//------------------------------// // Chapter 34: Ballad of the Broken King // Story: My Little Minecraft: At the End // by Journeyman //------------------------------// Chapter 34: Ballad of the Broken King Sweetie Belle’s room held the same dry musk that clung to the less clean portions of Carousel Boutique. Intense OCD concerning particular topics, especially cleanliness, was one of the side effects of running a textile business. Bolts of cloth had to be kept immaculate and free of any crease. Rarity always counted on Sweetie being able to clean up after herself. Apparently she neglected to do so after the past two weeks of excitement. “About what, Sweetie?” Sweetie sat on her haunches. Being so small, she was hardly a force of presence to contend with, but her light green eyes had frozen over. The filly was normally asleep at this hour. Even if she wasn’t, she’d be bouncing off the walls until Rarity managed to discover some manner of exhausting her bottomless and remarkable well of energy. Now, however, she was cold, contained, and most disconcerting of all, not talking like her beloved little sister. The crusader tilted her head to the side as a smile curved across her lips. “I suppose I should dispel such a predisposition.” Certainly not how Sweetie spoke. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brimstone.” Rarity’s magic enveloped her horn in a soft light. With a light click, the door behind her closed, leaving the filly and mare together alone. The latter scrutinized the former, the same ghost of a smile stuck to her lips. “So you are the one who rescued dear Fluttershy.” “Indeed. Although I am curious as to how you deduced that fact.” Lightning flashed once again, throwing more shadows across Sweetie’s room. Her bedsheet was crumped. So she had slept in it recently. Curious... “I didn’t.” Sweetie, or Brimstone, blinked in surprise. “I know it now, however.” Rarity stepped further into the bedroom. Brimstone’s eyes never left her as she walked to the little bed tucked against the wall. An aged and unremarkable nightstand was filled with little baubles the filly had collected over the years, but Rarity paid none of them any mind. A lamp occupied the center of the nightstand and the room was bathed in a dim glow after she tugged on the string. She put a hoof on the bedsheet. It was still warm to the touch. “What have you done to my sister?” Brimstone nickered softly. Rather than the adorable pout that normally graced her face, she just snorted in irritation. “Precious little. I merely borrow her whilst she slumbers. Rest assured, she is well, and asleep. She is not even aware of this conversation.” “So that leaves the question: what, pray tell, do you wish to talk about, Brimstone?” Rarity sat down next to the nightstand. The light danced across her curls and perfectly groomed coat. Brimstone moved to the opposite end of the room and sat back down. “Plenty. I have avoided this conversation for as long as necessary, but the time has finally come where such procrastination would prove counterproductive. Era’doth is coming, this time for you and your friends.” “Ah,” Rarity interrupted with a raised hoof. “I am afraid another answer must come first, dearie. Considering you have violated my home, hold my sweet sister in your grasp, and now revealed a threat on my life...” Rarity’s voice, formerly soft and welcoming, cooled significantly. Her face, a mask of calm serenity, rippled with the briefest of emotion, a crack in her facade that revealed the tempestuous anger within. “Why should I trust you in the slightest?” Brimstone tilted her head. Opening her mouth to respond, she hesitated for the barest of fraction before providing an answer. “It is me with whom you quarrel? Me, whom rescued your ally? Me, whom gave what Princess Luna needs to prevent unnecessary collateral damage? Me, whom revealed to you my existence as a sign of good faith as Celestia attempts to discover the secrets of the Nether?” Rarity blinked, surprised before she could stop herself. “Hmmm...” Her eyes flickered towards Sweetie’s bed once again. Something about what the spirit said was... strange, something that nagged at the back of her skull. She filed that away for later. “So I am supposed to trust an unknown benefactor whom skulks in the shadows? If you are as benevolent as you claim, Brimstone, then why haven’t you come forward sooner? Why not seek asylum and aid from Princess Luna and Princess Celestia?” Rarity’s heart leapt into her throat. That was it. That was what was so strange. Smirking inwardly, she waited for Brimstone’s reply. The filly, however, looked angry, almost dour, as she snarled her response, “It would mean my death.” “Come now; there is no need for melodrama.” “Do you take me for a fool?” The sudden burst of anger was subdued, but still there, an edge hidden behind the pretty words and promises. “No, far from it. You are intelligent, careful, and meticulous. However, you are angry, bullheaded, and suffer from quite the superiority complex.” ‘So what would happen if Twilight and Rainbow managed to bear a child,’ Rarity thought to herself. For a moment, her thoughts drifted towards the harlequin romance novels she loved to peruse. The image of the unicorn and pegasus and a tender embrace with lips inches from each others was forcibly removed removed from her thoughts and buried in a deep, dark hole. More pressing matters were at hoof. “So you wish for me to listen to your words. Pray tell, why should I acquiesce? Give and take, dearie. If you want my trust, I need yours.” Brimstone smirked. The previous anger was gone. She seemed... pleased? Yes, pleased. Of all things, pleased. Was she actually enjoying this? “Sir or madam?” The question seemed to throw Brimstone off guard once again. Clarifying, Rarity added, “What title do you have?” Even before she finished speaking, Rarity realized it was the wrong thing to say. Brimstone shook her head, a little more vigorously than what was needed. “I bear no title other than the name I have chosen for myself.” Curious... “I am Brimstone, no more. As for the matter of trust... what did you have in mind? I’ve heard nothing but good things about you since I have “skulked about.” Surely you must have some sort of proposition for this impasse?” The kindness, the subservience, the flattery. It was all very well done, the mark of a skilled manipulator. “Tell me a little about yourself.” Brimstone turned her head away to think for a moment. The rain hammered the Boutique relentlessly, the constant patter of droplets inducing a deep, dull hum throughout the empty halls. There were several lights left on inside and streetlights illuminating the formerly bustling streets before the downpour began. Lightning flashed intermittently, but despite everything, if felt darker than it was. That didn’t change the fact that Brimstone was straying further from what she wanted to tell her, Rarity noted. It either didn’t matter as much as Brimstone insisted, or gaining her trust truly was as important as Rarity demanded. Rarity contemplated the latter for a moment. Mutual trust was always beneficial, after all, but something tickled the back of her head, warning her to shy away from the spirit. Something just didn’t feel right. Brimstone either absolutely needed her trust, or... something. Something she was missing. Deciding to motivate the conversation forward, Rarity began first. “Very well. As the host, I shall go first.” Brimstone tilted her head; she did not expect that. “My name is Rarity, firstborn filly to dame Cookie and sire Hondo. I have been living in this quaint little town on my own for the past three years. So what does Mister Brimstone want with an unremarkable mare like myself?” Rarity’s goal was to catch Brimstone off guard. If she or he or it was hiding something, perhaps a barrage of information might through her off. After a brief moment, the gesture was returned in kind. “The princesses are under watch. I cannot approach them, just as I am taking a grave risk approaching you. Era’doth’s possesses a mortal form, but does not need eyes to see. All he would need to do is see my host, and he would know I am here. I can hide, but I cannot run from him.” Brimstone sighed, shaking her head. Sweetie’s mulberry hair wiped back and forth slightly. Sweetie wore her emotions on her sleeve, but Brimstone was practiced at keeping her face blank. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she continued. “I am here to alert you to the threat in full. Time and... recent events,” What was that emotion? Fear? Ecstasy? “...have forced me to meet with a Bearer face to face.” “Not to interrupt, but you are not. You wear the body of my sister, somepony I happen to love very dearly.” Rarity made certain that aspect more than any other was at the forefront of her mind. Sweetie. Rarity didn’t care what happened to her, just as long as Sweetie was alright. Point for point, Rarity fought to keep her face as smooth as Brimstone’s, fighting to keeping the clawing panic and dread from escaping the pit in her stomach where it had taken root and festered. Rarity felt a horrible flash of panic rise. She twitched, moving away from Brimstone by the barest fraction, something not missed by the spirit. Rarity didn’t take the time to observe her; a far more horrible thought occurred to the seamstress. She had already played an important card: Sweetie was far too valuable to her to lose. If Brimstone tried to force her hoof, she had the perfect bargaining chip. Sweetie herself. Rarity had missed whatever thoughts danced across Brimstone’s face. Too late, and she had already started to answer the unspoken question. “I would have, of course, used your own body to speak with you. You have the greatest rampour with the bipedal construct out of all the Bearers.” That was an odd choice of words. “Construct?” “Never you mind. That is not important as of yet,” Brimstone edified quickly. “On the matter of your wayward kin, I would have done my best to have avoided using her, but I cannot. Not with Era’doth as an enemy. Not him.” Now that was anger. The briefest curl of the lips, the tightening of the jaw. That was contempt for sure, an emotion she had seen from Blueblood enough to last her a lifetime. “How so?” “I told you,” she replied irritably. “Era’doth’s vision is vast. He searches for the Bearers when his gaze is not drawn elsewhere. He intends to kill you, and if he sees you, and you are my host, he sees me. Neither you nor I can afford him knowing I am near. If he knew you were receiving my help, all would be lost. I come to deliver this final piece of information: if the Element Bearers fall, there is no weapon potent enough to cease the torments that will befall your people.” “So it is cowardice that compels you,” Rarity stated matter-of-factly. There was more than just anger there. Much more. Anger was a paralytic that blinded and made ponies sloppy. This was personal. Something more compelled Brimstone. If only she could keep him off balance, press the right buttons... “Pragmatism, my dear. I have no body which to war with a god.” Her jaw had tightened. Her lips thinned into a hard line. Yes, that was the right button. Not wanting to pull out her triumph card just yet, she pressed her advantage. “And how did that happen?” Rarity curled her dainty forelegs across each other and made herself as comfortable as she could. Lighting and thunder continued to herald the constant beat of rain. “I never possessed one to begin with.” Rarity smiled triumphantly. “Now that is a lie.” Rarity had no idea if it was or wasn’t. Anything to throw her off the game of cat and mouse. Sweetie smiled pleasantly. It wasn’t the same absurd, uncontainable excitement that could exhaust a toddler hyped up on caffeine. This felt... predatory. “Ahhhhh... There is that theatricality I had been anticipating.” “It is not proper form to insult a lady.” “It is not wise to insult the honor of one trying to save your life.” “While I admit your patience with this pitiable mare is admirable, I must say I am not quite satisfied with your answer.” Rarity slowly leaned in close until their noses were touching. Sweetie’s body temperature was almost sweltering compared to her own. Her nose and limbs felt cold. The instinct of self preservation had been commanding her to run, and blood left her limbs to protect herself. “How do I know I can trust you?” Brimstone did not answer at first, instead taking the moment to look out the window. At her angle, she could see little else other than the angry, black skies. Princess Luna’s beautiful night was hidden behind the raging storm. “You can trust I hate him more than I hate you.” Voice was calm, tone was even, breathing was slow... yet no matter how much Rarity’s mind tried to find a voice stating the antithesis, she believed her. Rage. Black, bottomless rage, but controlled rage. Those hidden flashes of fury were glances at the inner inferno that burned within. Burning, feeding, raging. Devouring anything and everything that Brimstone fed into the flames. Anger was a weakness, but Brimstone had forged it into a weapon, an insatiable drive to finish her goal. “What did he do to you?” Rarity wasn’t sure Brimstone would answer before she gave the curt reply, “He took the only thing I ever cared about.” “And for that you hate him enough to do all of this?” “Of course,” she replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Oh... Oh.... “I am sorry for my thoughtlessness, Brimstone,” Rarity tried to recover quickly. “I didn’t know. I am sorry for your loss.” No, not loss. Losses. Despite being capable of at least bluffing such information, she had yet to even mention there were others helping in her quest to vanquish this foe. Brimstone was alone. Smoky flames burned bright behind the childish eyes, but now it made so much more sense. The boiling cisterns of vengeance only existed to mask the dark ocean of despair. Purpose hardened through pain, and no pain cut deeper than loss. “I...” Rarity wasn’t sure she wanted to ask now, but she needed to know, even if it poured salt on the wound. “He is why you despise Princess Celestia, is it not?” Brimstone’s head shot up, her mulberry curls dancing in another flash of lightning. The air was immediately cut by a thunderclap, shaking the house and its contents. Rain continued to pour. She heard gurgling and popping downstairs, a sound as unfamiliar as it was irrelevant to the current situation. The seamstress pressed whatever precious lead she had. “You have yet to meet with Princess Celestia, but not Princess Luna. Normally I would expect this to be pragmaticism, as she is much closer, but you refuse to give her the proper honorific. Princess Celestia.” “My distaste,” Brimstone spat the word as if were a curse, “for the eldest child stems not from my own history, but from hers. For a millennia the child of the stars slumbered and wept while all she could do was gaze upon the gem she had lost and lament. Princess Celestia abandoned her kin to the stars like some illegitimate bastard rather than cure her heart of stone, as a proper sister would. I hate her for abandoning family! You, me, or anyone else; that is a sin that should never be forgiven!” Brimstone finished her rant with a hiss, panting as she expelled the last breath in her tiny lungs. Rarity didn’t even know how the filly was suddenly pressed to her breast until she felt her own hoof soothingly draw circles in the small of Sweetie’s back. Brimstone attempted to leave the embrace, but Rarity tightened her grip and held fast; it was the advantage of being older and stronger than her baby sister. “I almost lost my sister, before she even knew she had one. Before I even knew I had one.” Brimstone stopped struggling. Whether she accepted the futility or was interested in hearing what she had to say, Rarity did not know. “I was quite the hellion in my youth. I was smaller and weaker, I didn’t have my cutiemark, and I certainly lacked the aptitude for all things I now have in such skill today. I routinely started fights with those less reputable than myself, and giving that my parents traveled so much, sometimes without me... winning fights against others, smaller or bigger than myself, was one of the few things that made me feel better about myself. Finally, something I did on my own! Some accomplishment that I could remember, even if my parents were never there when I needed them...” Her vision blurred and her face felt flush with heat and moisture. Forcing down a hitch in her throat, she continued holding a still Brimstone to her chest, stroking the small of her back with practiced ease earned from soothing many filly nightmares away. “I hid my injuries from my parents. One of my first times stitching cloth together stemmed directly from interest in closing a particularly nasty gash I had acquired during one of my more violent brawls. I knew they would stop me if I told them, stop one of the few things I was becoming good at. “Then I heard the news, the sweet, sweet news. My mother was with child. I...” Rarity drifted off for a moment, trying to ascertain what words would adequately convey what she wished to say. “There was no real sensation like it, or at least none my prepubescent mind had a means to explain. I was going to become an older sister. Big sister... What was I supposed to do? Laugh? Cry? Rejoice? My parents were far from neglectful; they made sure I went to a proper school and took care of me... but they were never there when I needed them most. “It was then, right there on the carpeted floor of my room nursing a bloody lip, I decided to make another choice of my own. My parents weren’t always there when I needed them due to their endless wanderlust. I swore on that day I would be there for my sister-to-be. No matter what, I would be there for her first steps, her first words, her first fall, her first tears. I would be the best sister I could ever be. I gave up my endless rebellion in order to ensure she had somepony to look after her no matter what. I... I wanted her foalhood to be happy.” The heavens concluded Rarity’s recital with a loud thunderclap that shook the very house to its foundations. Seeing as the mare was finally through with her tale, Brimstone pulled her smaller body out of Rarity’s clutches. “Do you expect some kind of pathos from me, Rarity?” she said quietly. “I expect,” the fashionista replied slowly, “you to remember why you are doing all of this.” “I do not wish to repeat myself.” “Well, Brimstone, it is a habit from which you should partake with increased frequency.” Rarity could not stop herself from taking on her usual admonishing tone reserved for an especially misbehaving Sweetie Belle. “Alone, unprotected, facing a monster far greater than yourself. You are as alone as the Miner.” Brimstone shook her head angrily, Sweetie’s light lavender locks swishing wildly to and fro. “I do not fear for myself.” “Precisely my point, dearie.” Rarity swept her hooves in a great arc. “After all of this, conflict stemming from both sides, there is one, uniform fact governing your actions: you do not care what happens to you. You are a small, angry spirit on a collision course with your own mortality. Not once have you wished to ally yourself with others, rebuilding upon whatever losses you have suffered through. “Pain. All you know and have dealt so far has been pain. You come to me, explaining that I must protect myself and my friends above all else. This isn’t about getting back what was lost, this is about getting even. There is only one ending for you, and you embrace it with the wholehearted grace of a brick: your death. You do not wish to survive this ordeal! You do not care what happens to you or anypony else! All that matters is your revenge!” “What would you have me do!” The king’s untempered roar sliced through Rarity’s angry tirade. She was to her hooves, defensively crouched against the words that cut deeper than any dagger. Brimstone was seething. Gone was the cold and darkness, and the removed scab released the horrible rage buried in shadows and a heart iced over. “There I stood atop the steps and saw nothing but ashes! My family, dead. My kingdom, in ruins. There he stood above it all. He smiled as he turned to me. The harvest god, creator and giver of all life, reveling in the burned husk of my fallen kingdom.” Brimstone stood as tall as she could. With Sweetie’s light, willowy frame, it was far from impressive, but the coals of revenge burning brought made Rarity take a hesitant step back. “I will ensure—with every fiber of my being!—that he pays for those sins... Even at the cost of my life...” The child-king’s chest heaved as her rage made her breath come out in stuttering gasps. The tipping point passed, and Brimstone sat back down with as much dignity as she could muster after her outburst. Rarity allowed the silence to stretch further in order to give her a reprieve. “I was a king.” Rarity cocked her head. Brimstone’s words were as soft as falling snow and difficult to hear while the storm raged. “I was the first and highest of Crafters, the prima arcitectus of our kind. As breath first entered my lungs, I awoke upon lands wild and untamed. You should have seen it in its prime...” Brimstone had drifted off, the slightest of smiles adorning her face. The fond recollection had produced a unique smile Rarity has never seen her little sister wear. Whereas Sweetie usually smiled broadly from ear to ear, Brimstone was more subdued, a less defined but no less honest expression of fondness. “Even at the height of my own skills, I was unable to map its every boundary, every crevice. It was the broadest of expanses, where oceans, desert, and forests stretched for days and without recompense for my kind’s natural growth. “It was not long before I met more. Just like myself, they too awoke across the lands from various states of torpor. I brought them together. I gathered them for the benefit of all, and to protect all Crafters from the ravages of hostility and time.” The next thunderclap made Rarity twitch; the storm was unnaturally loud tonight. Brimstone did not seem to mind in the slightest. For the briefest moment, something flashed across the spirit’s face, but was gone before she could discern the ephemeral wisp. “And the world,” she continued, “this wide, wide world, was under the omnipresent, ever-watchful eye of our god. We had the power of gods, the power to reshape the world as we willed it, a power gifted by the God of the Harvest: Era’doth.” Rarity could not stop the shiver that came with that name. Luna had told Twilight of her encounter with the monster, who in return enlightened her friends. Twilight had never gone into specifics of Luna’s encounter in the depths of the Miner’s own mind. Perhaps she didn’t know. Perhaps she wanted to spare her. Brimstone’s countenance would have forced stones to kneel with the returning frost and regal command. “He granted us the same gifts as your new... ‘friend’. The power of matter itself, and all in the way fell before our gifts. We warped the mountains into chasms, harvesting their bounty to construct our own kingdoms and fiefs. Among them, I was their liege. I gathered us together to survive and grow. Highest of Crafters I was, I still knelt to one other.” That fiery flash of anger returned. Her lips upturned into a snarl before returning to a hard line. “We worshipped him as a god. Why wouldn’t we? On his back we thrived. To him we offered tribute, and we received resources and spells to further our race. I was one of the few who met him personally. He created us out of a desire...” Brimstone faltered for just a moment. “He never said what that desire was, only that he would never ask anything in return for creating the Crafters. For that kindness, I enforced a tribute every sunset.” It didn’t sound too bad to Rarity. Era’doth had created an entire race with his god-like power, and had asked for nothing in return. What better deal could there possibly be? To create life from dust... Brimstone let the moment sink in, and with a full gasp of breath, continued her retelling. “It wasn’t until much later, when I had finally solidified my power over my people, I discovered why his powers were so overwhelmingly on the side of creation: it was impossible for him to destroy.” Given the god’s current behavior and actions, Rarity could sense there was a pretty big “but” coming. “At first, I experienced doubt over such thoughts. Life destroys in order to survive. How could a god not do so as well? I had been created to remake and it was well within my ability to destroy. Era’doth did not fault me for such thoughts, as he knew the cleverness that helped me unite my kind would eventually make me question the hand that gave me life.” Brimstone faltered, unsure how to begin the next piece of her tale. When he spoke next, his voice was quiet and low. “We mastered our world. We built and defied the very laws that bound matter and energy. More and more He created, and more and more we built.” The room seemed to darken around the little filly. “Soon afterwards he stopped. All the power he wielded, all the grace and blessings he bestowed, gone with less ephemeral mercuriality than a forgotten thought. Without a word, our god vanished.” Rarity tried to cobble the pieces together in his head. Unrestricted power over creation? To create life from dust itself? Era’doth’s power knew no bounds. Except one... “He could not destroy?” Rarity asked carefully. Brimstone affirmed the suspicion with a nod. “He built and created every wish and desire we had. Mountains to scale, ore to mine, a society to intermingle and develop, a king to reign over them all, worlds that sailed across the stars on the back of stone that devoured light itself, ships that sailed the skies faster than any sea. He built monument after monument that even the most skilled of my kind, not even myself, could equal. I could once perform wonders that not even the wandering mute could match, and my skills paled in comparison to the Harvester. “...But that was the one heel. The world he created, the endless expanse that built upon itself until eternity itself warped and decayed across the Edge. As he finally completed his masterpiece, the very heavens themselves, we looked upon his greatness and understood the truth: all had been built. If his power was to create, what was there left for him to do once his power had been expended? It was the antithesis to his very existence, and why his expansions halted. If you create all there is, utilize every molecule of existence itself, growth stops. Life needs to die in order to be remade. Construction needs destruction. Life needs death.” Rarity felt a chill go down her spine. The rains that hammered the poor Boutique seemed to cease ever-so slightly in respect to the coming violence about to unfold. Brimstone’s voice returned to her usual calm eloquence, deathly quiet in the room with only a flickering light to keep the two ponies company. “Our kind often would see him in the mists and shadows, an ever-present reminder of his protection and care,” she hissed with with clear traces of venom. “We were his children, his prized creation. And he abandoned us...” A snarl curled around Brimstone’s lips, baring filly Sweetie’s teeth to the night air. She shook with memories undoubtedly forced to the surface, murals painted under a litany of fire. “It was not long after he had deserted the stars. Our greatest city was built atop where I had Awakened. The waterfalls and grass, the animals and all the people who shared our land’s incredible bounty, to them that was their capital. None knew want, none knew suffering. It was a beautiful place, where anyone could run free and even the pillars of our own creations touched the heavens. Then night came...” The story was exactly alike so many told by the Miner during their private chats. He often told stories of battlements and fortifications he was required to build to survive his early years in his world. The monsters that stalked the night were even more beastial and animalistic than those that stalked the Everfree Forest. “None knew what had happened at first, it had happened so fast. First came the dark, then the light...” Brimstone drifted off momentarily, caught in the memories. Rarity slowly tapped her hoof against the wood floors, jolting her out of her reverie. “The fog that heralds his primal form. He can take on any shape, but for those brief seconds after the sun set on Terra, we saw him. Gone was the form he had taken to fit in amongst we Crafters. We saw him, in all his terrible radiance and glory.” “What did you see?” Rarity asked, speaking for what felt to be the first time in days. Brimstone shook his head. “I was perched on the mountain, inside the home I had built for my mate and I. She was recovering from the weakness that came with birth.” Rarity felt a knife pierce her heart. Something must have shown on her face, for Brimstone glowered at the piteous look. “His form dominated the heavens themselves, separating us from those that sailed the stars. If...” she faltered for just a second. “If I could describe what I saw, it would be little more than madness itself. In a way, I was  not surprised by the turn of events. He was born from the very fires of creation itself. “Then the screams began. The monsters that had long been banished from our lands, the pillars of flames and the weeping angels, along with countless others, infested the skies until it grew as bright as blood. Before anyone could prepare, they descended and began to massacre my people.” “I’m sorry,” Rarity couldn’t help but cry out pitifully. It felt even stranger that her sympathy stemmed from honest empathy rather than the kneejerk sympathy she always felt for her sister’s plight. “Do you pity me?” Brimstone asked suddenly, breaking away from his tale for the first time. The ivory’s honest answer was immediate. As she embraced the filly, Rarity said a single word, “Yes.” Brimstone wrenched herself from the mare’s clutches with strength Rarity would not have credited Sweetie possessing. For a moment, Rarity blinked, unsure of how she had offended the spirit. “Save it. It is little more than an expression to make yourself feel better.” Well that was rude. “I regret loss, no matter the circumstance. No matter the perpetrator.” The corner of Brimstone’s mouth twitched. “Such a feeling did little for the Crafters. They took to the streets to repel the threat. They only left family’s broken as they swarmed. Era’doth himself entered the fray, flaying and burning all those that entered his shadow. The cobblestone and wood that had built our very first foundations ran red with blood, all the while I stood, unable to help them. I was their king... and I could do nothing.” Brimstone shifted closer, her light steps not even making the dullest thud against the floorboards as she approached. “Have you ever wished to die, Miss Rarity?” This... This was going in a very bad direction. The old scabs had been removed, and the pus and pain that filled Brimstone’s soul, the dregs of hate that propelled him to such extremes, had been exposed. This was a pony with nothing left to lose, and absolutely everything to gain. “Never. I have everything I need, and all I will ever need in this town.” Brimstone’s smile turned cold, and Rarity looked away; Sweetie should never be forced to look that way. “I did, that night. I wondered... ‘Why me?’ Why wasn’t I destined to die? So, tell me...” Brimstone took another step, her filly snout pressed right against Rarity’s. “How can you possibly know what to feel for me without experiencing it yourself?” “I... I don’t know,” she answered uncomfortably. “I do not wish to know how it would feel.” Rarity half expected her to jump down her throat at that remark, but only received a mild nod in return. “The purity and blessed ignorance. Naive, but admirable and enviable.” Her instinct was to give a quick-witted retort, but instead focused on biting her tongue. Seeing no objection on her part, Brimstone continued. “I took up arms, as did my mate. She was as proud as any, and armed herself even before me. I convinced her otherwise; our child needed protection. “It was then that the outer walls were breached. The explosion was enough to render us both in a deep daze, but instincts as old as our lives commanded us to move. Danger was near. I took her hand and ran in a desperate attempt to flee. I cut down the monsters in my path. Every abomination conjured from the darkest depths fell before me.” “Era’doth had perverted his gift. He had taken life. He had destroyed. That corruption stained him deep. It was also the first time I had ever seen that darkness that cloaks him so. I may never know what he was thinking then. I shouted over the noise, ‘Why?’ a thousand times until my voice bleed. I received nothing. The god who had given us life was there to take it away. My life mattered little to me, as long as my mate and child could escape.” Brimstone sat on her rump once more. Even the occasional blast of thunder and lightning halted and waited with bated breath. “He split the heavens, severed the lands. I screamed in pain as my body lay bleeding across the stones that master masons lay centuries long ago. I bit through the pain, knowing full well that I would die there if I did not rise. I needed to move, to flee before the might of a god...” Her voice choked, tears streaming down her childish face. Rarity moved to approach, but her attempt at sympathy was shunned with a hiss and a glare. Honor be damned, she thought, and she got up to at least stroke the poor filly’s mane, but Brimstone stepped back. ‘Wait...’ Rarity thought. Something wasn’t right. Brimstone had expressed, or at least claimed, a desire to help her people to such extremes that he or she or whatever the spirit was that she was willing to die for them. So, as morbid as it was, why wasn’t he? “You ran...” she whispered. The silence spoke volumes. The betrayal and self-loathing that slashed at Brimstone’s heart, pain Rarity’s own words had caused. Why Brimstone hated Celestia so much, his proclamation of Sweetie Belle’s wellbeing over his own... “You ran...” she repeated to the empty bedroom as if saying it would make the buzzing in her ears go away. “I know...” she gasped through her teeth. “You left them to die!” Rarity screeched. “How could you do such a thing!” “I would die a thousand deaths if I could have done anything different!” Brimstone screamed back. “He slaughtered everyone before him with a thought! No one—even me at my own peak—could stop him at full strength! My kingdom, burned. My friends, dead. I left them to die while I bled out in a corner! And there was nothing I could do!” Brimstone screamed into the night, a warcry filled with all the pain and agony that had been simmering since time immemorial. The betrayal and agony, the self-loathing and destructive drive to succeed, a thousand emotions burning through the night air in a single burst that silenced mother nature herself. The betrayal of a god over his people, and the betrayal of a king over his kin. “You’re not so different after all.” “We are nothing alike!” she roared. “ I would have never harmed my subjects! Never slaughtered them due to some madness begotten by laws forged before time! I would have never stalked up those steps, eyes glowing in the night. A smile on my lips. Shadows at my heels. “I pleaded,” Brimstone hissed, voice low and dangerous. Both ponies were on their hooves, glaring at each other. Rarity had no idea when she had gotten herself in such a hostile stance, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t her sister. Her body, but not her soul. “I pleaded, with every. Dying. Breath. Why? Why crush those who revered him so? I lay there before him, body broken and mutilated, torn asunder by blows that would have killed any lesser. If I was to die, I wanted to know why. So much destruction to regain a title? “And he leaned in close, that massive abyss he calls a body blotted out the sun, and he said one... simple... word...” Brimstone’s frantic voice had returned to that low calm, that terrible quiet that tilted on the precipice between rage and tranquility. “The word no subject wants to hear, and the most destructive thing any god could say... Do you want to know what it was?” Rarity shook, her body a terrible sludge of emotions. Fear clashed with rage, sorrow smothered pity. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream, to denounce the monster or embrace the survivor. How could he possibly live with himself, wallowing in such a history? But of course, her earlier thoughts haunted her mind. Brimstone didn’t intend to survive. Gone was the spirit’s family, friends, and lands. The mad dash to outwit a god, ended in only one fate for them both: oblivion. Did Brimstone deserve this one taste of vengeance before being delivered unto the great sleep? What of the proclaimed fallen? Didn’t they deserve one last chance to right a wrong committed so long ago? Brimstone was reprehensible, but Era’doth, this Herobrine character, was far worse if the king’s word proved true. The shadow of doubt snaked its way through the cataclysm of turmoil. And another thought, right on its heels: where did Era’doth get the chained seal? Sweetie’s curls danced lightly as Brimstone through her sweat-stained brow out out her eyes. Staring deeply into Rarity’s own bright blue depths, a single word hissed through the child’s lips. With it, a lifetime of contempt and misery, and the promise of sweet, bloody retribution. “Mistake.” The air was cut with a cataclysmic thunderbolt and a crunch. Rarity’s ears perked. Thunder was far from uncommon, but what was that other noise? Brimstone was far less impeded. With the swiftness only a hyperactive filly could muster, she turned and ran to the nearest window. Supporting herself on her hind legs, she did her best to peer out the window. The darkness was vast, a testament to the late hour and the billowing dark clouds bloated with fat droplets. “No...” Rarity whispered in awe and fear. Not darkness. Not darkness at all. There was another great crashing noise, and this time Rarity could tell exactly what it was and where it was coming from. Something was at the door. Something that had just crawled out of the smoking darkness that painted the normally dirt-stained roads in pitch black smoke. “Here they come.” Minecraft/MLP:FIM crossover. For chapter updates and my ramblings, visit my page on Fimfiction HERE. Chapter Commentary: LINK