//------------------------------// // Elsewhere // Story: Wounds and Weapons // by Zytharros //------------------------------// Elsewhere A pale hoof twitched in the cold breeze. The pony it belonged to shuddered and caressed the midnight black cloak that adorned her alabaster coat, increasing her pull so it was brought closer to her slender form in the hopes that it would grant some reprieve from this nightmarish cold certain to destroy her luxurious mane. Like every day before when I took this iron seat two months ago, I questioned my motives. Why did I choose to betray my friends? For freedom? For glory? For fame? No. It couldn’t be for any of those things. I am alone, up here, on this dusty boulder in the sky, with only… her… for company. So why did I do it? I should stand up right now and- And just like every time before, the voice came back. "You do and you will taste the hell you marched into for believing your precious Celestia could save you!" That voice… that toxic, unwavering voice… I whimpered, slithering back into my cold metal throne… no, her cold metal throne. I knew that voice well. It had been the voice that had taunted me, tainted me, and broke me last time she was in town. I hated that voice, cursed that voice, wanted to destroy that voice… yet now… I bit my lip and fidgeted with the delicate curl of my violet mane, chewing on the pale muscular tissue leading into my mouth as the resigned resolution of my status once again caused me to fall into a depressive state. It… it is for the best. I gave it all I had. A lady must admit defeat if she wants to move on… right? A nervous, sad chuckle escaped my lips. I was certain my friends had all been captured. I had seen them all fall, one by one. I had watched her power shatter our wills effortlessly. As she did, I tried negotiating with her within my mind. It did not work, at least, not initially. I did not know where she kept me, though from the smells I gathered she had locked me away in a bakery. With how sweet the scents were I could only assume it was Sugarcube Corner. From that point on in my sealed state, locked away in my own mind, I caught shattered glimpses of time and space: Crystal Fist commanding my friends through my body, Twilight and I working together on some kind of Celestia-damning plan, the six of us gathering in Canterlot and saluting our master, orders received, separate missions assigned, pony after pony imprisoned, the battle for the domination of Celestia, the redemption of Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, and finally the end of Zytharros’ freedom... I saw every last one of them as if I had a first-person perspective each and every time. Each time she would declare her power before me and brag about her next conquest. Up until last month, I had kept the will and fortitude necessary to declare my unwavering resolve, steeled against her in defiant freedom. But… something has changed. Indeed, it is as if all will to resist has simply ceased to exist betwixt the venom spit from her porcelain black lips. I shudder to think I had become a victim of Stockhoof Syndrome, and yet it is the only possible logical outcome for my predicament… I still hoped for my friends to arrive and help me, but I was beginning to wonder if Crystal Fist is truly as bad as they said she was. I began to wonder if we were all mistaken. The wind passed across some exposed skin. I knew she was there. She would pass across this gray stone like some kind of wraith, emerging, deconstructing, misting and sometimes walking or flying along, depending on the whim of the moment. At that time, she had decided to simply coast in on artificial wind she had generated. Based on the smell, she had just come back from a visit between dimensions, where her queendom still ran. It smelt of rotten eggs and fish that had been left out in the sun for months, married to the smell of a squeaky-clean Sweetie Belle after a nice hot shower. How I miss my little sister… “Rarity,” she said, greeting me cordially. I fidgeted with my cloak a little, illuminating it with a sky-blue sheen of light. “Crystal,” I replied, flat as ever. A small smirk played at the edges of her lips. “How are you, my Queen?” I swallowed. We both knew who the real queen was. I was simply a pawn, as Tangerine had been. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the title, at least a little. It would have been a lot better if I had the power and wealth to go along with it. Her porcelain black figure, shimmering in the light of the magical torches, gained and lost an eerie red cast to it as she circled. She licked her lips slightly. “It’s a little… cold,” I replied. Crystal frowned. “Did you not have enough wood to light the fire?” I sunk deeper into my cloak. “The coat’s fine.” She scoffed at me. “Please. My vessel must be warm and receptive.” “At first,” I muttered bitterly. Crystal chuckled and levitated a large number of logs over. She set them all ablaze with a slow-burning, yet comfortable white flame. “Come now, Rarity,” she said, a disconcerting smile upon her visage. “Your friends will be here shortly. You’ll be back together again. Isn’t that wonderful?” “They will be back,” I said. “And when they get here, they will free me.” I decided I would say no more. Crystal on the other hoof just chuckled. “When they return for Zytharros, when I allow myself to die again…” she said, beginning an otherworldly chuckle throughout the next line “…I will personally see to it that his world meets its end.” She snapped me up in a choke-hold and blew away my throne in one fell swoop, her face shattering between amused and angry in a half-blink of an eye. “And if you tell them anything, I will destroy both worlds.” I swallowed. “And I will use… her… as bait.” I coughed. “Apple… ap-ah-ahhh…” And I blacked out.