//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: Memories, Part 1 // Story: The Life of Fear // by Educated Guess //------------------------------// Where the first few years of my life had passed by at a snail’s pace, the next came like a whirlwind. Even for one such as I, who can recall the count of the stones in a wall - who can remember the sound of my mother’s heart from within the womb - the moments are difficult to isolate. They are the sort of memories which make the way this must end all the more painful - but they are memories I am glad to have had. “I can tell you’re confused, so I’ll just explain. Now that you can fly, I thought it would be a great idea to give you a sort of ‘official’ tour of the City. But somebody -” Aeros shot a pointed glare at Ignus, who simply tossed his head and snorted indifferently. “- told Bellic that we had finished earlier than expected, so instead of showing you the sights, I get to spend my day going through what must be my hundredth evaluation this moon. “Luckily for you, Ignus has graciously volunteered to replace me as your tour guide - which is probably better, in the end, since he knows a lot more about all the history and significance of stuff, which I know you love. So,” Aeros trotted over to the balcony. “I’m going to go see how long it takes Bellic to figure out that I’m not in any of my usual hiding places, and I’ll leave you two to it.” With a leap and a blast, Aeros was away. Phobos looked at his remaining brother curiously. “I didn’t know you liked history.” “Only the parts that are important,” Ignus shrugged. “After all, ‘Quando oblitus, historiam contingit iterum.’” Phobos blinked blankly. Ignus looked at him in disbelief. “Honestly, with all of the useless shelf-filler Serena brought you, there wasn’t even an abridged copy of ‘The Writings of Cano and Memini’?” Phobos shook his head. Ignus sighed heavily. “Let’s just get this over with. Follow me.” “Who were Cano and Memini?” “Ah, Cano and M-M-M-Memini were the sixth and fifth seers, respectively,” Lexus stuttered, “although M-Menim - Memini was not well known for her seering.” “Why not?” “Cano was b-born only a few years after Memenimem - Me-me - she had f-f-fully inherited the Sight, and by the t-time Cano was s-s-six, it had been fully transferred to him, instead. So, instead of de-de-de-dedicating herself to the future, as is the usual seer way, she... focused on the present and the past, thus earning her the t-t-ti-title of ‘Recorder’. Say - w-where did you hear of them, anyway?” “Ignus mentioned a book of theirs - he called it ‘The Writings of Cano and Memini’.” “Ah, well, t-t-technically, all of what they produced are their wr-writings,” Lexus chuckled a bit at his own joke. “But he was p-p-probably referring to their ph-ph-philosophical treatise. It’s generally considered their mm-magnum opus, and was often a core p-p-part of the later education of young alicorns.” Upon hearing that last sentence, Phobos looked up at Lexus expectantly. The librarian stared back for a few moments before he made the connection. “Ah - of course. Let’s see - th-th-the original was written in the Old Speech, but there sh-sh-should be a translated copy...” Lexus wandered out of sight among the bookshelves, and came back bearing a large, leather-bound tome. He set it down on the table between them, propping it up against some of the other volumes stacked there, and flipped open the cover with a violet glow. He took a moment to clear his throat, adjusted his spectacles, then began reading. “It is first to be stated that contained within is experience and knowledge that is not your own, and if you should wish to discover these things for yourself, that is a view which is both understandable, and admirable in its own way.” Phobos closed his eyes, and listened to Lexus’ voice rise and fall. It was fascinating - when speaking for himself, the librarian could barely cope with the words, but when he read, it wasn’t as though he himself spoke, but as though the book spoke through him. Rough and uncertain became smooth and dulcet - a well-worn path through the imagination, on which one could take time to enjoy the sights around them, instead of having to climb and stumble over every stray consonant that protruded underhoof. “But if you should wish to benefit from the wisdom and lives of others, that, too, is admirable - for while one can only live in one world, the view from the worlds of others can often help one better understand the shape of their own. It is for this reason that we write, as does any other, in any other way - to show you our world, that you might glimpse more of the grand puzzle that together, we call the Universe.” “We’ll start at the beginning,” Ignus said as they alighted on a higher balcony. “The Castle?” Phobos asked, glancing at the stones beneath them. “Hardly. The City existed for centuries before Aedifex came to power. The Castle was one of the last additions, depending on whether you count it by when it was started or when it was finished.” The firemaster pointed off to the north-east, where a lone, slender spire rose proudly out of the surrounding rubble. “The Turris Augures was the first structure erected in the Elysian Field, back when it was still just a ritual site. It was - and I suppose, still is - the designated living quarters for the active seer of the time.” Phobos looked at him incredulously. “You ‘suppose’?” Ignus returned the gaze flatly. “I haven’t seen Dissimula since the turn of the century. Knowing her, she’s probably still alive, but I can’t be sure and I don’t care enough to find out.” “That seems rather inconsiderate,” Phobos said quietly, shivering in the baleful wind of his brother’s blunt honesty. “It’s far more consideration than she ever showed for me,” Ignus muttered darkly, no longer looking at the spire, but past it, to some dull, throbbing pain from days long gone. “When you meet Dissimula -” He looked sidelong at the colt beside him. “- and you will meet her - keep in mind that if she ever helps you, it is only to help herself. She never forwards any cause but her own.” “Lexus?” “Hm?” “What is the... the...” Phobos squinted at the words which so brazenly eluded him, muttering tested pronunciations under his breath. The Old Speech was still a challenge for him, being as nuanced and complex as it was, and whenever a piece or passage of those twisted, labyrinthine symbols surfaced in his reading, it frustrated him to no end. Lexus came around to peer over his shoulder. Phobos pointed, and looked up expectantly. “Ah! The, ah, Os Tenebris, or ‘M-M-Mouth of Darkness’. Let’s see... you’ve p-p-probably heard it referred to as ‘The Altar’.” Phobos’ eyes widened. “You mean the stone slab at the bottom of the Castle?” Lexus nodded. “Yes, the stone, and the surrounding runescape.” “But this says...” Frantically, Phobos turned back to the book, reaffirming what he had read just moments before. “It’s a door to Tartarus?” “One of s-seven in the world, yes.” “But...” Phobos opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to summon any proper arrangement of words. Eventually, he settled for just one. “Why?” “Why is it there, you m-mean? It has been there ll-l-longer than we have existed. Olympus was b-built around it. As the n-n-numbers of our enemies increased, it became more imp-portant to keep such things safe, and since m-many of us already lived in the area - not to m-m-mention the Seers and the Keepers - it only made sense.” “It just seems... dangerous.” Lexus chuckled. “More d-d-dangerous than letting some v-v-vile creature like D-Divanad control it? I hardly think so. B-b-b-besides, the Os T-Tenebris is a one-way entrance - Volun discovered that when he t-t-turned. One can sp-peak to those held within, and create the chains that hold them, but they c-cannot escape their b-b-bonds.” “Oh,” Phobos said simply. As foolish as he now felt for his outburst, he was relieved - he doubted he could have slept well knowing there was a gateway to the underworld beneath his head. Then again... “So... where are the other six doors?” “Ah,” Lexus smiled. “Well...” “Anyway,” Ignus grunted, turning to the right, “Over there is what’s left of the Gate of Seraphii, and past it, the Library. I know you’ve already been there.” Phobos nodded, and smiled slightly as the distant glass ceiling twinkled in the midday sun. Lexus had promised him that they would begin studying history tonight, starting with the Edification and working forward to the War of Darkness. “It’s another of the older buildings in the city - at least, the original was. It’s been rebuilt... five times, I believe. It was founded by Genetrix, the 3rd Seer - mostly as a place to keep her ramblings, since she had run out of space in the shelves of the Turris, but it grew from there. “The Gate was actually much more than a simple archway. It was a secondary, inner shielding ring - a last line of defense against an anticipated Coven assault on Olympus. But, as was the way with the Coven, they didn’t do as expected. They never attacked Olympus. They attacked Avalon.” He paused. “The Gate was never activated, and fell into disrepair.” Ignus cast his eyes about the ruinous landscape, then nodded slightly, as if reluctantly acknowledging, at long last, that it wasn’t all some horrible dream. “As did the rest, in time.” If Phobos hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought his brother was about to cry - but squeezing tears from Ignus was as easy as lighting snow ablaze. He shifted awkwardly. “So... if the Gate was a secondary ring, where is the primary ring?” he queried carefully. “Mm. A few leagues beyond the walls,” Ignus said, stirring back to life. “Aqua, Terra, and Serena spend days at a time out there, maintaining the perimeter.” Suddenly, he perked up. “That reminds me -” He turned to look at Phobos. “You haven’t met Aqua and Terra yet, have you?” Phobos shook his head. “Hm. I’ll have to remind Serena to take you out with her one of these days.” “Ah, so THIS is the runt we’ve heard so much about!” Phobos winced as Terra’s dirt-brown hoof roughly mussed his hair. “Aww, he’s a cute one, isn’t he?” cooed Aqua, crouched down so her sea-green eyes were level with his. “How old is he?” “He turned five not three months ago.” Serena answered, her son being too busy blushing to speak. “FIVE?” Terra asked in disbelief. “Maker - we really need to get out less.” “Still,” Aqua said, giving her sister a sly, conspiratory wink, “It’s good to know that, in just a few more years, there’ll be another nice, fresh bachelor to keep us entertained.” “Oh, yes,” Terra winked back, “Better yet, one who doesn’t have to spend all his free time grunting and sweating with his father.” “Girls!” Serena protested, playfully shocked. The sisters only giggled in response, Terra’s deep, earthy rumble mixing with the light, foamy tinkling of Aqua - but instead of putting him at ease, their laughter only made Phobos’ glowing face grow redder. At first glance, Terra and Aqua seemed like polar opposites. The elder was built as solidly as the land itself, her crest rising like a mountain, and her hips as wide as a hill. Her fur was the brown of a fertile field, and her leaf-green curls sprouted from her head with a crazed and wild life of their own. Aqua, on the other hand, was the very image of demurity. Her slender legs barely brought her up to her sister’s shoulder, and her shimmering hair fell from her head like a fountain, spreading gracefully on the ground, and obscuring all but the barest sliver of her face. Yet for all their physical differences, the sisters could have easily been mistaken for one pony in two bodies. “Oh, occido me aliquando,” Terra sighed, struggling to bring her mirth under control. “Cave quid volo, soror mea,” Aqua teased, prodding her sister’s ribs with a bony elbow. “Anyway.” The elder cleared her throat emphatically, suddenly all business. “Where are we going this week?” “Hmm...” Serena closed her eyes, and lifted her nose as if smelling the wind. Phobos couldn’t tell if the faint shimmer around her horn was magic, or simply a trick of the sunlight glowing on her mane. “Well, the western border needs attention, as always...” The suggestion was met with a barrage of opinionated groaning. Serena smiled. “...But, we haven’t been through the Borrasylva in a few months, so I suppose we could go there, instead.” “Oo! That means we can stop by the Ardenslacus and have canticumquats for dinner!” Aqua clapped her front hooves together in delight, and turned to the foal between them, who had been awkwardly drawing circles in the dirt with his hoof. “Have you ever had canticumquats?” Phobos began to shake his head, but was interrupted by Terra. “For the thousandth time, they’re not called ‘canticumquats’! You can’t just make up names for things. They’re bacas carminis - songberries, at the very least.” “But ‘canticumquats’ is more fun to say!” Aqua pouted. “Alright, you two,” Serena chided. “We need to get moving if we want to make it that far today. Remember how long the Anguiflum takes, all by itself?” The sisters muttered acknowledgement and took off, their wings beating almost in unison. Mother and son followed suit. They flew out over the wall, and over the fields, and over the trees beyond. As the needle-thin spire of the Castle was lost among the distant treetops, a cold feeling crept into the pit of Phobos’ stomach. Serena, as always, noticed. “What’s wrong?” “I’ve just... I’ve never been out this far before.” She smiled, and gently brushed her wingtip against his own. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The walls and the Castle are more of symbols, anyway. What really keeps us safe... well, that’s where we’re going.” “We’re here!” Terra called out from ahead. They landed in a small clearing. Phobos didn’t have to look around for long to see what they had come for. On the north side, standing almost as tall as the trees themselves, was a great, granite stone that jutted out of the landscape like the discarded tooth of some colossal beast. The surface was a mottled patchwork of green and gray, with serpentine patterns of runes and symbols covered over by armies of vines and legions of moss. “Oh my,” Aqua murmured, peering at the carvings from between her bangs. “I can barely make out the Nineteenth Verse.” “Yes, it’s in much worse condition than I thought.” Serena mused, slightly worried. “We should have come sooner.” Aqua stamped her hoof victoriously. “See, we don’t need to run the Occidentager every other week!” Serena simply sighed, and shook her head. “Terra, you have the lead.” “Mm.” The earthmaster stepped in front of the monolith, rested the tip of her horn against the stone, and began breathing, deeply and rhythmically. I wish I had been able to feel magic back then. Her horn began to glow a deep, shamrock green, the light flaring up in time with her inhalations, growing brighter and brighter. As the light of her horn grew, so too did a light somewhere inside the stone - a pure, white light that shone out weakly through the cracked, worn carvings. There is a certain feeling that can only be brought by the casting of magic - a feeling that I don’t believe can be properly appreciated by those who have it all their lives. It is a feeling that is both pain and pleasure - ecstasy and agony - an orgasmic surge of power that is fueled by the burning of the soul itself. Slowly, she stepped back from the stone and held her head high. As she continued to breath, it began to feel like the whole of the earth was breathing with her. I know what it feels like to tap into a spell as strong as that wall. Centuries of power, hundreds of casters - your own soul lost like a drop in a lake. I felt it when I raised the Gate of Seraphii, years later. But I will never know what it feels like to tread those waters with another - neigh, with two others - to weave together - to burn as one, and let your flame be all the stronger for it. Confused, and more than a bit scared, Phobos turned to his mother for an explanation, only to find that she had closed her eyes and lit her horn as well, and was breathing in time with the earth, and the stone, and the brown giant that led them. Aqua, to his other side, was the same. I will never know what it feels like to sing in a choir. All at once, Terra began to chant. “When the sun has set, And the moon is bright, And the stars shine overhead; “When the sky is dark, And the mountains black, And the river is a silver thread;” Without prompting, Aqua and Serena joined on the third verse, their voices lilting and dancing around Terra’s plain, steady center. “When the birds have sung Their final notes, And the wind has ceased to blow; “When the flow’rs have drooped, And the trees are still, And the grass has ceased to grow; “When you lay your head Upon your hooves, And your eyes with sand do fill; “I will sing to you As you fall to dreams, Lying there upon the hill.” As those words rang out, Terra reared up and slammed her front hooves into the ground. The earth trembled, and the light within the stone exploded. Phobos threw himself to the ground, covering his eyes as the blinding glow of the rejuvenated symbols cut through the vines and moss like a flaming knife, cinders and ashes flying out on a hot, dry wind. I will never know what it feels like to meld.