//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Mistakes // Story: The Life of Fear // by Educated Guess //------------------------------// Years passed, as they had passed before. I grew... “Aeros!” Aeros barely had time to lift off his saddlebags before Phobos’ flying tackle impacted. It very nearly knocked him off the balcony, but he quickly blew them both back on. “You’re getting way too big to do that, you know,” Aeros chuckled, wrapping his wings around his little brother. “One of these days, you’ll have to walk up to hug me like everypony else.” Phobos just grinned, and gave him a final squeeze before releasing him. “Where have you been? It’s been...” “Almost a year, I know. I could tell just by looking at you.” Aeros took a step back, and looked his brother up and down. “By the Maker, you’ve grown! Let me see your wings.” The tip of Phobos’ horn came up to Aeros’ eyes, now, but his wings were still barely half the size of his brother’s. He spread them, and Aeros gasped in playful astonishment. “I normally leave this sort of language to Terra and Aqua, but eja! They’re almost as big as mine!” Phobos rolled his eyes, and let his feathers flop to the ground. “They’re nowhere near as big as yours.” “Pff. You and I are obviously looking at very different pairs of wings. You know, uh...” He looked around furtively, as though afraid they were being watched, then leaned his head in close. “Just between you and me, Terra’s got a thing for big wings.” He wiggled his eyebrows emphatically. Phobos scowled, and punched Aeros lightly in the ribs. He reeled back in pretended pain, clutching a hoof to his chest dramatically. “But, really,” Phobos said, coming back to the topic at hoof. “Where have you been?” Aeros’ icy eyes lit up with excitement, and he smiled a victorious, cheshire smile. “We found Daruun.” Phobos’ eyes widened. “Really?” “Yeah! Completely by accident, too. We’ve been tracking him for months now, hoping he’ll lead us to Divanad. He’s been stationary for about two weeks, though, so Bellic thought it would be safe for me to finally come back and pick up some supplies.” “Where is he staying?” Aeros sighed with obviously pent-up frustration. “Corona Ortus. Right in the middle of breeding season, of course. He’s probably surrounded by a bunch of pretty young wyrmlings as we speak. And since we’re not dragons, they won’t let us in.” Dragons... dragons... Phobos sifted through what he had learned about the solitary, enigmatic creatures. “...Is there one specific dragon that wouldn’t let you in?” Aeros was taken aback by the question. “Yeah, there was. Big, black, shiny. A few of the other dragons were calling him... ‘Keeper’, I think.” Phobos nodded sagely. “The Keeper of Names,” he muttered under his breath. “The what, now?” Phobos held up a hoof for silence, running through several ideas in his head. When he found one he liked, he nodded again. “Have Ignus challenge him to a Baarak Murda.” “A... Barack...?” “Baarak Murda,” Phobos explained. “When two dragons have an argument that can’t be resolved any other way, there are several tests that they can choose from, to prove which of them is superior. The Baarak Murda is a test of flame, where they pit their breath against each other to see whose is stronger.” Aeros stared at him for a moment, thinking. Then, the pieces clicked, and he grinned evilly. “But Ignus doesn’t breathe his flames.” “Exactly. All he has to do is outlast the Keeper’s first volley, and he’s sure to win.” “Do you think that will work?” Phobos shrugged. “If he’s as prideful as most dragons are, he’d never refuse a challenge from anyone, let alone a pony.” “He did seem pretty snooty,” Aeros affirmed. “Then it’ll definitely work.” Aeros looked down at him in wonder, then reached up and roughly mussed his hair. “Look at you, giving me advice. You’re the best little brother I’ve ever had.” “Hey!” Phobos objected, knocking the attacking hoof away. “I won’t be little for much longer.” I learned... “After two weeks of sieging, nine had been lost, but the ranks of the Brotherhood showed no signs of breaking. It was decided that a more subtle approach should be tried. Ago asked for a volunteer to infiltrate the fortress and subdue Volun. Trada, Volun’s old mate, was the first to offer herself for the task. “Ago knew that Trada still loved Volun, and would try to turn him, or be turned herself, before any attempt at capture would be made - a foolish endeavor. All the same, he accepted her offer. He gave to her a necklace, saying that it would help her remain hidden on her journey. She took it, and was soon away to the Vallis Silentii. “Tela watched Trada’s journey, and when she judged the time was right, Ago activated the necklace, which carried a Rune of Unbinding. In only a few moments, the fortress had collapsed, and with it, the morale of the Brotherhood; the few of them that remained scattered. “When the field had been cleared, Volun and Trada were dug out of the rubble and taken back to Olympus - both gravely injured, but neither dead. Trada, having committed no true crime, was pardoned unanimously. Volun was banished into Tartarus, marking the 19th casting of the Rite of the Os Tenebris. “The remnants of the Brotherhood regrouped under Volun’s second-in-command and Bearer of the Phylactery, Sombra. Sombra himself was incredibly powerful, but without the firm, calculating hoof of Volun to guide their forces, the Brotherhood lost in every conflict that followed. Finally, in the Battle of the Shifting Desert, Sombra was cornered by Ascia, and cast himself down into a nearby canyon. When the gully was searched after the battle, the Phylactery was found and moved to the Armarium, but no trace of Sombra remained. He has not been seen since.” Lexus closed the book with a decisive thwp. Phobos opened his eyes, and, as had become their tradition, the questioning began. “What did it mean when it said Trada committed no ‘true’ crime?” The librarian thought for a moment, then burst out laughing when he remembered. “Ah, yes, it - heh - they w-w-would leave that part out, wouldn’t they. Ah, Tela actually let Volun and... Trada finish, ah... conceiving before she g-gave Ago the signal.” Phobos’ eyes widened in shock. “No!” “Oh, yes.” “And she was... watching the whole time?” Phobos almost gagged at the thought. No amount of biology lessons from Hippocrates had been able to prepare him for accidentally walking in on Bellic and Serena several moons ago - although, thankfully, they hadn’t seen him. He had had a very, very long sympathy session with Aeros the next time he had seen him. Lexus chuckled again. “P-perhaps.” “Why would they be... conceiving, anyway? I would think that one might have different priorities on a mission like that.” “It w-wasn’t Trada’s fault, really - sh-sh-she had been one of Volun’s earliest v-v-victims - his p-p-power over her was nigh unb-breakable.” “Then why did they allow her to go at all?” “B-because Ago knew that Volun w-was arrogant, and w-w-would let down his guard. The rune would have b-b-been discovered on any other b-bearer. B-besides, some good c-c-came out of it - the child of that night was your g-g-grandfather, Seraphii.” This time, Phobos was less shocked than surprised. “Really?” Lexus nodded. “Mmm. And w-w-without him, when the Coven first attacked... well, who kn-n-n-knows what might have hap-p-pened?” And, most importantly, I made mistakes. Phobos loved spending time with Flora. He wasn’t quite sure why - after all, watering flowers and picking fruits was no more exciting than learning history, or seeing Aeros and Ignus berate each other, or watching Sanarus conduct his esoteric magical experiments. Then again, perhaps that was exactly the reason. Sometimes, it was nice to step away from the knowledge and the fighting and the history, and simply enjoy the sunlight, and the company of the second-youngest alicorn he knew. Whenever he wasn’t otherwise occupied flying, or reading, or straining to lift a pebble with his mind in the hopes that his unapparent magic would suddenly awaken, he would fly down to the Gardens and help however he could. Even though the garden tools had been designed to be used magically, one could use them with only the mouth and hooves if they put a bit of effort into it, and he had plenty of effort to spare. On this particular day, the two of them were watering the more moisture-sensitive and  protected herbs in preparation for next week, when Terra and Aqua would be helping them with the harvest. Flora planned to be keeping a barrier erected over her hut and the surrounding planter boxes, just in case things got a bit messy - and when Terra and Aqua were involved, they frequently did. “You know,” said Flora, floating her watering can to a new patch of mint. “I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for all the help you give me.” Phobos was caught off guard. He tilted back the watering can strapped between his hooves to stop the flow, and looked at her curiously. “You don’t need to. I mean, what else would I be doing?” Flora blushed slightly, and lowered the spout of her own can. “Well, I suppose, but... It means a lot to me. Terra, and Aqua, and Aeros - they do as much as they can, but they’re almost never around, and they have so much bigger things to take care of. I’ve been doing this all by myself for so long, I’d forgotten how nice it is to have a...” She chuckled. “Well, an almost-full-time assistant.” “Oh?” said Phobos, his interest piqued. He moved over to a closer box filled with needleweed, a long, sharp, fibrous plant. “Who would help you before?” I was just making conversation. I didn’t expect anything more than another one of her amusing anecdotes. “Ignus tried once, but he almost burned the place down!” “Aeros kept blowing the leaves off!” But even a grave answer about Gaia helping to tend the fields before her death would have been preferable to the answer I received.   Flora looked at him strangely, as if gazing through a blatant hole in his memory. “Why, Fauna, of course.”   It was the first time I had heard the name, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.   “Who?” he asked simply. A look of realization slowly crept across her face. “Oh…” “What?” “Of course you don’t know. I’m sorry, it’s just -” She sighed heavily. “It’s been so long.” Her eyes fell to the ground, and she laid down her can, her chartreuse magic fading. After a few more moments of silent contemplation, she sighed again, and sat back on her haunches, all sense of work lost in a flood of memories. “Fauna... is my brother.” Phobos’ jaw dropped in surprise. “You have a brother?” He knew that Oranos had five daughters, but he had never heard of any son. “...Not by blood,” she admitted. “But we were born around the same time, and we looked very similar, and... well, you know. Flüra, Faahra; we were twined, even if we didn’t know it.” Her eyes began to glisten. “He Ԁlɐuʇ' ∀uıɯɐl was always there when I needed him, and he always seemed so much older than me. He taught me how to fly, and how to use magic.” “...What happened to him?” “He left,” she all-but-whispered. Phobos jumped as though she had shouted it at him. “Left?” Flora simply nodded. That, Phobos had not expected. He could have handled death, or kidnapping, or mysterious disappearance, or any other sort of morbid tale - but somehow, a pony choosing to leave the City was worse than any of them, by far. “...Why?” was the only question there was to ask, and he asked it. She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “One day, when we were in the Garden, Bellic came, and asked Fauna to join the... I don’t know what they call themselves. The hunting party - Aeros, and Ignus, and... a few others, at the time, I think. But Fauna refused.” She smiled at him grimly. “Well, you and I both know that Bellic doesn’t accept refusal. He... insisted - but still, Fauna said no. They started arguing, and neither of them gave any ground. It grew, and grew, until they were all but yelling at each other, about the... morality of the situation. Fauna said that what we do... what we are, what we represent... isn’t right. He said that the world deserved to be free, and make its own choices, and not be ruled over by ‘ponies that think they know better.’ “Bellic asked if he cared about those who had come before him, and sacrificed themselves to keep him and the rest of us safe. But Fauna just said, ‘It’s not real safety if you don’t have a choice.’ Well, that sent Bellic flying off the handle. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘Have a choice. Stay here with the rest of your kind, and help them do what they’re meant to; or leave, and never come back.’” A pair of small drops ran down each side of her face, and her voice began to waver. “So he left, right then. I watched him disappear over the wall. He never even said goodbye.” She shut her eyes, letting the thin trails of tears exhaust themselves. It didn’t take long - she had done all of her crying years ago. After a few moments, she rubbed the at the streaks with the back of her hoof, and sniffed - and then, she seemed to realize something. “Actually... in a way, he did.” She turned to Phobos. “Have you ever noticed that there are no animals in Olympus? No squirrels, or birds, or bees, or worms?” Phobos nodded. He had certainly noticed it, especially after his trips out of the shield, but he had never put much thought into it. It was just the way things were. “That was Fauna’s doing. He...” She shook her head, and looked away. “‘Cursed’ isn’t the right word, but it may as well have been a curse. He carved his own words into the Eminstones, in just the right places, so that any ground within them would drive away all animal life. That’s what I was talking to the trees about, the day we met. The orchard is alright - they have me to take care of them - but they can hear the cries of the forest outside. Flowers, with no bees to feast on their pollen - bushes, with no mice to spread their seeds. I never understood why he did it, before, but... I think it was his way of proving his point. Either we had to let the land be free, or watch it slowly wither beneath our hooves.” They were both silent for a time, lost in contemplation and remembrance. Phobos had had no idea it was possible to modify the Eminstones that way. Then, Flora glanced over at him, and her expression quickly turned to one of horror. “Phobos, the water!” He looked down. He had had his watering can tilted forward at the start of the story, and had forgotten about it. Now, the planter was almost overflowing, and the long, straight needleweeds were slowly drooping sideways. “Ah!” Phobos quickly backed away. “Oh no, I – will they be alright?” Flora was already up and bent over the box, using her magic to sweep as much of the water as she could into the grass. The rest quickly sank into the moist, bloated soil. She looked up at his panicked face, and couldn’t help but chuckle through her drying tears. “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling. “I’ll get Aqua to help me with them when she comes back. They’ll have to be harvested a few days late, at worst. Hippocrates can survive without his fresh needleweeds. I’ve never seen him use them, anyway.” It’s funny, isn’t it? How some of the smallest things can do so much. The drifting spark that ignites the forest. The loose pebble that starts the avalanche. The butterfly that flaps its wings, and spawns storms on the other side of the world. The plant that drinks just a bit too much water, a few days too early, and begins to unravel everything. “He didn’t!” Flora cried in disbelief. “He did!” Aqua giggled. “Right in front of—?” Phobos started to ask. “—of Serena AND Gaia!” Terra finished. The four of them burst into laughter for what must have been the hundredth time that day. The sun was now just touching down on the distant hills, flooding the sky with fiery orange light. The outer walls had thrown the City into premature evening. The Castle, and the few other buildings that still stood taller than the walls, seemed to float like lanterns. “You had better not tell him I told you, though,” Aqua said with mock sternness. Flora just rolled her eyes. “I don’t think the Old Speech even has the right words.” This elicited a second round of giggles, and they walked on. Three of them did, anyway. Terra happened to glance out over the wall, and stopped dead in her tracks. Phobos was the first to notice their missing member, and turned to look at her curiously. “Terra?” Silently, she pointed. The others followed her gaze. At first, they couldn’t see what she was looking at - but then, as a cloud drifted out of the way, a small speck became visible in the distance, dark against the burning sky. “...What is that?” Flora asked rhetorically, shielding her eyes with one hoof. They watched as the speck grew infinitesimally larger. Wings became visible, flapping on its sides, and then a horn. Aeros, perhaps? No, it was too large to be a single pony - and sure enough, a second head and horn became apparent, next to the first. Most worrying of all, they began to hear a high-pitched whistling noise - the kind that Phobos had only ever heard when he had asked Aeros to prove that he could, in fact, fly faster than sound. The figures appeared to be headed towards the main gate. The four of them glanced at each other worldlessly, and ran to intercept. The whistling slowly grew into an unearthly shriek, then ended in an earth-shattering boom. Bellic and Aeros landed with the force of a meteorite, their wings laid over each other, their eight legs galloping as one, and a large, dark bundle draped across their backs. They didn’t pause to explain, transitioning straight from their supersonic flight into a mad stampede towards the Castle. Between their dust trail and the blinding silver light of Aeros’ horn, Phobos couldn’t make out what the bundle they carried between them was. His only clue was the trail of dark splatters they were leaving on the road behind them. There was no Ignus. As Phobos realized this, his heart began to race, and he pounded after the pair as fast as he could. The sound of hooves told him that the others were following. “Someone get Hippocrates!” he yelled, desperately. He heard wings flap, but didn’t bother looking to see which of the three sisters had broken off and taken flight. As they entered the foyer, they slowed to a walk, and took in what lay before them. It was not comforting. The few torches that were lit inside the spire served only to throw taunting, menacing shadows in every direction, dancing around the feet of the great statues. The statues themselves, the heroes and leaders of the ages - Aedifex, Emine, Astra, Lacuna, Hastam, and dozens of others - their stony eyes seemed to look down on the scene with a disheartening mixture of curiosity and disappointment. Aeros lay slumped against the Altar, trying to catch his breath - but it sounded as though his breath had been running circles around him for hours. His horn looked like a freshly doused match - blackened, hissing, and smoking. The iron-red stains in his coat and mane made him look like a giant koi fish out of water. The blood on Bellic’s fur was harder to see against the black, but there was no doubt it was there. He breathed slightly less heavily, but as Phobos met his sapphire eyes, he felt his veins freeze - for the first time in Phobos’ memory, his father looked afraid. Between the two, strewn like a doll across the marble slab, and completing the grim trifecta, was Ignus. His fiery hair hung straight and limp. The pupils of his eyes were contracted into almost-nonexistent points, staring into an unseen distance. His breath was ragged, labored, and sporadic, and from a long, deep gash in his side, blood bubbled freely, jubilantly forth, brightening his maroon fur, and pooling beneath him on the black stone. He had only just been placed there moments ago, but drops and rivulets were already beginning to spill down the sides, like red rain on a darkened window. Aqua hissed some colorful profanity under her breath, but to Phobos, it sounded muffled and distant, as though she were speaking through water. Flora was speechless, holding a hoof to her mouth in shock. Phobos himself felt like there was no air in his lungs, but he forced himself to speak. “...What happened?” Bellic seemed to ignore the question. “Get Hippocrates,” he said, brusquely. “He’s on his way,” said Terra, drifting down from the floors above. When she landed, and saw what lay before her, her eyes widened in horror. “Fabricator mea...” “What happened?” Phobos asked again, more forcefully this time. Bellic simply shook his head, and turned to look at his dying son. As if in response, Ignus let out a long, rasping gasp. Phobos was now more irritated than fearful, as his father’s erratic behavior was often wont to do. “Why are you ignoring me?” he shouted angrily. “I want to know what’s happened to him - he’s my brother!” “Phobos...” Terra began to caution - but it was too late. “AND HE IS MY SON!” Bellic exploded, suddenly furious. “He means more to me than he ever will to you, and today, he fell before my eyes! I have no desire to recount it more than once!” “I’m your son too!” Phobos cried out, sounding, even to himself, like a wounded animal. “Do I not mean the same?” Bellic scowled darkly, and opened his mouth to reply. Sometimes, I wish I knew what Bellic was going to say then, and I wonder if I might have run away, just like Fauna - but Hippocrates always had impeccable timing when it came to me and my father. “What’s going on?” Hippocrates said, descending from above like an angel. He floated a large bundle that seemed to contain the entire contents of his medicine cabinet off of his back, and set it on the ground next to him. Bellic looked at him, then back at Phobos. He narrowed his sapphire eyes, and the message was as clear as if it had been written in fire - ‘We’ll finish this later.’ Then, he snorted, and turned to face the doctor. “Daruun knew that we were following him,” he said. “He led us into an ambush.” As Bellic spoke, Hippocrates bent down over Ignus and squinted at the wound, examining it carefully. “He had two gryphons, five goats, and a manticore. Ignus was separated from us during the fighting. We had killed three of the goats when they retreated, and we found him like this. We tried everything we could to staunch the bleeding, but nothing seemed to work.” “I can see why,” Hippocrates murmured. He looked up at Bellic with a strange, warning gaze. “This wasn’t done by any Covenite. This is a harmonic wound.” The world stood still as the import of the doctor’s words sank in. The Coven were chaos mages. It was impossible for them to use harmonic magic. Ignus broke the silence with a rough, red, phlegm-filled cough. “No,” said Bellic, taking a step backwards. Confusion and realization were swirling in his eyes. “No, that’s -” “Entirely possible, as we’ve feared for some time. Flora?” Flora had been standing paralyzed since she had entered, but at her name, she jumped to attention. “Yes?” “The harvest was today, correct?” “Yes.” “Good. Bring me all the needleweed you have.” With that, he turned back to his patient, unwrapped his bundle, and began floating out dozens of leaves and tufts of moss. “Oh, no,” Phobos tried to moan, but his throat had clenched itself shut, and all he produced was a quiet, squeaking cry that nopony noticed. Flora nodded, and dashed off towards the nearest archway - but halfway there, she skidded to a halt when she had the same realization Phobos had had. The needleweeds had been drowned. They wouldn’t be ready for a few more days - and perhaps Hippocrates could survive without them, but now, somepony else could not. Phobos watched her stand perfectly still for several seconds. He could almost hear the gears in her head jamming, crashing, and popping out of place. Eventually, Hippocrates noticed as well, and paused halfway through grinding up some kind of paste with his floating, blue-glowing mortar and pestle. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, irritated. Slowly, Flora turned around. Her smooth, pearly features were creased with distress. “The... the needleweeds... they...” She bit her lip and glanced furtively at Phobos. “I... I overwatered them, by accident. They’re not...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish, and hung her head shamefully. Hippocrates stared at her blankly, as though his brain refused to accept the words his ears had given it. Slowly, he pulled out a single stalk of the needleweed he had in his stores - a long, thin, pointed strip of reed - and bent it, gently. Phobos flinched involuntarily as it snapped cleanly in half, like a twig left out in the desert to dry. Hippocrates looked at the pieces with dismal curiosity, then closed his eyes, and let out a breath that seemed to carry all the weight of every life he had ever failed to save. “If I had had more time, there would be more I could do,” he said quietly, turning back to the dying pony on the Altar. “But as it is, I doubt he’ll make the dawn.” “Stupid!” Phobos yelled at himself for the dozenth time. The walls bounced the insult back at him. Flora sat watching him from the edge of his room, her face etched with worry. He looked like some kind of malfunctioning automaton, walking the same circle of floor over and over again at breakneck speeds. She had been trying her best to soothe him, but so far, nothing had worked. “Phobos, it’s not your fault.” “Yes, it is! You know it is! I’m the one that wasn’t paying attention.” “I’m the one that distracted you.” “I’m the one that asked!” He paused his pacing to howl in frustration, then stomped onwards. “Why did you lie to them? Why did you protect me?” Flora lowered her head, and a cherry blossom dislodged itself from her mane, drifting down to the floor. “They can’t forbid me from the Garden, but they could have forbidden you. And...” Her voice dropped to a murmur, and she averted her eyes. “...I would have missed you.” Phobos stopped so fast that he nearly tripped over himself. He looked at her in surprise, and felt his rage drain away. It was hard to tell in the torchlight, but it seemed like she was blushing. “...Oh.” He turned away, feeling his own cheeks growing warm as well. For a while, they were both silent, lost in contemplation. Phobos swore he could still hear the sparse and retching coughs of his brother far below, echoing through the halls. Eventually, he sighed, and sat down. “There has to be something we can do,” he said, staring intently at the floor. Flora let out a small sad laugh. “Like what?” “Well -” His eyes widened in realization, and he barely resisted the urge to punch himself in the face. “Needleweed grows in the wild somewhere, right?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, of course.” “On Congeria, or Praestans?” “Congeria.” His questions grew faster. “Is it in season?” “...Yes, it should be.” “What region?” “...Ours, I think.” “In what sort of habitat?” “Um... near water, but not too close to it... it likes to grow on the roots of other plants, like trees and bushes...” “Do you think any grows by the Glowing Lake?” She looked at him curiously. “The what?” “Sorry. The Ardenslacus. Does any grow by the Ardenslacus?” “Oh.” She thought for a moment. “...Yes, probably.” “Right.” He nodded solemnly, and gazed out the archway towards the star-filled sky beyond. “...Phobos?” Flora asked cautiously. Something in the back of her brain told her that his steely, determined expression, combined with his recent line of questioning, was not going to result in anything good. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” He stood up and strode towards the balcony, unfurling his wings. “If anyone asks where I am, tell them... tell them I went to the library to look for an alternate treatment.” “Phobos!” She scrambled to her hooves and grabbed at his wing. “You can’t go out there alone, at night! It’s too dangerous!” He stopped, and looked back at her sadly. “I have to. This is my fault. I need to fix this, or at least try.” Her eyes frantically searched his face, as though somewhere in his fur she could find the words that would keep him from leaving. Eventually, she gave up, and simply threw her forelegs around his neck. “Be safe,” she whispered. He gave her a gentle squeeze in return, and she reluctantly let go. Then he turned, walked out onto the balcony, leapt into the air, and was lost to the blackness. It took Phobos a few minutes to figure out which direction to go in - he had only been to the Glowing Lake a few times, and the Borrasylva seemed much larger when you were actively looking for something amidst the endless sea of trees. Some part of his mind that was still feeling chipper pointed out that it should really be easier than this to find a giant, glowing lake at night, but the rest of him didn’t find it as funny. After a long while, he saw a faint glimmer on the horizon, like the pinprick of a lantern in an early-morning fog. He winged towards it, and couldn’t help but sigh in relief as it slowly grew into the round, shining shape of the Ardenslacus, glowing like a second moon in a mirrored, starless sky. He dove down quickly, landing on the only stretch of shoreline clear of plant life - the beach he, his mother, and the earthly sisters had come to, all those years ago. Besides the fact that everything seemed shorter now, it looked just as he remembered it. The ferns, fronds raised in reverence - the willows, branches hanging in solemn prayer - the smooth, shimmering, crystalline water - the bright blue light that invaded every crevice, and made everything look somehow unreal, like they were merely specters of themselves. The taste of songberries danced idly across the back of his mind, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. This trip was business, not pleasure. He began to search, working his way behind the brush along the coast. The light of the lake made it difficult for his eyes to adjust to the shadows - he was forced to move slowly, poking at the ground ahead with his hooves to avoid falling over every protruding root in his path. Even so, he stumbled more than a few times, and the branches and thorns that whipped and tore at his head and chest made things no easier. He found raspberries, fennel, and brilliant, blooming moonflowers. He tripped over basil, mint, and creeping wisteria. He plowed through dandelions, stepped over bloodmoss, and whisked past a dozen other kinds of plants he didn’t even know the names of - but there was no needleweed to be found anywhere. Eventually, he glanced up at the moon, and his heart skipped a beat. The night was already almost half-gone, and he had barely covered a fifth of the coast. He racked his brain for options. He could try to find somewhere else to look. After all, he didn’t even know if what he was looking for was here, and there must have been other lakes and rivers in the area. But then, he realized that he had no source of light, and would just be crashing into things even more than he already was. Not only do you not have a lantern, or anything so much as a match, that part of his brain that was responsible for making plans scolded, But even if you find the needleweeds, you don’t have anything to harvest them with! I’ll chew them off if I have to. You realize how sharp they are, right? Completely. Alright, and how are you carrying them back? In my mouth. ...Do you rely on your teeth for everything? I’ve never needed anything else. Well, don’t come crying back to me when your lips are covered in cuts from nursing a bundle of razor-sharp reeds. Phobos grumbled at himself, and continued on. He could wrap them in leaves or something. There was no time to go back to Olympus for supplies now. If what he was looking for wasn’t here... well, it had to be. He didn’t want to think about what would - “Ah!” He let out a gasp of pain as something bit into his right forehoof. He brought the wound to his mouth and sucked on it gently, then looked down to see what had caused it. He froze. It wasn’t a thorn, or a thistle, or a goathead, or even a particularly sharp rock. It was a long, tall, pointed, reedy plant, standing alone at the edge of a clump of others like it. Needleweeds. And - Cut forgotten, he reached out his hoof to gently push at the broad side of the stalk, and watched in amazment as it bent, smoothly and gracefully, almost in half. When he released it, it sprung neatly back into place. - they were fresh. He almost laughed in delight, but drove the urge from his mind. There was no time to celebrate yet - he needed to get these home. He leaned down and wrapped his teeth around the stalk, then carefully began to chew. Once he had one free, he could use it to cut down the rest. Looking back on this moment, I realized that there were several flaws in my sheltered upbringing. One was that there were no animals or large bodies of water in Olympus, so I had had very little practice separating the sounds of waves lapping at the shore, and the soft, stalking footfalls of a nocturnal predator. Another, although it is strange to call such a fact a disadvantage, was that I was not accustomed to pain. I broke my leg once or twice, of course, and dislocated my left hip more times than Hippocrates cared to count, and there was one case where I accidentally unhinged my jaw. But my body was so frail in those early years that such incidents were not really painful, in the proper sense of the word - they were simply inevitable, and, due to the fact that I had lived under the watch of, at the time, the two most powerful healers in the Equestrian plane, such wounds never ended up being worse than mildly inconvenient. Thirdly - and it is much easier to see this as disadvantageous - was that I didn’t know what it felt like for magic to be drawn from one’s body. I’ll be very honest - when such a release is involuntary, unexpected, and thought to be impossible, it is an indescribably painful experience. To say that Phobos screamed would be to say that a tidal wave splashed the shore, or that an usurper’s sword gave the king an uncomfortable prick - they are all technically accurate descriptions, but they do a great disservice to the event they describe. He let out an unearthly howl - the kind of sound that would have sent shivers down the spines of any pony nearby, had anypony been there to witness it. A white-hot lance of fire shot through his bones, from the base of his horn, down his neck, through his heart, and all the way out to his tail. His vision burned white - every hair in his coat bristled like he had been struck by lightning. His body arched and contorted as though some twisted puppeteer was pulling all of his strings as tightly as they could, just to see what would happen. It lasted for barely a fraction of a moment, and then it was gone. His legs, robbed of their sudden stiffness, buckled under him, and he collapsed onto the ground. Through the red haze and popping, swimming lights in his vision, the few scattered pieces of his brain that were not being forced to restart themselves processed what they could. He was on his back. He couldn’t move - or, at the very least, his body was refusing to respond until it had fully assessed the damage. Nearby, something was growling and hissing - something that wasn’t him. His eyes focused blearily ahead, and managed to make out a shape moving in the shadows - long, and dark, and sleek, with bared fangs and glistening claws. It was recovering much faster than he was - rolling over onto its paws, staggering side-to-side as it struggled to regain its balance. Some idle process began to try to identify what sort of creature it was, but was quickly shut down by instinct. It was a hunter, and it was hunting him. For now, that was all that mattered. His heart began to quicken as the final report came back from his body. Everything seemed normal. There was no damage anywhere, save for a hot, stinging ring around his neck, just where his golden choker sat. He would have to think about what that meant later. He pushed himself out of the way just in time to avoid the creature’s next pounce, rolling over the bushes, and splashing into the shallows of the lake. Falteringly, he struggled to his hooves, dripping wet, and turned to face his attacker. As it stepped through the hole he had made in the veil of brush, and out into the light of the lake, he got a better view of what it was - a chimera. Chimeras were a combination of three creatures. Their front halves were those of a lion, with the head, paws, claws, and fangs that came with it. Their rear halves were those of a goat, including two cloven hooves and a short-horned, slit-eyed, buck-toothed second head that sprouted awkwardly out of their backs. The third piece was their tail, which was, itself, a long, twisting snake, ending in its own head and set of sharp, poisonous fangs. This chimera was no more than a kit, which, thankfully, meant that it probably couldn’t breathe fire yet. Unfortunately, a ‘young’ chimera was still almost as big as Phobos himself, and this particular chimera had a large, bushy circle of mane around its neck. It was a male, which meant that it wasn’t hunting for food, and couldn’t be scared off. It was defending its territory, and wouldn’t stop until one of them was either gone or dead. The chimera hissed, roared, and bleated at him all at once, then pounced again, claws extended. Phobos tried to leap sideways and take to the safety of the air, but the weight of his waterlogged fur was far greater than he had expected. His first wing-beat spun him off-balance, and he crashed down sideways into the water. The chimera was much more accustomed to fighting wet. It landed with a splash, turned smoothly to the side, and leapt again, all in the blink of an eye. Phobos barely had time to roll onto his back, and watch the beast descend on him. This time, he saw what happened. When the chimera’s claws were only a few inches away from sinking into his chest, an ethereal bubble of light shot out from the gem embedded in the choker on his neck, flinging the creature backwards. With the burst of white came the same searing, electric pain down his entire spine - but this time, his body had known what to expect, and his scream was reduced to an aggravated, teeth-clenching growl. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the blast. Was his necklace some kind of protective device, like a miniature Eminstone? And if so... was it drawing its power from him? Unfortunately, the chimera was also growing used to the necklace’s effects, and it seemed to know that the shield was causing more damage to its owner than it was to it. It twisted gracefully through the air, landed solidly on its feet, and charged once more, tail hissing menacingly. Phobos scrambled to his hooves, trying to dash out of the shallows, into the air, and away. The chimera was faster, and smashed itself bodily against the shield, no longer bothering to pounce. Phobos heard the attack coming, but despite that, the pain swept his hooves out from under him, and he fell back down to his knees. Run! Run away! Escape! his mind screamed at him, drowning out any other thoughts. Once more, he stood and tried to run, and once more, the chimera reached him too soon. Bang, bang, bang, again, and again, and again. With every burst of the shield, Phobos could feel himself draining away. Bang. He was barely crawling, now, stumbling blindly ahead. Bang. He registered that he had reached the edge of the lake, but found, quite curiously, that he could no longer stand. He dug his hooves into the sandy beach and pulled himself forward a few more inches. Bang. Blackness began to waver on the edges of his vision. He felt tired. Wasn’t it past midnight? He had woken up before dawn for the harvest, and hadn’t gotten a wink of rest since then. Bang. The sand felt soft and inviting beneath his head. Maybe he should take a nap. He could probably deal with all this a lot better after a good night’s sleep. He could even have songberries for breakfast. If only he could get his rear out of the water. He gave one last, feeble pull at the beach, then let his hooves flop to the ground. Oh, well. He could deal with a cold and pruny hooves. His eyes began to drift closed. Bang. Wait. Wasn’t he forgetting something? He felt like he was, but he couldn’t remember it for the life of him. He tried to shrug, and let the thought go. It couldn’t have been too important. He could take care of it in the morning. It’s not like anypony was going to die from a bit of forgetfulness. Bang. He really wished those white flashes would stop. They were making it hard to fall asleep. Just then, another burst of light came, but it was different than the others. It looked... less pure, somehow. More yellow than white. It was much brighter, and lasted much longer. Phobos scrunched his face in discomfort. He had almost decided to try to turn his head around, and see what was causing it, when it suddenly winked out. He waited. It was silent. There were no more flashes. Excellent, he thought. He caught a brief glimpse of a white hoof stepping in front of him before his eyes sealed shut, and he was swallowed by blackness.