You can’t stop a storm. All you can do is wait and hope.
The sun and the moon were hidden by the clouds in the sky. The weather crew had been in the courtroom when the chaos started. That was all Commander Hurricane could think, as her warhorses gathered around her. By the hourglass’ count, it had only been two hours since the battle had begun. When Marshal Roderick had collapsed to the floor, screaming in rage, and transformed into... that Beast.
When the fight had just begun, she’d watched Captain Ironjaw valiantly crash into the Beast, his long spear shattering against its impenetrable hide before it smashed his head into the ground, over and over. Commander Hurricane would have been next were it not for Princess Luna’s skill in barrier magicks. The past hour had been spent rallying the Skyguard and getting the servants and untrained out of the palace, as the Princesses selflessly battled a creature that was beyond all reason. Hurricane paced back and forth in front of her troops. The Bolts stood at attention, spears primed and sharpened to break upon the beasts hide.
The princesses had been battling the monster for two hours. Two hours of pure combat. There was no break, there was no pause. The moment the Beast was knocked down was the moment it stood once more, ready and eager and burning with hatred. The princesses needed a break, and soon. Even now, the sisters were locked in a tumultuous aerial battle against the monster, trying to reduce its offensive capabilities by taking a flightless foe into the last domain it belonged. But the princesses were tiring, their wings flapping slower, their bodies healing slower and slower. Celestia’s pure white coat was stained with the splattered blood of the last five blows the Beast had imparted upon her.
There he was. Commander Avalanche, leader of the steel-hooves. One of the many smaller earth tribes. Hurricane had known him when they were young, before the princesses had rallied the tribes behind this new ideal. This new nation of hope and unity. They’d been rivals as children, bitter foes on opposing sides of a feud that had existed for years beyond count. But his eager grin at her told her of their new, old story.
The plan had been hatched in desperation a mere ten minutes ago.
She was first, to take the Beast out of the situation, if just for a few minutes. It was entirely a Hurricane plan: stupid, reckless, and most likely to work. Then the dirt ponies would hold the Beast while the magick corps did their work to heal the princesses and find some weakness in the Beast’s hide. Then, the Beast would face not only the princesses, but the full might of the unified tribes. The might of a nation forged in blood and trust. Equestria.
But first, Hurricane was going to take this whelp of a diamond dog into her domain. The princesses were powerful flyers. They were magnificent, and hardy, and gifted... But they were not the sky. They had not earned the name Hurricane. They couldn’t hear the sky sing at them like she did. They could not sing to the sky like her Bolts could.
She smiled at the honor guard of the Bolts. Fatalistic grins met her violet eyes. Her troops were well trained. Taught from birth the arts of flying, one Bolt was worth a hundred commoners. Commander Hurricane, Wonderbolt of the pegasi, gave her last order.
“Fly!”
Eighty wings beat, and the warriors took to the sky. The Bolts struck as one, like the fury of nature from which they took their names. Hurricane lead, her spear shattering against the ebon hide of the Beast as it fell from where the princesses had last thrown it. She didn’t blink, her body twisting in an impossibly tight maneuver, slipping beneath the monsters hand. She was moving so fast... She heard a scream cut short behind her. No time to think. She was banking to the left, her wings knew their task. The Beast continued to fall, swatting at the Bolts as they pushed ever upwards, propelled by the most potent of sky-magicks, keeping the monster aloft by slamming bodily into the abomination, carrying it as fast and as far as they could manage before the flames or the swinging claws ended them for every one that lifted the creature and got away, four did not return. Second after bloody second was bought with the lives of her finest.
The seconds ticked away, becoming a minute in an eternity. A second minute. Hurricane had only eight Bolts left, including herself. Her wings were sore, and singed from moving too close to the Beast. Her spear had broken once, twice.
She was lined up, and this time she struck with her hoof-mounted blade. It did nothing against the monster’s skin. But it was a point of contact that was not her flesh. She heaved with her wings, lifting the beast a meter, two, before she rolled away, feeling rather than hearing the impact of the Bolt behind her. She hissed out a silent scream, ripping the quick-release blade from her hoof with her teeth. It was molten, and her hoof was beyond pain. A second longer, maybe two, and her hoof would have been gone. It was killing them just to attack this beast. Damn. Damn this monster. Damn this price.
Two more of her Bolts screamed as they grabbed the monster, holding it aloft to buy more time for the dirts down below. Their screams of defiance soon turned to screams of pain and fear as they felt the burning of their flesh. The black flame soaked across their skin and burned them before unstoppable fingers worked around their throats, ending their screams and leaving only a deathly silence.
The silence was soon filled by the impact of yet another of Hurricane’s Bolts.
“Commander!”
She looked to her side. Grey Winds, her oldest and most trusted lieutenant. One of his forelimbs was gone, the stump still smoldering. His eyes were wide. He’d already seen it. Of course he saw it. She had asked her Bolts to sacrifice themselves, their lives and hopes and dreams ended that others might remain. He nodded at her. He knew. He understood. She wanted to tell him... something. She was sorry? She wanted him to tell her foal how much she loved her? No. Nothing worth saying was unknown at this point. She had no regrets.
They would write songs of this day. She would be remembered as the Wonderbolt who flew against a Beast. Her filly with her father’s rainbow mane would be so proud. He would tell her the tale. She would not be forgotten, and that was all the peace she needed for what came next.
She dove. leaving what few Bolts remained behind to hold the beast ready, to buy time. Just buy time.
Somepony would find the answer, the solution they had bought with their blood. The dirts and the horns were clever. They’d find something.
Her hooves touched the ground, green grass in a once-beautiful garden. The roses were burning, and deep furrows had been torn from the battle between forces beyond mere ponies. Lightning cracked around her as she gathered the magic of a pegasi, the air going still and heavy as if waiting for her word. She was the scion of clan Hurricane. She was the master of the sky. She was the Wonderbolt of her clan. She was power.
Commander Hurricane rocketed upwards in a blur of blue and red, crossing the hundred feet between her and the black-flamed monster in less than a second. She collided with him, and felt her front hooves shatter into fine pieces. But that didn’t matter. She was moving upwards, and felt the screams of her soldiers fade with distance. Higher, higher, higher, she went, carried by the rage and the love and the trust of her Bolts down below. The princesses were somewhere down below, watching the darkened rising star that had been their warrior. She hoped they were proud. She hoped they would be happy. They had given so much to the pegasi. It was time a pegasus repaid that debt, if just a little.
The world exploded into a corona of power. She was flying fast, faster than she’d ever flown before. Like the whole sky was behind her, screaming its defiance at her side, at her back, at her soul. She was grinning beneath the beast, flying higher and higher and higher, pushing her wings so hard, squeezing every ounce of sky-magic from her bones. All at once, the power propelling her upwards ended. That sudden, miraculous boost withered away as she flew high, higher than she’d ever dared to soar. Maybe, if she could fly just a little bit longer, just a little bit higher, she could push this Beast into the stars. She could be the hero.
The monster was screaming, and its hands wrapped around her hind legs, squeezing so tightly. She felt her flesh and bone give way, but that didn’t matter. A pegasus’ magic was stored in her wings. Legs, her face, her coat, her mane, none of it mattered. The black fire leapt from the Beast’s skin to her muzzle, spreading with unholy speed. Her eyes felt hot. So hot. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t see from her remaining eye due to the mass that she now carried on her mangled limbs and her burning shoulder. But she could feel the cloud around her. She could feel the sky singing with her, one last time. It was beautiful. It was a song of joy and hope and fury and redemption.
Idly, she realized the fire was spreading across her whole head, her mane was burning. Sunset Dasher would be so sad. He’d always loved her mane. She was tired. Her left wing suddenly fell away. The fire had eaten through. Oh.
She’d called the Earth ponies “dirts” again. She’d have to apologize to Avalanche for that later.
A weight came off of her, the Beast moved away from her in the air, their momentum setting them to drift apart above the clouds. The sun was so bright. So beautiful, and at its side hung the moon. Far below, a rainbow ring expanded ever wider and wider. Commander Hurricane realized she was falling. The monster was screaming. It had been screaming all the while. They slipped back through the clouds, moving faster and faster and faster as they dropped. The monster screamed ever louder, black plumes of death slipping past its teeth. But it sounded so scared. It sounded so lonely, so pathetic. They’d been scared of this thing? This sad and confusing creature?
Commander Hurricane laughed as the black fire took her eyesight, and she was laughing when she hit the ground.
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Jonas Bailey, human extraordinaire, was sitting on the couch. It was soft, with a kind of felt exterior that was pleasant to the touch but prone to tear when a human finger became anything less than gentle. He’d spent the first half hour just mindlessly rubbing that fabric as he’d answered the questions. Again. He wasn’t angry, not right now. Well, yes, he was. But not like the other times, like a week ago when he’d woken up in this magical city. He was always angry, it was only the amount of rage that he felt would change. . The doctor was supposed to be helping him with that. The doctor was not very good at his job, in Jonas’ less than unbiased opinion.
“And how does that make you feel?”
Jonas wasn’t even sure what they’d been talking about. But he knew the answer anyways.
“Angry.”
Dramatic. Very dramatic. If this were a film, they’d cut to another scene. He missed film. Everything here was so... not human. It was close. They had cafes, they had markets, they had food and books and buildings and doors and cups. But they didn’t have internet. They didn’t have movies, technology was rustic and spastic. There was some grand mystery behind that, but frankly he just didn’t care.
“Jonas. We were talking about puppies.”
Damn.
“I know. Damn dirty puppies. I bet they’re behind whatever evil is going on. Like genocide. If you guys have that here.”
Scribble scribble, the pen scratched out another note on the clipboard. Probably something about an irrational dislike towards canines. Heh. Irrational dislike. That note and copies of it probably filled his folder. If the doctor had a folder. Or questions about genocide. Was that something he hadn’t wanted to talk about, a week ago? It felt like it had been so long.
Focus.
The doctor was brown, in coat and mane. There was a difference in shade, of course. Early on, Jonas had tried to memorize them all. Their names (Almost all of them were puns of some impossibly specific and relevant kind), their marks, their colors. But all the little ponies cycled away from him. This was his fifth doctor in the last three weeks. It was all just smoke and fog. He still felt crazy, like he had that day in the mountains. But the madness and the rage and the fire wasn’t inside of him. It followed him instead. It was around the corners in the halls that he walked. It was waiting. Waiting for him to snap.
He knew he was restless. But he was terrified of himself. This... Siphon thing. The fact that the last one took over a thousand years to die. The fact that he was now a monster. He was a strange beast in an impossible land. Somedays, he just wanted to snap. He wanted to break and shatter this city, to break the ponies inside of it. He’d said as much to his first doctor. The next day, he’d had a new doctor. And more armed guards, like they’d make a difference.
There were more awkward questions, about his emotions, about how he felt like he was made of glass and yet the world around him was still too soft. How he didn’t like his bed, how he didn’t like how unstoppably happy all the ponies were. How it sickened him on a level that shouldn’t exist. How he was terrified he was losing his sense of self to this poisonous hatred. Finally the clock struck twelve. Jonas stood, and walked to the door without saying goodbye. Behind him was a deeply upset pony, furiously taking notes for the princesses.
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The sun was shining brightly, as always. His bare feet didn’t leave indentations in the stone beneath him, thankfully. He’d never asked, but he suspected magic was involved in that. Birds chirped, and only a few ponies fell silent as he stalked past them. He wasn’t wearing his jeans and shirt. No, they’d made robes for him, because the ponies here didn’t know the first thing about tailoring for humans, they’d gone with the nearest equivalent, Minotaurs. Regrettably, minotaurs rarely wear pants. Actually, the only article of clothing they’d been able to reliably duplicate had been a tie. So he wore these puffy cloth pants, and a robe over his top half. He felt official and mysterious. Like a kid playing dress up. Hah. If Caroline could see him now.
Caroline...
There was one activity that really helped him. That cleared his mind of thoughts of fire and war and home. Manual labor. He’d been spending the past week and a half working with the local builders on... was it a house? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been paying attention. It was mindless, it was strenuous, it was perfect. He could just stop thinking, stop focusing on this world’s existence, and lift heavy things.
“Jonas! Back again?”
The foreman... forepony, was waving a forehoof in greeting, a nervous smile plastered across his face. Jonas didn’t smile, though he wanted to. He was particularly tightly wound today, and just wanted to get to work. However, there was a ritual to perform.
The forepony offered him a safety helmet. Jonas glowered at it, before putting the oddly proportioned, completely useless piece of metal on his dome. That done, he dropped his cloak on the ground. He’d learned quickly that ponies didn’t care much about clothing, so he’d stopped caring about such details as well. The forepony said some words. Apparently they needed a stack of lumber on the second floor. Jonas shrugged, loosened his arms, and hoisted the entire stack of wood onto one shoulder with a grunt. They felt heavier than the apples back in Ponyville, but it was really not that bad. Was he getting stronger? Worrying. The tricky part was the stairs. He’d learned quickly not to use the middle of a step back in Ponyville. No, he’d use the edges. It was less likely to snap that way, especially with the extra weight. Somepony behind him was yelling his name, saying something. He’d deal with that when he got to the second floor. Stupid noisy pony. He was helping. Just hush and let him help.
He got halfway up before the stairs creaked warningly. He looked downwards in nervous anticipation, then up at the pony worker waiting for him. Their eyes met, and he noted the pony had a bright blue coat. Then the stairs gave out under him. He fell, and slammed his other foot down on a second stair to catch him. It snapped easier than the first, due to his carelessness. The planks on his shoulder then slammed lengthwise against the steps, and luckily the steps gave way before the lumber. So now there was no staircase, and Jonas was standing there in the dust and shattered pieces of wood feeling embarrassed and... furious. He should’ve known better. What a stupid risk. What had that pony been saying? Why was that hard to know? He shouldn’t be so absent-minded. What if somepony had been under the stairs? Unlikely and a stupid question, but still plausible. He’d have killed somepony. He’d be a killer. A monster.
He was shaking. He was here to not think, and instead he was doing exactly that. The forepony was yelling something awful, complaining about the damage in general, always taking care not to blame Jonas. Jonas apologized honestly, even if he mumbled it just a bit. The foreman was smiling at Jonas. Wide and bright and oh so fake. It made Jonas sick to his stomach. Looking at that smile. Nervous... but not scared. This little stupid pony trusted him. Not to perform the manual labor without breaking everything, but that wasn’t fear in his eyes. This little pony had no idea how close he was. How close to black fir-
Jonas wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. These thoughts weren’t right and he was just stressed. He needed air. The workers just got set back in their schedules by several hours, all because some stressed out, insane, stupid, pathetic, angry human decided to... He needed air. He was outside. He needed more air with less ponies.
“Uh, I’m sorry boss, I gotta... I gotta go.”
Yeah. Great. Run away with your tail between your legs.
He started walking away from his mess. The voices were plentiful now, and a crowd had gathered outside the wooden framework. He made extra sure to duck his head and not damage the frame. He could hear the ponies whispering. Great. Perfect. Lunch and a show. He had a sudden horrid temptation to bow to his audience, right before jumping on them until they stopped moving. The foreman was still smiling. He deserved it. If Jonas were to jump on him, he’d deserve it.
Yes
No.
No, that was wrong. This was wrong. It was the Siphon. That’s what this was. He was just embarrassed. That’s all. He was going to take a walk, and everything would be better. His feet moved, and the foreman’s smile followed. So his feet moved faster. The image of the foreman followed him, smiling and smiling, making Jonas’ blood boil. Had the anger been there in the first place? Or was everything seen through a Siphoned filter?
Didn’t matter. Keep moving.
His feet moved faster. Faster. Faster. Soon he was sprinting all out down the street, his feet leaving indentations in the enchanted stone. Upon seeing this, Jonas turned sharply, running across the verdant green fields. That wasn’t any better, as now he was tearing up great tracks of dirt. Reds and blues of the flowers around him blurred together. He was in the royal gardens, surrounded by the most cultivated of natural beauties.
Doesn’t matter. RUN
His lungs were acid. He couldn’t feel his legs. His breath came in agonizing gasps that were too deep but not deep enough. He was doubled over, and he spat from his throat. His lips were dry.
Jonas glanced around himself, not really taking in his surroundings. His head felt clearer than it had in days, and he laughed. This laugh was different than any in the past week. It was light. It was pure. He was happy, pointlessly, stupidly, happy. He felt...
It’s my toy. April’s just gonna break it!
Connected. That’s how it happened. Like striking a lighter in a dark room. It stung, but not badly. It was a shiver or a shake through his system, something that rippled across his skin and cut through his organs. He felt it. The Siphon... He felt it through his eyes. For the first time since arriving in this messed up land of mishmashed puns and ponies... he felt it. It slipped away almost instantly, of course. But he’d felt it. It was... it was like a second heart, that sat a foot behind him. Like a hundred thousand fragments of voices, stuck in a blender and all whispering poison. Some of them screamed. Some of them were so loud, but it was the whispers. The quiet little resentments that he felt now. The sting of a toy taken. The misunderstood insult. The hurtful rejection. He turned and looked, maybe a magic thing...? No. No, that was the Siphon. He knew it was. He knew it with the same certainty that he knew his left hand was opposite his right.
He tried to reach out, tried to find it once more to know that it wasn’t just insanity settling in. To know that maybe he could start to work on something that wouldn’t shatter before him. To somehow have a hand in the madness that had become his life. But it was like telling a toddler to grab something with their tail. It didn’t make sense and also was impossible because that’s not a thing that humans do. But he knew. He had a tail, metaphorically speaking. He knew he had the tail. Now he just had to come up with a better analogy.
He was smiling, but he didn’t know why. In the far back of his mind, he wondered if this was how insanity felt.
If it was, he didn’t mind.
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Dinner was always interesting, except for when it was horrendously, mind-numbingly boring. Tonight was an interesting night, thanks not at all to the princesses’ frequent, less than subtle glances. Well, in Celestia’s case they were actually rather subtle. It only happened when he suddenly reached for the pepper. Pepper actually didn’t really help the taste of the shrubbery he was being fed. Shrubbery and gems. Gems weren’t as awful as he’d originally thought when he came to Canterlot. They were the only thing that had a bit of crunch to it. The leafs and salads and vegetables all tasted too soft. Too squishy. Like eating a foam ball. Gems had the texture of chips. Rubies were a bit spicy, and he really liked the sapphires. Sapphires tasted like oranges. Who knew?
Princess Luna was far less subtle. Her watchful gaze seemed to take in his every move. He was ignoring the both of them to the best of his ability, instead trying to feel the Siphon. Now that he knew how it felt... it was surprisingly easy, if extremely disorienting and weird. Each time he touched it, he heard something. Sometimes there was sadness, sometimes he heard sobbing, but often he heard a roar, like something had been screaming for years and never really stopped. It was scary, but it felt more right than happy pastel ponies.
“-nas? Jonas?”
His head shook as he brought himself back to the present. Luna was staring at him, all pretense of subtlety gone. He looked to the side, and saw Celestia was also staring at him with an intensity he hadn’t seen since that first night. Odd. They were usually at least non-threatening.
“Hm?”
Luna nodded her head to his own. Immediately he looked to his hair. He hadn’t spilled anything into it... was it growing too long? He liked to keep it shorter, but here in this weak world, nothing had been found to properly cut his hair. No? Not the hair? Lower. She was motioning for something lower. His hand moved to his chin, where the scruff was growing out of control for similar reasons. Oh. It was wet. His entire chin was wet, actually.
He looked down. Somehow he’d completely missed his mouth entirely, and poured the entire glass of grape juice down his front, starting with his forehead. Amazing. Simply amazing.
“Oh. I’m sorry...”
Celestia laughed, filling the overbearing silence with the musical tone of her merriment. It shattered the tension, and let Jonas breath just a bit. He quickly grabbed at his napkin, a piece of cloth that for some reason had embroidery in it. Did human royalty have this? It seemed silly to embroider with finery something meant for mopping up messes.
“And what has you so distracted, Jonas?”
He looked to the princess, and made the mistake of eye contact. He didn’t like looking the princesses in the eyes. Not since the day they took him away from Ponyville. Too many ponies had weird ocular powers. It was unfair and weird. Her pale eyes always looked so sad, and so... maternal. It was uncomfortable for him to meet her gaze. Especially because doing so felt like letting her into his head.
He broke eye contact after a fleeting second, to look at the princess of the night’s wings. Yes. Wings didn’t have a track record of messing with his head. Wings are good.
“I uh, just had a weird experience today. In the gardens? I think?”
For some reason, the princesses seemed to tense up at that one. What, were they keeping weird stuff in the garden? Secret stuff? No, that’s stupid. Well, talking ponies. Ok, it would be ill-advised considering Jonas was able to get into the gardens by simply strolling in. At a sprint. Totally normal, all things considered.
“Yeah. Just some... magic stuff, I guess.”
Yes. Good one Jonas. They’ll never get concerned over ‘magic stuff’ good work.
The princess of the night leveled a look at him, almost as knowing and condescending as the ones her elder sister had a tendency to throw around.
“Uh, I just, I think I... hm.”
His hands were gesticulating, waving vaguely in the air as he tried to grasp how to describe what it was like, sensing a big ball of poisonous emotions that existed in tangent with your own mind.
“Perhaps it would be easiest if you started with the beginning, Jonas.”
He sighed, reaching for the weird goblet-cup that had gotten him into this mess. His robe was wet now. Dandy. Did the ponies have dryers? Or were they more rustic? The technology was so haphazard, sometimes it seemed like a jet plane wouldn’t be out of place, but then nope they have balloons for that. Sometimes the balloons had rockets.
Oh, the princesses. Right.
“So, I finished with the doctor who was just great. He’s great. I think he’s a he. Anyways, so I went into town, which was fine. You know, I just wanted to work with the construction ponies. Anyways, I got there, and the boss guy was just... grinning at me. And I dropped some wood, and it broke. The stairs broke too. So I got upset, cause I messed everything up and the boss pony kept grinning but, I could see he didn’t want to. He was scared.”
Jonas was mumbling at the last part, his chin nearly to his chest. It made him sad, incredibly sad. The boss pony was grinning and it was just so false. It was wrong and stupid and Jonas did not like it. It was sad. Sadder than when Star Song stole his favorite book and-
Hold up. Hold up. Nope. Go back.
Star Song?
Jonas’ eyes were wide as saucers, now staring at the wall behind Princess Luna with a wild breed of intensity. He couldn’t see the wall though. No, Jonas was far and away, his mind staring at a glowing orb of... emotions? But he was staring with his skin and the hairs on his arms. He could feel the voices in his bones. He was tripping right the hell out.
But this was it! This was... This was what he was looking for since that moment in the garden. Clearer, though. It was clear. A thread connected to his mind, now receding. His mind? Or the thread? Details. He flowed towards it, chasing the thread, but it remained far away. Distant, slipping and sliding and now it was back in that orb. That massive orb he could neither see nor hear nor touch and-
And he was back. Gone from wherever that place was inside of his soul or mind or madness. He was once more sitting at an elaborate oak table, with two pony princesses growing impatient with his silence. He blinked his eyes. They felt dry, annoyingly so. He coughed.
“Um. That... uh, I’ll... I’ll just finish what happened, now.”
The silence was beyond awkward. He felt that at any moment if somebody had the gall to sneeze, the entire castle would burst into flames just to get out of dealing with the scene transpiring in the private dining room of the royalty.
“Uh, so I got upset, and started having one of my usual episodes, and stuff, so I decided to run away.” Because Jonas was the pinnacle of maturity and self awareness, yes.
“Anyways, so I ran for a bit, and ended up in the gardens. While I was there I... ok, here’s the magic stuff. So, I was in the gardens and thinking and trying to not be so upset and then... it’s... I think I felt the Siphon.”
Wow. And he thought it was silent before.
Jonas paused, wanting to gauge the reactions of the princesses before continuing. Silence. Stony silence, and level stares that weren’t... angry. Nor were they disappointed. They seemed almost... confused? No. An angrier version of confusion but without any anger. Yeah. That sounded right.
“Uh, but it wasn’t really a feeling like most of my other senses, you know? It was... It was like knowing something but not knowing how? But also like... I could see things with my bones instead of my eyes. And it was confusing and I really didn’t know what to make of it until just now when it happened again while we were talking and yeah that was my day how was yours?”
It was still silent, but now the princesses looked across the table at each other, making eye contact and silently communicating. Jonas let them. He was really quite done with this entire situation. Seconds turned into a minute. The lone human tried to eat his food, but really, the only thing on his plate that was at all edible was the lone potato that had been brought at his request. Absentmindedly, he reached out, grabbing the potato with a full hand. All the while watching the princesses, anticipating some form of an outburst at his sudden yet slow movement. Nothing. Nobody minded him and his potato. Tentatively, he began moving once more, slowly bringing the potato to his mouth. So far, so good…
He took a bite. It was mushy. Or, no. It was like everything else on this planet. So thin and weak and… fluffy that it had no real crunch. He’d tried eating some of that little purple dragon’s gems back in Ponyville. That had been ok. Tastier than he’d been expecting, and gratifyingly crunchy. This potato though. It was like it was already mashed. It had all the taste of a potato, but… it was just too light. Too fluffy. Blech.
As one, the princesses turned back to look at him. He made eye contact with the Princess of the Sun for one second, before hurriedly looking somewhere else. Wings. Wings are established safe places to look.
“Jonas. This is a worrisome development, and we are disappointed that you did not come to us sooner with it.”
He didn’t wince, exactly. But she had that maternal “Oh you let me down how could you guilt guilt guilt” tone down pat. Almost like she’d had centuries of practice or something. The other one, Luna, remained silent.
“Well, I got distracted. Doing stuff. You know? And I was a little worried because I thought I could be going crazy and I’d really rather not have to be thrown into a crazy house or whatever you ponies do, plus I mostly forgot until dinner.”
“Jonas. These are matters of vast importance, for the physical safety of the ponies around you, as well as your own mental well being. I must insist that next time you find yourself in such a position, please come directly to the court. My sister or I will be happy to assist you in any way we can.”
Her words felt warm and light, easing the tension in the room until it was just a memory. Jonas shrugged, and offered a small statement of agreement before turning back to his potato. The dinner dragged on, time passing slower and slower as he tried to eat another of the pony salads. It was worse than the potato. Much worse. He would have asked for another potato, or maybe some gems, but the serving pony was gone before he got a chance. When had the serving ponies come in? Had they been here the entire time?
. . . Whatever.
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He was home. He was in his bed, and wrapped tightly in his sheets. Jonas’ eyes darted from the clock, digital analog, to the ceiling. His fan was there. The old beat up thing that squeaked ever so slightly every four minutes. Jonas reached below, and set to work on disengaging himself from the sheets. He was home.
No. No we’ve done this before.
Jonas reached the kitchen. She was standing there, newspaper in one hand, spoon in the other as she took another spoonful of cereal. Same as every morning before his life turned to madness.
“Jonas.”
He turned. A large dark pony princess. Yup. Yup yup yup. Great. Of course she wass here. Why wouldn’t she be? Can’t let Jonas have a night of peace, can we? Can’t let him find some quantum of solace. Heh. Movie reference.
“Jonas. Calm yourself.”
His arms crossed, and they felt angry and huffy. The television caught fire in the corner, and the corners of the room began to twist and rot with black smoke.
“Yeah? Well, maybe I would if I could have my dreams to myself. Y’know? I put up with freaking talking ponies all day, the least you can do is let me dream without having a talking horse burst in!”
Her eyes turned to the color of disappointment as she- They turned to the color of disappointment…
“Is there a problem, Jonas?”
His finger impudently lifted to point straight at the princess’ eyes.
“That is not a color. That is not a real color. We are not talking until you put your eyes into a color that exists. I have had it up to here with your crazy mumbo jumbo and I draw the line at colors that don’t exist.”
There was a moment of silence as the human glared indignantly at the pony. The princess’ shoulders began to shake. A smile came to her eyes which were still the color of disappointment. Then she began to laugh. It was a clear sound, like the ringing of a dozen small bells. Jonas stood there in silence as he watched the princess laugh.
“Jonas Bailey. We are here to assist you in a manner our sister cannot. We would like to show you something, if you would permit us to perform more of our…”
She smiled like a kid with a new toy.
“Pony mumbo jumbo.”
Jonas stared for a moment. This princess was so different from the one he’d been dealing with on a day to day basis. She wasn’t uptight, she wasn’t brooding. She was smiling and laughing at his situation. His situation which sucked but maybe was funny from an outside perspective? He could see it being funny.
He turned. There, frozen in the corner of the room, was Caroline. Frozen in time, with a kind look on her face. That was his dream. To see that look again, to reach out and…
It’s just a dream.
“Yeah. Sure. Do your thing.”
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WHAM
That had hurt a lot less than it probably should have. Jonas struggled upwards, digging his feet into the golden flame beneath hi-
Ok he was literally standing on fire. Pony mumbo jumbo indeed. The fire was licking at his feet, making them feel warm. Not hot, not burnt, but warm. He tried to get a sense of how large the fire beneath him was. It seemed to reach a limit, an orb shaped limit that curved away as far as his eyes could see.
WHAM
A purple human(ish) figure stood beside him. Eyes the color of a private joke, with one hand stretched out and pointing to the sky. He looked up. Above them, hanging like vines draped against a glass ceiling, was black tendrils of fire. Every so often one of the tendrils would dart forwards, lancing towards the golden orb of flame. As fast as the black tendril moved, a dark blue triangle would appear, lancing out and slicing the tendril to pieces, letting the black flame disperse and pass into nothingness.
Yet some of the tendrils were too large or fast to be erased completely before reaching the golden flame. Fragments and embers would touch down upon the golden flame, and in those areas Jonas could feel a… a corruption. A wrongness. He was staring at something primeval and raw. Something that beat beneath the skin of the world.
He turned to the princess in the skin of a human.
“Alright. One question. Why are you a human?”
Yeah let’s get that one out of the way.
“We are deep within a human mind, Jonas. It is only natural to take a form more accommodating to your subconscious.”
“. . . Whatever. How about the whole…”
A glance.
“Fire thing? I’m sure it’s a metaphor. Possibly for daddy issues.”
The princess began to walk along the surface of the golden flame. Jonas followed without moving.
“You know of the Siphon. You know how it corrupts a heart and soul.”
She gestured upwards, indicating the tendrils, and then to the golden flame. Yeah. Pointing and two sentences an explanation makes. Fantastic.
“Ok, uh, sure. So the triangle that’s cutting up tendrils is… what, my faith in humanity? Power of friendship? True love?”
The princess cast him a sharp look. Too sharp. He was bleeding. He was literally bleeding. Dreams suck.
“You speak of the greatest forces in existence as if they are mere trivialities. How blind you are, Jonas Bailey.”
It was his turn to laugh.
“Yeah, ok. Sure. So the triangle is… my razor wit?”
Hey that was a quip that came out okay. Go Jonas.
“No, young one. The… ‘triangle’ is a representation of my magics. I have cast them upon you since the night you slept in the cave. The Siphon has begun to take its root upon your soul, Jonas Bailey. I have cast this magic to keep your mind your own.”
He didn’t have anything witty to say about that. They’d talked about what happened to his predecessor. Two hundred and sixty seven dead, and one viking locked away for a thousand years, waiting for the release only death offered him.
“Well. That was nice of you, I suppose.”
For several long seconds, he watched the black flame, the purple triangle, and the golden fire on which he stood.
“So. What now, princess?”
She looked down at him. When had she started floating?
“Now? It is your dream. I led you here, you may go wheresoever you choose.”
Like that, they were standing on a field. A large field, stretching out into forever. Green grass that shone with morning dew. He couldn’t feel the grass through his shoes. Odd. His shoes weren’t any real color, because he couldn’t remember the color they had been. It hadn’t seemed important.
The human-looking Luna was sitting in the grass, looking at the three suns that hung in the distance.
“So, not that suddenly dream-porting to someplace nicer than freaky fires and triangles… I really meant what’s next for me? When I’m awake.”
She smiled a sad smile, shaking the stars out of her hair before answering.
“We will be spending more time around you, Jonas Bailey. If possible, we would assist you in centering yourself. Together, we shall discover a way for you to suppress if not control the Siphon.”
He nodded, as the suns in the distance began to crumble. The trees followed suit, turning into vague geometric patterns as the color and solidity of this fake world shattered. Cracks in the ground raced towards him and the princess, who was already less than she had been. The color had left her body, leaving her a two dimensional piece of curved lines and short angles.
“I’m waking up, aren’t I?”
The curved lines and angles that was the princess smiled with teeth that had left the world of dreams.
“It has been a pleasure speaking with you, Jonas Bailey.”
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The princess was true to her word. The entire next day was spent in either her company or her sisters. After his daily talk-session with his pony therapist (which naturally got nowhere because seriously, pony therapist?) he spent several hours meditating in the gardens with Princess Luna. Sitting in silence, listening to the birds singing at a distance. Several more times, he would vanish and be before that great ball of fire, hear the fragmented voices of a billion pony souls, each crying out in frustration or sorrow. Some cries were small, some were large.
Several times he heard the thoughts of a pony on the brink of death before he latched onto the thread of emotion, following it to the source. The ever burning thing at the center of the Siphon.
A pony had sailed too far into the ocean. His boat had sprung a leak and his last hours were spent sobbing, desperately trying to plead or bargain for a princess, for a boat, for a chance to survive. Jonas had heard his thoughts through the Siphon, but it was easier this time. These thoughts were not his own. They felt like they were a voice on the radio. Still real, but not his. Not his. He wasn’t drowning. Jonas listened and forced himself to stay. It was… it was horrifying. But try as he might, there was nobody else to hear True Course’s last moments. The cute mare from down the street had been flirting with him, ready for their third date. He’d liked her. He’d liked the sun in her mane. She wasn’t going to know. Nobody would.
Jonas had stayed floating in the Siphon for what felt like hours. Listening with solemn intensity to the dying thoughts of True Course. He felt the wind of the incoming storm. Had felt True Course’s rage against the sky. Had felt his acceptance as the undercurrent grabbed his legs.
All too soon, the thread ended. Jonas clung to the feelings, the last burst of defiance from a pony he had never met, but soon they were merely smokey tendrils, fading into the aether.
He stopped trying to meditate for the rest of the day, staring out the window, imagining that if he stared long enough he could see the storm he knew was far, far in the distance.
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It had been a full week of the meditation, a week since True Course had died. He’d sent flowers, anonymously, with the help of Princess Celestia. She hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t asked why. He’d told her it was a Siphon thing, and she’d nodded with an understanding look.
One notable benefit to his meditation: Jonas felt more clear-headed than he had in a month. Maybe two. How long had he been in ponyland? He’d have to ask the princess when he was done here.
Jonas was in a large, mostly empty stone room. There was a nice rug in the middle, on top of which he was sitting. In his hands was a book on Equestrian architecture. He’d picked it up out of curiosity, and now he was sitting in a room that had been occupied by a couple of magic students. The students had found excuses to leave within a minute of Jonas joining them. He didn’t blame them. To be fair, he was hardly reading. He was feeling the Siphon, without leaving his mind. He wasn’t in front of the ball of fire, he was still present, but he could hear the Siphon. Like having earphones in his brain. Except instead of the greatest hits of the 90’s, he was listening to the complaints and angst of a planet’s inhabitants.
He hadn’t gotten angry in almost four whole days, and he was getting better at controlling that anger. Progress was progress.
There was a knock at the door. He ignored it, instead flipping the book over and looking at the back. Ponies made such nice artwork for the books. How did they do that without thumbs? Was it magic? Wouldn’t that put Unicorns in a position of undue control over the education syst-
The door opened. Odd, normally he was aware enough to hear the clop clop of hooves. Four royal guards flanked the annoying red guard who had tried to stop Jonas from leaving Ponyville those weeks ago. By kicking him in the balls. Oh. Joy.
“Human. You are required in the courtroom.”
Well. That was new. It was barely restrained resentment. Jonas could feel it even without the Siphon. Cool. He picked at the thread more. There was resentment, but beyond that was the soggy feeling of fear. Fear? Interesting.
The Red Pony (Sky Hammer) coughed loudly. Right. Less pony mumbo jumbo, more real world pony issues.
“Yeah? What for?”
No. Don’t pick a fight. Just cause the pony in the back of your head is pissed at the red-maned idiot for forgetting their anniversary. Again. Wow did that thread show up a lot.
Why was the red pony smiling? He never smiled.
“The Minotaur ambassador is demanding your extradition. It’s time to go.”
The human in a land of ponies sat for a moment, staring blankly at the red pony who had a fondness for kicking humans in testicles (Which is just not okay).
“What? Why, what? How can they extradite me? I’m pretty sure I’m not a minotaur citizen, or anything. Right? How the-”
Sky Hammer had just turned and left, the other guards remaining in place to ensure the human followed, which he did out of pure frustration and confusion.
“Hold up. Hey, they can’t extradite me, can they? I mean, the princesses wouldn’t let that happen. I’m pretty sure it’s safer if I don’t leave Canterlot, right? Hey!”
Finally, the less than friendly pony whirled to face Jonas, glaring him in the eye.
“I was sent to retrieve you the instant the minotaur made his demand. You’re going to walk into the room, sit down, shut up and do what you’re told. If you attempt any violence, if you embarrass the princesses, I will end you. If you even so much as try to be clever, I will end you. Are we clear?”
Jonas almost rose to the bait. Without a doubt, to be threatened in such an overt way two weeks ago would have resulted in a decidedly undesirable result, namely one pony with little bone pieces where his big bones used to be. That was then. The new, more in-tune with the mystical nonsense surrounding him Jonas was in control enough to not slap the glare right off the short bully’s face.
“Clear.”
“Good. Move.”
They walked in tense silence all the way to the throne room.