//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: Sheets of magic 
// by hector dabullio 
//------------------------------//

in the farm of Mezboa, a pony lived, across an endless, constantly changing landscape of junk, plowing the field on the purple unbroken horizon, with one wide moon overreaching, so long and wide over this land of refuse. The land is so old and overused and it's almost pathetic to look at for the eyes, everything in such a dilapidated mess, it just shows what we usually can’t see, the ever changing nature of the universe, and how it will all leave us behind.The world expresses itself a million different ways for us, and in this place, it seems certainly alive, and it is calling, in the junkyards, there is something alive, but it has no body, not like ours, it is not one of those simple creatures, with four legs and one body, no, it is, veritably, the entire world, and all that encompasses it, each and everyone of these things are alive, even if it was non living in your eyes. You can see it in the actions, in the movements of the trash, like it was pushed by an ocean of ghosts, they build themselves up and break themselves down, large plays being orchestrated before your eyes by invisible hooves, the ghosts waving lazily in their puppet frames, held by the strings that go in the loops of the nets, pulling by the card of puppetry, in fake wooden bodies, dancing to a tune, these great waves, they slam against the earth, and flood against the sides of everything around them, a million tons of force.


There is a young filly, Amberglass, in one of the only patches of green land, everywhere else, as far as could be seen, is all but the gray and mossy browns of the endless refuse, going day by day from one form to another, like a million ice sculptures, gritty and grainy, with shadows overreaching, as dark as the giant black spot like a hole in the sky provided by the moon. The landscape is in contrast to the ambiance and color of the carbon dioxide and magical decay of the azure purple night. this filly likes to play pretend, she talks to the refuse, and the refuse talks back, if this was known to those around her, they would certainly look on with wonder, and with greed to control, because that is the way they are, but this pony is good at keeping secrets, she knows she would be used, and the refuse, the millions of souls in it, are her friends. The refuse form into giants beasts of mechanical ingenuity, giant contraptions and works of art, here one second, gone the next, and they form into images and pictures out of their junk, like a constantly changing, colorful macaroni art image, each noodle, as each bolt, colored by the varying decays and paints of many hulls, all brought together, ripped apart, and meshed together again a million times, like a tv, in this, she knows of a world that she would have otherwise completely gone without, but only in her dreams, in her mind and in her heart, because she has never seen this world.


A million spinning bands of creation, air transfer and wind transfer, and strange flying animals in the sky, like whales, they have long, elongated jaws that open wide like a stretching balloon, as they eat  the plankton of the purple skies, as they feast on the earth around them, and as the rotation of the stars dictates their course, through astronomy. Her father was one of the watchers of these whales, with his long telescope he tracked their path, with chalk and board he followed their course and understood their natural habits, he was a scientist, a respectable man, a marine biologist for the skies, where the second sea roamed, above the first, around their earth, a layer of foam, so thick and pudgy, overwrought and slimy, like just another layer of grease and bolts, a petri dish of all this grimy grimy farm worlds land. On the mountain tops black ice boil and living germs and algae of a sentient form crawl at record speeds, so that one can see the waves of glowing blues and greens and whites from far away, and the entire world entrenched in smoke like a hot bath with scones, with punched out layers in the sky to let the carbon dioxide layers leave, which turn the sky brown like a reflection of the dark brown of the ground, it is a land of monsters, and it is one with no mercy for many, many a soul was lost in these tombs, the stories they tell, and the story they hold, the untold corpses of the over bold, they met their fate as we can see, and it was a great travesty, lay down their swords fall on the ground, rot in the shadows that over bound, be lost in the steam, be eaten by smoke, just bones are left from which they took. The algae ate them, from the skies, gliding down from on high, the pheromone trail links them, it eats the corpses, it was a matter of course, like a swarm of Piranhas in a jungle sea, the tide was too full, they never could be, and so it was ended.


Her father was a wealthy colt, he was given money personally by the crown herself, for research into the migration patterns of the great flying whales, and for this he was ecstatic for, for he was a very ecstatic man overall, overly enjoyable and very friendly, although that is not too much to say for what they had there. He was... cold, but she knew that he loved her. He was busy looking at the star charts and equipment day and night, and he often had no time for his own family, it was mostly his sole work that kept their family afloat, and in one of the worst places to be in their area. In may places you could see blue blazing beacons that are trailing their lights through the sky, into the stratosphere, in certain configurations on the ground, these symbols denote arcane power, and each configuration has a different meaning that it provides, a different way that it controls the energy around it, they help to relegate and control the chaos from the rifts that open up left and right, and bring the overall chaotic output and disharmony to a minimum, saving lives from an undue amount of stress and nonsense from being that are extraterrestrials from their little rock in the voids of white space.
There are often totem poles, infused with earth pony magic around the houses as a sort of ward against the world spirits on their little ball of rock in space, the ambient space itself even is alive, and it guides the meteors movements through separate, very powerful vibrations that cause movement of the world coils in the magnetic fluid circling in its center, like one great lodestone, or a viking stone of the conquerors, as it travels the far and wide open seas of space and time, breaking through the accessible wounds in space that are opened up. Another interesting thing are the visions that open themselves up to the ponies, certain ponies have the world around them seem to change, which are a mix between a hallucination, and something real,because you can feel it, you can interact with it, and get real powers from it, whether it is real or not, and all the rest of the world that you are in, sometimes seems not to exist, your magic can possess you in this state as well, but this can only happen by more benevolent spirits, and in fact, sometimes ponies disappear off the face of all known lands all together in this way. This is what happened to the junkyard filly Ambergalss one day, as she was playing out in the woods by herself, these hallucinations are something special, they are especially rare, even in the case of somepony that is especially special like Amberglass, and in all cases, they end up doing something important later on, no matter what, whatever destiny that may be, sometimes against their will, whether they want to or not, so you could say, these spirits definitely feel more malicious for some than for others, but only malicious ponies feel like they are being targeted in any way. Now, as it was, Ambeglass really had no way to know about any of this, as sheltered as she was, and it was really only because of the junkyard that she knew much of anything about the outside world, her father was very secretive about what he knew, her mother didn't know much either, never had a proper formal education in much of any way, and was sold off to make money for her family, but here she started to realize what she was seeing, if not what it was called, then what it wanted, maybe not its exact significance, but she did know that it was significant, and it was connected to something that it had told her previously...
There was a story of four ponies, her ancient ancestors, that had different powers,not quite her own, and they were especially picked by these same shades of vision in the past for certain tasks, picked in order that they may fulfill a destiny, and in her own way she is distantly related to this same destiny, and has to do this same destiny, and there is a series of signs, that will tell her when she has completed certain tasks for this destiny, of which at this very moment, she only knows vague hints about, so vague that it is virtually guaranteed for some of them that if she tried to fulfill that destiny and it wasn't really hers, she wouldn't be able to, they would just go over her head, and would apply to a million different sources.


What she knew though, was that she must follow an infinite bridge of stairs beyond the white hallways of the white space world, to discover the black space, on the other side of yin and yang, where light tethers itself to her in the dark, when she switches sides in the yin yang, the dark will tether itself to the light, and she will be acclimated to different powers and different ways entirely. She will learn the ways of this new force in her heart, and control new shades, the shades of power of darkness, and in the land of the light, that darkness is known as dark magic.
From where she was from, evilness was always destined for everyone, no matter how good their heart, because the unholy one made it into each and everyone if their souls with her eldritch worms, and rewrite and broke down part of the natural continuum of things, in order to make her own fate, and so in this fate. AmberGlass, like all the others, was born, half broken and unable to live by any harmony, born into an organized chaos by the unholy one, and so she will never reach her original fate, and her flanks remain bare, with a destiny to find that will not be her own fully ever again, and in inklings of these prophecies of discovery being but the resetting of the old ways, for those who were particularly desperate to save the ways of another place, and save their own, where, when in retaliation, the unholy one may have as well did it as well as any other unholy abomination or any demon from out of the stars to wreck their little dirt balls in space, to end their lives and their sanity, and to assimilate them, each one of the ponies that go through this process, come out of the other side different than they were before, they all are changed, either in the flesh, in the way they interact with the world, or both, something has to be changed for them to be accepted, with the diabolical changes already instated on them but well hidden, and necromantic souls are just a natural progression of the already present treachery in their atmosphere, now, to find this hallway...