//------------------------------// // Act II, Chapter XVI // Story: Scarred Serpentine // by Metanoia //------------------------------// Not a breeze blew, and it made the world emptier. Most would have been chagrined by its habit of rearranging manes and itching coats, but it was strange to Feather how it had left so suddenly. His hoof tapped the table aimlessly, a broken music box that kept droning that same monotone beat. Sighing, he once again observed the map given to him by the bed and breakfast staff. They were kind enough to write over some words in Equestrian for him to be able to comprehend it more clearly, but even so, it didn’t help him and his frustrations building up inside. Breathe, now, Feather calmly reminded himself. You know you can be unreasonable when you’re irritated. Despite the assurance, it didn’t quell his growing ire. Feather compared the map he had brought of the greater Amarezonian reaches and the one the hotel staff had provided him, a closer look at La Orilla and the surrounding areas. La Orilla, as suspected, was not that large of a city. There were large pyramids and expansive reaches of farmland to sustain the population; however, other than that, it seemed that outside these city walls laid no lost city nor lost pony. Where could it possibly be? It was like when one found themselves stuck in a math problem, redoing the calculations over and over again to find themselves in the same result, the same wrong answer. Try as they might to look at it from another perspective, the results they would stray even further and were more nonsensical than the last. It was as if he was going around in circles. Feather picked up the wooden mug of water, ignoring the maps. He was surprised when he felt the cold sensation on its lips; he remembered that it had a unique spell that kept the water cold despite the harsh, humid environment. It was a comforting thing. That moment was mere interlude, though, and he found himself back at staring at the two maps apprehensively, as if they were about to come out and attack him like a jaguar from the flora. How could a city be so hidden, so out of view? He knew the Amarezon was massive, but was it too massive to be this unexplored? Lilac appeared between the gaps of leaves and branches, the bright mass of light proceeding its approach to the horizon. Twilight swathed the rainforest for a few minutes, giving it an almost ethereal glow, light dancing amongst decorations and leaves. Feather and company had been informed that the festival of rain would occur during the evening after sunset. He had found it odd that this festival would occur during nighttime, but he was not in a position to complain. The locals here seemed very friendly and open despite knowing that he and his friends have come from lands far, far away. Looking from the table, Feather gazed out the windows. Sunlight was gone, replaced with peppered, unseen stars. He knew the festival was about to begin, and he didn’t want his friends down there to wait for him. He stood and glanced at his belongings, deciding that he would just leave them here for the time being. It’s not like anypony’s going to be in here, anyway. Feather glanced one last time at the irritating maps at the table, letting go of their mysteries just for a moment. I have to join Twilight and River for now, he reminded himself, letting out a breath. Jade, you’ll have to hold on. He wondered how she was. It had been some time since he last conversed with her.  Feather crossed the threshold of their accommodations, appearing on a balcony that overlooked the quaint town of La Orilla. Lanterns. It was an occurring theme, those lanterns, but he could not complain about their liberal use. They hung and spun slowly from tree branches, brilliant in their assorted color combinations, the majority of them being shades of yellow and blue, a hint of red, orange, purple. There was no green—the Amarezon itself had too much of that already. There were more ponies on the street compared to when he and his friends first arrived, most of them talking in camaraderie, a familiarity that only a small community knew. Feather’s eyes danced until he finally spotted them. In the crowd below him were Twilight Sparkle and River Moon, waving at him. The purple blur was simple in her gesticulation, the blue one more enthusiastic. “Hey, Feather, come on over here, the festival’s about to start soon!” He glanced behind him at the door that led to bridges eventually heading to the ground. Feather was alright with that idea, albeit he wanted to be a little more eccentric this evening. It was only for fun. The pegasus, without even a pause to regard the two mares, leapt from the balcony and began to spin rapidly in the air, accelerating quickly to the ground. He seemed to be on a path of his death, his end! Feather barely heard gasps through the obscurity of the swooshes he made by cutting through the air. He suddenly shot open his wings, his muzzle barely reaching the ground. With a little spin from his momentary gain of altitude, Feather’s wings splayed out to allow him to effortlessly land on the security of the ground, right in front of River and Twilight. The former had her mouth a bit open, her eyes shining as if she were a young filly again, watching a stage magician do a trick for the first time in her life. Twilight seemed to be a bit more familiar with the trick as she placed a hoof on her mouth and giggled. “That was great, Feather!” River displayed a huge smile. “I didn’t even know you could fly like that. Do you even feel dizzy?” Feather adjusted his mane as he explained. “Nah, pegasi can get used to it. Being in the Manehattan weather team can get a bit boring sometimes, so I learnt a few of these tricks from my teammates.” “Rainbow did mention how the Manehattan weather team had the most ‘useless job in all of Equestria.’” Twilight seemed to be amused from the pegasi’s rather apt description. “Anyway, Feather, how have you been? Did you find any info from the maps they gave you?” Feather shook his head. “Nope, unfortunately not. How about you, what did the librarian here say?” Twilight and River regarded each other. “Well, nothing much. It was interesting to see how Meso-Equestrian cities get propped up and all but I don’t think it would be particularly useful for our search.” He nodded. “Like how?” “Well,” River started, “there’s the possibility that there could be many other cities like Tlekokalli. The Amarezon is strange because it is dominated by plant species normally domesticated by ponies. We like to think of the Amarezon as purely nature—and that’s not wrong—but there has been a lot of pony intervention in the landscaping of this environment over thousands of years.” Feather found himself more surprised by their findings than he would have expected. The Amarezon is dominated by domesticated plant species? It was an interesting thought to entertain. If they could alter their surroundings over the course of millennium, then what else had they done? Were there more Tlekokallis out there waiting to be found, lost cities and civilizations just at the cusp of discovery? The nature of things truly weren’t always what they seem to be. Twilight glanced behind her, interrupting his thoughts, “You know, we should head over to the festival now; it would be rude not to, and I think they’re about to start in a moment.” Feather knew she was right. Apparently, from what he had gathered, festivals such as these should involve everypony in the city, outsiders included. The ponies here found it appropriate that they celebrate together, regardless of wherever one came from or who they were. Dropping the subject, Feather followed the two to the direction of the festival, trotting their way through the rain-themed decorations that scattered tree branches and buildings all around town. The crowd seemed to be headed for the festival as well, moving at an easy pace reminiscent of the river Amarezon on a calm, relaxing day. There was the faint sound of the bugs of the rainforest, although not as loud as Feather would’ve expected. The ponies here seemed to find a way to deter what many would consider to be pests. It wouldn’t be fair to call them pests, though. Feather scanned all directions, particularly at dimmed nooks between trees. Even if there was a wall that bordered La Orilla—protecting it from the outside Amarezon—he couldn’t shake off that anxiety, being watched by some ungodly predator lurking in the shadows. This is where the bugs come from, where the animals come from. Ponykind isn’t dominant here. There was light laughter that came from behind, maneuvering its way around his side to overtake the three. They were foals, merrily trotting their way to the festival with a spring to their steps, not a care in the world. Well, only for a moment; one of them glanced back, her expression turning from chirpy to dead-serious fascination. The air was still at that moment. Feather turned to River and Twilight, the two of them regarding each other with a certain unease. All the foals were staring at them now—particularly at Twilight, her wings and horn. They looked at her as if she were a new puppy their parents gifted them on their birthdays. Feather leaned in almost comically. “I think we should go before they start moving again.” His voice was a mere whisper, loud enough for the two to hear, only a minuscule breeze to the frozen foals. Twilight chuckling rather nervously, the group walked around the still unmoving foals, albeit they did turn their heads to continue their staring. It sent a chill down his spine, staring. Feather didn’t know why he was so unnerved by it. Logically speaking, it didn’t truly hurt anypony, the simple act of observing something in rasp attention. He had a strong conviction for it nonetheless. They were getting closer. The hush ambience of the bugs and the birds were drowned by the bustle of indistinct conversation. That seemed to be a constant everywhere, the sound of ponies talking amongst themselves. A talking crowd from a far enough distance always sounded the same. As they approached the now visible conglomeration, Feather started to notice distinct traits of their conversations. They were under trepidation, an air of conspiracy looming over the air, weaving its way through the populace and their narratives. Feather could not understand most of them, but he was certain they were talking about the festivities and the upcoming season of rain. The moon was a faint whisper, the town lit by the graces of various light sources around its vicinity, especially the lanterns. They were in the town square—circular in shape, ironically—the lanterns here arranged to meet at the center like the spokes on a wheel. A giant light source that mimicked the Equus’ companion hung in the middle, holding all the other lanterns together. Under the made moon stood a structure so old Feather almost doubted the authenticity of such a thing, but he knew that he wasn’t in some museum or some exhibition. This was the real deal; this was a hundreds year old Amarezonian city.  Feather realized that this was as close as most ponies would get to the old world, a place that doesn’t exist anymore. As the statue stared back at him, Feather wondered if this was what it must have felt to be somepony from a thousand years ago, under the gaze of gods. It was an interesting thought to entertain: what would it have been like to live back then? What would it have been like to have the statues and relics one would see in a museum as a part of everyday life, a part of their reality? “Look, it’s a parade! I think they’re about to start soon.”  Feather followed her point, and sure enough, there were what seemed to be the ponies of the parade talking amongst themselves, checking their costumes and instruments for a final time. They wore a variety of things: exotic hats of colorful feathers, props of clouds and rain, even body paint depicting all sorts of animals to parrots to jaguars. There were several large floats that were colored, fashioned from leaves and wood, several ponies inspecting the undersides and structural rigidity of each. As Feather watched the ponies prepare the parade for the festival, he realized that despite being a completely different society on the other side of the world, some things truly were universal. At the end of the day, they’re just ponies like us, Feather thought, glancing around the crowd, living their lives just like we are. They may do things differently, but it’s a retrospection that makes me realize how different yet similar ponies can be. Feather’s train of thought was severed by the sound of horns that trumpeted the air, shushing the crowd in its entirety, turning their attention to the center of the city square.  There were several ponies in traditional Meso-Equestrian attire, the clothes of their ancestors. They let in deep breaths before blowing their horns once again, catching the attention of every creature miles and miles away—perchance even gods. What followed was the sounds of drums, deep and encompassing, shaking the ground slightly from their intensity. There was a loud yell from the stallions, and with a short silence that followed, the drummers began a rhythmic beat, the march of the parade commencing. The parade started with the drummers followed by a large float that depicted a defiant jaguar: large, sharp fangs, with bulging muscles and a ferocity in its pounce. It was in the hunt, a primal glare in its eyes. Feather observed the drummers and the float wind around the square, heading down the main street lined with other ponies watching the parade. Then came the wind instrument players, most of them unicorns as they marched around the statue much the same way the drummers and the jaguar float had. The instruments had an old world charm that Feather grew fond of; there was something about the roughness of older, used instruments that gave them an edge in genuinity over the instruments of brand new. Several other floats of animals marched by: birds, river dolphins, even fishes and large insects. As they passed the square to follow the front of the parade, the dancers came into view.  Feather wondered how they moved with such massive things on their heads and bodies, feathers and appendages that almost reached the ground at certain times. He had to give them credit, though, for they were not only remembering the traditions of old but doing them as well. The thought reached him, how they were still doing this. They were performing this parade as they had done for hundreds of years, still using their timely floats, the same old instruments that had been invented so long ago. To them this was probably normal, an occasion that has been celebrated for Celestia knows how long, but to Feather and friends this was something completely different. He couldn’t even name more than two festivals that were more than a few hundred years old. The end of the parade was making its turn around the statue, the same ponies that had been blowing the horns. Feather saw the crowd eventually merge into the back of the parade, right behind its tail. “C’mon, guys! We can follow them down the road,” Twilight yelled in the clatter of the city’s camaraderie, ushering the two. Feather and River followed her when the end of the parade came next to them, allowing the three a clean transition. As the parade sojourned down the main street, Feather glanced to the sides of the path to find the ponies who weren’t following waving back at them, joyous and with a familiarity with their expressions. They were happy, and that made Feather a bit happy, too. And the lanterns truly revealed their beauty that night, the darkness of the evening and the obscurity of the tree tops providing them the ample environment to shine. It was as if these ponies were trying to mimic the stars themselves; if they couldn’t see the stars through the Amarezon’s canopy, then they ought to make their own. They continued their march until the collective of ponies eventually stopped. Feather didn’t expect the parade to be that short, but who was he to judge? Maybe they had other things planned. “I wasn’t expecting to be back here.” River peered at him with a face plastered with concern, pointing at something in the distance. Feather was more surprised than he would’ve thought. I wasn’t expecting that, either. The looming structure was something so large Feather thought of himself as stupid for not seeing it sooner—literally. It was the pyramid, menacing in its aura, torches lining up its base, the sides of the staircases that led to its peak, the blue and red structures that stood at the very top. Feather felt the pulse in his hooves as the front of the parade began their way up the left staircase, abandoning the floats at the base. He bit his lip tersely, facing River and Twilight, the former having a tense expression that graced her face, wincing. The latter glanced at the two with an all-knowing assurance, like a mother soothing her filly that there won’t be any monsters coming for her tonight. “We don’t have to go if you’re really uncomfortable with it,” the alicorn explained to the two of them kindly. “I can explain it to them-” “No, no,” Feather stood his ground, setting a hoof on the soil underneath him. Despite his discomfort, this was something he had to do. “It’d be rude if we don’t. We’ve already gone this far. Besides,” he glanced back at the pyramid, “what’s the worst that can happen?” “You realize that you’ve jinxed us and something bad is bound to happen now, right?” River goggled at him, deadpanned. “Haven’t you ever read a horror novel before?!” The crowd ascending the first few steps looked back at them with perplexed looks on their faces. Feather simply chuckled awkwardly, not knowing if its more to ease the anxiety of being stared at or the fact that he might have actually jinxed it and now they’re about to get sacrificed- “Anyway.” He shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. “I’m sure nothing bad is gonna happen, River; why would they bring harm to strangers? Come on, let’s just go.” With a smile from Twilight and a roll of River’s eyes, the three joined the end of the parade to scale the pyramid, the mountain. Feather tried to keep his breaths steady, in and out, through the nose, keeping his composure. He felt like there was no going back now as the number of steps he took increased. The wind buffeted Feather’s back, a breeze that made him pause for a moment. A gust hit his mane, playing with his fur from behind. Feather turned back and found himself greeting the Amarezonian tree tops. Only once had he reached this high of any forest. The tree tops were clearly below him now; Feather was beyond even that. In the distance glowed the faint lights of the lanterns, giving the illusion the forest was aflame. He saw the dark of the tree tops, and at that moment, he met again the vastness of this place. They were in the middle of nowhere. And yet the stars aided him. They aided them because if there truly were gods, then they might as well help his creations and give them consecrated guidance. Gods must have made the stars because their creations would have been lonely during the night. Feather and friends continued up the steps until they found themselves near the top, settling themselves on the steps as the other ponies did the same, surrounding the large blue structure. Upon closer proximity to it, Feather confirmed that this structure was indeed a shrine with azure accents on its roof and the basis of the structure being made of bricks and limestone. There was what seemed to be a priest by the fire inside of said shrine; Feather assumed that he had been waiting for all of them from up here, waiting for the ponies to settle. The flame that raged on in a fire pit was visible for all to see, large but not large enough to be destructive in nature. For now, that is. Feather mentally slapped himself when he let that statement go through his mind. Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be fine. This is just a ceremony, after all. Distracting himself, Feather noted what seemed to be water droplets lining the roof of the structure, albeit what impressed Feather the most was the carved reliefs on the limestone walls, intricate and sharp to the point that he wondered if his eyes truly were messing with him. He tried to observe them from a distance—he and his friends slipped backwards to allow the locals front row seating—and even from here he could instantly recognize the craftsmanship. How did they make something like that all those millennia ago? Feather remembered reading from a book of the city of Somnambula and the great pyramid that adorned the city, its shining jewel smack-dab in the center of it all. The capstone of that pyramid displayed carvings so intricate that only the synergism of magic and modern machinery could have done such a thing. Feather couldn’t quite interpret what kind of story was being told on the limestone walls—if there even was a story being told at all. As he continued to study them, this particular entity stood out, a being depicted with great flamboyance and omnipotence, their clothes flowing and vibrant of blue with a touch of green, a majestic scepter to aid in their whims.  The carvings were intricate and precise, but there was a certain simplicity to them, especially this drawing of a god. That’s what Feather assumed this being was, the god of rain and thunder, for from their wand came great strikes of thunder and cataclysmic waves, both raining down on the crops and washing away an entire city, lost forever from the actions of their deity. What would it be like for a mortal like me to stand before a god? Feather looked back at these drawings and his first reflective thoughts were of a mere fascination with the artistry and the craftsmanship, but he knew somehow that there was something on the pony’s mind who made this—something more. These were made by artisans. They were depicting their deities. Somehow, that stirred a discontent and silence in Feather than gave him an unease. “O, Nemitili, thou show us the way, our grievances and our salvation, our sins and our good doings, our rights and our wrongs.” Feather looked as best as he could to see the priest chant those words, and he and his friends watched in amazement as the entire crowd of ponies repeated the words without a single hiccup, a single mistake. “Thy will shalt be done in this world and in the next, so we may enter death as a door to a new life.” The stars watched them repeat the words of the priest—their voices powerful—twinkling as if in acknowledgment of the yearnings of the people. “Give us this season the blessings of water and protect us from those who dare trespass against us.” “Give us this season the blessings of water and protect us from those who dare trespass against us!” “Let us wake in the morning to meet a new day.” “Let us wake in the morning to meet a new day!” The crowd fell into silence. Only the slight howling of the wind was heard, and it was cold. It was as if the universe had stopped for that moment, not a single soul wavering to interrupt whatever god was up there listening to them right now. Feather couldn’t see it clearly, but the priest muttered a few words to what seemed to be his assistant, taking a hold of an object that was obscured from his vision. The priest stood still in front of the fire, saying not even a word or an acknowledgement that the physical world around him even existed at all. Feather jabbed his head back in shock as the priest yelled a few words in an archaic Meso-Equestrian language, chucking the object into the fire. Feather felt his heart drop, his hooves feeling slightly weak under the weight of his body. He haphazardly shot upwards, splaying his wings to take a look at the- dying flames? Those flames died out into a mere sizzle and a slight smoke, the wood and leaves powering it turning black and charred. Feather then saw the priest with a wooden pail of water in his hooves, looking back amongst the crowd as they plastered joyous expressions on their faces, clapping their hooves. It was just a bucket of water, Feather said, settling on the ground and easing his shoulders. It was just a bucket of water... “Feather, what’s wrong?” “Yeah, bro; you just shot up in the air so suddenly. What was that about?” The two mares stared at him, concern lighting up their eyes. Feather blushed as he rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. “I... I thought he threw something in the fire; I couldn’t see well where I was standing. Twilight giggled as River Moon clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “And you were the one saying that we should have nothing to worry about.” She thought for a second. “That must have felt a bit terrifying, though. I would have freaked out too had I seen somepony throw something in a fire like they were trying to sacrifice a foal.” River stopped and glanced around at the ponies staring at her, making an “O” with her mouth at the epiphany of the weight of her words. “I should really stop talking.” Feather rolled his eyes. The crowd made way for the priest as he made his way down the staircase whence they came. They soon followed in the order of whoever was closest to the steps, albeit Feather and his friends stood by the side to let the others go first. As the throng of ponies thinned out, Feather was left with silence. Without the sizzle of the fire and the presence of a crowd, he felt as if this was a different kind of silence—the one that heralded no deeper meaning. Sure, the crowd had its quiet moments, and the crackle of the fire wasn’t that noticeable, but it was different to have both of them gone. It was just desolate. Aside from his friends, the only companions Feather had were the stars in heaven. They were his way, his directions, the yearning of ponies all around the world throughout history. Some of those ponies weren’t even around anymore. “Feather, are you coming down or not?” The two mares waved at him, already a few steps down. He snapped from his gaze, yelling, “I’ll be there to join you! I just want to look at the stars for a moment!” Feather was glad when they gave him no obstructions: only simple nods and leaving him alone. He was truly only with the company of the heavens now. And the wind, the light gust coming from the forest to reach him. It was gentle, forgiving somehow, despite the altitude. Feather felt closer to her somehow. It was as if these pyramids that were made by those ponies so long ago had the purpose of allowing one to climb a mountain itself, a testament to the powers that may or may not be. That didn’t really matter. What mattered was that ponies still do believe that out there was the benevolence of gods that will—through one way or another—guide their creations to a better life, the next life. Those same stars in the night sky had been used by ancient souls. Feather was a tad closer to them now more than ever as he conquered their mountain, their will. At that moment, they were one in the same.