//------------------------------//
// Prologue (information, background, and setting) 
// Story: The Split Mask He Donned 
// by IAmBugHorse 
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Millions of years before the creation of Equestria in, what it will eventually become known as, the Frozen North, an ancient changeling hive was born. From it, a benevolent king and queen gave birth to an ancient civilization of mysterious tech and powers. One early day in the hive's history, their seemingly infinite supply of love that they received from the not so recently formed Crystal Empire had all but vanished, sending them into a drought. Originally, their source of love and energy, the energy being other emotions besides love, came from the crystals buried under their hive. Crystals, many of which contained plentiful emotions, not just love. These emotions that they didn't use as food, they were used as fuel to create a flame that ancient hive developed for ages that never burns out. This blue flame was the staple source of light and warmth they had. While said hive had several furnaces which kept the flames lit, the hive was much expanding and the need for more of the infinite flame increased. This is the start of the thousand year emotion drought, leaving to the hive's king and queen to enforce some extremely strict laws. With a heavy punishment, followed by banishment to the cold death that was the Frozen North, the punishments varied based on how heinous the crime committed is.

During the hive's nearly thousandth year of the drought, supplies were quickly diminishing and hope had all but vanished for the hive's survival. To save the ancient hive's legacy, the king and queen decided to mate and give birth to the successor to the hive's throne. His name? Unknown, for many years that is, lost to time. But the ling; however, was male.

Seven years later, the troublesome changeling was lurking around in places he shouldn't have been in. One of those, was the ancient hive's armory. This was a banned location to be in, and he should have known better than to be rummaging around in those parts. inside the armory; however, were spells, armor, weapons, everything. What really caught his eye were the spells, especially a very specific spell in the back. This was hidden in the back for a reason, one he did not know, and one he wasn't going to find out soon. He was going to take a quick peak at what this spell had to offer. However, as his awful luck entailed, such things would not happen. The second he placed his hoof on the parchment that was the spell, it grew bright. Eventually, it disappeared from sight, triggered an alarm, and ended with him getting caught. The little ling was yelled at, and with the many furious faces of the counsel of magic, they asked him where he hid the spell. He couldn't say, since the spell had just vanished. Outside of the king and queen's wish, they blindly, due to their anger, gave him the worst punishment that could ever be given. He would be tossed into an ice bath, before the banishment that came after. Dunked into the ice bath the ling cried out for his parents, but neither showed up to save him, they were away at the time and would not be back until later. The guards pulled him out just before he drowned in the ice bath, and didn't bother to dry him at all as the hive's citizens watched in a pure blinding rage. This spell was a very important spell to the hive's history. Within an inch of his life he was tossed out into the cold, with nothing more than the chitinous skin on his back, the holes in his legs, his rapidly depleting love supply, and a face full of chilling snow. This ling would surely parish, and would not survive the harsh conditions of the Frozen North.

When the king and queen returned, and did not find their offspring around, they questioned where he had gone off to, when they were told the grimly and albeit fake story about how their son had been taken and robbed, and was taken deeper into the snowy plains of the north by a suicidal enemy ling from a rival hive, saying their son was surely dead. The royals questioned them, but all they got, was that they took him during the night, and nobody knew it had happened, and many of the guards were knocked out as well. The king and queen were heartbroken, and their hope in saving the hive had died, they entered their bed chambers and never left again, they were not heard from for weeks and months till one day a maid decided to check on them. She screamed to the heavens as guards quickly gathered, just to find behind the door, the king and queen, dead on the floor with bottles of poison on the ground, their bodies locked in a perpetual hug of love and death, an emotional way to pass on with love. The hive was in shambles, they panicked, their rulers had killed themselves, and they knew why, the death of their son must have been too grief for them to handle, leaving the hive in a shell of it's former glory. The once proud benevolent hive became empty and saddened, leaving corrupt, and powerful lings to take their place. Thus the hive's tale turned to legend, and from legend to myth.

(But this wouldn't be a good story if it just ended here, oh no there is still more to this story, much much more. This is only the beginning.)




Ten years ago.


Deep in the cold of the north on the same fateful day the little ling was thrown out, a dark figure marched through the snow bathed tundra. It was but a small figure, one not made for the cold, their body only being covered by a chitinous like skin and no fur whatsoever. It's head hung low to reduce the amount of cold air blowing into it's face, shivering as it trudged along. This was that very same ling, how'd he survive the ice bath? The banishing? The cold north? Surely he should have died from the frozen temperatures, right? Yes, if anything, he never should have made it past the ice bath, and the cold winds and several degrees below freezing temperatures would have killed anyone, the how did this little ling survive?

Little did the changelings back at his hive know, in order to keep the legacy of their intelligence, the king and queen infused the power of the light blue flame they developed, binding his soul to the very flame that burned forever. His very being became the product of the work, sweat, and love the millions of years old hive had produced. This flame was what saved the ling from turning into an icicle, and kept him alive as he marched along the frozen plains that made up the Frozen North. How long would he be out here? Did he really deserve this as a punishment? Was living out here in the cold his future, or was there more to it? These questions swam around in the mind of the little ling, as time passed on as he passed through the snow. Seconds formed into minutes, then melted into hours, then solidified into days, he had counted the time, as they passed, before his little body gave out, falling onto the... the soft wet grass? There was grass where he laid, he knew what grass was, but never saw it in person. How'd he know it was grass? Well it certainly wasn't snow.

Lifting his head up to look at the ground underneath him, the snow ended around here, and small patches of water were scattered around. Finally after a week and three days, since he'd counted, he found warmer lands. A smile crossed his face as he laid in the grass for who knows how long, the sun began to set as he regained what little strength he could to continue on. On into Equestria. A new life ahead of him.