The Cards That Bind Us

by Parakalo


Chapter 2 - Under Wing

Nothingness. Wrapped in a blanket of a night darker than the likes of which any mortal has seen, the Collective Unconscious is the stage and meeting place for the Fates. In the all-encompassing darkness, the One Who Draws the String sat and waited.

“This One has been to see him,” echoed a voice in the darkness. Throaty and guttural, the voice was deep and loud, echoing in the emptiness that stretched for all eternity. The One Who Draws The String was unmoving in Its sitting position, waiting for speaker to show itself.

“This One knows the laws and chooses to ignore them. Unwise, It is,” A second voice piped. This new voice was similar to something sharp on porcelain. Its shrillness bit at the air, leaving its listeners cold and on-edge. Used to the passively hostile tone, the One Who Draws The String was unfazed, however.

“It is done.” The One Who Draws The String remained motionless at the sound of the first, deep voice. “The One Who Cuts The String surely knows the importance of breaking the laws One knows.”
“Indeed,” Piqued the high-pitched second voice, which materialized before the present figure. This new second figure, not unlike the first in color, was dramatically different in shape. While the One Who Draws The String was tall and slender, the One Who Cuts The String was not unlike a tree stump in shape. Flat yet gnarled, its voice pierced the darkness with the shrillest ring. With four stubby legs, it circled the One Who Draws the String.

“Why is this One the one to do it, hmm?” Reaching out as if to caress the One Who Draws The String, but never touching It, the One Who Cuts The String continued, “Never before has consciousness materialized to mortals, but now It does so freely. What must go on within the inner workings of this One...”
“This One should not mock Its predecessor,” A third figure took shape beside the two of them, forming a circle, and silencing the One Who Cuts The String, “Manners took so long to develop, after all.”

The One Who Cuts The String cackled at the remark. “What of the One Who Finds The String? What great wisdom does It impart to this One who breaks fundamental laws?”
“Never has it happened before...” The third figure, bent and crooked, would be taller than the One Who Draws The String if it stretched flat. As one smooth shape, it could easily be mistaken for a large viper. “...And never shall it happen again.”
The One Who Cuts The String had nothing to say to this, and the three of them became very quiet. “Regardless of the transgressions of this One,” The One Who Finds The String finally spoke again, “There is much to be done.”
With that, the eternal darkness broke for a split second as a gold line appeared on the horizon, exposing a dark beach with black water crashing on the shore.
“The One Who Preys never sleeps, after all...”

~


~

It took Caramel Twist a couple of tries to get his eyes to adjust to the bright light.
“He’s coming to.” Before Caramel could get a good look at who it was, a female pony disappeared out of his vision. He inhaled, and smelled antiseptic. The bed was soft enough, but had no give under his weight. A corner table with a lamp was to his immediate left.

A hospital. Great. Scanning what he could of the room, Caramel found his body was far too weak to move. Because it took the least amount of energy, Caramel turned to look in the direction the female pony had gone. At the end of the long, rectangular room sat a door. He could see the outline of somepony talking behind a piece of smoked glass.They talked for no more than a minute before the outline motioned like a small curtsy and came inside. The female she saw earlier was a nurse, who had stepped outside to speak to someone he couldn’t see. His bright and alert face startled her.
“C-caramel! You’re awake. How do you feel?” Caramel tried to sit up.
“Like my body went on holiday,” he smiled sheepishly. The nurse returned the smile with the same amount of sheepishness.

“Well, according to the Princess, it kind of did.” After a pause, the memories of all that had happened came flooding back to him.
“Wait... are we real? Where is the One Who Draws The String? Am I safe? Do you have the bell?” The nurse rushed to his bedside and tried to settle him.
“You need to relax, Caramel. You are under heavy sedatives currently. Once they wear off, you can go ahead and get up if you are feeling up to it.”

“You tranquilized me?” Caramel gawked for a moment, but rational thought slowly returned to him. “What day is it today? What did I do?”
“I think I’ll take it from here, Nurse.” A voice behind Caramel caught him off-guard. With another small curtsy, the nurse scuttled away. “As you wish, Princess.”
Mustering his strength, Caramel turned his head around to find nopony other than Princess Twilight Sparkle standing next to his bed.
“Princess!” Caramel would have had a more dramatic reaction if he was physically capable. “I’m sorry, I’m not decent.”

“I would say so.” She avoided his gaze. “You bit me.”
“I... what?”
“I was looking for a book in the far library, and saw you on the roof of the tower. I rushed out to help you. You were like a wild animal.” She shook her head, purple hair flowing freely, “We had to restrain you to identify what happened.”
Caramel swallowed hard. When they said primal instincts, they weren’t kidding. “Princess, let me expl--”
“Be calm, Caramel Twist.” She smiled at him. “I know what has happened to you. I am the one who brought your consciousness back to your body. And I forgive you. There was no way you could have controlled yourself in that situation.”

Caramel breathed a sigh of relief. Exile would have only made the task at hand much more difficult.
“There is one thing you can explain to me, though,” Curiosity lit her eyes behind the apparent concern. “What caused all of this to happen? Where did your conscious mind go when separated from your body?”
“Well, I imagine it all started with these nightmares I was having...”
Starting from the beginning, Caramel recollected as many details as he could, from the intimidating yellow eyes to the great rushes of information. He did his best to describe the One Who Draws the String as well. After a good half an hour, Caramel found his explanation at a conclusion, and he was able to sit up in his bed. “Does... does any of that make sense to you?” Princess Twilight nodded, lost in thought.

“Parts, yes. I want to show you something.” With a flash of light from her pointed horn, Caramel found that she had taken the two of them, bed and all, to the castle.
“Where are we?”
“This room is called the Antechamber of Secrets. Few ponies have ever been in here.” Caramel gazed in wonder at the stained-glass windows circling them. Over a dozen in all sorts of shapes and sizes took up an extreme majority of the space on the walls. “What you have experienced is a puzzle that has remained unsolved since Princess Luna and Princess Celestia were very small.” Princess Twilight moved to a window closest to the door, and began to tell an ornate story:

Long, long ago, there was a point when destiny was governed by creatures beyond any form of pony comprehension. These creatures, similar to spirits, exist outside our world, manipulating and changing it as they see fit. We have come name them the Daemons of the Ill-Begotten Realms. There are a small number of instances where anypony has believed to have come into contact with one of these Daemons in all of recorded history. Almost all of them have ended in tragedy.
Each Daemon serves a pre-defined purpose in our world. Some designed the plants and allow them to grow; some designed the mountains or the valleys; but there are three that serve a much greater cause: the weaving of destiny.

There is a story in our archives, the writer long forgotten to the annals of history, detailing an interaction with these three Daemons. In his tale, the pony referred to the three as the Fates: Past, Present, and Future. The three of them together had the ability to watch all of time, controlling when and where the most important events of our history occurred.
In the story, the wealthy pony was visited on a dark and stormy night by a poor weaver seeking refuge. With nothing to pay for his stay, the weaver instead offered the wealthy pony a gift like none he had never seen before. The wealthy pony, having seen much of the world collecting on his travels, was fascinated that the poor weaver could offer something new to his experienced eyes, and he eagerly accepted. Days passed, and soon the wealthy pony became frustrated that the weaver had been incapable of procuring this “gift” that he spoke of.
Finally, the wealthy pony confronted the weaver for taking advantage of his hospitality. At sword point, he demanded the weaver produced the gift immediately, or be slain on the spot. Before the killing blow could be struck, however, the weaver suddenly divided into three creatures. His head and neck crawled off of his body, his torso wandered away, and his arms and legs were left remaining.
The three creatures announced in unison that they had seen enough, and cornered the terrified pony in the room. The arms and legs told him that if he wanted the gift so badly, then he may have it. The head and neck drew a piece of sunshine from the window which shined brilliantly like a star in his mouth. It was then taken by the arms and legs, which spun the piece of sunshine into a golden thread that was handed to the torso. The torso then bestowed the thread upon the wealthy pony, saying that if the torso were to cut the thread, the wealthy pony would surely die.

That was the weaver’s gift: the strand of light that made up his very life. It was indeed a priceless treasure, one that the weaver found the wealthy pony had taken for granted in the days he spent in his estate. His life was selfishly alienated, despite the fact that the thread was meant to be part of a much greater quilt of all life. Because the wealthy pony was determined to live for himself and his own personal gain, perhaps it was better for the strand to be in his care. The torso finished by telling him that as long as that string was never cut, the wealthy pony would live eternally, never coming to harm.
Before the wealthy pony could apologize for his rudeness to the curious creatures and thank them for so generous a gift, the three of them vanished without a trace, never to be heard from again.
The wealthy pony was overjoyed at the curious golden thread, eager to test its powers and ignorant of the true meaning of the gift he was given. Putting it in a small bottle on his mantle, the he went out to experience the world for three lifetimes, enjoying food, drink, and pleasurable company unlike any other ponies have yet to experience.
Eventually, this lifestyle bored the wealthy pony. He was tired and sad after outliving even his great-grandchildren and being there to watch every loved one he ever had pass away. He then began to realize the gravity of his gift. He was truly incapable of completely sharing his life with anypony he cared about.
The legend concludes that this pony still wanders Equestria to this day, half-mad from loneliness, incapable of death.

Caramel was left speechless at the end of Princess Twilight’s story. Could the One Who Draws the String be the arms and legs of the weaver from the story? Did he really bare witness to such a powerful and dangerous creature?
“If you have had an encounter with what you think you have,” Princess Twilight became very serious, “And after placing your consciousness back into your body, I think you have.” She helped him off of the bed and onto his own four hooves, “Then at least for now, it would be wise to do as It says. Once we know what Its plan is, we can decide where to go from there.” Caramel blinked, almost incapable of believing what he was hearing.
“Does that mean...?”

“Yes, Caramel Twist. I would like you to become my pupil in the studies of magic.”