//------------------------------//
// Chapter Thirteen 
// Story: Clipped Wings 
// by Desrium 
//------------------------------//

Chapter Thirteen


But only one's self can know their true weakness.


Was this a dream?

Alana found herself in the middle of the Hope compound as it was when she was a filly. It's walls were the cobbled together mass of scrap metal she remembered so well, the forward and rear entrance under the watchful eyes of the settlement's sentry. This wasn't a carbon copy of her memories however. The mishmash of metal was colorful and cheery looking as if the sheets of wreckage and blocks of concrete had been painted, but they weren't. They were just naturally like that as opposed to the overwhelming gray, the only stand out colors being that of rust, subdued by the Wasteland gloom. The crumbling walls of ruined buildings were the same: oranges, pinks, reds and blues and so much more colors coated the walls in their entirety, swirling in mesmerizing ways, creating interesting patterns, bizarre and wonderful images. It was as if the poster of the pink mare had been enchanted and spread its joy throughout the compound. Even that vacant field, with its dry, cracked soil and its muddy puddles was effected. The withered weeds were not so anymore, but full, blooming plants with leaves colored like the rainbow and the soil had the impossible appearance of rippling water, as if a rainbow liquid was constantly churning on its surface.


Alana sat there in the middle of the colorful ruin, dumbfounded and blown away. She could barely understand it all. But one thought crossed her mind as she took in the sights with wide eyes: "Does this mean everypony is... happy?"


As if to answer her question, a young dark blue stallion trotted out from the deluge of color, his dark hide a stark contrast to the brightness around him. He carried a smile with him and his red eyes practically had a twinkle in their corners. He looked as if he were around her age... and everything about him seemed...wrong. The pony was Steiner... a younger Steiner. One that was not missing his horn. One that did not carry a huge weight on his shoulders. One whose cutie mark wasn't a vortex but something just as colorful and strange. A blur of many colors swirling on his upper thigh, rippling like the field... Alana could not think of any talent of Steiner's that would warrant such a thing. It had no shape, rhyme or reason. The caramel mare feared it was... meaningless. Color for color's sake. 


"Hey Alana!" Steiner said to her as he neared, either ignoring her confused expression or was completely oblivious to it. Much to her surprise, the pony wrapped his forelegs around her in a warm embrace, something that made her feel very uncomfortable. This was not Steiner. The Steiner she knew was not affectionate. Regardless, she returned the gesture and hugged him as well, because a hug was a hug, right? 

"It's been so long!" he spoke into her ear. Her discomfort only grew when she heard him sniffing her mane -- which she couldn't put reason to, after all it was not like she had the option or ability to wash it frequently. 

"As sweet as canned apples!" the Pseudo-Steiner whispered. 


"That's enough of that!" Alana said a bit too quickly, wriggling out of the embrace somewhat curtly as she did. She smiled broadly at the stallion after, so as to not offend, but she could tell it was a forced smile. It was noteworthy because she never had to fake a smile before. She either smiled because she was genuinely happy or didn't smile at all. This was a new experience for her... a strange one. One she did not like. 

Apparently, the Steiner imitation picked up on this. Not that it would be too hard to see that the mare was unsettled by something. "What's wrong, dear?" he asked with genuine concern evident in his tone. 

"Dear?" Alana queried.  

"Of course! Is it wrong to call the one I love 'dear'?" Steiner replied. 

"Love!?" Alana exclaimed, her cheeks beginning to burn. "Since when were we in love, Steiner!?"

Steiner frowned. "Did you not have feelings for me --"

"Years ago! A small... filly crush -- love!? No, Steiner!" Alana said, thoughts racing and scattered. "They went away a while after you left... you and Klaxon --"

She stopped mid-sentence and looked around at the rest of the compound. The others were going about their business as if Alana and Steiner did not even exist. They greeted each other with smiles and hoof waves and continued on their ways and dealings. 

"Where is Molasses, anyway?"

"Molasses...?" Steiner asked. 

"Molasses-possibly-Sarsaparilla," Alana answered. "Klaxon?"

"Ah, right. Of course..." 


Alana was the one to frown this time. Something was definitely not right here. This wasn't any regular dream. Her body had become hot underneath her coat and battle saddle. She wanted to take them off.

"But I'm still up north, aren't I?"    

Then it hit her. 

"I AM still up north!"   


The colors around her began to drain away, becoming inky and running vertically along the concrete faces, streaming up into the discolored, gray-green, cloud covered sky. In time, that was the only color to be seen. Gray-green. Everything else was black and white except for herself. Steiner and the rest of the pseudo-ponies had been frozen in infinity. 


"I thought you were a pony who wanted to make others happy," the Magimus rumbled in her thoughts.

"Where did you get that idea?" Alana asked, trying to sound defiant despite her growing fear. 

"My dear," the Magimus began. "I own your mind like I own my domain! I know all there is to be known about the wench known as Alana."

"But you didn't know I knew what Klaxon's name was? How does that work?" Alana retorted. The Magimus was silent, a low, irritated grumbling seeming to come from everything around her. 

"A pony with two names? How... stupid" the arcane weaver said in dismissal of the point. "I did not feel it important enough to delve deep for such...trivial information"

"Well I'm willing to bet that was a mistake, Shiny Swishy!" 

"My name is the Maxim Magimus, wench! You will address me as such!" the Guardian boomed, the intensity of which made Alana cry out in pain. 

"Good. I am sure you will not be so inclined to do that again," the Magimus went on to say with an eerie calmness. "You know, I actually took pity on you. Such... distressing memories. If there is one unifying force between you and your companions...it is your sad... sad lives. I wanted to... alleviate the grief here... but you simply rejected it as being too different from what you knew..."

A low, thoughtful hum made the air tremble. 

"If you cannot appreciate the cheer you once tried to share... well. I suppose I can only give you the misery you have long since learned to accept..." said the being of magic...