//------------------------------// // 38~Out of his Hooves // Story: The Emperor Preserves // by Centurion Pike-Wall //------------------------------// Instead of darkness, Anton found himself surrounded by... Light. As bright as a sun, shrouding him with golden light. It was warm and comforting and... it just... felt right. Slowly, he raised his eyes up, looking closer to the epicenter of the light. As his gaze shifted up, two smaller lights shot out from beneath it, one silver and one a darker gold, almost brass. The lights twisted and rolled like Fighters, before vanishing back into the greater mass of the light. With a final effort, he forced his head up, gazing at the light. +++++~+++++ His eyes barely flicked open, granting him a blurry view of some kind of white room. They then flicked shut again, and darkness swallowed his view. Groaning lightly, he tried to force his eyes to open up again, once again granting him a vision of that blurry white room. That vision was accompanied by a faint beeping noise, as well as a general sense of numbness that ran up his body, especially focused on his horn. Finally, he managed to open his eyes enough to grant him a clear look at the room around him. It was white as a bone, broken only by a red stripe along the baseboards and a teal curtain that obscured part of his vision. He tried to force himself up, but could only succeed in shifting his weight. With another groan of discomfort, he tried to push against whatever he was laying on, trying to at least force himself upright. That effort might have met with success, if it weren't for a firm weight pressing against his chest. While it could hardly have been more than a simple grip, his seeming density made it so that he was incapacitated by that light pressure. "Don't move", a voice said, somewhat murky and hard to properly place. "Go get the doctor; tell him the patient is awake." Loud, rapid clicks of movement, like a man running in officer's boots, exited the room. As the fog over his vision finally abated, he finally was able to take in his surroundings. He was in a sanitorium. He had seen the simple, functional structure near the center of Ponyville before, but had never had any need to head inside. Most basic injuries, if he wanted them healed, he could take care of himself. Still, the comparison to a sanitorium was quite accurate. The sterile, almost choking scent of cleansing agents permeated the air, while the constant beeping of machines and pounding of movement outside of the room was nearly constant. His now restored vision also allowed him a clear look at who was holding him down. It was a pure white mare, her pink hair tied back in a bun and topped with a white and red cap. Curiously, it bore the image of a simple cross, as opposed to a caduceus. She said, "Easy, easy. You shouldn't be moving too much." "Wh-what?", he asked, suddenly aware of his incredibly dry throat. "You're in the Ponyville Hospital", she said, confirming his suspicions. "You're not in good shape. You shouldn't be moving." Anton didn't object, sucking in a deep, raspy breath and trying to at least straighten himself out. "What... h-happened?" "You've suffered from incredibly severe Magical Expenditure", a new voice said. This one belonged to a unicorn, colored two shades of brown and wearing a white coat. "Hence the magic suppressor ring." "The what?", he asked, looking up. Sure enough, a small metal ring was secured snuggly around his horn, held in place by a few small wires. "That", the Medicae said, lifting up a clipboard in his aura. "From what I've been told, it's a mixture of your attempting to hold back the Ursa Minor and your previous actions helping out the Apple Family. Simply put, you've exhausted your reserves of internal magic, and you continuing to use it is starting to draw on you your... well, life force, for lack of a better term, in order to power your spells." Anton slumped even more into the pillows and sheets on his bed. His use of mag-Of his aura, was literally killing him. He was giving himself, quite literally, in order to try and save or help the Xenos. A servant of the Emperor, truly. "Fortunately", the Medicae continued, ignorant of Anton's internal grumbling. "You were brought here before it could become too serious. We've given you some supplements that should help regenerate the damage to your internal systems. Applejack even brought in your zebra friend-Zecora, right?" Anton nodded, idly rubbing his throat. "Right. Anyway, she gave you something that's supposed to help speed up the recovery of your internal magic. I don't know about all that, but it has seemed to do you some good." "Right", Anton said, giving a raspy cough. The Medicae cocked his head, asking with genuine concern, "Would you like some water?" Anton nodded again, which the Medicae returned before turning to the nurse. "Get a glass of water. Preferably cold." "Yes, Doctor Stable", the nurse said, heading out of the room. As she left, the Medicae turned back to him, a look of concern on his face. "Now, uh... In regards to the wounds on your back..." Anton sighed. His returning senses revealed that he had been stripped of his uniform. Of course they would see the physical scars of his penitence. "What about them?", he rasped. "I... I would just like to know where they came from, Mr. Aquila", 'Doctor' Stable said. "A few of them were reopened, likely during the strain of holding back the Ursa Minor." "Thorns", he said, half-truthfully. The 'Doctor' looked up, giving him another quizzical look. "Thorns? All of them." "Most of them", he said. Before the doctor could continue his line of questioning, the nurse returned, a glass of water held in one hoof. "Here you go", she said, handing it to Anton. Anton tried to reach out with his aura, only for nothing to reach out and grab it. It was as if the spectral hands that was made from this aura were bound behind his back, unable to reach out. Tentatively, he reached out with his physical hoof and took the glass, tilting it back and downing half of it in three, heavy gulps. The cool water flowed down his throat, quenching the dry fields of his throat. He removed it from his lips, placing it on the bed next to him. The doctor took it from his hoof, placing it on the nightstand that Anton had only now realized was next to him. "Like I said previously", the Doctor said. "You're in stable condition. However, you're going to need rest. The medicine and... Well, Miss Zecora's potion, can only do so much. Just... rest. If you need something, just hit the button on the bedframe." The two of them left, leaving Anton alone with his thoughts; both the pure, and the damning.