//------------------------------// // The Beginning // Story: Prodigy // by Sable Tails //------------------------------// Stasis walked through Trottingham. Around him was the constant thrum of his brothers and sisters, almost drowned out by the screams and shouts of the prey. He watched, somewhat afraid, somewhat exhilarated by the action; ponies were being tied up, tied down, chased. He saw several foals get picked up and flown off; he also saw a few changelings, unwilling to endure the slow process of feeding off of love, sink their fangs into ponies and beginning feeding in a faster, if more wasteful route. He considered finding himself a meal as well, but the entire city was in chaos and he couldn’t really see an available pony that wasn’t already being preyed upon. There was just so much going on…he didn’t want to start digging around inside the buildings for holed-up ponies, since that was a really good way to get hurt, but he didn’t want to fight with his siblings for one that had already been dug out. He didn’t really want to share, either, even if he could find a changeling willing to do that, which was unlikely. He wasn’t particularly popular. So instead, he just watched. He had fed on ponies himself a few times, of course, ones that his mother had caught, but he wasn’t old enough to put on a masque and go off on his own just yet, and he didn’t think anyone but Mother had ever seen a feeding frenzy this huge before. There were going to be a lot of stomachaches tonight. He felt the love all around him, even amidst the fear and other emotions. So much love…he felt he could almost swim in it, drink it up even if he didn’t have a particular prey. He had never thought much of his mother – she certainly didn’t think much of him, save when she had to – but this new land she had brought them to was wondrous. So much love, and these ponies didn’t seem to know anything about defending themselves…the only ones that had put up any real resistance was the constabulary, and his mother had dealt with them herself. Their headquarters was just rubble now. As he slowly walked down the street, he noticed a filly, about his size, in an alley. She was alabaster with a bright yellow mane, almost the same color as his own eyes, which intrigued him – those were his most defining physical characteristic, after all. Apparently unnoticed by his frenetic family, she was alone and sobbing quietly to herself. He could feel the love coming off her, even from this distance – she missed her parents, most likely. He started trotting in her direction, glad that he would have the chance to sate himself without the need to do anything dangerous or uncomfortable. Whereas his siblings were soaking up energy as fast as they could, he would go slowly so as to not use her up and – There was a sudden crack and a flash behind him, and he could hear screeching – not the annoying wailing of the ponies, but the screeching wails of his own species. He turned around, and his eyes were swiftly drawn to the sky. High above, there flew a vast formation of pegasi – well, perhaps not terribly vast, but each one was large and muscular and steely-eyed, brandishing heavy spears and covered in golden plate armor – and at the apex of the formation several pegasi drew a strange, golden contraption, a sky-chariot of some kind. In it sat the largest, most fearsome creature he had ever seen, even more so than his own mother. She was extraordinarily large for a pony, and her horn was the longest he had ever seen. It astonished him to see two wings splayed out to her either side; unlike with his own kind, he had not known that ponies could have both horn and wings. Surrounding her was an expansive, gaseous mane, sparkling many different colors in the sun and rippling as with an invisible wind. Upon her head sat a golden crown, inset with a large purple gem, and on her breast sat a golden brooch with a similar turquoise stone. Her expression was judgement. The sun shone at her back, almost blinding him, but he could not look away: the world had shrunk until only she remained. She was white, unsullied and absolute, and the light blazed through her widespread wings. She was an avenging angel. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her violet eyes – matching the color of the gems, he noted absently – began to burn, began to blaze, and her horn glowed. Piercing golden light erupted from its tip, cracking into the earth below, shattering his reverie with a boom that shook the earth under his hooves as the screams of his brothers and sisters grew louder in his ears. He turned to flee. As his small wings thrummed and lifted him in the air, he could hear the cracking sound grow louder and louder as it drew closer, each one coming sooner after the last, each one lighting up the street in golden yellow light. He raced as fast as his immature appendages would allow, his heart beating a furious staccato in his narrow chest, trying to outfly the onrushing destruction. As the wave seemed to reach a crescendo - as pebbles tinkled across his chitinous backplate, as the familial screeching was overwhelmed by the nearly constant crack of the magic lances, and as his derriere seemed to be getting warmer – he realized his mistake. He turned and, willing a burst of speed, tried to reach an alleyway, out of the path of the destruction. He was right there – right there – at the alley’s entrance, when a lance fell beside him, the resulting explosion hurling him forward and sideways, smacking him into the side of one of the buildings with a thud. He sat there dazed for a moment as the magical holocaust passed him by into the rest of the city. After a few moments he tried to get up, and fell back to the ground, hissing at the searing pain; his right side was bruised, and the tip of his delicate, membranous left wing was singed. But adrenaline was still strong in his system, and he tried to ignore the pain, instead stumbling to his hooves and racing down the alley, mentally cursing his short legs. As he exited on the other side, he saw the golden pegasi falling from the sky like hail onto what relations of his lucky enough to still be alive and stupid enough to not have already fled. They were eerily silent, their faces bearing the same grim fury as their mistress as they slaughtered changelings with a horrible efficiency. The changelings were fighting back, but normal changelings were relatively weak in magic and strength, and they were lost without their mother there to guide them. He raced across the street, dodging around ponies and leaping over the bodies of the fallen, hurtling down another alley and onto another street, desperately hoping that a small, grounded changeling like him would escape the notice of the ruthless pony soldiers. As he turned a corner, he bounced off the backside of a pegasus soldier. Time seemed to slow as the pony’s head began to turn. Stasis, terrified, felt his magic surge as he instinctively wrapped a masque around himself, bearing much the same colorations as himself – dark grey fur, dusky blue mane and tail, and bright sunflower eyes. The soldier’s eyes were slits, but when he saw Stasis, shrunk so low his belly was dragging on the ground and shivering in fear, they seemed to soften. “It’ll be alright, son. Stay here; don’t leave the alley.” With that, the pegasus grabbed up his weapon and leapt into the air, streaking down spear-first into the body of a changeling a few yards away. Stasis wasted no time. Still wearing the masque, he began galloping through the streets again, his hooves clop clop clopping across the pavestones, pushing his body to go faster, faster, faster. This place wasn’t paradise, this was Tartarus. It was a nightmare. Even now, all around him his brethren were being hunted and cut down in the streets, most too stupid and panicked to think to put on masques of their own. He had no idea where his mother was, but she had been near where that…that…thing, that angel or hellbeast or whatever it was had come down from the heavens. He could only fear the worst. Finally, he seemed to have made it out of the central part of the city where the horrible white creature and her legions were concentrating, and the houses became more and more spread out. His legs were starting to feel very heavy, and he slowed down from a gallop to a trot as weariness and wariness began to replace the adrenaline and stark terror. As his brain started to take over from his instincts, he realized that he had little idea of where he was, other than it being the outskirts of Trottingham, and that he had absolutely no clue where he was going, where he should be going. Whatever changelings had escaped would congregate around Mother, if she was still alive, but he had no idea where that would be. Worse, he almost certainly couldn’t get there in time, even if he did know – after what had just happened, the changelings were not going to wait for a cripple to get as far away from this horror as their wings could carry them. Not even a crippled prince, not after what had just happened. As he looked at the alien houses around him – all of them recently abandoned or boarded shut – he felt the fear of a brutal death begin to morph into something else…the fear of being alone. His family may not like him very much, but back in their old hunting grounds in the woods they would hardly let him take a tinkle without an escort. Only in the euphoria of the feast had they forgotten him. He would have thought being alone might bring with it a feeling of a freedom, but it didn’t, not with prey turned predators all around him and nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide but in plain sight. His family was gone, fled or dead or soon to be, and he needed to find shelter, and quickly; the dread warrior ponies would surely begin scouring the city and the surrounding area soon, and once the battle-lust wore off they would not be so easily fooled by a simple masque. He was for the first time in his life quite alone and vulnerable, surrounded by those who wanted him dead. He didn’t want to die. He paused for a moment, there in the middle of the abandoned street, and tried to regulate his breathing, tried to slow his heartbeat. He needed to think clearly, needed to find a way to survive. He looked around in all directions – he didn’t know for what, just something that would save him, that would get him out of here before the ponies found him – and he spotted a very large house, almost a mansion, located incongruously here on the edge of town. It looked old and dilapidated, with leafy vines growing amok up and down the walls and the off-white paint peeling away from the wood in most places. The shrubbery looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in years, and the yard had grown almost as tall as he was, save for the brick walkway leading up to the front double-doors. Also quite unlike any other houses around, there was a black iron fence surrounding the entire property. Stasis wasn’t sure what this house was or why it was located here, on the outskirts of Trottingham – of course, who really knows why ponies do anything – but it was big, far from the action, and apparently abandoned. The gate, Discord be praised, was unlocked and opened surprisingly easy at his touch. He trotted quickly across the walkway, trying to look casual in case anypony happened to be watching, and tugged on the door-handle. It didn’t budge, and neither did the other door when he tried it. He gritted his teeth. It seemed kind of wasteful that ponies would lock up houses that they weren’t using, but again, they were ponies, after all. He just had to stay calm, stay natural, and find a way into the stupid house. He looked around. All of the windows seemed to be intact, unfortunately, and he dared not alert anypony that something was amiss by breaking one himself. Wading through the yard, he made it to the nearest window and tried opening it with his magic. It, too, didn’t budge. He made his way to the next window, and then the one after that, until after several minutes of increasing vexation he had made his way all the way back to the double doors. Looking up, he could see that there were a number of windows on the second level of the abode, but of course if he could have flown up to reach them then he wouldn’t need to be here in the first place. He growled quietly to himself. As he stared at the doors, he suddenly had an idea. After all, it was his wing that was injured, not his horn…he still had access to all of his magic, which even as young as he was still included more than just changing masques. And besides, he was a prince, not just some random underling. He hadn’t been taught any of the really fun stuff yet, like mind magic, but he had learned the spell his mother and some of the other most powerful changelings used to pass through even the thickest barriers. He was still very inexperienced, unfortunately, but surely he had enough skill and raw ability to make it through a simple door… Beginning to draw his power into this horn, he realized what he was doing and quickly stopped and looked all around him, frightened. But there still didn’t seem to be any ponies out and about, or soldiers, and he didn’t see anypony peering at him out of their houses. He decided that if he was going to do this, he had better do it quickly. Again drawing the power latent in his body into his horn, he began to go over the appropriate thought-pattern in his mind as his horn starting glowing with bright yellow energies. Praying that he had done it right, he released the spell and then leapt into the door, bracing himself against impact. But he passed right through, his form feeling strange as he did so, as if pressure were passing in a wave over and through his body, squeezing and pulling his insides gently, a feeling not totally unpleasant. He landed haphazardly on the polished wood floor beyond, tripping over his own hooves and falling on his face. The house was fairly dark, despite the clear skies outside, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Rubbing his nose, he took in the sight around him. Beside him were a number of old coats and galoshes and other accoutrements, smelling mildly of mildew, and in front he was surprised to see that the house seemed to open into one large, cavernous room. Where most pony houses he had seen – albeit, not that many – normally had some kind of guest-receiving room or just opened straight into the living room, this looked more like a freakish workshop of some sort. There were benches and tables everywhere, covered in a chaotic mishmash of strewn papers, glass vials, and a variety of other instruments that he had never seen before. There were also gems of a variety of different shapes and colors, skulls, feathers, and many other things he did recognize, but seemed to serve no purpose in somepony’s living room. The only things that looked remotely normal were the empty fireplace at the other end of the room and the bookshelves that covered every available wall; although he couldn’t read the titles, the books all appeared old and big and well-worn. The other side of the room also had several doors that apparently opened into other parts of the house. The whole place was like some kind of freaky warlock’s hideaway. These were all the things he noticed first. The second thing he noticed was, despite the hectic nature of the room, nothing was covered in the dust or cobwebs that he had been hoping for. Whoever – or whatever – had lived here, was still here, or else had left so soon ago that there was no good reason not to expect him or it to return any moment now. Stasis looked longingly back at the doors behind him, until he remembered the guards and the terrible thing that led them. He swallowed. Better to face whatever unholy terror would reside in a place like this than the carnage that lay behind him. Comforting himself with this thought, Stasis began to creep further into the mansion. Staying crouched low to the ground, he passed in between the wooden furniture around him, trying not to put too much sudden weight on any of the floorboards, lest they creak and arouse anything living in this old house…or anything dead. Though his power was exceptionally strong for a changeling of his age, he had no real combat experience or training and wasn’t entirely certain he could handle a normal adult pony by himself, much less anything worse. He would have to rely on stealth. He kept an eye out for any stakes or bits of silver he could use, just in case. He crept up to one of the doors, and slowly, ever so slowly, began turning the brass knob with his hoof. He braced himself. However, opening the door slightly and peaking beyond revealed only a hallway, not the skeleton he had been expecting. It was a corridor even darker than the room he was in, unlit by any windows, and running from the right side of the house to the left. Randomly deciding to go left, he slowly, sneakily crept down the hallway towards the only other door on that side. He reached for the knob… “What do you think you’re doing in my house, lad?” Stasis jumped what surely must have been several feet in the air and, as soon as his hooves remade contact with the floor, rocketed away from the gruff voice behind him. He was running straight towards a wall, of course, but it was wall leading outside, and he quickly pumped energy into his horn, intending to reuse his previous spell and pass right through it. As he tried to perform the spell in his mind, fumbling over it in his panic, he realized that the wall seemed to be running away from him somehow, jumping away from him every time he got close. It was making him kind of dizzy. He tried to run faster, faster, but he couldn’t reach the stupid wall, and there was something right behind him…. “It’s a teleportation spell, lad. Slow down before you hurt yourself.” Stasis final stopped running, his sides heaving with the effort, and he slowly turned around. Behind him was a large, hunched old pony, wearing a pointy blue hat and cape covered in stars and crescent moons and hung about with little yellow bells. His fur was grey and his beard so incredibly long and thick and tangled that the only part of his face Stasis could clearly make out was his blue, angry eyes. It was some horrible pony demon, just like he had thought. He had left his family and wandered off on his own, and now he was going to get cut up and boiled in baby changeling stew, just like in the stories. Discord help him. “Now I’ll ask you again. What. In. Celestia’s. Mane. Are. You. Doing. In. My. House?” Stasis’ eyes were very big and his brain seemed to turn to jelly. He shrunk away from the large unicorn and was so close to the ground that he was almost laying on it. He wrapped his tail around himself, and began to shiver. The angry unicorn continued to look at him for a few moments, his lips tightly pursed. Finally, he sighed through his nose and said, “I didn’t mean to scare you, lad. Well, actually, I did mean to scare you, but not quite this bad.” He took a step forward, and Stasis took a step backwards. The unicorn sighed, bigger this time. “I’m not going to beat you, or eat you, or whatever it is you think I’m going to do, lad. My eyesight’s been a bit poor lately in dark places like this and I just want a good look at you, is all. Now stand still, or I’ll have to teleport you again.” The unicorn, very slowly, took a step forward, and this time Stasis resisted the urge to turn and run, instead remaining very, very still, though he couldn’t stop his shivering. Maybe the old beast just wanted to sniff him or something; that happened sometimes with creatures in the forest. Don’t run, and they won’t chase. At least, that’s what he’d been told…. He carefully followed the grey pony with his eyes as the unicorn walked over and leaned down. He didn’t sniff him, though, but just squinted. “Definitely not a midget. Probably not here to steal my stuff, then.” The pony sat back on his haunches. “And you got the prettiest, brightest yellow eyes I’ve ever seen. Very peculiar. What’s your name, lad, and I’ll ask you one more time – what are you doing in my house?” He blinked. “Come to think of it, how in Celestia’s mane did you get in here in the first place? Surely you didn’t break a window…my eyes are going a bit, but my hearing’s still as sharp as a fox, that’s how I knew you was in here.” “St-Stasis.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He should have gone with something more ponyish, something to do with food maybe, or a mildly ironic reference to his personality or a special talent. Small ‘n Harmless, maybe, or Cute ‘n Cuddly? Curses, but those were hard to come up with on the spot. “That’s your name, eh? Peculiar. You’ve got a pretty voice though. Are you a boy or girl?” His voice was quite androgynous, allowing him to play as either gender. Still, he had tried to give this masque the blockier muzzle of a male pony, but maybe the warlock’s poor vision made it difficult for him to see. There didn’t seem to be any advantage to lying in this case, so he answered, “I-I’m a colt.” After a moment he added, “A pony colt.” Best not to leave any room for misunderstandings. “I said I couldn’t see well in the dark, lad, not that I’m as blind as a bat.” The unicorn seemed to think for a moment. “Still got a pretty voice, though. Good for choirs and such. Where’s your parents, and if you don’t tell me how and why you’re in my house I’m going to get angry again.” The cardinal rule when dealing with ponies: lie, lie, lie. That went double for when being caught meant half an hour at two hundred and twelve degrees. He lowered his eyes and pawed at the ground with one hoof, trying to look nervous and mournful, which was amazingly easy. “My-my parents were ki-killed outside a few minutes ago.” The unicorn’s eyes got very wide. “I was just trying to find a place to hide from all the fighting,” he sniffled, “and I saw your house, and I didn’t think anypony still lived here, so I snuck in….” Please don’t ask again how I got in, please don’t ask, please don’t ask…. The bearded pony looked confused as he asked, “Died? Fighting? What in Celestia’s mane are you talking about, lad? Have you lost your mind?” It was Stasis’ turn to blink. He didn’t know? How could he possibly not know? The whole of downtown Trottingham was a warzone! Fearing that maybe he just misunderstood the old unicorn’s question, he answered, “Well, uh…a bunch of changelings invaded Trottingham a few hours ago-“ “What?” Stasis shrunk back even further. “Yeah, but then all these pegasi with gold armor came, and there was this huge white pony thing with them….” He shivered. “It was horrible.” The bearded pony looked at him aghast. “Princess Celestia? She’s here? Stars have mercy….” The unicorn shook his head. “I…I’ve got to go help! Where’s my hat? Where’s my cape?” He started looking around himself for a moment, as if he would find them lying somewhere in the middle of the hallway. He seemed to spot the cloak on his back, and blinked. “Oh. Right.” He looked at Stasis again, and his eyes softened. “Listen, lad. I’m going to go see what I can do to help the Princess. I doubt any changelings will last long against her and the royal guard, but I’ve got to help with the recovery; a bunch of ponies are bound to be hurt, and every extra hoof’ll count.” He sighed. “I…I’m really sorry about your parents. This old house’s a lot sturdier than she looks – a bit like me, I reckon – and you should be as safe here as anywhere in Trottingham right now. You can stay here ‘till I get back, and then we’ll figure out what to do with you.” Adjusting his hat on his head, he turned and ran into the main room and then out the front door, calling out, “And don’t touch my stuff!”