//------------------------------// // 3 - Of Enigmas and Enchantments // Story: A King's Return // by Maulkin //------------------------------// The chaos god strode into the frozen cave confidently, unafraid. “Oh honey, I'm hoooome!” he called out, mocking. A charcoal gray unicorn stallion slowly emerged, unclothed and unkempt, his eyes glowing the faintest green. Even brought low, he simmered with impotent rage as he advanced on the creature. “You DARE to defile my domain with your pres-” “Oh do shut up, you gigantic blowhard,” the draconequus said with a roll of his eyes, striding up to the unicorn without the usual fanfare. “This is important. You've sensed what I've been up to, yes? Or is that thing on your head just a glorified hood ornament after all?” His annoyed grimace turned to a smirk as he flicked the stallion's curved horn. The unicorn seethed in barely controlled fury, the grinding of his teeth audible. “What. Is. Your. POINT?!?” The draconequus only laughed. “Why, to help you, of course! We may be on the opposite sides of things, but we're both villains... And it's not fair that only I get a chance at redemption,” he chuckled, fondly remembering how he hoodwinked most of the kingdom into thinking he was reformed. “Consider it my 'good deed' for this century... Besides, it wouldn't be very fun at all just going around ruining lives.” The creature grinned maniacally, a terrifying rictus that seemed to leave the confines of his face. “And I have LOTS of chaos in store for you...” The unicorn stumbled back, no amount of pride able to conquer the fear that welled up inside him. “Wh-what are you doing?! I command you to stop!” He tried to focus his magic, but already knew he could do nothing to the avatar of chaos – he couldn't control a colt in this state, let alone a powerfully magical creature like that. Nor could he physically defend himself from whatever the vile being had planned for him. No... the best he could do was try to subvert it. And he had very little time to even attempt it. “Five score! Divided by four!” the twisted creature chanted in a lilting, playful voice, even as he glared down at the unicorn with nothing but contempt. 'No!' he thought, 'not yet!' He searched his centuries of knowledge and experience, trying to find a defense against such a spell... He was the mighty Sombra, surely he could save himself! “Your memories removed, your body confused!” Save himself... Would that work? Could he cast his own spell of Command upon himself, and make himself remember? He had no other options, and there was no time – he had to do something NOW. He started weaving the spell, putting all of his strength into it, not even knowing if it'd be enough... “For your insolence you must pay, Cast off to lands far far away!” He felt his magic flow sluggishly, as if pulled by another force... 'NO!' he shouted in his mind, his body already halfway in the neverthere. He struggled in vain as he felt his mind and magic slowly being pulled away, and had no choice; he released the half-formed and less than half-powered spell as the world around him darkened and faded, and he slipped into unconsciousness... “To scatter the six, just the start of my beeps beep beep Beep BEEP BEEP BEEP-” I reached for the alarm clock on reflex, turning it off after a few moments of frantic, half-asleep scrabbling. 'Infernal machine,' I thought darkly, 'That was an interesting dream, and now I won't even remember...it... Wait.' But I could. I could remember every moment of it. Unlike most dreams interrupted by my alarm clock's disorienting blare, this one didn't tatter like a cobweb in a stiff breeze; indeed, it was crystal clear in my mind. I could remember every single moment of the dream in perfect detail, far better than even the most vivid and lucid of dreams. Even my immense hangover couldn't dull its vividness – it was like I had actually been there... It was only then that I remembered the night before and the reason for my hangover, and groaned hopelessly. My mane of thick, bushy black hair was undiminished, and I could scarcely expect the other alterations to be any better. Indeed, I could feel it trailing all the way down to the middle of my back – not just hanging down, but sprouting like a weed! “That's it, I'm calling off, I can't go to work like this,” I mumbled petulantly, grabbing the phone and calling one of my co-workers. If I could get someone to cover my shift, the boss would be fine with the switch. I searched for “Mary”, and found it after a few moments. She was a nice girl, and seemed to genuinely like everyone. Moreover, I had covered a few of her shifts recently, so she'd be hard-pressed to not cover mine. I smiled as I heard a click from the other end. “Hello?” she asked, her voice high pitched and harried. Even current state, I was happy to talk to her – she was a good friend, and made otherwise-dull days at work tolerable. “Hey, Cadence?” I asked, feigning a raspy voice. “Listen, I'm... I'm not feeling well, I was hoping you could-” I heard her curse on the other end. “I CANNOT go in today,” she said with unusual callousness. “Sorry. I have... personal issues!” she stammered, sounding panicky and scared. That wouldn't do... I had covered her shifts, and she wasn't going to cover mine? That was just plain rude! “I'm sorry, I hate to put you on the spot like this,” I said, not really sorry at all and feeling like she owed me, “but I really, really can't go in today.” “Then go to the doctor. If you can't even remember my name, why should I go in for you?” she said defensively, using rather flimsy logic to justify her stubbornness. None of this made any sense – she would practically bend over backwards to help a friend. And what was she talking about, forgetting her name? “What? What are you talking about, your name is Caden-” I stopped, realizing what I was saying, my eyes crossed in confusion. Cadence? “...Mary.” I forced out the word like a lump in my throat. I heard her sigh over the line. “Look, Sombra,” she said, and I nearly dropped the phone right then, “I just can't come in. I'm really, really sorry... please understand...” I tried to stammer something, but she had already hung up. I stared down at the phone at a loss for words. Why had I called her Cadence? And why had she called me Sombra? Unless... It was a mad idea, but it was the only one I had. Operating mostly on instinct and intuition, I called her up again and held the phone to my ear. A moment later I heard her voice on the line. “Look,” she said, exasperated, “I'm not changing my mind, I just can't-” “I know, I know,” I said soothingly, trying to assuage her, “but...” I considered my words carefully. I needed to say something that she would only understand if she was in the same boat as me, but wouldn't raise suspicion if my hunch was wildly incorrect. “...Do you have any... tails, to tell me?” I asked carefully, trying not to emphasize the word too much. There was silence on the line for a moment. “Yes,” she said, sounding far too casual, “yes. A hair-raising one. It might tickle you... pink.” I listen with bated breath, my heart pounding as I started to think my brother and I weren't alone... But I had to be sure.“Ah, EYE have one too, but it's a very dark one...” I couldn't believe it as I heard a giggle on the line – did she find this funny?! She stifled her giggles and mumbled, “Yes, umm, I... horned, about that...” Wait, what? “Horn?” I asked, confused and alarmed. “I don't have a-” I brushed my hair out of my eyes and yelped as I cut my hand. “OW! What the... GAH! WHAT THE FUCK-” I fumbled the phone, dropping it on the bed beside me. What... what was that? I carefully reached up, feeling along my face... and then bumped into something smooth and hard, protruding from my forehead. I heard a tinny voice coming from the phone, and quickly picked it back up. “-appened? Are you there?” I heard, only catching the last bit. “Y-yes,” I stammered, forcing myself to calm down. “Yes, I'm here... Ummmmm.... How did you know about the...” I trailed off, unable to bring myself to say it. “The horn?” She asked brightly. “I... Well, I woke up like that. I kinda freaked out a little bit at first, but now it's... well, I think I like it, it's so pretty! If I could pass it off as a joke, I would totally go outside right now and flaunt my stuff!” She giggled, clearly enjoying herself far more than I was. Then again, she was the kind of girl to wear outlandish hairstyles on a regular basis, so perhaps she was used to looking unusual. I, however, was not so versatile when it came to my appearance; I'd worn the same shirts and pants for the past year, the only variety coming from the few combinations they offered. A horn was entirely out of the question when it came to my wardrobe. I sat up with no small trepidation and looked into the mirror next to my bed, and gave a fresh groan of despair. Something sharp and wickedly curved was protruding from my forehead, changing from a steely gray at the base to a crimson red at the tip. It looked like a railroad spike had been jammed through the back of my head, pushed all the way through to the front, and left to sit there in all its gory glory. “Yeah... Real pretty...” I muttered faintly, slightly nauseous. “Well?” she asked. I could hear her starting to relax, even over the phone. “Well what?” I asked, grouchy from the morning surprises – and perhaps from being hungover as well, though that was rapidly becoming the least of my concerns. “Well, duh, tell me what you look like!” she said brightly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'Of course she wants to know,' I thought sourly. “I assume you want to know about how I look different, as you already know how I normally look,” I said with a resigned sigh. “Oh quit being so grumpy, I'm sure it can't be that bad,” she said, and I could practically hear her eye-roll over the line. “Fine,” I snapped, miffed at how lightly she was taking everything, and stood in front of the mirror to confirm my fears. “My irises are red. Like, blood red. I now have fangs coming out of my mouth. I... Shit, that's new. My arms are getting... hairy. No, scratch that, furry. Fucking hell... My arms are being taken over by gray fur...” I shifted, looking down further. “What fresh hell is this,” I grumbled. “My legs are likewise covered, apparently. Also, my toes are starting to look deformed – I don't know what's going on down there... My hair is starting to turn into what I can only presume is the bastard child of the smoke child on Lost and Cousin It... Oh, right, and before I forget, I now have a gory railroad spike protruding from my forehead,” I finished with sarcastic cheerfulness. Naturally, all of this left her in stitches. “Oh come on, you're exaggerating,” she giggled, thinking I was making it sound worse than it was just so I could have something to complain about, but this time I was serious. I sighed, snapping a picture of myself and sending it to her even as she laughed at my description. A beep sounded as the picture went through successfully, and a few moments later she fell silent. “Oh... You're not.” “Nope,” I said simply, slightly mollified that she was finally taking this seriously. “I'm... I'm really sorry,” she mumbled, all levity gone. Crap, it was my turn to feel like garbage... “Hey, look, it's alright,” I said, struggling to find something to distract her. “You, ummm... Did you check your back? I think you may be getting wings...” “Yeah, I saw those this morning too – wait. How did you know I'd have wings?” she asked suspiciously. I scratched my head awkwardly. “Ummm... Look, can you google 'Princess Cadence'? You should see a link for a My Little Pony wiki, click that. If I'm right, you're starting to look like her...” “Hrmmm...” I heard some clicking and typing in the background, and then a small gasp. “Oh my gosh! I do! How did you-” “Scroll down,” I mumbled, feeling oddly embarrassed. “Look for a 'Sombra'...” There was silence on the other end, then another click... “That... you're starting to look like him. I don't think I like him,” she said, and gave a nervous giggle. “No offense,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “Yeah, I don't either,” I say easily, chuckling a little. “But this can't be a coincidence all three of us are starting to look like characters from the show. Did you read the articles?” “Ummm, yeah, something about Cadence being a princess and Sombra being an evil king, and they fought...” She stopped, and I smirked as it finally clicked. “Wait, three of us? I thought it was just me and you!” “Now look up 'Soarin',” I said, ignoring the question and trying not to snicker. I could at least have some fun with this... “Ummm, okay,” she said, confused but playing along. “Alright... what's that?” “That's Luke,” I said simply, grinning. She was quiet for a moment... Then burst out into fresh peals of laughter. “H-he's a pretty blue pegasus?!” she finally managed to ask, gasping on the other end of the line. “Well, not quite,” I managed to say without laughing. “but he has the anime hair down pat.” There was more laughter from the other side. It took a full minute for her to calm down, but eventually she did. And then the reality struck her. “Ummm... I just realized something,” she said nervously. “How far is this gonna go? I can hide the wings, and I can shave the fur, but if this doesn't... stop...” “I don't know,” I said, all levity gone. “I really don't know...” “Well... What do you think caused it?” she asked, more pragmatic than I expected from her. I scratched my head. The idea that it was caused by a biological agent – a virus or bacteria or some other physical change – was starting to seem less and less likely, given that these were extremely complex physical changes. I wasn't even sure if it was physically possible – hair was dead, after all, and couldn't change its own color. I was also pretty sure there was NOTHING in the human genome for the coding of a horn in the forehead, let alone something that would allow it to grow overnight in an adult male. Any changes like that would have to be extremely complex and designed specifically for that person's body, and even then they would almost certainly be fatal – the fact that we were still alive was proof enough to me that the 'biological agent' theory had some serious flaws. “I... I thought it might have been some sort of biological vector at first,” I said, “but now... Well, all three of us work at the store, right?” “Riiiight,” she said, not seeing where I was going but following along nonetheless. “And we get all kinds of creepy things in, right?” She was sharper than I expected, putting it together before I could even start to justify my own theory. “...Are you honestly saying that we were cursed by some... magical trinket?” she asked flatly, as if she couldn't believe what I was saying. I blushed sheepishly, trying to reform my defense. “W-well... I mean, I really can't explain this physically,” I said slowly, carefully selecting my words. “Short of major surgery, I don't see how these changes could have occurred – bio-technology can only barely grow simple – VERY simple – organs, and even then only in specially designed vats of nutrients and flesh-latticework. A full horn and fangs are completely in the realm of fantasy at this point, and they aren't even living flesh. And even if all of that was possible, if we were exposed to the same biological agent we'd be experiencing the same symptoms. At most, we would start looking the same – we wouldn't be differentiating into, well...” I grimaced. “...Little technicolor ponies from a kid's show.” She sighed, and I fully understood her frustration– none of it was logical or predictable. We were completely in unknown territory, and we couldn't even begin to guess what would happen next. “I... I guess 'magical trinket' makes as much sense as anything... but magic isn't real!” she said, surprisingly insistent. I was about to agree with her, but something stopped me. If I had been told a week before that my eyes would turn red in less than an hour, I would have told that person to get their head checked. If they proceeded to tell me that I would grow fangs, I would have walked away very quickly. If they continued to tell me that my forehead would have a large spike protruding from the front, I would have demanded to know why they were following me and promptly called the police to charge him with harassment and assault. Yes, assault – unlike battery, assault only requires an anticipation of harm rather than actual harm, and can be... Err, right, sorry. Back to the story. In any case, the hypothetical stranger would have been telling the absolutely correct, and I would have been completely wrong. I couldn't take for granted that my belief about magic was also true, not when I could find no other alternative explanation that didn't involve it in some way or another. But... Perhaps there was one way to test it. I rubbed my horn, considering. If my hypothesis was correct, well... “Listen,” I said, distracted, “can I call you back? I need to check something?” I hung up before she could answer, too preoccupied with my own thoughts and feeling very foolish for even thinking them. “It's not stupid,” I said out loud, reassuring myself. “Everything that's happened so far is insane, and it's not stupid to just test your only working hypothesis. I can approach this in a logical, orderly fashion, and it won't be stupid.” 'Yes,' my traitorous brain responded relentlessly, 'yes it is. You're going to try to do magic with your maaaagical unicorn horn,' it continued, drawing out the word with sarcastic whimsy. “Shut up, brain,” I grumbled stubbornly, and did my best to push my doubts aside. “Alright.... What did unicorns do in the show when they were trying to do magic? It looked like they concentrated really hard...” I frowned, thinking. What did they concentrate on? The object to be manipulated? The effect? Both? Well... I was turning into a unicorn, apparently – perhaps it would come to me if I just started trying things. Worst case, I would feel foolish and worsen my hangover. I turned to a shotglass on my desk – apparently the party hadn't ended in the kitchen, if the mostly empty bottle of rum was any indication – and looked at it. I really, really looked at it. I tried to feel, in my mind, the perfect shape of the glass, the parabolic dip on the inside and the angled cylinder that defined its outside, all with rounded curves and surfaces. I felt its hardness, its unyielding surface, but also its brittleness – like a good shock would send it spiraling into disarray and entrophy. I carefully flicked it, eliciting a soft ring, and concentrated on that as well. I kept holding the image of the shotglass in my mind, trying to feel it from all sides and know its form. As I contemplated the shotglass's physical form, I started to realize... It was glowing with a ghostly, pale light. I pushed back from the desk with a yelp, startled out of the meditative state, and blinked. It wasn't glowing anymore... I couldn't even be sure if it was glowing in the first place. Maybe I just wanted to see something, so I did? Maybe I was still drunk? I couldn't leave it that, though; it wouldn't be the proper scientific method if I stopped there, especially if I thought I had a result. I grabbed my water glass and downed it, hoping to placate my continuing hangover, and focused on the glass again. It was easier, and it was coming naturally. I... I could actually feel its form in my mind, it wasn't just an abstract concept. I stared in awe as it started to glow white again, a thin membrane of something like smoke and light surrounding the glass. It felt incredible. Not just the idea of being able to do magic – though that was itself an impossible, mind-bending thought – but I could feel something flow out my mind and through my horn, into and around shotglass, and back to me. It hummed, tickling against my senses like a gentle breeze, brushing against senses I never even knew I had. It was most acute around my forehead and horn, but I realized I could feel it with varying degrees throughout my entire body. I tried to make more of 'it' flow into the membrane, and delighted as the light grew stronger and more defined, no longer so wispy. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to call it 'magic' yet – the 'humbug' in me wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Well... Only one thing left to do. Holding the image of the shotglass in my mind and keeping the flow of 'stuff' strong, I focused on one sensation – the glass lifting up into the air. The cup disappeared in an instant, and there was an almost simultaneous crash above me. I yelped and covered my head and face with my arms as powdered sheet-rock drifted down on me, leaving me dusted with white and looking about ten years older. I looked up and saw a neat, round hole in the ceiling, with a glimmer of glass deep inside. I was lucky – if the shotglass were more flimsy, or if it had hit something hard, I would have been peppered with shards of glass. I stared at it for several minutes in silence, barely able to believe it. Finally, I picked up the phone and called Mary back. “Hello?” I said, my voice hoarse. “Yes?” she asked cautiously, not sure what to expect. “Magic.” “Magic?” “Yes. Magic.” “What about it?” “It's real.” I hung up on her without another word for the second time that day. Then, as an afterthought, I turned off my phone entirely – I didn't want to be distracted from my thoughts – and sat there for a long time, considering the implications. 'I can do magic,' I thought, waiting for my inner critic to come up with a snide response, but for once it was silent. I didn't feel stupid saying it; the evidence was right there in front of me – or, rather, above me, but that was just semantics. “I can do magic,” I said confidently to the empty room, and grinned – I still didn't feel silly. I could say it out loud, I could say something completely silly and outlandish without feeling like a fool, because I knew it was true. Ultimately, there was only one thing I could do with my newfound power... “LUKE!” I yelled, cackling as I stood up. “LUKE! C'mere, I bet you can't do this!”