//------------------------------//
// Creation 
// Story: The Magic of Old Earth 
// by Dress72 
//------------------------------//

	“Resurget vetus magicis terra, surge. Sex enim animarum, oblatio ultra vitam sunt. in tempus frigore in profundum noctem, tenebris et proferre in ineluctabilis in. Oratio mea, redde novam vitam, da numen. Resurget vetus magicis terra, surge. Et facere novum luna Magistri!” 		*The earth shall rise again the old magic, arise. For in six of souls, are beyond the life of the offering. Into the depths of the cold for the time of night, in the darkness, and to produce them in the inescapable. My prayer shall be, give back to a new life, give power to. The earth shall rise again the old magic, arise. And make a new moon Master!*
The dimly-lit forest around the chanter was thick, barren, dead. The only light was generated from the faint blue glow of the pentagram surrounding the one speaking, light from everything around him flowing into the five pointed diagram. Even the light of the moon and stars were gone from the sky, despite the full blood moon that was supposed to be hanging within the now void heavens. Looking out, nothing could be seen; looking in, only the occasional flash lit the side of the trees that was the furthest from the spell.
As the pentagram pulsed, it grew larger and began to engulf the five beings whose blood it was made from. A deep hum was emanating in time with the pulse. A thick leather bound book, old as the Earth , suspended itself in the center. With each pulse, a page turned silently and heavily, for each turn carried the weight of thousands of years. Soon the pentagram covered the entire clearing and the 6,000 paged book struck its last page.
The chanter, dressed in pitch black robes, pulled back his hood revealing a weathered old face, scarred with thousands of failed summoning attempts, duels, and spells. He was a being, for he was no longer a single distinct race. A hundred self-experiments had changed most of his once pure pony form to that of something to be unknown in Equestria ever again.
“nunc insurgite, partum a novum domino! illa vitam, hoc novum corpus lunae in se vim et signa MINUSCULUS!”	*Rise to the now, creating a new master! That life, this new body of the pony and the signs in themselves the working of the moon!*
The pentagram glowed once more when the chanter’s old voice sounded, releasing all the light held within it upwards. The night returned, the blood moon once again visible and all the stars were in their correct placements. The clearing that once held onto the spell caster and five dead bodies was empty, only revealed after the light slowly descended back down into the area. Silence permeated through the dead forest. The book hovered within the quickly fading red light that had surged brightly before disappearing to meet its current master.
___
A rift opened up beneath the caster as his spell circle released the light it collected. He fell through and was wrapped in the hole as it closed, trapped within the earth. Death didn’t come as he suspected from the apparently failed spell. Instead he was frozen within the ground he had once casted on. He contemplated what he could have done wrong within the spell. Anything could have changed the outcome: the wrong blood type of the victims, the impartial bloodline of them if they were not pure as he had tested it to be, although he lived in the age where the equine races still didn’t mix and mingle, the timing of the spell might have been off so that it didn’t complete at the exact pinnacle of the moon. He thought of this and all other possible things that could have gone wrong.
He waited, death refusing to come and nothing left to think about, he fell asleep, dreaming of his past, flowing through his memories at will.
He was cold. Shuddering, he lifted his head and observed his surroundings like he had hundreds, no, thousands of times before, only to sigh as everything was the exact same as it had always been for the past several years. A small cave just deep enough to keep the snow off him when the winter came, decorated with only a single, small pot and a blanket, which had fallen off him as he slept, allowing the thin layer of snow that covered the ground to chill his weary body. He sighed again, shaking the snow that had collected on his pelt off, revealing light blue. Taking the blanket, he covered the hole of the cave and used his dark blue magic to clear the cave of snow. The cave warmed as the thin blanket, layered with the two protective spells known, trapped what little heat he still produced.
He remembered why he was in this situation. As any other unicorn lived comfortable life, he had it poorly because his mother had slept with a pegasus. Her pregnancy caused an uproar within the three tribes and she was forced to abandon him to save herself and stay comfortable, despite being shunned. He had been a pariah since birth and somehow miraculously survived his innocent foalhood..
Saddened by his situation, he left the cave to scavenge. It had been getting harder and harder to get food as the forest around him died from the cold, forcing him further and further from the safety of the cave. All but the center of the forest had been slowly dying each winter. The center had a large clearing within it, large enough to build at least seven multi-room cabins.
Stepping into the clearing, he found the area oddly silent. Usually there was at least the chatter of chipmunks, the far off whistle of birds, or even the scraping of branches against each other within the wind. Throughout his walk to this point, he had been hearing those noises. Proceeding with extreme caution, he started to sneak around the edge, feeling safer close to the fading forest. Finding nothing edible, he continued further in until he was forced to the center where a two foot tall book, that was about three feet wide and five feet long, lay. A seven foot radius around the book was completely barren of the thin layer snow that surrounded everything, and contained all the riches that could be found foraging. Despite every part of his being telling him to leave now, he studied the book: The Magics of Old Earth: Power, Skill, Knowledge, Control, Shape, Summon, Life. With the reading of the name, the book disappeared, leaving behind no traces of its existence; not even the food filled snowless circle was to be seen.
The bird songs could be heard once more, the chipmunks were seen scampering around and burying nuts, while a familiar wind once again blew in the clearing. Digging around once more for the food he might have missed, he found  it most everywhere he scavenged.
The caster awoke from his slumber due to a shaking around him. Being underground for over 2000 years, he was unprepared for the blast of light he received when the ground opened up and spat him out with the same pentagram he created so long ago. Momentarily blind, he focused what little energy he had into standing.
As his vision cleared, he looked around at the completely unfamiliar landscape that had grown up around him. He was surrounded by what looked to be an old stone castle, worn down, overgrown, and broken. The sheer size was unlike anything he had seen before. The thing that truly caught his attention, however, was that the area was dresses in a red light, which attributed to a blood moon, and the fact that the five races he had killed in order to cast his spell, were standing before him, alive, and facing him. 
He prepared himself for a possible battle with the five pureblood races, only to be thrown off when they bowed to him. It was slightly rational that they would bow to him, as he had had them under a control spell when he sacrificed them, although he had previously figured that their deaths would have broken the spell.
“Rise,” he proclaimed, a new youthfulness evident within his voice. The five, an earth pony, a unicorn, a pegasus, a gryphon, and a zebra, all arose at the command. The chanter continued, “"Appear, old book." 
The book appeared before the pony, traveling through time to reclaim its master. It opened, following its orders before they were spoken. Two things were shown to this pony; the first was a picture of two beings unknown to him. Upon examination, the picture was of two pony-like creatures with both wings and a horn, one near black the other white, but both circling the moon and sun within a yin-yang pattern. The second was a mirror, reflecting the unscarred, unblemished, firm face that the chanter had when he was young; before he had found the book. The other thing he noted from the mirror was that his robes were gone, but accounted it to decay from being trapped underground.
He was astonished, however, by what the first sign showed him. Never had he suspect the spell had succeeded, but it had done so with consequences beyond what he could have dreamed. He had figured that, even if the spell worked, the most that it would do was give him control over the moon, but trap him forever, constantly draining him and wearing him until he no longer could sustain it. It defied him and created two entirely new beings of one race, giving them the ability to control the moon and the sun.
Within the confusion felt by the pony, something flew between him and the moon, causing a shadow to slither over the landscape and the pony. Growing up in times of hatred, he once again prepared for battle, shouting, “Who's there; show yourself!”
His horn lit as he cast fire protection and water protection on himself, while chanting a couple of spells into one, "Vitis ignis de cælo, inducere iracundiam ad mare. Hostem, in parochia ignis aquam, morietur." 	*The vine is fire from heaven, to bring wrath upon the sea. Enemy, in the parish of water, of fire, he will die.*
A surge of white, foaming water, held in place behind a web of flame, materialized behind the pony, leaving a well-lit area to form as the fire raged in place. As the chanter was about to release the spell, a tall, slender pony stepped out before him. This pony was near black, but more bluish than black, and had both horn and wings. Being recognized as one of the two from the picture shown to him, the caster released his spells, allowing the white water to rush forward while getting coated in flame. If this was truly a creation of his, it would be able to survive this, and even counter. His surprises knew no bounds this day as the being not only resisted the water and flame, but dispersed, levitated, and finally blinked them out.
The being didn’t counter attack, however, but rather stared at him, longing evident within its eyes. “How long I have waited for you to come. I grew mad waiting, hoping that you appear. But you remained hidden. My sister knew more of you than I, and her stubbornness in refusing to inform me contributed to my lost mind. In my madness, I found a book that told me of you, and how you would appear during a night red as blood, and so I strived to create a night that would bear that color. Finally on the day of my return, I have done it.”
Tears had formed in the new pony’s eyes as she talked and slowly made her way, step by step, to the one she so longed to meet. She was only a foot away from the caster when she stopped. The caster saw the longing within her face, and somehow felt unease. He had seen many faces full of longing: some for life, others power, and some even for pleasure. But for some reason, he recoiled inwardly from the longing displayed on this face. It was joy- something he had never honestly encountered before.
Unable to cope with this new feeling that was starting to rise up within him, he did the only thing that he could think of. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before casting one of the many spells from the book, “evanesces.”
The caster and his five followers vanished from sight. Running from the dark cerulean pony, the caster heard her call out, “Father!”