The Greatest Show on Earth
The ruddy tavern was poorly lit, dusty, and bare of the usual pleasantries or cleanliness one would associate with normal Equestrian watering holes. The bar was cracked, several pictures on the wall were stained with who knows what while others were cut to ribbons over the course of the tavern’s life. Several hooks in the ceiling provided room for a trio of chandeliers to illuminate the establishment, but the cracked ceiling had brought down two of them, leaving only a single, half fractured wood chandelier to do the job of three. An odd stench hung in the air. Not unpleasant, but a stagnant and musty odor that had accumulated over a long time.
The barkeep, a shifty, skinny stallion with a bottlebrush mustache and grey-azure coat, stared at two remaining occupants seated at the bar. Indeed, others did sit in booths, chatting animatedly, but none of them concerned him, despite their shiftiness.
A red headed unicorn with a dull brown coat spoke with a sludge-green earth pony in hushed whispers in a corner booth. The earth pony brought a small bag out from the confines of his coat and sat the content on the table, which clinked softly in the low light. A waitress, a disheveled mess of a mare who looked ready to stab somepony with the produce knife she had tucked in her uniform, eyed the four customers with open contempt.
The two ponies hanging onto the bar contrasted with the remaining occupants like night and day. The first was a very well dressed charcoal-gray stallion in a fine, form-fitting white suit. Bright red stitching across his lapels, the base of his white top hat, outside collar, and coattails contrasted with the white and only made him stick out even more inside the dilapidated bar. His crimson eyes brimmed with friendliness, mirth, and a hint of playfulness as he looked at his companion.
She was very young, only just blooming into maturity. A violet and gold evening dress clung to her body, also tailored to fit perfectly around her wings. Her coat was utterly immaculate and only served to accentuate her youthful radiance. Her fur was such a light shade of rose that it almost appeared as white as the stallion’s suit. Bubblegum pink hair framed her perfect face and the sunhat over her head was tucked over her brow in a playful shyness. The lord and lady, each had no place in such an unpalatable establishment, and both had their cutiemarks hidden under their garb.
“Why sir, thou hast such a clever tongue and a magical way with words. Surely thou jest with the proclamation thou hast not graced a school with thine presence?” Her tongue was calm and concise, if antiquated. That did not stop two shady ponies in back from turning their heads upon hearing her cherubic voice.
The lord laughed a rich tenor, his voice resounding across the small room. “Oh my dear, I am afraid I cannot. In the past I have indulged in such scholarly pursuits, but I am naught but a wandering storyteller now.”
“Surely not!” she protested. “I merely gave thee the vain request of a few tales and thou providest me with entertainment to last weeks to come! Thy speech surely hinted at past intellectual exploits, as thou hast just expounded, but thy verboseness is masterful work and tho dost honor this silly filly with a momentary indulgence. Thou wouldst bring pride to any school. Such a waste, being a vagrant.”
The lord chuckled softly and nursed his amber drink, the exact name of the liquid forgotten over his past tales. Now that the storytelling was over, the barkeep and the waitress were hoping the pair would leave so that they could close up, but the filly’s exuberance and enthusiasm toward her companion's craft left them lingering a little longer. The lord saw the seeds of irritation begin to bloom into anger and professed, “I assure you our time is almost expunged. Even if the lady wishes to stay, I must be leaving shortly.”
He turned to his companion, who seemed miffed that they would soon part company and that he felt forced to leave due to the inclining unwelcomeness. “Fear not, youngling. You have me for a few more minutes. It has been quite the pleasure telling stories, even if they are nothing more than my dark musings. And to clarify, I have gone to a respectable school, although I left when I discovered that the path of a scholar was ill-suited to a pony such as I. I prefer more elegant company than those that bury their snouts in books, even more so when they listen to my tales of horror.”
“I must say I expected more cheer from such an enlightened stallion, as those tales were absolutely ghastly.”
“I hope I did not frighten you, My Lady,” the lord returned with a smile.
The lady knickered in retort. “I am young, but not a child.” Her cheeks and chest puffed in a pout, which did nothing but make the lord snicker. “Dost thou make sport of me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, My Lady,” he replied between chuckles. Her cheeks were tinged red with irritation and soon the lord was openly chortling. The lady glared at the lord, but the laughter was contagious and soon she was openly laughing. The two shifty individuals exchanged the bag of bits for an enclosed envelope, but once again turned their attention to her as the peal of her voice rang out. Her voice sounded like an angel, his was a hearty but dry rasp.
“What... tales did you wish to hear?” he said as he brought his voice under control. “I admit the drab mood may have led me towards dour tales.”
“Why, my heart is set on the more uplifting tales.” Her hooves tapped against the bar, causing the barkeep to growl at her. She paid him no mind. “Tales of courage and heroes overcoming woe. Princes and princesses overcoming monsters and uniting nations.”
“Ahhhhhh,” the lord hummed sagely. “More innocent tales, fraught with naivety and childish wonder.”
“Now thou truly dost make sport of me.”
“No deliberate attack on your character was performed, I assure you of this.” The lord tapped his glass to get the bartender’s attention and pushed a small pile of bits across the bar. The lady did the same, but her payment pile was far less voluminous than than his.
The barkeep scooped up both piles, filled their drinks and muttered, “Last call.”
“Prithee, enlighten me.”
“You are blossoming into adulthood, quite finely I might add.” Her cheeks bloomed crimson. He smiled, and seeing that he paid her the salacious compliment only to provoke a reaction, playfully nudged his shoulder. “But I feel that such childhood dreams cannot be fulfilled in the real world. As sweet and pleasant as such hopes and aspirations may be, they cannot match the hardships and pleasures of life.”
“I remind thee, naught but stories. No such harm be done by speaking of whimsical tales.”
“True. I suppose it is only a matter of taste. My apologies.”
“Despite my preference, dost thou not wish for utopia?”
“Always.”
“What harm be incurred from such tales? They may not reflect truth, but what couldeth be better than a high hope on a plinth? An aspiration to achieve?”
“I fear such high hopes may be beyond the reach of such ponies.” The lord downed half of his glass and sighed. Despite his heavier intoxication, he appeared not the least bit tipsy. “Why shoot for the stars when the mountains are closer?”
“We divide on ideals.”
“No, only the theory of pony nature when pressed against conflict. I do not wish to be a pessimist, but a rule utilitarian. I have yet to see holding such lofty goals in such high esteem as a beneficial act.”
The lady ‘hmmmed’ and sipped her own drink. She winced slightly as the burning alcohol coursed down her throat, but did not shy away from taking another brief nip. “Lofty expectations drive ponies to do great deeds in my experience.”
The lord raised his glass to her. “I very much wish to meet such ponies,” and he finished his glass. The barkeep did not appear to take his it.
The lord stretched as far as his limbs would reach. Snaps and pops crossed his body and as his head tilted back, his hat hung precariously on his head before falling back. It stopped, stuck on an obstruction; he had a horn. The lady huffed in irritation once again. “Thou hast led me to believe you were naught but a clever earth pony! Forked tongue! Thou dost make sport of me!”
“You didn’t ask...” he replied simply. Crimson still crossed her face, but after a few more sips, she calmed down. The red blossoming her cheeks faded only slightly but hung due to her marginal inebriation. She grumbled under breath, but said something akin to, “True...”
“Do you recall the story of the stallion with the monster in his head?” he asked.
She nodded. “The tragic tale of the healer turned killer, the doctor who could not fight the urge to kill.”
“Indeed. Part of my response is instrumental to the tale. The doctor dealt death as well as life. As cruel as his circumstances were, it gave him perspective on life’s fragility. If a pony sees nothing but the joys and wonders in life, then he or she can never learn the painful lessons and will forever be trapped in the quagmire of utopia. If one knows only pain then it becomes impossible to elevate one’s existence.”
“What of a balance of joy and pain?”
“Well, my dear...” he whispered. His crimson eyes stared deep into her own magenta depths. “I do not know.”
“The loremaster has become tongue-tied,” she joked.
“Not even I know everything,” he said with a sigh.
“Do I see regret on thine lips?”
In the space of a single moment, age compounded on his eyes with the weight of the entire world. Even though eye contact between the pair had not been broken, he had ceased seeing her physical presence. She was barely out of her teens, and he was into his middle years, but some memory brought the knowledge and experience of an entire civilization down upon him.
“Indeed... naught but a regret, My Lady.”
“I shan't believe thy talk of spirits and stories hath brought thineself grief. His company hath been most enjoyable.” Although the compliment only meant to cheer up the lord’s momentary diminished demeanor, something about the way he stared off into the aether caught her eye. Something about their conversation truly bothered him.
“Like the doctor, I am merely reminded of an inescapable fact of my existence.” He shook off the stupor and let mirth and warmth return to his aged features. “Let such talks be set upon the four winds for now. Tonight is a night for stories.”
“Spooky stories at that. Though thou hast not bespoken of thy cause for such frightfulness,” she commented. What scary stories she had been told before dusk had died had been at the forefront of her mind. It was strange that they were all tales designed to frighten. Why? Surely the stallion knew more tales than that.
“I believed a few frights were in order. Most do not wish to tell tales of horror. I find it a taxing but immensely rewarding experience,” he replied.
The lady finally finished her own drink and pushed it towards the other end of the bar to be picked up by the waitress or barkeep. Neither appeared to take it, and the lord’s glass still lay untouched on the counter. “Do tell.”
“Certainly. I love the idea of horror, the concept that we may reach something that makes us reach deep down into ourselves. When faced with impossible opposition, it becomes possible to see what kind of mettle a pony is truly made of. Stories let us bask in our own vulnerabilities, the things that frighten us most. We can laugh or cry at what makes us weak, feed on dregs that hinder us.”
“Thou makest it seem so ghastly.”
The lord removed himself from the chair. The lady did the same. “I have told many tales this evening. Little did you know, I had every intention of telling you another. Tell me, do you know why thirteen is often considered an unlucky number among ponies?”
She shook her head. “I shall enlighten thee. I am a student of history as well as stories, after all, despite my lack of consolidated learning in the arts. Very well. In ages long past, there were the three pony tribes. You are familiar with the Great Freeze that destroyed the ponies’ ancestral homes?” She nodded again. “Good. Very good. What most do not know was the subterfuge and hate that dwelt long before tensions grew so bad and the snows fell in unending blankets. The warrior pegasi, commanded by Commander Hurricane, staged a cloak and dagger infiltration of the unicorn royal palace... on October the thirteenth.”
The lady’s eyes widened with the historical influx. Details from such a time were sparse due to the swaths of destruction wendigos had carved. thousands of years of history, millions of lives all lost. How did such a stallion get a hold of such information. Was it false? Or did he have in his possession texts authenticating his claim?
“Although the commander authorized the break in, she did not lead the charge. That duty was assigned to her immediate subordinate, Corporal Corona.”
Interrupting was not ladylike, but his companion could not help herself. “What of Private Pansy? Was she not the focus of Hearth’s Warming Eve?”
“Aye, but few know that Private Pansy replaced her predecessor after she disappeared without a trace, or so everypony thought. The records were sealed or destroyed, all but Commander Hurricane’s private records. Corporal Corona led twelve other brave pegasi through the unguarded sewage runoff vent. An insignificantly small hole in the unicorn’s defense, but a hole nevertheless.”
The lady’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He continued without a second thought, “The goal was to steal texts from the grand library. Commander Hurricane’s advisors believed that pegasi weather magic could be properly modified to manipulate the heavens. Under normal circumstances, there may have been valid credence to such thinking. Sadly, whatever evidence they may have had was lost to time and the cold.
“Despite being under the cover of darkness and knowing the layout of the castle, they never stood a chance. All it took was a single monk to raise an alarm and a robbery quickly turned into the fight of their lives. It was a slaughter and by the time dawn came, thirteen dead lay on sovereign unicorn grounds. The unicorns demanded reparations for the hostilities, while Commander Hurricane demanded the same for the loss of thirteen of her best and brightest. She claimed that even if they were trespassing on foreign soil on her orders, they had the firepower to confine them easily enough as prisoners of war. The deaths were an act of spite, she claimed, not of necessity.”
The lord let his tale sink in. The lady’s face was utterly smooth, not betraying even the slightest hint of what was occurring behind her perfect face.
“A sad tale, but not frightening.”
“‘Twas not meant to be. The point of the tale was to outline that everything tends to get worse before it gets better.”
“‘Tis the nature of things in many respects.”
“Indeed, My Lady.” The lord’s hooves thundered against the floorboards. Dust, grime, and miscellaneous filth kicked up in a small cloud as he approached the door and held it open for the lady.
“Chivalry hath not been vanquished,” she said with a smile. The lord only smiled a crooked grin.
“Merely a result of proper upbringing.” The pair removed themselves from the empty bar. Their glasses had yet to be removed.
The night was heavily overcast, but specks of moonlight leaked through the thinner layers. The could taste moisture on their lips even if it did not come from the rolling cloudbanks that hung heavy in the air. Torches and lanterns hung from stout ironwork hangers, even if most were tarnished green or rusted red after long exposure to the elements.
The companions followed the lit but cracked cobblestone pathway into a forest. The trees were old. Astonishingly old. Gnarled bark as hard as iron armored the trees, a sign of their immense age and girth. The smell of earth and loam was heavy, but not an unpleasant scent. Sounds from local wildlife, both the tall and the small, skittered away from the light. Great monsters hunted the forest, but there was larger and more worthy pray to be had.
“I fail to understand, the sad story of Corporal Corona was your final tale? I had hoped for a complete set whence your intent to tell horror became clear to my eyes,” the lady said.
“I am afraid and pleased that my final tale has yet to be told.” The lord walked closer to her. The light-lined path, however discernable in the night, only provided so much illumination and it was best to be close to friends with so little room to maneuver in safe light. Leaves and dry grass crunched beneath their hooves as they walked through the autumn air.
“Prithee, My Lord. I received not just thy previous tales, but another and a wonderful lesson on history.”
“I am afraid my final tale must wait until a few more minutes have passed. This final tale will be one I know will haunt you for many millennia to come.”
“I quake with anticipation, My Lord,” she said happily. She began humming a merry tune into the night. The lord only looked at her, worry and pity gracing his features.
Light flashed and hid the ancient trees, playing a game of hide and seek as they walked together. Lights were up ahead, but the pair were still deep enough in the forest that the source was hidden from sight. The lady began to shiver slightly. Even though she was covered in a fine layer of fur, it was late in the year and the night was unkind. A slight wind ruffled the leaves, blowing those on the ground and scattering those that remained on trees. Faint glimmers of gold and red rained down upon them.
Continuing with the behavior of a proper gentlecolt, the lord removed his coat and draped it around her. She nodded in thanks, and took a quick peek at his flanks. Although attractive enough to warrant a few moments stare, she had done so in an effort to discover his cutiemark. It still lay hidden underneath his undershirts.
“I will show you mine, if you show me yours, my dear.” He wiggled his hips as he walked. Crimson blossomed across her face once more in the light and he bellowed a laugh.
“If a comment stemmed from a stallion of lesser integrity, I would have him thrown into irons for insulting mine honor.”
“Your honor is preserved. I am afraid this time I do make sport of you. Your face glows a lovely radiant shade when flustered. Forgive this old pony for a little indulgence.” Her face scrunched up into disapproval, but she said little else.
The road widened into a much larger path as the trees thinned. The lights from before grew and grew into a massive web of torches spiraling out from a central courtyard. The pair walked down the wide stone pathway, which in turn lead to a large castle nestled on top of a steep cliff face. Stout stone walls covered the entire breadth of the castle and were intermittently cut with battlements and looming towers. Rather than have conventional glass windows, most panes were composed of fanciful stained glass or colored with luminescent dyes. At a slow walk, it would take a good half hour just to circle the structure.
Even though not a single sign of life resonated through the grounds or the many windows, they continued through the front gate and passed the retracted portcullis.
“My Lord, I must admit my curiosity runs deep.”
“Fret not; your tale will come soon. There is something that must be done.” The lord was glancing around, looking for something that was not present. His face fell little by little as his search seemed more and more fruitless until his small smile dropped into a frown. Stealing a glance at his companion, his face filled with sadness before becoming stonily blank.
The pair stalked through empty corridors with only the light of lit oil basins and the occasional torch and hearth to guide them. The walls, ceilings, and floor were surprisingly blank of flair or furniture for such a large structure, yet the lady did not seem to mind. A soft tune hummed behind her angelic features. While her mood only increased with every step, the lord’s demeanor only seemed to drop.
A great oak door opened with a deafening bang. The lady jumped in surprise, her wings flaring slightly to balance herself. A mare with a rich light-blue coat walked from a large bedchamber and stopped once she realized she was not alone. The lord did not seem surprised or even startled by the sudden interruption despite the mare – taller but maybe a few years younger than his companion – possessing not only wings but a horn. The smooth features, slender form, and air of royal dignity strongly hinted at family a resemblance.
“It is you.” Three simple words was all it took to convey a canvas of emotion. The frosty voice, narrowed eyes, and slight grit to her teeth would have been enough to make the earlier barflies quake in their hides. The lady seemed resigned, almost irritated as she spoke. The lord seemed... sad. “Pray tell, why dost thou stalk the halls at so late an hour?”
“Mine lips speak the same, dear sister,” she replied haughtily.
The sister harumphed, giving the distinct impression there was much she wished to say but was forcing herself to not. “I merely wished to quench my thirst. Have a good night, Tia.”
“Likewise, Lulu. I beseech thee to not slam the doors. It is most unladylike.”
Lulu said nothing as she stalked past Tia. For the first time since their short meeting, Lulu only now seemed to notice the lord and the fact that Tia wore his coat. Their eyes met and a web of emotions crossed her face: anger, surprise, embarrassment, curiosity, and finally contemplation. The lord only looked at her with those same sad eyes. She looked like she was about to stop, but her eyes darted back to her sister and filled with suppressed anger and annoyance once again. With a resigned sigh, she turned her head forward and walked out of sight.
“I do beg for forgiveness for my sister’s rude behavior... My Lord?”
The lord shook off his lamentation and forced a smile for his companion. “It is nothing, My Lady. I merely recall what my final tale must be.”
“I await with bated breath, fine sir!” All concern over her sister was gone. The two walked together once more. Moonlight streamed through the clouds and provided a little more illumination. Although illuminated fairly well for such a large castle, there were still vast swathes of darkness in most corners.
“Long ago,” he began. A smile lit Tia’s face like hearth fire. “there were two brothers who languished in oblivion. There was no light, no sound, no time, no life, just an endless nothingness where nothing lived, and nothing died. The brother of light, wishing an end to his eternal torment, created a flame to light his way. The brother of shadow, not capable of seeing in such brilliance, created shadows in which to hide.
“But there was nothing to cast a shadow in such a forsaken place. He crafted the earth to give himself a place to hide from the light. He did not despise his brother for indulging in little pursuits for comfort, so he did not mind that the sun hurt his eyes. However, the seeds of pride had been planted in the light brother’s heart.
“The shadow brother had crafted two pieces of work, while the sun brother had crafted only one. Not wishing to be outdone, the sun brother stole his kin’s power.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Tia asked. She was hanging on his every word, using only her peripheral vision to see where she was going as she watched the lord. He adjusted his hat, seemingly distracted once again.
“Because the brother wished for a balance. Not only did he want to have creations equal each other, he wished to show how much they could accomplish if their powers were combined, the wonders they could create. Living in emptiness since time immemorial had created an unknown thirst for creation and wonder in his heart.
“The sun brother stole his kin’s powers not for selfish reasons, but to provide them both with everything they needed. The shadow brother could only see in the dark, so the light brother created the heavens themselves. Rather than having a single place to hide from the flame, the light brother gave the shadow brother thousands of places to hide. It was the greatest gift he could offer him, he thought. Even though he loved his brother dearly, he understood that he could not see in the light. If the brother did not wish to stay in one place, he had many to choose from.”
“What a nice gift,” Tia said happily.
“The shadow brother thought otherwise,” the lord countered. Tia tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Rather than thank his brother, he grew angry. Wrathful that his brother would steal what did not belong to him, he accused him of prideful selfishness, that the only reason he crafted the heavens was to inflate his sense of self, not help the one who needed it. In a fit of rage, the shadow brother began destroying all light.”
“What could compel him to commit such sin?”
“Sin? It wasn’t such a thing in his eyes.” The two entered and exited shadows as they walked. It gave the impression that his tale was coming from some long forgotten-archive. “It was a sin most foul, a betrayal of trust. Rather than face the destruction of existence itself, the light brother forced the shadow brother into the first flame. There he was trapped forever, unable to see, unable to find his way out.”
“While I do admit that such a choice is extreme, my pity runs shallow. It was an honorable gift, needlessly squandered.” Tia sniffed reproachfully.
“I cannot help but feel an unending well of sadness for the brother. I understand all too well what it feels like to be rendered inconsequential, to feel not just overshadowed, but worthless.” Tis walked forward a little faster in order to get a better angle of his face. He tipped his hat forward, hiding his eyes from view.
“The brother’s anger would have done much damage, loremaster.”
“Of this I am certain. That does not mean I can’t pity the villain. I have seen nations tear themselves to pieces with unjust and misguided hatred. I have seen two sisters impale themselves on each other’s sword.” Tia could not help but take a step back at these words. Rather than the smoky, inviting tone he had used to tell his story, some abrasive, hard edge infiltrated his voice. It was one thing to be entertaining, it was another to be personally invested in a story.
“I dug graves as reality was ripped asunder under a dark and tyrannical god. I comforted the broken and shattered families who prayed for the return of their fathers and sons under a sky as dark as black as the most unforgiving night. I stood by as the sun committed the greatest act of treachery the world has ever known.”
“My Lord...?” For the first time, the lord had raised his voice in her presence. He did not seem to notice.
“That is the curse I must endure, to sit and watch as the ground freezes and thaws with the passing ages. You are young; it takes age and experience to understand the depth of true pain. It is not the loss to evil that cuts the deepest, it is the loss to a friend.” Only now did the lord meet Tia’s eyes with his own. His sad, sad eyes.
“‘Tis the price that must be paid. I will learn when the time comes.” The lord’s eyes narrowed again. He looked around the halls once more. They were still devoid of life.
“There are three truths I hoped you will learn before my time in your presence is over, My Lady. The price of hubris is not one, but something crucial you must learn in life.”
“Oh?” She questioned. Something about his tone affronted her. The gentleness and warmth she had associated with his presence had transformed into a slight frost. “Explain.”
The fact she did not request him to do so with the usual pleasantries was not lost. She detected a shift in the mood, but only the lord knew how far it had gone.
“You are asleep.”
“I admit weariness hugs my mind, but...” she trailed off. Her head panned the empty corridor. The empty, blank corridor devoid of any doors or servants. Even though they had been walking the halls for a good ten minutes, she had not recalled turning left or right since Lulu left her quarters. “What...? Where are they?”
““Nowhere. They were never here. You were never here. I am not here.” He stood on all fours, calm as he could possibly be. “They’ve been missing for some time.”
The lady backed away from the lord. Her wings twitched and readied for flight, but she took the time to examine the castle in greater detail. The floors were immaculately kept and the fires still burned with a comforting warmth. There was a slight chill in the air, but such a thing occurred in any castle built from cold stones. The corridor that seemed to stretch the entirety of the castle was, somehow, blank besides windows and the occasional table.
“And yet, more questions remain. For instance, despite us talking for some time, do you know where this place is?”
“Home. I know this place.” Her eyes met his. He had retained his usual calm cheer and beads of mirth in his eyes. However, something clung to the corners, something she didn’t recognize. Only then did she understand how old they actually felt. The lord’s red eyes were stuffed full of tales, legends, and stories, not all of them conjured over a pint or the fire. That kind of age only came from experience.
“How did you get to the bar, My Lady?”
“From the castle. I...” she trailed off. She... suddenly she was just there at the bar. Speaking to... a complete stranger now that she thought about it. Not once did she call him his name or see his cutiemark.
“I will show you mine, if you show me yours, princess,” he repeated as if he could divine her thoughts. “I know you have many questions for me, but I am afraid I can only provide so few answers.”
“Who are you? How did I get here? Speak; are you spirit or dream?” she demanded. “By the order of the crown and the holy seal I command you to tell me what I require.”
“And how come you never noticed our patterns of speech are so vastly different? All in good time, princess. Yes, I know who you are,” he added upon seeing him call her by her title for the second time.
Tia backed away from the stallion. How could she be so foolish? The curse of sleep prevented her from realizing the truth about her environment, the small inconsistencies that only amounted to a false reality crafted when night had fallen and drowned the sun.
“...Why art thou here? Thine eyes are not that of dream’s whimsy,” she muttered.
“That is the second truth. I am here to show you yourself.”
In a flash, every single light source within the complex snuffed itself out in some great wind. The light of the moon streamed through the window, but it was precious little light to navigate the darkness.
“I have always prefered the darkness, My Lady. As do the monsters.”
“Art thou?” Celestia backed herself into the midst of a moonbeam.
“My dear, I assure you no physical harm will befall you this night,” his voice echoed. Given the breadth of the corridor and its echoic nature, she had difficulty discerning where his voice originated. She focused every particle of her mind on the dream, concentrating, willing the darkness to part. It was her dream after all.
A single torch in front of her burst to life. Tia screamed. In front of her was a massive creature composed of several animals. It grinned at her, eyes brimming with mirth and cruelty. “The little lord is lost in the light. Perhaps that is your singular fault, Celly. The inability to see the evil that good may cause.”
The light vanished as her control of the dream slipped through due to panic. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. “Wha-what was that beast?”
“A memory, trapped in the shadows. Listen to his words, princess,” the lord preached. “Monsters flee to the darkness for more than just preferential hunting grounds. They know that the real monsters prefer the light.”
Tia ran to the next moonbeam. The lord’s voice followed her. “The lies and false faces, the good intentions brimming with sharp words and razorblades, everypony wears hidden intentions in the light. Everypony works for self gratification in the idea of utopia, an idea that will never come to pass unless it is tainted with a vein of evil. When you are in the dark, you can trust a monster to be true to its nature, the evil, good, or malicious intent is always worn on their sleeve. Those that dwell in the light force their corruption behind veils.”
“Keep your forked tongue behind your lips, loremaster! You speak of the superiority of evil? Bah!” She focused her mind again. She needed light to find the lord, wherever he was.
The strong need not be strong for themselves, but for others. It is a cruel fate to be sure; they will never know if they can keep enough courage for themselves after supporting their followers. Be strong for yourself, and if not, be strong for your people.
~Time Turner
For chapter updates and my ramblings, visit my page on Fimfiction HERE.
Edited by:
Prereader: Softy8088