m not sure how much I can tell you. Your name is Flurry Heart. You are a young mare, born to the house of Cadenza and Sparkle. I’ll get you a mirror, so you may see for yourself what you look like.” She flies off, her wings buzzing a low, soothing tone. The water against my back tapers off, leaving me shivering on the ground. She must have turned it off somehow. I lie on my side, shivering as the pool of water around me flows down the drain, and wonder how she knew what questions I had. Maybe it was just luck? Pixie returns, a mirror hovering in her magic. I’m not sure what I expected of my reflection, but it wasn’t this. My eyes are teal, and lack pupils, turning instead a darker shade of blue-green where they should be. They look just like Pixie’s, except there’s a difference in color. Atop my head is a horn with indentations up it. It looks as though somepony had tried to straighten out Pixie’s crooked horn, and missed a few spots. I open my mouth to inspect my teeth. I have fangs, but they aren’t as long as Pixie’s. My mane is purple with a teal stripe, and on my back are feathery wings. I am young, my body looks somewhere between a filly’s and Pixie’s matured body. I must be a teenager, not quite a mare but not quite a young foal either. I turn away from the mirror, and Pixie sets it down. I have a sickening feeling that this isn’t what I’m supposed to look like, but I wonder why I feel that way. Is this not what I’ve always looked like? “You…” I spit out a glob of silver fluid and try again, my voice warbling weakly. “You said I’m a changeling? Why don’t I look like you?” Pixie scuffs a hoof against the floor and looks away from me, frowning at the ground. “It’s a rather long story, sister, and I don’t think I’m the right ‘ling to tell you. Know this, though: as far as our hive and I are concerned, you are one of us. You’re a changeling and a sister.” She blushes and stares back at me. “Welcome to the Hive,” Pixie adds, and holds out a hoof. I take it, my movements sluggish, and she tries to help me to my hooves. My legs wobble uncooperatively, but with our combined efforts I stand up, swaying slightly but upright nonetheless. The changeling draws back the curtain around me, revealing the room we’re in. A trail of the grey slime leads from the shower to a waxy silver pod that dances with color in the light. It’s broken on the top, and a steady flow of the viscous liquid dribbles out. The room itself is drab and run-down. Patches of drywall are crumbling off of it, and one side is completely caved in. Rubble is cleared away at the top of it, leaving an opening in the corner of the room for sunlight to shine through. Pixie flutters over to the hole in the wall, and the instinctual feeling inside my head beckons me to follow her. I carefully climb up the rubble, not trusting my wings to carry me yet, and poke my head outside. A booming city towers over the ruined building we’re in. The cityscape horizon is overwhelming, and I take a few deep breaths in and out. I’ve never felt so small in my life. In the distance, silhouettes of pegasi soar through the airspace between buildings. The buildings around the one I’m in are in the same state of disrepair. I get the feeling that I’m in one of those neighborhoods where desperate and dangerous ponies live. Looking down at the trash-littered ground below, I estimate that I’m about a story up. I take a deep breath and spread my wings, but pocketed hooves wrap around my midsection before I can flap them. Pixie’s wings buzz loudly as she picks me up and flies us towards the ground. She’s stronger than she looks, and larger than me. She lets me go as soon as my hooves brush against the ground, humming gently as I unsteadily catch my balance. “Come,” she says, landing gracefully next to me, folding her wings back and heading off at a quick pace down the street. “There isn’t much time, sister. These streets are unsafe, especially at night.” My legs wobble as I follow her. It’s hard to walk, and I keep tripping over my own hooves. It feels like I haven’t walked in weeks, and my body has forgotten how to move quickly, but Pixie is going fast and I don’t want to lose sight of her. The last thing I want is to be left alone in a dangerous city, and Pixie has been nothing but friendly with me, though her appearance is still a little frightening. She leads me towards a half-crumbled building. The corner of it has crumbled away, but I don’t see any rubble around. It’s getting dark, the sun is setting, but Pixie lights up her horn and leads me onward. We walk through a hallway and I’m about to enter the room she’s in when she holds out a hoof to stop me. Hovering in her magic is a rope. “Sister, this is very important. Do you trust me?” she asks, the rope uncoiling. My immediate thought is that it depends on what the question is, but I shake that idea away. I get a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I shouldn’t question it, and I should trust Pixie. Why? I wonder, and in response I can almost hear words forming above the hum in the back of my mind, first indistinctly, but they repeat, and then I understand. Because you have no other choice, sister. It’s masculine and deeper than Pixie’s voice, but with the same accent. I frown at it, then realize I probably look quite strange to the changeling, who’s patiently unwrapping the rope and watching me calmly. The voice in my head bothers me. Isn’t hearing things the sign that you’re going crazy? Am I crazy for being unable to panic properly about it? Flurry… the voice says gently. Trust us. Another voice joins in, and another. The humming slowly clears up, and in its place indistinct voices murmur to each other, in a language I can’t understand, full of clicking and chittering. Trust the hive, Flurry. You can do it. The voices encourage me, and for some reason, my fear starts to ebb. A sensation of confidence and warmth replaces it. “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath and stepping forward. “I trust you.” Pixie smiles, and levitates the rope around my midsection. It wraps around my barrel, securing my wings shut. It’s just tight enough to be uncomfortable when I tuck my wings firmly against my sides, but the rope bites into them if I try to relax them. I stare up at her. “What is this for?” The changeling wordlessly steps aside. Behind her is a gaping hole in the ground, dark and foreboding. It’s wider than Pixie is long, and perfectly round. I step uncertainly towards it, and she lights her horn brighter and hangs her head over the edge. I can’t see the bottom, only walls of perfectly vertical stone going down so far it makes my head dizzy. “This is the Deadling’s Drop. It’s the closest way in and out of our hive, sister. If you trust me and our siblings to catch you, I’ll drop you down. And please, try not to flail. The walls don’t get any wider for a long way down, and it will scrape your limbs off before the friction slows you down. Thus, the rope, to keep you from instinctively trying to fly.” I step back. This is insane, there’s no way I’m jumping down there! I glance up at Pixie. Her expression is unreadable, but I think I see a look of pity and empathy flicker across her face. “Are you coming with me?” I ask, trying to buy myself some time and avoid the sight of the terrifying gaping hole. The changeling shakes her head. “I will remain up here, sister, and drop you down. It is my duty to alert the changelings who will catch you the second you jump. Timing is important. I suggest you jump soon, Flurry, or your nerves will get the better of you.” I peer down into the hole, eyes wide. Timing is important? I want to ask why, but then think better of it. If I know why, I probably won’t do it, and if I wait, I’ll just keep scaring myself. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Voices, are you there? I think as hard as I can. They respond immediately, chorusing We’re here with you, sister. I feel a smile grow on my muzzle as I feel emotions that aren’t my own make their way inside my mind. Comfort. Trust. Pure and undying admiration. The voices believe I can do this, and they’re with me. I don’t think, I just nod at Pixie, who lifts me up in her magic and smiles at me. The pale white glow of her magic flickers out, and I hear her whisper something, but it’s drowned out by the sound of the wind rushing past my ears. My stomach lurches, and darkness consumes me as I fall. I can’t tell how far or how long I plummet towards the ground. Time and distance lose all meaning. I’m swallowed by the darkness. I resist the urge to flail my hooves, remembering Pixie’s warning. I’m smaller than an adult pony, which the hole could easily fit, so it should be fine in theory, but I don’t want to test it. Vaguely, I’m aware of a high pitched sound echoing off the stone, only slightly louder than the wind. It must be my screaming. How long have I been falling? I feel dizzy. I might be sick. What would happen if I vomited? Something’s changed, though. I look where I think down is. There’s a faint blue circle of light below me, and it’s growing, fast. Is it the bottom? Pixie said some changelings would be down there to catch me, so where are they? I look around, and there’s nothing but darkness. Am I going to go splat? I panic, and have to hug my hooves to my chest to keep from flailing. Then, suddenly, there’s light. I blink. I’m no longer in a narrow black tunnel, but a cave, opened up. Below me is a lake, getting closer faster and faster. Below me, four changelings are diving, almost matching my speed. Their outstretched hooves clasp onto me as I pass them and they turn, pulling my vertical dive into a slant. The water gets closer and I scream. The changelings don’t flinch but they buzz their wings, pulling me upwards. We’re still falling, but slower. We’re going to hit the water! At the last second, they let go, and I tumble into the water. I surface, kicking my legs frantically as I take huge desperate gulps of air. The changelings paddle around me, grinning at each other, then at me. One of them chitters at me rapidly, his voice interspersed with panting. I have no idea what he’s saying, but he seems happy about it. Another one laughs, and I hear his voice in my head. He says “Glad to see you drop in, Flurry Heart.” The other two changelings laugh, and I groan. After almost falling to my death, they want to joke about it? Relax, sister, a female voice says. We weren’t going to let you fall. See, you were going so fast, not even a pegasus could pull out of the dive before they go splatto on the water! At that speed, if you tried to fly, your wings would rip right out of their- Don’t scare her, Axiom! The male voice chides. One changeling wraps their hooves around me, their wings buzzing. They pull me out of the lake and towards a cavern wall. I can see light coming from a ledge there, and a tunnel beyond it. It’s pale blue and eerie, but I’m glad to see light from somewhere. The four changelings land, setting me down with them. I try to get a closer look at them. At first, I thought they all looked like Pixie, but they all have subtle differences. One, the most female-looking of them all, has her mane cut short and dyed a pale purple. This must be Axiom, I reason. Another one, that looks somewhere between masculine and feminine, so much so that I can’t really tell what their gender was, has their hair dyed a neon green with beads strung into it. The third and fourth are white-maned just like Pixie, but have glowing paint swirled on their faces. All four of them also have two pairs of wings. They look almost like dragonflies, I realize with a jolt, and wonder if other changelings have special traits that look like different insects too. Axiom winks at me. I’ll be walking you over to the hive, Flurry. We’ve just got to pass through the orchards, and then we’ll be in the outskirts. It’s nice to hear your voice over the hivemind, by the way. We were worried we wouldn’t be able to speak to you at all. The hivemind? I ask, cocking my head as I follow her to the tunnel. Is that what this is called? Axiom nods, her trimmed mane swishing around her horn as she sashays towards the light ahead of me. Yup. You’re not crazy, sister, trust me. It’ll take some time for your mind to adjust, of course. Right now you can only hear voices of those closer to you, but as you adapt, you’ll be able to hear and speak to anyling in our hive! So, we’re… psychic? My eyes dilate as we get closer to the source of the light, the tunnel twisting ahead of us. The walls are smooth rock, polished enough for blue glares of light to reflect as we walk onward. Not quite, Axiom hums as she trots ahead. We can only hear others in our hive. I’d tell you more, but I think others will be able to answer your questions better. I’m just a recovery worker, after all. Besides, I wanna see the look on your face when you see the view. What view? I ask, turning a corner. Blue-green light blinds me for a second, but when I blink away the spots in my vision, my jaw drops. Trees that look like weeping willows hang over the path ahead. Their silvery leaves tinkle as they brush against each other, blown by the wingbeats of changelings darting between them. The blue glow shines in bulbs on the ends of branches, bioluminescent fruits that a few small, foal-sized changelings gather, collecting in baskets. Green grass shimmers, glowing a faint green. And beyond it, up ahead on the path, buildings tower above silhouettes of changelings flitting about, neon signs shine, unreadable from the distance but colorful and bright. Axiom laughs at my stunned reaction. Welcome to Hive Quarry, sister.