This story is a fan-fiction of MLP:FiM. I don't own any of it. It belongs to Hasbro, etc, etc.
Don't sue. Seriously. That would be so uncouth.
The Hero’s Destiny
“Come on. We can’t stay here.” I consoled her as I tried to pick her up from the ground. Her armor however made me hiss under my breath. Blade helped me get Siren to her hooves, but she almost toppled over. I barely caught her before she started to cry again, leaning on me as we walked through the dirt-ridden halls of my scum-filled palace called the gutters. We were walking towards the east, the way of the rising sun, and I started to get worried at its sight. By now, Doom or his Generals must have sent out soldiers to find us. While Fear helped us earlier, I knew he would do no such thing twice in one night.
We had sat there in a numb heap as hours, scared citizens, and emotions passed us by. During that time, Siren must have cried enough tears to fill our life-giving river over with salt and despair. But during this time she also told us of herself.
Even at a young age, Siren Star had known of the strength and power of her Clan and knew that she must become the heroine of the city. She had worked day and night since she was a mere filly of six, learning the art of swordplay, the proper way to carry herself as a heroine and Lady of a powerful family, and how to strategize with the best of the advisors from the New Equestrian Empire.
However, through these years she saw her beloved grandfather, Chairpony of the Council of Lords before her father, wither away and die, only to see her mother-the only pony who ever understood her-die from the same sickness not two years after. She told me of her mother, her beautiful silver coat like her own and her dark black mane and bright blue eyes. Siren herself had inherited her mother’s coat and her wings, her mane being a combination of both her mother’s and father’s, but she was sad sometimes around her mother. She always seemed to be hesitant when action was needed and too gently. But Siren said she inherited this thinking, along with her beautiful eyes from her father.
She told me of the joy she discovered at eight when she got her cutie mark while she fought one of her swords masters in the skies above her family’s gardens, her mother sitting on the ground below in a wheelchair, wrapped in blankets and frailer than the dry kindling. Less than a week later, she was dead.
She told me of how she had fought for and earned her spot as one of the top heroine candidates while her father fought alongside her on the political battlefield, eventually both of them coming out on top and bonding even closer through their years of shared struggles and earning what they dreamed for.
She also told me of how she hated me when she first met me, I was just another dirty thief, something that she had learned to stop from age six.
She told me I made her heart race when I kissed her and talked to her about how much I loved her. Other foals and stallions had tried before, but none were as genuine as I was. When I fought Destruction, she almost leapt into the ring to save me, but almost fainted from relief when I killed him.
She said she resented me for being the one the Gauntlet had chosen. I didn’t work as hard as she had for as long as she had for it. Nor did I know what it meant to her, to her family, to Oattara and that I never would.
She cried on my shoulder and said she missed her father and hoped he had died quickly so Doom couldn’t torture him. She was too smart to keep a folly hope of him escaping and surviving. I didn’t tell her what I saw in Fear’s eyes.
She told me she loved me and that we should still get married.
And I told her we would be alright.
The walk the three of us made to Daemon’s strut was the longest and hardest I had ever known. Grief was palpable in the air and weighed heavily against my body, but I said we would be alright, so I kept walking. Siren was almost attached to me and Blade followed us no matter what, so we made it together, if not completely intact.
The alley-witch’s hut was large and somewhat menacing, but it was what gave Daemon’s Strut its strut. The other alley-cats knew that nopony was to bother her or harass each other around this magical place, so it was mostly peaceful, despite the evil-sounding name. It was only called that because legend had it that Daemon’s the Sand Ponies controlled lived here long ago. The alley-witch could be considered a daemon, because of her jet black coat, her aged grey-white mane, and the dirty rags that covered her blind eyes. But the real reason she could be called a daemon was because of that she seemed to know each and every problem you had, along with always knowing if somepony was sneaking up on her or trying to steal from her. But even more importantly, her predictions were always right.
We entered the alley-encompassing hut and I strode past piles and patch-work furniture that served as a place to entertain guests and went straight past the stereotypical beads that separated that “room” from her kitchen. Inside of the kitchen, shelves that were bolted into the walls of the alley were filled with strange herbs and ingredients while a massive cauldron sat over an open flame. The alley-witch stirred it and smiled as she dipped a chipped mug into the broth. She came over to her beat-up table, pointed to the chairs that had been pulled out and the three mugs set in front of them. We sat. As did she. The parley began.
“If you may, what is this?” Blade balked, the pungent odor of the brew steaming up from our mugs obviously making him queasy.
The alley-witch cackled and answered his question in an evil-croaky voice. “The brew, the brew, a pony stew! Skull of babe and eye of newt, blood of dragon, a human’s boot! A witch’s food and magical brew! You will drink, if you know what’s good for you!”
Blade paled, but I just sighed and felt a little happiness creeping back into me. It was a good feeling.
“She’s just bucking with you. It’s just really bad smelling sage tea.” I told Blade with a smile.
The alley-witch smiled broadly. “Ruining my fun, I see.” She replied with her normal, dusky voice. “Well actually I don’t see. I’m blind!” she said laughing into her tea before sipping some. I picked up my own cup, but looked over to my right to see how Siren was doing. She sat there with a few tears running down her face, just holding her cup.
“Drink up dearie. Little Silver will need a mother who is strong and healthy.” The alley-witch said to her.
Siren looked up in confusion. “Who is Silver?”
“Your child of course!” the alley-witch cackled before realizing the hut was silent.
“Well shit.” She said to the readers. “Sorry for the spoilers.”
“She sometimes sees a little too far ahead and mistakes on one meeting for another.” I commented, hopefully clearing up any confusion in Siren’s, Blade’s, and your mind.
“Wait!” Siren said quickly, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “I’m going to be a mother?”
“Ehhhhhhhhh, sure.” The alley-witch said, slurping some tea nice and loudly to keep Siren from talking.
“DEFT!” she shouted. “What do you want?”
“You should know already.” I replied leaning my hooves onto the table.
The alley-witch smacked me upside the head. “What did I tell you about putting hooves on my furniture? But I already gave enough spoilers out for one day, so just tell me for once without me trying to bucking look through all of time and space for you.”
“I need to see your eyes.” I said.
The witch drank some tea and looked at me solemnly. “So it’s time for that. Do you have the Hero’s Gauntlet yet?”
“Yes.”
“How about the Ebonedge?”
“No…” I said looking to my friends in confusion.
“You will by the time we’re done here.” She answered. “But first…” she trailed off as her hooves rose to her eyes and started to untie her mask. As it fell to the table, the three of us gasped. Even though her eyes were visibly blind, they were also a dark, ruby red. The same as Doom’s one eye. The same as Fear’s eyes. The same as mine.
“What does this mean?” I asked her.
“It means you’re a wizard Ha…buck, wrong story. Wait a minute.” She said as she massaged her temples, closed her eyes and drank some tea.
“Ok,” she said after a long sip, “it means you are like me. It means you have the blood of the ancient Sand Ponies just as I do, and it also tells quite a lot about why you were chosen to be the Hero of Oattara. And yes, you ‘are no hero’, but it’s just a title, so bear with me.”
“Also, it means you will have to leave this place, you home to find those who would teach you.” She continued. Right after the three of us all started shouting, clamoring over how we couldn’t leave, we had people to save, blah, blah, blah. So she rolled her dead eyes and jumped up on the table.
“HIYAH! QUIET!” she shouted as she up-ended her now lukewarm tea all over our heads. Then she got down, refilled her cup, and came back to sit across from us.
“You will travel North and East to the small town of Saddle Hill, a resting place for Northern traders and villains of all sorts. There you will look for the Shaman who goes by the name of…” she paused for a sip of tea and dramatic effect, “Reginald, or Reggie to his friends. In that town you will learn what it means to be evil, a hero, and one of you will stay there for three years.”
“Why do we need to look for this Reggie?” I asked, wondering what kind of name that was.
“It’s a skater’s name.” the witch said, answering my thoughts. “But more importantly, he is the last pony to know where the Sand Ponies currently are. He may look just a bit older than you three, but he is older than even I am. It is said he knows the white shadow…but this is not for me to discuss. You will find out all you need to know from the Sand Ponies. The rest you will find out from me in just a few sentences, a paragraph or two. Maybe.”
I shrugged off her “sentences” comment and proceeded to ask her “Sand ponies? They’re still alive?!?”
“Yes, but don’t go sharing that all over. It’s very hush-hush don’tcha know?” she replied before standing up and stretching.
“This is going to be a drag.” She said, a little irritated. “It’s been such a long time since I fought truly. And this time, I don’t even have my eyes. If you dearies just sit tight, watch, and DON’T TRY TO FIGHT ALONG SIDE ME I promise you’ll all be fine. So just enjoy the tea and a show.” She said as three menacing stallions burst into the hut’s kitchen with their swords raised and their faces wearing bloody grins.
“I knew General Fear would find ‘em!” one of the stallions said as they pointed their swords at us.
“Oh good, it’s all for an explanation.” The witch sighed. “I hate fixed points in time.” She said as she disappeared in a puff of black smoke and a snap.
The three stallions jumped at the witchcraft and glared at us.
“Where did she go?” they asked us. We just shrugged our shoulders.
An audible “snap!” behind the stallions made them turn around and one of them got cut in two by the witch, who was now holding a wickedly curved sword in her mouth. It’s blade was curved like the crescent moon, but was darker than a moon-less night in the desert and from how easy it cut through the poor stallion, it was sharper than the strongest steel we knew.
Another snap and she was gone, only to reappear above us this time, flying through the air at the attackers and kicking one square in the chest. He toppled over, but swung his blade wildly and managed to knick the witch in one of her legs before she beheaded him. She dropped the sword, seemingly forgetting the last stallion, but shouted “DEFT, RIGHT LEG” as she surprised him with a double back buck that sent him stumbling towards me. I put out my right leg and he tripped over it, sending him backward into the cauldron full of tea.
The witch rose onto her two back legs and her face formed a mask of anger as she put her hooves together and the air became ripe with electricity. All of our manes stood on end while lighting shot from her hooves and into the cauldron, making the last stallion’s body jerk, dance, and then finally just smoke as the lightning crackled and faded away.
The witch walked over to her seat, picking up the sword on her way, and laid it on the table as she sat back down, panted for a bit, and then drank the rest of her tea. When she was done, she threw her cup at a wall and it shattered.
“Shit. There was enough tea in that cauldron to last for a week. And shit, throwing that cup was really uncalled for. Buck. This. Cut.” She said angrily.
“Harpy, Medusa, Siren-whatever the hell you name is-be a dear and get the brown pouch on the third shelf up and bring it to me. Blade, you go find me some clean rags. They should be somewhere near the cauldron.” She directed them, before putting a hoof up to me as a sign to wait.
My friends brought her the pouch and rags and she quickly applied a herbal ointment to the wound and then wrapped it with one rag, while covering her eyes once more with the others. Then she started her explanation.
“The reason why I can do such things, along with your friend ‘Fear’ is because we are the last of the Shadowbloods. In ancient times, we were the guardians of the Sand Kings. When they left, we were vastly diminished because sand ponies are able to become Shadowbloods much quicker and easier than any other ponies that I know of, other than the Winter Ponies of the North, but I digress. Shadowbloods like I all have certain abilities. We can move silently if we want to, can see perfectly in the dark, and can teleport from place to place as living shadows. If we choose to, we can also become shadows. Also, Master Shadowbloods are often skilled in arts more than just stealth. We can also use magic, but only one aspect of our choosing. I, as you saw, can control lighting. Fear is skilled in shadow-magic, a difficult field of magic for even the most skilled Master Shadowbloods. The most powerful of all abilities that Master Shadowbloods can possess is that of foresight. While its gift can grant you vision into the future, it often takes away our vision of the present.” She said pointing at her own linen covered eyes.
“When the Oattaran Council discovered us after the Sand Ponies left, we were hired as more than body guards, we were used as assassins. Our set of tools, mainly poisons and weapons, became broader and we could be used for any assignments. Eventually, as the members of the Council of Lords had petty feuds, the Shadowbloods were soon pitted against each other. We fought and fought and fought for them until there was almost none of us left.”
“The thing that truly ended our fight thought, was the creation of this,” she said, hovering her hoof over the curved sword. “Its name is Ebonedge and it is also known as the cursed blade. Do you see how curved the blade is?”
“Yes.”
“That is because after it was forged of meteorite metals it was quenched in the blood of fallen Shadowbloods. It is a terribly wicked thing. But it is a reminder and a piece of history that can and will help you along your path. But be careful, it is infinitely sharp.”
“I took the blade from the last one to wear it over fifty years ago. After that, what remained of the Shadowbloods left to find the hidden Sand Ponies and I stayed here to raise my only son.” She said sadly as my friends and I knew who she was talking about.
“So Daemon’s Strut is called Daemon’s Strut because…” Blade asked.
“The Shadowbloods used to live around here.” Siren answered, thinking the same as I did.
The witch nodded. “And don’t think we wouldn’t live here without an escape route.” She rose from the table and went to the end of the alley, one of her walls coated in spices and herbs. She started taking them down and we helped her. Afterwards, she removed the shelves in an odd order and pushed on the wall itself. It swung open to reveal a dark tunnel. I could tell from the smell of it that it led to the river.
The witch put Ebonedge in its sheath and hoofed it over to me. I strapped it on and she gave us some last instructions.
“There is a bridge that leads over the river to another secret gate in the wall. When you go through it, take a left and head around the inside of the wall until you reach the final gate, which should be above the river. There will be a boat there, so ready it and then ride the river to as close to Saddle Hill as you can. Also, when all this chaos is done, when all three of you have completed your tasks, come to me once more. We will talk again.”
We started to head down the path, but I stopped right before the witch shut the hidden door.
“Alley-witch!” I shouted.
“What is it?”
“All these years, you’ve been like a mother to me and the rest of my family members, you’ve always been there for us. Yet, I’ve never asked your name.”
“That’s simple.” She said with a smile as the door closed. “Just call me Mom.”