//------------------------------// // Perhaps This Is the End // Story: The Road to Prolegomena // by stanku //------------------------------// At twelve o’clock, even against the summer and the luminous coats of the Crystal Kingdom ponies, the War Council’s tent is darker than Shining Armor has ever seen it be. The dark clouds that have creeped from the other side of the mountain during the past few hours hide the moonlight, leaving the tent’s lighting for candles and lamps. He rubs his temple with a hoof, eyes closed, giving time for his words to sink into the three other commanders. Seconds stretch into the limits of unbearability, yet nopony speaks. Somepony better open their mouth soon. We only have few more hours before the strike force must be on its way. He opens his eyes that fine bags line. “Thoughts?” he asks expectantly. Proud Freight clears his throat. “We should cancel the attack. The risk it too great to bear.” “I have to concur,” says the stout unicorn, avoiding Armor’s gaze. “When the stakes get too high, a wise player folds and recoups.” Armor clenches his jaw and slowly turns his eyes on Bright Wing. The crystal pegasus looks straight back at him, his eyes gleaming in the dim. One could almost mistake him as a statue, the way how still he stands. “Somehow, I knew it would come to this,” he says finally. “It feels to me that this was meant to happen.” Armor only stares at him over the table. “Your answer, Bright Wing?” “I support the Supreme Commander’s decision,” says Bright Wing with a clear voice. The two other crystal ponies stare at him in utter astonishment. “You would risk your Supreme Commander’s life?” whispers the stout unicorn, blinking. “And what happens if the plan fails?” continues Proud Freight sharply. “And who is to lead the attack on the city gates?” “You will, Freight,” says Armor, drawing all the eyes on himself again. “From this moment onwards, I name you as the Acting Supreme Commander.” “I think we just made history of the Crystal Guard’s regulations…” says the stout unicorn, brushing his mane with a hoof. “This is unheard of.” “So is our peril,” says Armor with a level voice. He gives a glance at his companions. “Do I have to call a vote on this?” Proud Freight gives him an unreadable look. “I admire your courage, I truly do… but I have to beg you to reconsider. The title of the Supreme Commander cannot be thrown around like a frisbee. If the head keeps on switching, how can the body trust it?” “Metaphors make ill advise in a situation as grave as this,” says Bright Wing dryly. He flinches as the older stallion turns his deep eyes upon him. “And reckless ones even more so,” says the gleaming grey stallion coldly. “Celestia knows we that don’t have time for this,” says Armor before Bright Wing can get his mouth open. “I ask again: do we have to vote on this?” “I believe that to be unnecessary: we can all count,” comments the stout unicorn, eyeing the young pegasus carefully. “And what did you mean by your previous comment? ‘This was meant to happen’?” The gleam lingers in Bright Wing’s eyes as he looks at Armor. “I believe this is a favourable sign. Shining Armor is the brother of Princess Twilight: he shares blood with an alicorn. I can sense that we are being guided to this decision.” “Piety is so terribly more helpful than metaphors, is it not?” says Proud Freight. They all erupt speaking at once. Armor has to beat the table to restore some sort of an order into the tent. “Quiet down! Quiet down! By Celestia, I am still your Supreme Commander!” When the three commanders settle to merely glaring at one another, Armor continues: “It’s decided, then. I will lead the strike force and Proud Freight will lead the main attack. I leave it to you to elect the commander for the first battalion.” Proud Freight looks away from Bright Wing, closes his eyes, breathes deep, and says with a colorless voice: “Yes, Supreme Commander. I beg your leave to go find him.” “Granted,” answers Armor bluntly. “The same goes for you two. Go inform your officers about this.” “Yes, Commander Armor,” says the stout unicorn without looking at him. He leaves right after Proud Freight. It’s after he is gone that Armor notices how Bright Wing is looking at him. “Yes?” Armor asks. “Is there something else?” Bright Wing blinks. “It might be considered somewhat personal… but if you would prefer that, I can offer to pass the message to Princess Cadance from your behalf.” “No,” blurts Armor immediately. He coughs and continues with a more formal voice: “I appreciate the gesture, but that task is my duty alone.” Bright Wing nods to him. “You inspire us with your example, in more ways than one. I am deeply honoured to be able to serve under your command.” He bows and leaves without another word. When the young seem foolish in their faith to you, you know that you’ve become old. Armor stares at the table as if the hard wood could somehow relief the weight that rests on his heart and shoulders. Then he raises his eyes to one of the guards that stand by the tent entrance. “Summon Princess Cadance.” “Yes, Supreme Commander,” the guard says and leaves. Armor sits down on the magnificent carpet that depicts an aerial clash of a pegasus and a griffon. Soon he bounces up and starts trotting back and forth the large tent. His eyes crisscross around, unable to focus on anything particular. About every five seconds he glances at the tent door, begging it to open while being mortally afraid of the prospect. He almost sends the other guard for the same errand, but then the first one enters in. “She is here, Supreme Commander.” “Ask her in,” he says with a thin voice. “And leave us alone,” he adds to the other guard. The unicorns disappear. And then she is with him. “What is it, Shine?” she asks, walking closer to him. Her body language is under the same controlled, elegant, and secure will that shines from her eyes; the eyes that he must shun. “Problems turned up,” he begins. “Cloud Shield, he… He snapped.” She stops a few steps from him, not a shadow of worry staining her face. “Snapped?” “He threatened my life,” he says bluntly. “Although I doubt whether he realized that himself. There’s no better word for it: he snapped.” He pauses, looking at the picture of a rearing pegasus under his hooves. “He was supposed to lead the strike force inside the Castle. And the real problem is that we don't have anypony to replace him. Nopony else except…” In the end, he can’t bring himself to say it. Her eyes don’t so much as blink. “Is that the final decision the Council came up with?” “Not the Council,” he says. The eyes like burnished ice rise from the floor. “Me. It was my decision.” She blinks and for a moment, the will flickers. “How did it come to this?” she whispers, disbelief scraping her face. “It can’t go like this… You are the Supreme Commander…” “And that is the only reason I'm not sending somepony else there,” he says. “If it was Shining Armor who made this choice, there wouldn’t be any. But I can't choose the choice itself.” He steps closer to her and whispers to her ear: “Say the word, my love. Say the word and I will send somepony else. A word.” His breath washes over her ear like a gale. “I've given you my word already,” she whispers. “Let me come with you.” He steps back, circling the table. “I can't do that.” “Yet you ask the exact same thing from me.” The table lies between them. “Love knows no logic, no symmetry. Isn’t that what you said once?” He pauses and looks at her as if she was not really there. “I think I understand that now.” “Then you also know that asymmetry works both ways,” she says with a hint of a spark. “What if I do give you my word. Would you really follow it?” He nods slowly. “I'd burn Canterlot myself if you asked me to.” Her eyes widen before pale fear. “Then you're not the stallion I married.” “Prolegomena,” he says with a voice devoid of feeling, with a voice forged in the pulse of the heart. “Or the beginning of all metaphysics. Written by Immanuel Canter. Your favourite book. I am Shining Armor.” Deafening silence follows. “If I let you go… will you promise to return?” she asks. “No.” She flinches. He can see her lips quivering faintly. “Will you stop me if I try to follow you? Even if I tell you not to?” “Yes.” A short laugh, mixed with a wail, departs from her. “Then how can I let you leave?” “Because if you don’t, Canterlot will die.” She collapses on two knees. Armor surges around the table to her. “I wouldn't say that if I had the slightest pretense to believe otherwise,” he says. Supported by him, the Princess of Love stands up. “I know,” she says, touching her temple. “For my life, I know…” “Cadance… I am so sorry.” She turns her eyes on him and smiles as if she saw him for the first time in her life. “Don’t be. It is as you said: you can't choose the choice itself.” She captures him into a strong embrace. “Just as I can't tell you to stay.” Shining Armor holds her gently, balancing between the urge to squeeze her against his chest and the indescribable sorrow that would have him sink on his knees before her, begging forgiveness, vowing his love for her. But he does neither. He simply holds her as if the universe depended on it. And kisses her on the lips. The first touch is light, barely a brush, and yet it makes him tremble like a leaf in a gale. She closes her eyes and responds by drawing him into the gates of transencede. Her tongue is a whip, a lash of deep passion and unfathomable affection. The burnished ice disappears under a blanket of snow, but the darkness that follows is not one filled with frost, but with warmth rising from the forge of love itself. They fall on the carpet, and the griffon’s war cry drowns beneath her mane, a cloud escaped from dreamscape. His knees stomp on the pegasus’s hoof blades; their entangled bodies immerse in symmetry that challenges the frozen enmity under them. A synthesis emerges, an equation old as blood itself, the prolegomena of all metaphysics. Outside, it starts raining.             ***   It’s past midnight in Canterlot, and the heavy rain has by now drenched the city completely, showing not the slightest intent of stopping. The gutters that nopony has cleaned for weeks fill up immediately, flooding the lower parts of the city. Several poorer districts turn into miniature lakes in mere hours and the water level only keeps on rising, heading for the higher parts of the city. Those hiding in the cellars must either grow gills or flee outside into the night where patrols of the Changed ponies roam. Shadows grow unnaturally long in the moonless night, reaching for every watery nook and cranny. Their forms resemble snakes as they swim on the streets. Perhaps this is the end, thinks Arch Freight as he studies the deluge outside through the planks of the window. Some say that at the very beginning, the world was nothing but water, one big ocean, and the first ponies were seaponies. If that’s true, then perhaps it’s only appropriate that the world ends as it began: submerged. And all the ponies meet their demise as they met their birth, flailing underwater, reaching for the surface, their last scream bubbling in their dimming vision. The stallion moves against the wall as he spots movement from down below. Whether it is his dark mind playing tricks on him or a living shadow built of smoke, he can’t say. A series of steps from behind makes him turn around. Berryfer lingers by the door, swaying. “I can’t sleep,” he says quietly. “The water is noisy.” The stallion forces a faint smile on his lips. “That it is.” He trots to his son and puts a hoof on his shoulder. “It won’t reach us here, though.” A lightning strikes outside, illuminating the whole room with bright whiteness for a microsecond. The colt jumps and shudders again as the thunder follows a few seconds after. “That won’t get us either,” assures Arch Freight, holding tighter to the colt. “I promise.” Berryfer clasps to his father, eyes wide shut. “And the smoke monsters?” “If they come, I'll make them regret it.” The noise of heavy rain fills the room sovereignly for a moment. “You should go to bed now,” he says eventually. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to stay up over midnight.” The colt’s eyes open, staring at the floor. “But he is with her… I can’t sleep with him.” Arch Freight studies his son carefully, removing his hoof from his shoulder. “We talked about this already. Cough is our guest now and that’s final. In fact, since this is his home, we should be thankful that he allows us to stay here.” The colt scrapes the floorboards with a hoof. “I shouldn’t have said anything when I found him.” Arch Freight rises his chin determinately with a hoof. “Berryfer,” he says quietly. “That is not how I brought you up.” “But that’s what I think!” he cries desperately. “Now mother only cares about h–” For the first time in his life, Arch Freight slaps his son. The blow is sharp, strong enough to turn his head. Immediately the colt’s eyes dart to him, wracked by disbelief so immense that it subdues the tears just by itself. But the shock dies away inevitably, collapsing into the hole that now stands in place of his young heart. He sprints away. Arch Freight’s own confusion lasts a few seconds longer. “Berryfer!” he shouts when the colt is already through the doorway. Ach Freight gallops after him and looks to the left in the corridor. He can barely see Berryfer disappear into the staircase. “Stop!” the stallion shouts. The colt doesn’t. Arch Freight glances quickly at the direction of the room with all the board games, but there’s nopony standing in the doorway. He curses and runs into the staircase. “Berryfer, stop!” he shouts again blindly as the wooden steps creak noisily under his hooves. Another lightning bolt repels the shadows for a moment, but only for a moment, and the corridor he enters in is black as coal. He searches for movement, but then hears hoofsteps in the stairs. Freezing terror lances through him. Is he heading outside? “Berryfer!” he shouts from the top of his lungs and speeds downwards. In the dark, he fails to notice the broken plank and trips. His jaw hits the steps hard. The blow sends his mind dancing for a moment so he hardly feels his ankle rupturing. But the consciousness can escape the pain only for so long. “Berryfer!” he screams, his voice breaking before the agony that pulses from his front leg. “Don’t go outside! Don’t go outside!” He stumbles hurriedly to his feet and almost rolls the rest of the stairs down. The sprained ankle feels like it’s about to tear clean off, and when he tries to put weight on it, he collapses. As he raises his head, he sees Berryfer. The sparse light carrying from the window behind him can barely show him shaking on the top of the stairs leading down. “Stop,” Arch Freight begs, his face ravaged by pain. “I hurt my leg. Please, help me.” The colt stares at his twisted ankle, his lip quivering. “I-I’m s-sorry…” he says. “It's okay, Berryfer,” says the stallion with some relief. “Please, come here. Just… come here.” Leaning against the rail, he reaches for him with his good hoof. The colt takes a step towards him. They hear the front door opening. Berryfer’s eyes dart down. Arch Freight sees how they widen in horror and hears more hoofsteps carrying from the floor below. He stands straight, limping his right front leg. “Berryfer,” he says, straining to keep his voice calm and quiet. The beating rain that floods in from the opened door drowns his voice in the first attempt. “Berryfer,” he says again, just a bit louder this time. The colt’s eyes turn to him, wide and wild. The stallion signs him to come closer. “Did they see you?” he asks as the colt sneaks to him. Berryfer nods barely noticeably. The first step of the staircase creaks below them.     Time slows down, crawling now. The throbbing pain in Arch Freight’s leg turns into a distant dream. The rainfall carrying from outside fades away. They’re coming upstairs. There is only one exit in the building, only one set of stairs. I can’t run, and Silk can’t fight. The second step creaks, marking the end of the equation that was born in Arch Freight’s subconscious the moment he knew that they were not alone. “Berryfer,” he begins, his voice tranquility come flesh. The colt’s eyes turn from the top of the staircase to him. “You must run,” whispers the stallion. He doesn’t understand. “You must run,” Arch Freight repeats. The fourth creak adds an imperative tone to his voice, yet it doesn’t disturb its unnatural calmness.     He doesn’t understand. The delay in time expires; the noises return in their ominous tone; the pain sears him more than ever. “I will hold them off. Don’t go to your mother, you can’t help her, she can't help you. Only your feet can help you. Your feet and your calm mind.” He smiles. In the face of sublime trepidation, he smiles like he did the first time he saw his son. “Run to one of the apartments on the back, jump from a window and hide.” The colt runs. But he doesn’t understand. He will someday… if the world has any justice left to it. Arch Freight watches his son run into the corridor to his right. Berryfer stops at a corner and looks at him one more time, his face in tears. Arch Freight’s smile cuts himself like a razor, but still he keeps it up. And then his son is gone. From some other reality, the sound of creaking steps comes to a halt. Arch Freight turns his head like in a dream and sees an earth pony stallion standing on the spot where Berryfer did just a moment ago. He looks at Arch Freight with cold, empty eyes. Behind him, more ponies climb up the stairs. His smile dies twitching. “If you can hear me, know that the prospect of hurting you doesn’t intrigue me in the slightest.” The earth pony walks towards him. The glazed stare remains merciless. “But sometimes, we find it necessary to sidestep our innermost drives and rules.” His horn glows grey in the gloom. “I suppose that is what goes for love nowadays.” Lightning illuminates the earth pony and the one behind him. Arch Freight readies his spell… and gasps as an icy sensation seizes his damaged leg. He glances down and sees a membrane of black smoke rising from the floor, wrapping around his hoof. He cries in fright. The spell escapes from his mind. He tries to focus on a new one, but another ethereal tentacle enrobes his chest and squeezes. “Argh!” he blurts, the touch of the dark mist colder than any earthly blizzard. His breath escapes him, making him gasp and stare in absolute panic as the earth pony walks past him, not paying him any attention. They are heading up. But how can they know? How can they– The tentacle squeezes some more. His heart stops. One last spell tries to push through his mind, but the cold is too numbing, too paralyzing. His eyes blink as their whites turn up and disappear behind his eyelids. His body falls limp in the insubstantial embrace, which gradually lets go of him. Arch Freight lays on the hard floor, the rain beating the walls outside as more ponies walk by him. In a moment, he stands up and follows them, his twisted ankle crunching sickeningly everytime he puts weight on it. The excruciating pain has fled him, sucked away by the void that now fills his eyes. ***         Deep inside the earth, among the mirror-like crystals that play tricks on their viewer at every turn, a couple of dozen ponies wait in silence. Only a few of them keep their horns alit and even they keep the shining at minimum. Shining Armor studies the pale faces in the eerie glow. Some of them he knows by name now, but most are complete strangers to him. Are they ready for what’s coming? Am I? He glances at the magical hourglass next to him, noticing every grain of sand that passes through the narrow hole between the containers. The faint rustling sounds unnaturally loud in the massive, quiet cavern. We’ll find that out soon enough. He draws a deep breath and says: “Okay, everypony listen up.” Twenty pairs of eyes turn instantly towards him.   “Our main objective is to open the city gates. All other goals are subjected to that end. That includes our lives.” He pauses and waits for his words to sink into his audience. “We are soldiers. This is war.” He stands up. “Let's go win it.” They gallop into the darkness. As the three ponies that were guarding some distance away join them, their numbers grow to twentyfour bodies, twelve of whom have wings, the rest horns. Their steps echo in the massive space, and their reflections run along with them on the walls and on the ceiling, following them like ghosts. After a few minutes Armor slows down the group’s pace, bringing it to almost crawling when they are under a hundred meters from the entrance into the Castle. He stops, turns, and nods to the five unicorns directly behind him. Without speaking a word, the rest stay behind as the six ponies close in on the entrance. From all the hidden doors, this one should be the most unnoticeable. Twenty meters from the door, which he can almost see by then, Armor signals the other five to stand still. He sneaks the last meters alone, his heart beating in his chest, every loose rock that he sets in motion turning into a rockslide in his ears. He comes to the door, licks his dry lips and touches its stony surface with his horn. The first surge of magic that he sends through is too weak to open it, yet it manages to shortly illuminate the geometrical veins that run in the smooth rock. He blows out and tries again, increasing the amount of magic just a tiny bit. The veins glow and the door disappears into the ground, rumbling quietly. He peeks inside. The kitchens of the Castle are dim, cold, and seemingly empty. The ash of the large fireplace whirls and stains the floor as he walks carefully through, his horn glowing ready. Wide and empty stone tables spread before him, and various pans and kettles hanging from the low roof limit his vision. He waits for a minute and then whistles gently. Nothing moves in the shadows. He returns back to the cavern and sends one of the unicorns to get the rest while he himself returns to the kitchen with the other four. In there, he sends two of them to secure the southern end of the kitchen while walking with the other two to the northern side. As they get there, another door awaits for them. Armor presses his ear on the wood. He holds his breath, but can’t hear anything from the other side. Still holding his breath, he cracks it open. The creak lances through all three of them like a spear. The door opens outwards, so he pushes it a bit more, and glances at the other side. Opened barrels litter the narrow corridor that stretches before him, only to disappear around a corner. He looks back to the kitchen and sees how about half of the group has found their way in. First step, done. The first one is always the hardest. He looks at the unicorn on his left. “Helm, stay right behind me.” He turns to the soldier on his right. “And Mail, you keep us in your sight, but from a corner’s distance.” They both nod tensely at him. “Let’s move.” A corner by a corner, and a corridor by a corridor, they progress through the underground network of Canterlot Castle. Wherever they go, only dust and darkness greets them, but somehow Shining Armor can’t be grateful about the fact. This is going too easy. Would the enemy truly be so sure of themselves as not to post any guards in the lower levels? It makes no sense, considering the fortifications they have put up around the city. He can see his own anxiety in Gilded Helm’s eyes every time he glances at him. Nonetheless, they carry on until they finally arrive to the first stairs. Third step. It only gets easier then, right?  Armor turns to Gilded Helm. “We are approaching the servants’ quarters now. There’s bound to be somepony there: even the Changed ponies need sleep.” He glances up the stairs, peering at the dark door that stands on top of them. “Up there, things are going to get hot. Tell Mail to fetch Copper, Bolt, and Hammer here.” Armor doesn’t see him leaving, but keeps his eyes firmly on the door. As the others arrive, he turns behind the corner to face them. “Okay, this is the plan. The door may be locked and if it is, Hammer breaks the lock. Usually there are two exits in the sleeping chambers. Copper and Bolt, you fly and block them as soon as that door opens. Don’t let anypony through until I say so. In the meantime, me, Hammer, and Helm subdue anypony who’s in there sleeping.” He watches each one of them in turn. “Questions?” “Subdue, Commander?” asks Hammer, a tall unicorn with a dark-green coat. “Do we use the stun spell?” “That’s what it’s for,” answers Armor. “But keep your aim straight. Catch a ricochet from a wall and it’s you who’ll be out cold for the next few hours.” He forces a sly smile on his lips. “And you don’t want anypony to hear about that in the victory celebration.” A series of strained grins follows. “Enough of the joking,” Armor continues, his face serious again. “Let’s do this.” They head upwards, Hammer first, followed by Copper and Bolt, Armor, and Helm. Hammer steps carefully, and Armor thanks Celestia that the stairs are made of stone. The green unicorn gets to the door and tries it with his hoof. When it doesn’t budge, he pushes his horn into the lock. A faint click carries to Armor’s ears. Hammer straightens his neck, inhales, and pushes the door open, galloping inside. The pegasi glide after him with Armor and Helm right behind them. Armor stops in his tracks as he enters into the chamber. He stares into the far side of the bedroom that harbors about thirty large bunk beds. All are empty. He blinks, glances at the other ponies around, their puzzlement reflecting his own. “Luck seems to be with us,” says Armor quietly. “They must be using the barracks instead.” “The barracks were demolished during the attack,” says Hammer next to him. “They must’ve rebuild them, then,” says Armor with slight annoyance. “It makes no matter where they sleep. The important bit is that it’s not here.” He pauses, thinking. “We shall continue as planned. Copper, go inform the others that the bedroom on this side is clear. But make sure that they–” A river of frightened screams surges from the stairs behind them. It sweeps over them like a blizzard, freezing all the five ponies in the room. “The enemy!” they hear them cry. “Flee, flee!” they wail. “Celestia help us!” they pray. But for the most part, they simply scream. “They are under attack!” cries Hammer. The big unicorn runs for the stairs, followed by Helm and the two pegasi. From some void beyond comprehension, Shining Armor hears his own voice shouting: “Stop!” They all halt and look at him. In their faces, confusion shines. For one more second, the decision remains ambiguous in Armor’s mind, held back by their stares. But the screams, growing ever more fervent, shatter his indecision like a mirror. “Hammer, Copper, Bolt: block that entrance with all the beds. No, collapse the whole damn thing: bring it down now.” He turns his eyes at Helm. “You come with me and secure the upstairs.” They stare at him as if he had just turned into a changeling. “Do it!” he barks, spit flying from his mouth. The calm, bright blue ice is aflame in his eyes. The screaming has drowned all the words by now; it is nothing but mindless, senseless, meaningless noise. Hammer turns towards the staircase, his horn glowing bright green. He blasts the corridor’s walls, and the mortar crumbles noisily, bringing down some rocks along with it. Copper’s eye go wide as he sees that. “No, what are you doing!” he shouts and pushes Hammer violently aside. “They need our help, they need to–” “It’s a bucking trap!” cries Armor, marching to the pegasus. “We walked into a trap!” He turns to the two other unicorns. “Bring this corridor down now!” Hammer glances angrily at Copper and continues aiming magical bolts at the corridor. Helm looks at Copper, then at Armor, blinking his eyes as if in a trance. “But… they…” Armor’s eyes flare. “Rushing in there is just what the enemy expects us to do! Snap out of it and go secure the upper corridor! If we have any luck they won’t have–" In one moment, the darkness held back by their horns turns alive. Shining Armor sees Copper’s pale face swallowed by the shades that run along the walls and seize him from behind. At the same time, he himself is yanked back by an unnaturally powerful force. Air flees his lungs as he crashes against the floor. “No!” he cries out in rage. Bright light ruptures from his horn, cutting the blackness that ripples all around them now. In its short existence, he can see how the two pegasi literally sink into oblivion, their flailing legs disappearing into the ethereal velvet. Hammer’s horn still glows green, searing the tentacles that reach for him. “I’m coming, Commander! I’m coming, I’m com‒” A membrane thick as a tree trunk envelopes his head, and the green glow dies away along with his last shriek. “No!” repeats Armor, his every muscle fighting against the unreal forces that bend and twist his body. “No! No no no no no!” His words slur together as the shadows do, as all the reality does. It all turns black, blacker than a pupil, blacker than the deepest abyss. And in the depths that reach no deeper than a shadow does, Armor’s last sane thought chimes. Failure. Failure. Failure.  It’s all over in a matter of seconds.