//------------------------------// // Doom Inevitable // Story: Story Shuffle 2: Double Masters // by FanOfMostEverything //------------------------------// The first sign was every sheep in every pasture in Equestria turning to face the same direction, lying down, and refusing to move for several hours. Fact-finding missions afterwards found that every sheep was facing the same point somewhere in the ruins of Hollow Shades. When asked why they did, almost all of the sheep refused to answer. All save for one black-fleeced ram, who said only two words: “He comes.” The second sign was the birth of a two-headed calf to Audumla of Ponyville. The calf lived for less than an hour, and both heads spoke continuously and monotonously in a full-grown bull’s deep voice for as long as they were able. Starlight Glimmer and Vinyl Scratch isolated the two speeches through a combination of retrocognition and audio editing, finding them to be a string of horrific yet contradictory prophecies. After completing the project, Vinyl, whose sense of perfect pitch had withstood hundreds of hours next to booming speakers, checked herself into Ponyville General with tinnitus and bleeding ears. The third sign was multiple, massive murders of storm crows. The living scraps of black cloud gathered in unprecedented numbers over cities around the world, leaving them in a state of perpetual dusk. The crows refused to disperse even under threat of lethal force. The normally docile creatures even lashed out at ecosystem managers with beaks and lightning. Fluttershy, who led the Ponyville effort, couldn’t understand a word the crows were saying. The fourth sign was a sort of mineral tumor found in the gem gardens of the Crystal Palace. Unlike Sombra’s signature jagged growths, the object was a dull, gray lump that folded in on itself, following no known crystal structure. It might have seemed like a common stone if it hadn’t sent out tendrils into the rest of the garden, forcing Mistmane to uproot an entire stand of crystalanthemums. Dragonlord Ember, visiting the Empire for a potential trade deal, found the growth reeked of rot and filth to her nose. The fifth sign was the simultaneous eruption of every volcano in the Dragonlands, creating the region’s first known flood. The ponies working on an embassy had to evacuate, thankfully without injury. The dragons themselves enjoyed the unusual event until one realized that their hoards might not have as much fun when inundated in liquid rock. The draconic economy was nearly ruined, saved only by the fact that it didn’t exist. The final sign came at the Well of Shade, and only moments before what it foretold. A pyroclastic flow bubbled out of the dread pit, flooding out into the ruined square and hissing with noxious fumes. A bubble welled up in the center of the lake of boiling ash, growing until it was the size of a yak before bursting. And the demon spread his wings. He was an immense and muscular figure, bipedal, though with arms that stretched past his knees. His batlike wings stretched in the night air, flapping a few times as they shook off the last bits of pitch. Four horns gleamed in the starlight, and four eyes glowed red as he took in his surroundings. He grinned, revealing a set of teeth somewhere between a shark and a paper shredder. He walked across the still smoldering material, savoring the taste of innocence and hope in the air. The sweetness was almost intoxicating. It would be a joy to destroy it. Then he walked facefirst into an invisible barrier that flashed brilliant white as he touched it. The demon flinched back. “What?” The answer echoed across the square: “With power, I bind your body.” The demon’s eyes widened as he spotted the circle of runes inscribed around the Well of Shade, beyond which the ash had not spread, even bunching up against it. “No…” He turned back towards the steaming mound that was all that remained of the Well and spread his wings. Light streamed from the barrier, wrapped those wings tight against his body, and coalesced into shining chains. “No!” “With silver, I bind your magic,” the unseen voice continued. The demon dashed to the Well and started burrowing through the hardening ash with desperate swipes of his claws. “No, no, no, no, no!” “With your true name, o Zargothrax, Supreme Spinebreaker of the 723rd layer of the Abyss, I bind your soul. Thrice bound are you, and so I command you. Now face me.” Zargothrax’s claws went still. Jerkily, resisting every compelled motion with all his strength, he obeyed. He beheld a purple horse, and she that sat on her was… Actually, the only thing sitting on her was a golden crown. Though the horse herself had neither the triumphant smirk of a typical demonologist nor the unyielding hatred of a paladin. She had spoken the bindings with conviction, but she looked more annoyed than anything. The five others coming out from behind one of the ancient shacks had expressions ranging from fear to outright amusement. Zargothrax’s mind raced. “You did not summon me! The bindings do not apply!” “You came willingly and unbidden,” countered the purple horse. “This is when the bindings are at their strongest.” “An’ how d’ you know that, exactly?” said the orange horse, raising an eyebrow. The pink horse (or, at least, horse-shaped entity) shushed her. “Don’t ruin the moment, AJ!” Zargothrax thought for another few desperate moments before slumping in defeat. “How? How could you have possibly been this prepared?” The horses shared confused looks. “He’s joking," said the white horse. "You’re joking, yes?” “Your approach has been putting out signs and portents for weeks," added the purple horse. "Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?” Zargothrax clenched his jaw, but the bindings forced him to answer honestly. “My evil has preceded me in the ruination of hundreds of worlds. None were prepared.” The purple horse shrugged her wings. “Well, this is Equestria, sir. We take our portents seriously here. Especially when those of us in charge have already had our fill of vague warnings and saving the day at the last second.” "You only have so many last seconds," noted the pink entity, who looked over Zargothrax like she was contemplating the taste of his soul, and what side dishes would best compliment it. At least, that was what a smile that wide usually meant in the Abyss. “Release me," he said, "and I will never trouble your realm again. I swear on my name.” But the purple horse shook her head. “I’d just be inflicting you on some other universe. I’m not going to Star Swirl this one.” “So does that mean we’re not going for Tartarus?" said the blue horse. "‘Cause he put Tirek there. Then Tirek broke out. And we’ve broken out. And I’m pretty sure a few things broke out while Rarity was giving Cerberus obedience training.” The white horse turned up her muzzle. “I’ll have you know I was very careful.” “Point is, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” The purple horse nodded. “I know. And I never planned on sending Zargothrax there. That’s just burying the problem.” She turned to him. Devoid of context, her grin seemed much sweeter than the pink one's, the innocent smile of a child seeing their first rainbow. But Zargothrax could feel the malice behind it, impossibly alloyed with purest hope. “I intend to solve it.” Even for the endless horrors of the Abyss, the Acid Pits of the 775th layer were far from a tourist destination. A morass of corrosive mud, foul vapors, and grapefruit-sized fiendish mosquitoes, it was best known for the green pools ranging from puddles to vast lakes. The acid of the Pits was no specific chemical but the very idea of caustic dissolution given form. The ruler of the layer, Xranglepurt the Bone-Drinker, laired in a citadel made from equal parts rusted iron and repurposed mortal flesh. The main entrance was guarded by scarred and twisted horrors eager to feast on whatever crossed their path. Still, they were not demon lords. The approach of one made them scramble for their lives, even if the aura of darkness and chaos felt oddly muddled. A clawed fist beat on the chitinous gates of the Forsaken Flesh-Forge. Xranglepurt did not open them, instead poking an eyestalk out from a crack made for that very purpose. “What?” Zargothrax ground his fangs, feeling every silver link of his obligations pressing down on him. After a deep breath, he droned out, “Hello, sir, madam, or esteemed nonbinary individual. Have you heard the good news about Harmony?”