Chapter 3: Home is Where the Broken Heart Is
“Spiiiiike!”
Twilight Sparkle was in high spirits, despite the previous events of the day. Hearing his name being called, her number one assistant came hopping down the stairs ready to help, as always. But with one glance his enthusiasm did a nose dive. He knew from that look in her eye that he wasn’t going to get much sleep that night.
“We’re pulling an all-nighter tonight, aren’t we?” Spike said with a groan.
“Oh, don’t look so down. It’s not like we haven’t done it before. But before that; Spike, take a letter.”
Grabbing scroll and quill, Spike now stood ready. “Okay, shoot.”
“Dear Princess Celestia,
My friends and I have just greeted a new pony to Ponyville. Fluttershy had just rescued him from a pack of timber wolves when I arrived at the hospital. However, while there he miraculously healed himself by drinking blood…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…he drank blood? You mean like a…vampire?” Spike said, cringing.
“Focus Spike, I need to get this letter to the Princess as soon as possible. Besides, vampires are only old mares’ tales told to fillies on Nightmare Night.” Clearing her throat, Twilight continued.
“…I later learned that this was due to enchantments he had imbued directly into his body. I also learned these same enchantments also allow him to absorb magic directly into himself, negating its effects. I had never heard of enchantments done on living things before, and I wish to do more research about them.
However, that is not the most intriguing thing about him. He seems to come from an earth pony culture all its own, with its own religion and its own traditions. He said he comes from a land that no longer exists, which I believe must have been outside Equestria’s borders in years past.
Another strange aspect about him is his cutie mark. It is the most bizarre I’ve ever seen, and he says that there are others like him who have it. It appears to have cultural significance to him, as he called it the mark of “Stendarr’s chosen.” Never in my studies have I heard of ponies sharing a common cutie mark, or of cutie marks being passed down through generations, and I wish to learn more about them.
For the time being our new resident, whose name is Faelan (both Twilight and Spike struggled on the spelling), will be staying with Fluttershy if you wish to meet him. As the oldest being in Equestria, I hope you can shed light on some of my questions, as I wish to study all of these facts further. Also, I wish to have access to the oldest records of pony history, mythology, geography, and enchanting from the Canterlot Archives in pursuing my research on what could be a forgotten part of Equestrian history.
Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle”
Collecting her thoughts to make sure she hadn’t forgotten any details, Twilight gave Spike the go ahead to send the letter. With one puff of his fiery breath Spike had the letter sent on its way in a magical mist.
No sooner had the letter been sent that Twilight immediately moved on to scouring her library for study materials. While rummaging through the history section she called out, “Okay, Spike. I need every book on mythology and magical constructs that you can find. Start with Moonbeam the Strange and work your way to Xiana the Mystic. I’m going to go check storage down in the basement.”
After about ten minutes of searching, Twilight had amassed a collection of scrolls, books, and tomes, many appearing not to have seen the light of day in decades. Still, the measly pile spoke volumes on the disparity of information on the subjects she needed to research. Equestria’s seemingly unending peace and cooperation meant that research on individual pony cultures were few and very outdated. What she really needed was the extensive archives of a metropolitan center. Ponyville was her home, but it did have its drawbacks.
It was just after cracking open one of Moonbeam the Strange’s treatises on enchantment theory that Spike coughed out a return letter bearing the Princess’s seal. Turning up from her studies, Twilight took the letter into her telepathy with excitement. “Wow, the Princess must be impressed to return my letter so fast, and at such a late hour! Okay…” she stated while clearing her throat.
“To My Faithful Student,
This new pony you have met sounds like one I should like to meet personally to welcome to our home. However, with the Summer Sun Celebration coming up in the next few days I am afraid I am busy with preparations. Perhaps you and your friends can properly introduce me to him when I visit Ponyville for the festival.
As to your research I am much more apprehensive. Research into living enchantments was forbade long ago and the records sealed, since such research often had dire consequences. I am, however, more intrigued with this new culture you seemed to have stumbled upon. The unification of the three pony races predates even my sister and I, and I am afraid most records of earlier subcultures were lost. That is why I am sending you the books you have requested right away. You have my full support in this endeavor. Just remember to try and get some sleep.
Sincerely,
Princess Celestia”
“You hear that Spike?! I have official support from Celestia herself to do my research!” Twilight gushed while bouncing about the room in a manner to make a certain pink earth pony proud. Just as suddenly she stopped in her tracks while her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I wonder if I can get my worked published. *Squee* I may even get an article in the Equestrian Histories and Archeological Discoveries Journal for my findings!” she cried while clapping her hooves together.
Spike raised an eye brow in confusion. “I hate to burst your bubble Twilight, but aren’t you already assigned to study the magic of friendship by Celestia? How are you going to have time to do both?”
“Oh, Spike, I still have time to study friendship. I study friendship nearly every day. But it’s not every day you have the chance to study a lost culture. This is the stuff that researchers dream of! A chance to discover something that will have your name recognized in the history books. I’ll be like Starswirl the Bearded!” she said, her thoughts filled with daydreams of a wing of the Canterlot Archives dedicated to her dancing through her head.
Spike once again rolled his eyes. She was in that state whenever she found a new subject to study, and she always had to follow through until she knew everything about it. Doing his best to organize the pile of books Twilight had flung to the floor into neat piles, Spike let out a sigh. He was way too young for this kind of headache.
It had been a silent, and rather awkward, walk back to her cottage that night. Fluttershy still felt the weight of her “protector’s” eyes bearing down on her. Every time she got the courage to look back to see how he was doing his gaze would be off into the distance. But every time she did she could see his eyes glaring down at her, looking through her. She would only turn her head back around with a whimper and continue on.
It was with a silent cry of relief that Fluttershy caught sight of her home. Turning to face her new companion, she spoke in her usual soft tone. “Well, um, here we are…home, sweet, home. I hope it’s to your liking. I mean I know I’m not a very good host, but I’ll do my best to make sure you’re comfortable, I mean whatever…”
Faelan cut her off, “What sort of dwelling is this?” he asked with a look of bewilderment.
“Oh! You don’t like it! I’m mean, most ponies I know usually like more traditional housing but I…”
“That is not what I meant. What I meant is that I thought all pegasi lived in the clouds.” Faelan turned his head and Fluttershy could see the confusion on his face. She was about to speak , but confusion was soon replaced with indignation.
Scorn dripped from his words as he followed, “Why would one of the lofty pegasi decide to live on the ground among us lowly earth ponies? Got tired of seeing us scurrying below you and decided to come see for yourself how us unfortunate peasants live in your spare time?!” His voice began to rise with every word, until Fluttershy was nearly in a fetal position to protect herself.
“No, I just...I-I’m just good with animals. I-It’s my special talent,” she weakly squeaked. Her mind was reeling. She didn’t know what she had done to upset him, but she knew she didn’t want to end up like Rainbow Dash or those poor stallions.
He was staring down at her now. Fluttershy was hiding behind her mane, trying to make herself as small as possible. She never was one for confrontation. She didn’t even like arguing; too much of a chance of somepony’s feelings getting hurt.
She was about to pass out from the stress when the stallion standing over her let out a strained laugh, “Ha! Since when do pegasi know anything about the beauties of the mother Earth? You cloud types could never have the same appreciation for the natural forces of us earth ponies.”
When he didn’t continue Fluttershy ventured a peak past her mane. It was a small shock when she saw that he had backed away. It was with that distant gaze of his that seemed to underline his earnestness when he whispered, “You can never know the ways it calls to us and sings to us.”
“I-I’m sorry…it’s just, as a filly…” she began.
But the huge earth pony cut her off, “Spare me your life’s story. It is late, and I like to get an early start.” He strolled over to a tree and with apparent ease bent the tree over, securing it to the ground.
Fluttershy was horrified. “What are you doing to that poor, defenseless tree?!”
“I am making a lean-to for me to sleep under until I can create a proper shelter. That is, unless you expect me to sleep under the chicken coop?”
“Oh no! Why would you think I would do such a thing?! Here,” she motioned to her earthen abode, “you can sleep in my cottage. I am sure I can find a warm place for you to sleep,” she said while strolling to the cozy home.
To her dismay this seemed to make him even more agitated. Again his eyes took on a look of righteous fury, his face creasing in furrows of deep-seated hatred. Fluttershy felt like he was spitting venom at her when he spoke, “I would not think it would be seemly for such an elegant creature such as a pegasus to share their home with one of us filth-encrusted earth types. Or do you wish me to sit at the foot of your bed like one of your animals?”
“I-I never s-said that. If you want you could sleep in the bed. I-I don’t mind, just please…”
“So you now take pity on me? Am I some ignorant savage for you to civilize? Well let me tell you pegasus, I do not need your charity. It is maddening enough that I owe you blood debt for my life; I do not need any more of your help. Now, if you will excuse me,” he said while turning to go to his impromptu shelter, “I need to get some rest. Near-death experiences tend to get tiring after awhile.”
And with that he settled himself underneath the tree, pulling the branches close to his body. Fluttershy could feel the beginnings of tears tug at the corners of her eyes. How could he say such things? She had done nothing but try to help and he just grew angrier. She remembered back to the time she faced down the Manticore. She had told Twilight that sometimes all we ever needed is a little kindness. But with this stallion, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
No! She couldn’t give up! She was the Element of Kindness, and if she could face Nightmare Moon she could face this! Plucking up her courage, she put on the best smile she could and walked to where the new pony was lying. Putting on her sweetest voice she softly cooed, “Well, if you would like, I could lend you a nice blanket for the night. You wouldn’t owe me a thing. Just give it back when you’re done. I mean, the weather team had planned for rain tonight, so I thought you could use something warm.”
The stallion simply opened an eye up at her, wincing slightly at the mention of “weather team.” In his gruff voice he stated, “I have weathered greater storms before. I am not some frail pegasus who needs to change the weather when it doesn’t suit them. So, keep your blanket. As I said, I do not need your charity.”
“B-b-but…I was just trying to help…” she began.
“Do yourself a kindness…don’t,” he stated while closing his eyes again. “Your kind has done enough to help as it is.”
And with that the painted stallion let out a deep sigh signaling he was going to sleep and did not want to be disturbed. With her head hung in defeat Fluttershy slowly plodded over to her home. She was always there to offer a helping hoof to anypony in need or to sooth a hurting animal. But how do you show kindness to a pony that doesn’t want it, she wondered to herself.
It was with a heavy heart that Fluttershy climbed into her bed for the night. Looking out the window showed that the storm clouds had gathered and were now blocking the moon and stars. The wind had started to pick up as well. I sure hope he doesn’t catch a cold, she thought to herself as she dug deeper into her sheets.
Fluttershy was having a hard time sleeping that night. She had no idea how much time had passed when a crack of thunder shook her out of her slumber with a squeal. With her heart beating in her chest she looked out the window again to see that the rainstorm had now turned into a squall. She again felt a pang of guilt knowing that her guest was trying to sleep through this out in the cold with nothing more than a tree for shelter. She had to do something, even if he didn’t want her to.
Tiptoeing through the cottage so as not to wake Angel, Fluttershy had grabbed an extra blanket and rubber liner before moving towards the door. Upon opening the front door she was immediately bombarded by the wind and rain. Even if it was summer the water now soaking her fur and mane caused her to shiver, as much from fright as the cold.
But she would not be deterred. Bracing herself against the wind, she slowly started to make her way towards the makeshift shelter. The storm ripped and howled at her in defiance, her vision limited to about thirty feet in any direction. Mud was beginning to cling to her hooves and drag her down when she finally managed to find the tree shelter.
Looking at her stallion guest it was clear that his small tree shelter was inadequate for this monster of a storm. Despite the foliage, his fur was soaked and the rain was starting to pool around him to create a quagmire. But still he slept. Fluttershy didn’t know whether to be impressed at his fortitude or concerned about what he had gone through to make him this way.
It was then she noticed him muttering in his sleep. He began to twist and whiny, his face contorting in pain, while his breathes came in short staggers. He must be having a terrible nightmare, Fluttershy thought to herself, concern once again welling up in her heart. This will surely make him feel better, no matter what he says.
Taking the bundle off her back she took great care to wrap the blanket around as not to wake him before covering him with the rubber liner. It at least provided moderate protection from the rain, as the moisture began to roll off the sides.
Fluttershy stepped back to see her handiwork and nearly had her heart melt in the moment. The shaggiest stallion she had ever seen, painted head to hoof in runes and tribal markings, who had been shaking in his sleep, was snuggling up in the new warmth of the blanket, his mutterings replaced with a contented sigh. Taking the blanket in her mouth, Fluttershy proceeded to tuck in the behemoth of a stallion much as she would a young foal before giving him a final kiss, “Good night.”
It could have been snowing for all Fluttershy cared, as the warm feeling in her gut would not be outdone by the rain. See, Fluttershy thought to herself, you just had to be more assertive, as Rainbow would say. Kindness really is the best medicine.
But before she got out of earshot she heard his restless mutterings start to begin again. Even though she wanted to help anyway she could, Fluttershy knew there was nothing she could do about bad dreams, and if she stayed out much longer in the rain she wouldn’t be any help to anypony. With a heavy heart she turned back to her cottage, but not before making out one word the stallion kept muttering in his sleep.
“…Mama…”
Death.
Its smell was familiar to his nostrils. It hung on the air like a poisonous miasma, choking everything it touched. The smell of blood, sweat, bowels and fear; it was the smell of the battlefield.
Faelan looked around at his surroundings, not quite sure where he was. The place looked nondescript for a battlefield, but something seemed oddly familiar. Something tugged at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite place his hoof on. He continued onward, passing through fields covered in half-rotted corpses along the way. He went through names in his head of where he might be; the siege of Trottingham, the battle of Faustberg, or even the massacre of Aldiehann, among others.
As he continued he realized what was off about his surroundings. There were no ponies about; at least, no living ponies. If there had been a great battle here, then where were the survivors? At the least there would have been the local peasants clearing the fields, trying to salvage what usable farmland was left for the coming season. This was just wrong. His warrior’s sense was giving him the feeling of being watched. The utter silence was the biggest alarm of all.
He soon found himself passing through what looked to be an orchard. However, where fruits for the next harvest should have dangled ripe for the picking, stood only scorched-bare stunts of branches. But what hung from those barren hulks was what really caught the eye. Tethered from ropes that were beginning to fray from neglect were more corpses, hung for the crows. Looking up at them, Faelan saw that they were all unicorns, all with their horns cut or broken off.
“Just like at Whinnychester,” he said aloud.
Putting the thought out of his mind he continued onward. Looking at the bodies gave him chills he was not familiar with. Eye sockets, long emptied by crows and festering with maggots, seemed to stare back at him, through him. If he didn’t know any better he would have believed that their dead gazes were following him. That feeling of being surrounded by a force he could not face again crept up his spine, only to be pushed done by years of hardship and training.
He finally made it out of the orchard into open fields. More bodies strewed the ground as it became harder to find empty hoof-falls. Most were pegasi, many of them Legionaries, but also Sky Archons and the infamous Thunderhooves in their imposing thick armor, their full-faced helmets giving them a faceless inpony look to them. Their bodies rested at impossible angles, many missing limbs, wings, or even entire sections of carcass. The ones that had faces seemed to look up at him, almost with a look of pleading…or demand.
After so long in silence, it was no trouble for his trained ears to pick up the first sounds of others. Finally, he thought, an explanation for this silent torture. Galloping as adeptly as he could through the obstacle course of corpses, it was not long until he found the source of the sound. He came to a complete stop, frozen in shock (or was it terror?) of what he saw.
It was his home, the outlying fields he now recognized as his family’s farmland. He couldn’t believe it when he saw his mother and sister out working the pens, walking across the bodies like they didn’t notice they were there. Everypony was there; including his old grandfather Lachlan; bent and gray but refusing to stop working. They moved about their business, completely oblivious to the carnage around them.
“I know I must be dreaming, but I am mad as well?” he questioned as he watched his sister put her hoof down into an eye socket and then dragging the skull through the cabbage patch with nary a care. He watched as his sister proceeded to work the garden, but instead of heads of cabbage the rows were filled with severed skulls. He wanted to shout at her for what she was doing, but nothing seemed to come. When she turned to him she waved, allowing him to see the Reaper’s harvest in her haversack.
It was a moment before he realized, She’s waving at me?
Once his presence was known his mother began to trot towards him, her smile eerily out of place with the morbid scene around her. She was just as he remembered her. Her golden locks bounced with her step, held back with a kerchief to keep it out of the dirt, a few gray strands starting to work around the temples. Her ginger coat played against her green eyes, shining brighter than any emerald the unicorns seemed to covet so much. She looked so happy to see him, the picture of a mother welcoming home her son. This can’t be real, he thought, now conscious of his apparel, She shouldn’t see me like this.
Instinctively he knew nothing about this added up, but seeing his mother after so long began to soften the barriers he had built over the years. He wasn’t sure, but it felt as an unknown force was tugging at his mind, a calm like the encroachment of sleep. Wariness warred with compassion when finally he felt her forehooves wrap around his neck.
“My son,” she cooed while nuzzling his neck, “at last you come home.”
At first he just stood there, taking in the moment, not sure how to react. He knew he shouldn’t, that it was all a dream, that it would only hurt later, but slowly he returned the hug.
“Mom, I…” he began, his eyes beginning to water.
“Please, Son, come help us with the harvest. You know how father Lachlann is. The old mule won’t see reason and give up the plow.”
At first he didn’t hear her. Faelan simply relished in the warmth of her embrace, the smell of…the corpses? Suddenly jarred from his reverie he pushed the mare off of him. What I am doing, he thought. None of this is real. She’s not real!
The thing posing as his mother retracted in shock, a hurt expression on her face, “Son, what is wrong?”
“What is wrong is that this isn’t real. I’m dreaming. This…this isn’t real.”
He felt her take his chin in her hoof, bringing his face to face hers. In that motherly tone of hers she continued, “What has gotten into you? No my son, you’re not dreaming, you’re home. You must simply be tired from your journeys. When you went off to fight I feared I never see you again, but now you are home.” Again Faelan felt that eerie calmness trying to cloud his mind, its unseen tendrils slowly working in.
“Then what about the bodies?” he continued, ignoring her attempts at comfort. “There’s pegasi and unicorns everywhere!”
Again her face was a look of pure maternal peace. “Pegasi? Unicorns? Son, they’re gone, remember? Word has traveled of your exploits in the war; my son, the hero who drove the invaders from our homeland. The bards will sing songs for generations to come of your deeds.” Her stare seemed to lock him in place when she continued, “Now you can have your happy ending. Come, there is work to be done.”
“But, the corpses…how can you not see them. How can you not see what I am?! This isn’t real!” His mind was screaming, trying to resist what he could not see.
“My son, what bodies? All I see are the open fields and my beautiful baby boy in the prime of his life. Come, you can help your father clear the new fields for the coming year.”
He turned to point out the bodies she could not see when he saw they were gone. The fields were just as he remembered. The wheat swayed in the wind, and the stalks of corn were planted in their neat rows. He turned to see his sister still waving to him, the haversack now filled to bursting with heads of cabbage. Beyond the fences he saw his father Omarr, along with his two brothers, Kadell and Ulfen. It truly looked as if not a day had gone by since he left to fight. It was…beautiful.
His mother looked up at him, “You can put it all behind you. Everything is just as it should be.”
Her voice beckoned him. Looking down at himself he was shocked to see that the runes were no longer etched into his skin. His leather cuirass was nothing more than a work harness, his weapons gone. That’s impossible, he thought, but it feels…right. No, Mama’s right. Everything is as it should be.
It had been the perfect day; a day of satisfying field work with the family. He had started by helping his father chop the trees at the forest line for fire wood before moving on to pulling the stumps. It had been slow going at first, but they both had soon gotten into a rhythm. It was a serene rhythm where they stopped thinking and were just doing; father and son struggling in honest labor. The work had gone so fast that his father had let him go early, something he rarely allowed.
With the waning daylight he had gone for a quick swim in the river the family used to irrigate the fields. Tip-toeing in, he had caught his kid brother Kadell napping in the shade, neglecting his chores yet again. With a quick buck his brother had a wet wake-up call, before Faelan jumped in after him. A short dunking session later and they were both laughing, Faelan feeling like a colt again. It was a shame when they had to climb out, the cool air off the mountains slapping their wet coats.
It was a pleasant walk back to the farmhouse as they needed to make it back for supper. Kadell and him talked on the way back, talking about who got the most dunks, and Kadell pouting about how small he was compared to him.
“Don’t worry little brother. If you’re anything like me you will be eating everything you bring in soon enough,” Faelan chuckled.
This seemed to cheer the little colt up. It was then that his brother’s countenance grew rather grim, and Faelan couldn’t understand why. When he gave his brother a questioning look Kadell’s gaze glossed over, almost ghostly, the same look many warriors got when they had seen too much. In a deadpan voice Kadell said, “Faelan wouldn’t it have been great if everyday could have been like this one.”
“What do you mean could have? We have many years ahead of us. By Horden, Grandfather Lachlann may even live to see you reach stallionhood,” he said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.
Kadell’s voice sounded truly hollow when he spoke. “Sometimes we wish for things we cannot have. We want them so bad that our minds will grasp onto things that aren’t there, like a drowning mouse.”
“What…what are you saying?”
His brother turned to him, his eyes devoid of any life, “We must live with our choices, Faelan. There is always a price to pay.”
The moment the words had left his lips the ground exploded beneath them. Faelan recoiled in surprise as hundreds of hooves broke from the ground. Several were pulling and tugging at his legs, the half-rotted limbs grasping at anything they could reach. Martial instinct kicked in as Faelan swung the wood ax from its harness, whereupon he began to tear limbs with ax with reckless abandon. But for every one he broke away from three more would break through.
“Kadell! Kadell!” he cried between swings of his hooves. He could see his little brother just out of reach as he worked to cut a path to him. His brother simply stood there, the look of death still in his eyes. Faelan didn’t understand; what was he doing?
“Kadell! There’s too many! Run to the house and get Father! I’ll hold them off!” But Kadell did not move a muscle, his figure as still as a statue, his face an unreadable mask of calm. “What are you doing?!” he yelled as he tore a hoof out of the ground like a carrot before using it to beat another into submission.
His brother stared through him with that unnatural calm, “There is always a price to pay.” And with those final words the ground opened and the hoofs of the dead swallowed his brother before his eyes.
“NO!!” But it was too late. With a final thrust Faelan broke away only to paw at the ground where his brother once stood. All reason had left him as he uselessly dug at the spot. I cannot lose him again, his mind screamed.
Faelan was pulled back to himself as a pair of hooves burst out in front of him, grabbing him by the throat. He had nearly been pulled down headfirst before he broke away. But now the rest of the pony they were attached to sprang from the ground, a decomposed shell of its former self. In awe, Faelan couldn’t move, his eyes locked into its. Its empty sockets seem to stare into Faelan’s soul as it pulled itself up to meet him face to face. It fleshless jaws worked slowly as it moaned a single word, “Whyyyyyy?”
With that it lunged at him. Faelan shook off the moment of quiet terror and brought the ax down with the strength of fear and desperation, splitting the corpse from shoulder to hip. But now more of the undead had begun to rise from the earth, their fleshless forms moving with the bastardized semblance of life. Draugar, Faelan realize, restless souls of the dead, and they were all shambling towards him.
It was then that he caught sight of the farmhouse in the distance. He didn’t know what brought these revenants from their graves, but they would not take his family away from him. Putting his ax in its harness, he lowered his head and pawed the ground, snarling at the undead horde. “Get out of MY WAY!”
Letting loose his battle cry Faelan crashed into the mass of bodies like a pony possessed. Shrugging off blows with his massive bulk, he bit, stomped, and head-butted anything foolish enough to stand in his path. He also took injuries himself, as the draugar proved they were far from helpless. They lashed out at him with any form of weapon, from hooves to swords to simple kitchen knives. He could feel the red mist begin to tug at the corners of his vision as he worked to push the pain to back of his mind. Not yet, he told himself, not until I know the family is safe.
Finally he began to break away from the group and started to bound through the open fields. To either side of him the scenery changed before his eyes. The green meadows decayed to brown, while the lush crops were now chocked with weeds. The world had reverted back to the nightmare visage from before. Bodies littered the yard, while others hung from the trees as before. Faelan moved to pull the ax back from the harness, but luckily none of them seemed to be moving.
Looking about the yard Faelan began to panic when he didn’t see any sign of the family. It was then that he caught sight of a familiar figure in the waning twilight. Turning to get better look he could see the visage of grandfather Lachlann, his face appearing to be made of stone.
Trotting up to him Faelan called, “Grandfather, where is the family? Is everypony safe?” But Lachlann did not respond. His steely gaze seemed to show all the years of his life, his face looking drawn. “Grandfather…”
“Stendarr has chosen you, young one. You must heed his call. The blood cannot be undone.”
And with that the world seemed to shift. Shapes and shadows flooded Faelan’s vision as everything around him spun. No more was he on the farm of his foalhood memories, but instead an empty field. In any direction the horizon tampered into nothing. He was alone, not sure what to do, when things began to come into focus. He was back on the battlefield, rusted weapons and armor cast by the wayside in all directions.
Just when he was beginning the constricted loneliness of the endless void the ground began to turn again. Draugr began to arise in every direction, the rotted flesh pulling themselves along. The soulless eyes turned to him, malice painted over their drawn muzzles. Tens, hundreds of draugr were now shambling towards him, readying to tear him limb from limb. He should have been ready, his combat instincts kicking in. But something held him back. He was…he was scared. He was a little colt again, staring at a menacing world he didn’t want to see.
“S-s-somepony, anypony…please, somepony please help me,” he sobbed.
“I’m here, son.”
Turning to the voice Faelan saw her, big, comforting, with a smile on her face. He scampered over to her, hoping she could make everything better.
“Mama, I’m scared. I wanna go home.”
Her warm smile never left her face as she brought her head down to nuzzle him. In that self-assuring voice of hers she whispered, “But son, you are home.”
The young colt looked up, confused, with tears in his eyes. “What do you mean Mama?”
“The battlefield is your home now, remember? This is who you are, isn’t it. Look, don’t you recognize their faces?”
Faelan was scared to, but he turned his head to look out at the approaching horde. At first he didn’t recognize any of them, but when they started getting closer he started to see. He knew these ponies. There were unicorn mages impaled on spikes, and pegasi legionaries missing wings. There were griffons with missing beaks and dragons missing wings or even heads. Wherever he looked he saw faces, he saw memories. I killed them, he realized.
Everywhere he saw eyeless stares and menacing snarls. But what really hurt the most were the stares coming from the last set of eyes. Shambling among the others were his kinsmen, earth ponies wearing either motley sets of armor or tattered rags. Some were little more than peasants, some impaled or covered in burns. But the worst of all was one particular mare in the crowd, a dead foal cradled next to her chest.
“Gredal…”
As the undead horde slowly made its way closer he started to see something else. There were tears in their eyes. All around he could see contorted faces mixed with pain and anger. Their moaning started to come in more cohesively.
“Whyyy…”
“…did I…"
“…have to dieee…?”
From a hundred throats came cries of hurt. Everywhere he looked it was the same; fathers, sons, wives, relatives, earth, unicorn, pegasus, stallions, and fillies, all his fault! He couldn’t stand it anymore!
“Mama, please help me,” he began to sob. But turning around he saw she was no longer there.
“But son…” he heard from below. Looking down he was met with the visage of her severed head in his hooves. His eyes were looked in horror with hers. But her smile never faltered as she continued with finality, “…how can I, when I’m already dead?”
With a scream he threw her away. Bouncing in the dirt her smile never left. The last bulwark of safety he had was gone. He was alone and he was scared, waiting for the horde to take their time tearing him apart for his sins.
RELEASE ME.
He could feel it in the base of skull.
DO WHAT YOU WERE BORN TO DO.
Fear began to congeal into anger. He wasn’t going to die!
KILL.
The scared young colt was gone; in his place was a warrior. Slipping his battleaxe out, he dove into the horde with no fear. The draugr started to raise their assembled weapons when he began to cut a bloody swath through them. Chainmail, plate, scales, it didn’t matter as Faelan cut apart bodies like a wild beast.
Four pegasi and a griffon pushed him back in an attempt to smother him with their weight. With a heave he lifted the group and tossed their shattered remains over his back with the ease of a bale of hay. He dodged a thrust from a mare with a kitchen knife, catching her leg in his teeth. Blood seeped into his vision as he tore the forehoof from the socket before splitting her abdomen with his ax. Wielding the severed limb like a cudgel in one hoof and the great axe in the other he proceeded to bludgeon and cut his way through the onrushing crowd.
No thoughts ran through his mind, no fear, only bloodlust. He was a merciless vortex of death, biting, kicking, tearing, and slashing his way across the battlefield. While throwing up a block, a unicorn knight managed to cut the shaft of his axe with a sword. Faelan simply tore its head from its body and proceeded to stab his victims with the horn. When that no longer proved useful he pulled his ancestral blade from the scabbard and sliced through four necks at once.
This continued unabated for he knew not how long. But for any dozen he killed, a dozen more would rise and take their place. So oblivious he was in his rage that he lost track of the bodies that were littered from his tirade. Slipping in the pool of blood, he fell and lost the grip of his sword. The restless dead proceeded to pile onto him before he could recover. He kicked and fought and bit like a caged animal, but to no avail. Hooves tore up from the ground, pulling him down with the strength of the vengeful. In his last throes he could hear laughter in the background at his inevitable doom. With his last gasp his roared his hate and fear at the world.
“RAURGHHHHHH!!!!”