//------------------------------//
// Retrospective: A Story Already Long Told 
// Story: The Son of infinity 
// by Krystl_Fae 
//------------------------------//



Chapter 1: How it all began



Equestria, the land of ponies; forged over a thousand years ago by the forces of trust, love, and friendship. A place of peace between the three pony tribes: the earth ponies, whose great strength cultivates the fields and pastures, the pegasi, living in their cities in the sky and managing Equestria’s weather and climate, and the unicorns, whose magic and spellcraft has helped Equestria to prosper over centuries of peace. Above all others, however, are the alicorns. Mythical, beautiful, ethereal, and powerful, these immortal ponies have oft ruled pony kind since time immemorable. Their strength, magic, and capability in flight outpace and outmatch even the greatest of mortal ponies by a large margin, and their wisdom, built up over centuries of tireless leadership, is second to few, if not none. 

For the last thousand years of prosperity, Equestria has been ruled by her royal highness, Princess Celestia Sol. Celestia, like her sister Luna Star, ascended to the status of an alicorn from an early age, just after the unification of the tribes and founding of Equestria. When her sister vanished a millennia ago, the responsibility of leadership fell onto her alone, as Equestria and its ponies were left solely in her hooves. Although she has done much for Equestria during her rule, one cannot deny that the Princess, for all her worship by the majority of Equestria and beyond, is far from infallible. Indeed, it is the very nature of making mistakes and learning from them that makes immortals, such as alicorns, great rulers. And many a mistake did she make in those years, all but a few of which she learned from.

Despite this, as the years have progressed and decades pass many choose to forget the times of strife and terror upon which their peaceful lives are so carefully built. The mistakes of the past are not ones to forget lightly- for if one does not learn from those mistakes, they are certain to repeat themselves. This is why it should be little wonder that like Celestia’s imprudence towards the growing vexation of her sister, she has overlooked many of the darker acts taking place in Equestria. Not by choice, mind you- simply that she does not look for trouble where she assumes there is none.

The capital city of Canterlot, overlooked by the palace built upon the mountainside known as Canterlot Castle, is where Celestia resides and from where she rules, and is a perfect example of the Princess' oversight. On the other side of the city from the winding path up the mountainside leading towards the castle, aside from the path towards the gate leading out of the city, lies a collection of narrow alleyways and clustered buildings, packed so closely together that light scarcely reaches through the overhanging eaves; all but joining together like a dense canopy that covers much of the dark, winding paths that weave between deteriorating homes and murky storefronts. The only sign that the buildings are at all separated comes in winter, when the snow somehow manages to pile up well over a hoof deep in the alleys, or when rain comes down like a waterfall upon unfortunate bystanders during summer storms. 

Few come to this dark corner of Equestria’s capital. Fewer still choose to stay. Even the Equestrian royal guard have chosen to all but abandon the labyrinth of corridors that make up the area that has come to be known and feared as “Dark Canterlot”. It is possible that this is the very reason, or perhaps a symptom of, the notorious and unscrupulous figures that have since come to make such a place their home. From seedy bars and illegal brothels to ne'er-do-well mercenaries and foal-traffickers, slavers and pit-fighting rings, the homeless, assassins, dark magic casters, forbidden libraries, "salt" dealers- if you can name it, you’ll find it in Dark Canterlot. It has come to be the home of all those who’ve lost their place in the world.

I suppose that’s how I ended up there.

I don’t know how I survived my first few winters, a mixture of luck and divine intervention I suppose. My first memories come when I was around four, I believe. It wasn’t much to remember, just a few flashes of walking the alleys, peeking into rundown storefronts as I made my way past, drinking from puddles of melted snow gathered in some of the more uneven places on the cobbled pathways. The older I grew, the more I remember of my time there, though those memories eventually grew to be less pleasant. Then the nightmares started. I was around four and a half, maybe five when they first appeared. I had tried creating a spark, one of the first few magical abilities unicorn foals can conjure, when everything went black. Then white. Then, it appeared. I didn’t know what it was, all I knew is that it brought me pain. The next time I appeared in the white void, it hurt even worse. The moment I awakened from my sudden comatose stupor I grasped the nearest loose brick in both hooves, lay my forehead to the ground, and beat at my horn until it shattered in twain. 

If any of those reading this are unicorns, and have ever blunted their horn, then they will know just how sensitive it can be- especially when exposed to significant weathering. A unicorn’s horn is a bone-like, keratin-infused, multi-cored spiral of hollow filaments, nerves, and connective tissues that create a controlled conduit for magical application. The base of a unicorn’s horn reaches through a socket in the skull and all but directly interconnects with the brain through a neuron “net” or “mesh” that interfaces between the horn's root and different areas of the brain, which is why when a unicorn suffers a concussion they can become temporarily incapable of casting spells. It also means that if a unicorn’s horn is damaged in any way, the nerve endings inside it will send immediate, prolonged, and intense signals directly to the unicorn’s brain, resulting in severe agony for a minimum of several hours and up to multiple weeks, or even months, with some unicorns left permanently insensate, bordering on permanent brain death from the experience.

The pain of scratching, cracking, or even fracturing a horn, however, is nothing compared to the pain of having it shattered. First of all, a warning: to all of you reading this, do not attempt to imitate breaking a unicorn's horn- it is directly interfaced with your brain and attempting to manually break or (heaven forbit) remove one's horn has an extensive record of immediate and irreversible death in over 38% of cases. I did not know this at the time, nor did I know of the excruciating pain that would come with it. For seven and a half days I drifted in and out of consciousness knowing only agony. It felt like my whole being- from muzzle to tail -was doused in gasoline and set alight. That was how it felt at the time, at least, though after later partaking in the experience of being truly set on fire, I would amend my statement to account that being on fire only caused pain externally, and incurred less than half the agony I experienced immediately after breaking my horn. 

I don’t remember what happened when I finally came to, nor much of the events following. All I remember was peaceful dreams for some time, freed from the persistent nightmares. For a time, I returned to my abnormal life, persisting as a shadow in the corners of the city I called home. Unfortunately, the nightmares inevitably returned. How I dealt with them going forwards is a story for another time. As I grew older, more and more events would occur that made one thing clear to me. I had a… conscience of sorts, an intuition that tried to avert me from danger. This instinct would always warn me moments before something happened, and every time I ignored that instinct was to my own peril. Rogue spells, falling icicles, ponies barrelling down the streets, toppling crates, loose nails, half-broken steps… 

But even my instincts couldn’t save me from everything. Dirty water, rotten food- if any at all, hypothermia in the winter and hyperthermia in the summer, broken bones that refused to heal, scars from countless accidents, heavens know how many viruses… a list that would later be extended to include the disruption of several internal organs, a punctured lung, and extensive internal bleeding. 

I was in a critical condition, there was little doubt. Did I believe myself to be dying? Most likely. The chances of surviving that night were slim, even before the deep snow and freezing temperatures were taken into account. The average Equestrian pony, even one in good health, would not have survived as long as I had. That I had persisted until that point was a testament to how toughened my pitifully rough upbringing had made me, but even all my experience wouldn’t save me on that night. If I had not been found alive and rescued- improbable as it was -I would have inevitably been found as a corpse come spring, when the snow finally thawed out to reveal its secrets, hidden within the white folds of winter’s chilling grasp. 

There is no doubt that I owe my life to her generosity and kindness, and nothing I can ever do will be enough to repay her for what she has done.


- Excerpt taken from The “Infinity Chronicles”, Saga 2; Volume 1; Pages 5-7