//------------------------------// // Chapter I - Fuel // Story: Collateral // by Ogopogo //------------------------------// It’s so ironic and perverse that this sprung from something so joyous and beautiful. Weddings were meant to be joyous times, exchanges of love meant to bring two hearts closer together, to become one. Yet, somehow, the joy had shed its disguise for something far more sinister and vile. Hatred and paranoia. The barrel I hid in offered a view of the crowd encroaching on my house. I couldn’t see it, but I heard the crack of the door being kicked open and the cries of my parents as they were dragged out.  The crowds parted slightly, as if offering me a choice of my parents’ fate. Tears of fear leaked from their eyes as a hatted earth pony demand to know where I was hiding, mirroring the rivulets that cut deep into my cheeks. I did nothing but look on as he struck my mother. I did nothing but stare as I saw my parents thrown back into our house. Boards were nailed over every opening with clear intent - to turn our home into their grave. Torches were shoved through the cracks, and flames began to take hold, but by the masters’ pain, all I could do was watch. A choked sob accompanied the cheer of the fanatical mob as they celebrating the collapse of my home and the death of my family. The ponies who had raised me, sheltered me, given me the love I needed to thrive, were now probably nothing more than powdered ash. All I could see through my clenched eyes were their faces. Their smiles as they sung me a lullaby, their faces as we lounged about the fireplace on a cold winter night. Raising me as their own was their only crime. Passing on love, their only sin. Granting me a life, their only wrongdoing. My damnation was being born a changeling. In the space of a night, I had become a beast: a monster, fit to be beaten back with clubs, acceptable as a trophy to hang over a fireplace. Nothing could have been done to change that. The crimes of others had condemned me to the desolation I faced. Guilt by association. Helpless, save for the blood burning through my veins, I curled up at the bottom of the barrel, shivering in the dank rainwater, and closed my eyes. Even as I fell into a fitful sleep, the screams of my parents still rang in my head, accompanied by my own mute sobbing. At this point, I no longer cared if I woke up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yet, despite my wish, I awoke, frozen to the core. Trembling, I clambered from my hiding place, stumbling over to the glowing embers of tattered wood that used to be a home. Minutes passed as I just stood there, looking where my house once stood, as if I still couldn’t comprehended that it was gone. What began as an urge gradually shifted into desperation, and I ran into the ashes, ignoring the cries of pain from my burning hooves. My parents just had to be alive; I couldn’t imagine the world without them. The heart beating within my chest seized up as I shifted a blackened wooden beam, revealing my parents’ bodies to the world. Nothing save their bones and torched muscle remained. They had died holding each other, comforting one another till their last breath. Tears coursed down my face, and I cried a keening wail, growing in volume. Tortured distress grew into bitter rage. My wail became a scream, my eyes screwed shut against the sight, as if merely seeing it made it true. Taking a gasping breath, I roared, drawing from the well of anguish inside me. As my voice passed beyond the range ponies could hear, my cries did not go unanswered. The long howl of a wolf rang out, weaving through the cry of loss, singing in unison for a brief second; offering the companionship of a lonesome soul. Leaving the rubble for a moment, I returned dragging a cloth awning, ignoring the blue and white stripes dirtied with ash. Reverently, I lifted the twisted corpses and set them down, taking one last look at my parents stricken faces, before tying it shut, beginning the funeral march for two by one. Every Sunday, mom and dad would take me on a picnic to a solitary maple tree atop a rolling hill. Mom would sit in the shade, watching me and dad galavant around like a couple of fools. We never really minded; it was all in good fun. Those same memories seemed like another life, distant beyond my wildest dreams. I came to stand in front of the same tree, staring at the spot where we always sat. The toll upon my magic was irrelevant; my parents deserved anything I could offer. I attacked the ground with a vengeance, carving through the earth in an instant. Longingly, I lowered their bodies into the hole. With my vision blurring, I bowed my head, taking a moment to remember them one last time in all their love and compassion. A shaky exhale left my lungs, choking on a farewell, before I piled the earth atop them. Upon the tree I carved their memorial. “Here lie my parents, Clockwork and Summer Breeze. Victims of violence and assumptions, they lie together for eternity. May in death, they find peace.” Something inside me died as I shed the last of my tears upon my parents’ grave. The innocence I once held in my soul had been ripped away, the remaining hole left raw and barren. Wearily, I bid my parents a final goodbye.  The first step was the hardest; my spirit seemed to rip asunder, and I almost stopped in agony. But somehow, on I marched, step after step back to what remained of our home.  No, it was no longer my home; my home had been with my parents, not the worthless building. Memories would always be there for me, but they would not. My heart dragging behind me, I searched the wreckage and ash for something to remember them by. Books, photos, journals or anything which could combust, was lost to me forever. Only bits of metals, charred and molten beyond recognition, remained. A glint of silver caught my eye, the smoldering embers illuminating my world. Or what was left of it. My mother’s locket. Of all the things that could have survived, the fates had given me this small blessing. The engraved heart flipped open to reveal a small photo of my parents and me, their brown and yellow coats a stark contrast to my black chitin, amethyst hair and deep purple eyes. The smiles on our faces were genuine and true, but the sight was unbearable. Its weight around my neck may have been comforting, but it did nothing to seal the wound in my heart. The time had come for me to leave. The sun loomed on the horizon. Ponies always spoke of dawn as the rebirth of the world, a chance to start a new day afresh. For me, it was a grim reminder of the life I had been forced into overnight. The town bulletin board stood at the edge of the settlement, the Royal proclamation still fluttering in the breeze. A crude drawing of a changeling stood beneath it, as if I needed to understand what a monster looked like; what I looked like. By the order of the Princesses, Celestia and Luna- Any changeling found is to be captured and handed over to the Royal Guard for their part in the attack on Canterlot These creatures are extremely dangerous and may take measures to disguise themselves. Keep a close eye on your friends and family as they may be changelings looking to feed upon your love. Take care and offer changelings no sympathy; they are sure to use you against your loved ones. Any information leading to their capture will be rewarded. The capture and deliverance of any changeling will be rewarded by one thousand bits. The turmoil inside me roared, and my anger, grief and sheer hatred hardened into a single point - my only goal. Their actions must not go unanswered, must not go unmatched. Even if my life was the cost, Canterlot would burn for its crime, and those ponies, the ones who damned me a monster, would understand what it meant to lose a home. Painfully, with my lack of energy, I forced myself into the shape of a grey unicorn with a purple mane; a parody of myself. I started forward, taking the first step towards my goal. Methodically, one hoof was placed in front of another, ignorant of the world around me, until I collapsed in exhaustion and the darkness claimed me. Above, the sun shone high overhead.