//------------------------------// // Metamorphosis // Story: Raven’s Last Flight // by Chemtest //------------------------------// “Three things define our world, of course. Order, the knowing that the sun shall rise in the morning, that the sun shall rise in the night, that all shall be as it was yesterday. Without order, life would be impossible to live, as rules, organization, and every understanding we have would be torn apart, impossible to ever build. Yet Order, taken too far, cannot have life either, as life is inherently disorderly, life doesn’t follow the same path every single day. Too little Order, and one doesn’t have a world to live on. Too much, and all is naught but still, cold crystal. The far north is where Order reigns strongest, where the cold slows down the very passage of time, where those that live there are all similar in appearance.” Raven finds himself stood in a snowy field, looking across an infinite plain, in which three species trot amongst each other and fight against one another. Caribou bucks ride giant boats pulled through the snow, axes attached to their antlers and thick chain armor over their furry bodies, charging against deer wearing leather, riding around in small armored sleighs, firing bow and throwing javelins at the Caribou. In the distance, the snow is thrown up as the thundering hooves of the massive Elk stamp against the snow, large creatures with mouths dripping blood charging the other two species, all three looking similar, if one were stood far away. “Chaos is another defining trait of our world, for without Chaos, there is only Order. Chaos is the fact that things will deviate from what they were before, that the sun will raise a minute ahead or a minute before, that your neighbor will tell you something different today compared to yesterday. Chaos is important to the world, for without it, the world would be bland and boring, it is only through chaos that the world is able to be exciting to those who live within it. However, too much Chaos leads to the world being unknowable and torturous, where the very laws of physics can change from day to day. The far south is where Chaos rules the most, as the species of the south are all different, and vie for land against each other.” In a blink, Raven finds himself in a field of wild wheat, a normal looking down in the distance, filled with foxes wearing cloth armor, looking into the distance with fear. In come the Cyclops, massive, towering creatures carrying axes with blades larger than the fox are, shouting and growling as they bring down any defenses, their warriors rampaging. From another direction comes a legion of Sphinx, wearing bright bronze and golden armor, accented with jeweled weaponry and white strips of cloth, all of them carrying slim, brilliant weaponry, fighting the fox in a disciplined way that seems to put form over function. Flying in on a swarm of Parasprites are the tiny Breezies, shouting in loud voices as they hold up tiny weapons, nothing more than shards of metal. They descend upon the fox, their Parasprite mounts eating huge chunks of the poor citizens, spitting out another Parasprite once it’s done. Then come the Arimaspi, goat-like creatures that stand over ten feet tall, with large eyes, using nothing but their brute strength, crushing fox under their cloven hooves. Then, flying in from above, a dark zeppelin from which Yeti rappel, wearing black armor accented with teal stripes, carrying large maces and repeating crossbows, opening fire on all that comes near to them. “Finally is Harmony. Harmony is a mix of Order and Chaos, and it is the state in which all creatures seek to live in. Harmony has it so that the world is able to be understood, yet it does not always act the same. There’s enough Chaos to keep life interesting, and enough Order to keep you sane. Unlike Order and Chaos, there never was a personification of Harmony, because what Harmony is, exactly, depends on who you would ask. Harmony is the basis upon which we build everything, especially our magic. It is thus the magical land of Equestria that best demonstrates Harmony.” Raven blinks, finding himself upon a green hilltop, overlooking a large town, with ponies trotting from place to place. In one district, factories put out smoke and smog, hard at work producing materials, while on the opposite side, shops and cafes feed any customer who comes by, usually with a smile. Trains whistle, sending steam into the air as they trundle on the tracks, heading from town to town, packed with unicorns, earth ponies, pegasi, and Thestral alike. Right next to Raven stands a mare, one wearing an orange cloak and dark orange hat on her head, the mare otherwise being a grey-blue color with a grey mane, a long horn poking up from her head. She looks over at him, steely blue eyes looking into his green, the mare speaking in a straightforward and intellectual sounding voice, “Good night, Raven, Death. This is the world.” He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, she fades away, with another vision fading into being in front of him. He stands now in a town street, seeing Thestrals passing by him, and, oddly, a few skeletons and zombies that seem to be intelligent. His eyes are brought to look through a nearby window, seeing a Griffon male giving a small nuzzle to a Thestral mare, the two working together at an alchemist’s set, enjoying each other’s company. He mutters slightly as he observes them, “What does this have to do with me?” The mare appears by his side, looking at the Griffon and Thestral, “He found his destiny, he didn’t reject it. It was a long and treacherous path, but he did it. He was once like you, Raven, Death, but he learned to value those around him.” He looks over at her, “He was no immortal, I can tell, and what he has found is as fickle as his lifespan shall be.” She just shakes her head, and then he fades once more, finding himself stood in the middle of a field, soaked in blood. In the center of it is a blue alicorn, surrounded by centaurs wearing blue armor, and by the bodies of dead bipedal cats, all of whom wear grey uniforms. Blood drips from a floating hammer beside her, as it does from her chin and from her horn, one of her eyes a reptilian, icy blue. Raven looks at the destruction she has caused, nodding slightly, “Impressive work.” The mare appears beside him once more, “She has found her cause once more, though every passing day causes her questions. She values her friends whom she leads into battle, and those who follow her call whenever she should come. She has accepted her destiny.” He looks at her once more, “What does this all mean? Who are they, and why do they apply to me? Who are you, and why do you care about my destiny?” She looks into his eyes, “They are pieces of a puzzle, Raven, a puzzle you have sought to forever solve. Together, you shall do unimaginable things, but as you are now, you are warped, you do not fit the puzzle. You believe that everything is temporary and thus it is worthless, when in reality, it is only worth something because it is temporary.” He nods, “But that doesn’t make sense, something that lasts longer is inherently more valuable than something that is temporary, as it can be accessed and tapped into by more and more people. The best story is worthless if it lasts five minutes, but a scholarly study is infinitely valuable if it lasts forever.” “You would believe so, Raven, but knowledge is temporary and fickle.” He finds himself stood upon the hill once more, watching the pony town he watched before, time sped up massively. A war comes, the city is spared of any destruction, but once the war is over, all the factories, the technology, is taken, the libraries destroyed and schools emptied, “In my time, we were advancing just like you believe we should, yet because of the coldness in the heart of one pony, it was all lost. There will come a moment, Raven, where you must choose or pay a terrible cost.” The world fades one more time, with Raven finding himself in a throne room of gold and marble, shattered stained glass windows all around him. On one side of him is Chrysalis, bruised and beaten, and on the other side, an alicorn with a prismatic mane, looking away in shame. The room begins to fill with a dark smoke, an evil laughter filling the air, before the roof of the palace is ripped away, allowing him to see the sky. It’s blood red, an unspeakable entity ripping through the fabric of reality, fleshy tendrils ripping the world apart at its very basic levels. He finds himself all alone, the tendrils wrapping around him, ripping apart his very essence, so horrible that it doesn’t cause any pain, merely an existential horror. The dream ends.