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// II. Isis and Osiris 
// Story: Into the Electric Castle 
// by Clueless User 
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II. Isis and Osiris



Through a blanket of mist, five figures appeared, seeming to materialize from the very haze that enveloped the land.

The first figure to appear was a tall, strong stallion. His flowing blonde mane was marred by his ruby coat, and draped upon his body was a tartan kilt, along with a sinister-looking claymore sword. He is a true Highlander, a pony of the green hills of the Eire land. As his body finished materializing, he stared about his surroundings with a sense of bewilderment and let out a chilly breath to speak.

“What heathen place is this that I’ve arrived in?” His Scottish accent was thick and pronounced. “Is now the time I pay for all my sins?” Taking a step forward, the Highlander nearly tripped upon a breath of mist that seemed, somehow, to become solid and then gas in a mere fraction of a second.

With a scolding laugh, he kicked the smoky haze away in front of him, right at a little buffalo calf that beheld the realm with a starry expression. “I can't believe that this is Celestia's own creation!” the Highlander cursed, “This realm was fashioned by the Devil’s own hoof!” With a thick gargle, the Highlander spat upon the ground. That, too, seemed to disappear the very moment it touched the “ground.”

The buffalo merely shook her head as she walked up to the Highlander, her eyes gracing over the broad steel sword that lay sheathed across his back.

“No!” she cried, her headdress bobbing about upon her eager head, “it has been foretold, in our most legends of old. ‘Wake the spirit within, and let the journey begin!’” The Indian hopped about, ecstatic for a chance to journey on through her people’s most sacred of spiritual quests. The Highlander merely raised an eyebrow at the prancing buffalo as a sneer grew long and ugly upon his face.

“This ‘quest’ you speak of is for redemption? But how can we travel when our souls are lost!” he cried, gesturing about the arena of smoke with a giant hoof. Shaking his head angrily, the Highlander stared back at the Indian with a smoldering gaze. “You think we find ourselves at gates of new salvation? Well I can only sense the end is here!” The last word was caught with a tone of fear as more figures swirled about, approaching the odd couple.

The most distinct one was a white stallion, tall and regal, form-fitted in an armor shell of steel and ebony. At his waist was a long sword, the likes of which the Highlander eyed with a slight air of jealous nervousness. At last, the Knight stopped his forward march and smiled at the pair.

“Friends! Don’t you see? We're at the gates of Avalon, the island of spirits!” His smile waivered as the Highlander and the Indian stared back at him with glassed-over looks of confusion. The Knight coughed politely and repeated himself. “We're at the gates of Avalon, in search of the grail!” He smiled again- surely these funny-dressed folks would know what that was.

“Lad, you are daft,” the Highlander said as he raised an eyebrow once again. Before the Knight could open his mouth to rebuke, a pair of pagasi swooped down from opposite directions and landed amongst the quickly-enlarged group. The first to speak up was clothed lightly in scaled golden armor, and a helmet with a brilliant red crest sat upon her head.

“Can’t you all see?” the Roman cried, exasperated. She had obviously been flying about in a frantic manner. “There's no way out! We’re all slaves for eternity, down in the underworld, trapped in the jaws of Orcus!” Planting a hoof on the “ground,” she looked up into the “sky” and cried out with a shout of powerful lungs. “I call on Jupiter, the ruler of the gods. Show us the way, from damnation to salvation!” As the Roman’s piercing shout dissolved into the very air, the gaudily gilded pegasus behind her simply laughed cheerfully.

“The fields of Yaaru lie waiting for us all. Rejoice! The judges have ruled; we have been chosen to enter the great hall of Isis and Osiris!” The mare’s ridiculous makeup, clothing, and manecut did not lend her any sway of emotion over the rest of the group.

“What?” the Knight said, looking about dumbstruck for an answer. The Indian merely nodded in agreement, but her gesture tapered off as the confusion overtook her.

“Lass, what in the name of Celestia are you talking about?” the Highlander asked gruffly. Before the wheat-colored pegasus could speak, though, the Roman shot a hoof up and waved it about madly, as if trying to get the group’s attention.

“She’s an Egyptian. Pay no attention to her crazy ramblings.” The Roman laughed at her own devilish response. The Egyptian just scoffed at the armored pony.

“If I’m wrong, then explain to me how it is we are here! We are, absolutely and obviously, on our path to enter the Hall of—”

“No you're wrong!” the Roman shouted back at the Egyptian. “We're trapped here in darkness, among departed souls and mislaid spirits!” Anger boiled up hot and red in the Roman’s face. In a fit of angry confusion, she planted a hoof firmly once more and shouted in no direction in particular, “I call on Mars, the ancient god of war! Grant me the power to free me from this evil!” And with a hot breath and a groaning shout, she jumped straight in the air and took off in some nameless direction.

Before long, the swirling, translucent wisps of smoky ash had completely erased any trace of which way the Roman could have gone. With a lick of her lips, the Egyptian spoke up.

“We should probably go find her. It is best to stick together in the reed fields of Yaaru.”

As the rest of the group stepped forward, the Highlander spoke up. His head was pointed up, and his tone even, but the weight of reality his words held made each pony shiver.

“Can you see Luna's stars? Can you recognize her constellations…?” He squinted off in some random direction. “If I could only see the hills that we're supposed to climb…” He snorted, pacing in his spot anxiously. “Even Celestia's sunlight...” he whispered under his breath, “it doesn't warm... doesn't warm.” 

Finally, he looked at the rest of the group. His eyes were hazy, and his mouth was set in a grim line.

“How are we gonna find our way? If we can't recognize the stars, if we can't recognize the constellations… where do we go?”

The Knight, having seen such degradation in a pony before, stepped up and put on his best smile.

“Don’t worry, friend. We’ll get through this together. We will conquer our fears and retrieve the Grail for our Princesses! And for glory!” The Highlander merely looked over the Knight in his shiny armor and even shinier smile. With a sigh, he decided to level with the thickheaded knave.

“The quest you speak of… it isn't bound for glory. No grail exists within this heathen land.” He turned now to the rest of the group, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

“You all think we find ourselves at gates of new salvation, when I can only sense...the end is near.”

The last few words were a whisper under the Highlander’s breath.