//------------------------------//
// Ice 
// Story: The Darkest Storm 
// by TheReaderAndWriter 
//------------------------------//

9. Ice.

Ivanhoe opened his eyes, and there he was in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Everything was so white, without form. He had to blink a couple of times before his eyes got used to the light. Nothing in here except him. The pain was gone, so was the wounds. His pants were still there, but the artifacts were gone.
"Am I dead?" asked Ivanhoe, more curious than afraid.
"No," answered a familiar voice. The king. "You did well, Ivanhoe Mane. Sure, you got lucky, but you got here. That is what truly matters."
"Where am I, then?"
"You are nowhere, there is nothing here except you...and of course the last artifact."
"I don't see it, or anything at all."
"Just start walking forward, and you might just find it," said the king. Ivanhoe started doing just that, he walked deeper into whatever white void this all was. "This place was created by me a long time ago. I intended it to be a type of storage, basically like a magical closet that only I could enter. Normal ponies, or even the princesses, can not go inside here. You needed the two artifacts, they were keys for you."
"I thought I was going to die there for a moment."
"Your body would have if you hadn't been thrown in front of the train. Right now your real body is somewhat closer to the real world, in here you exist as a mental image. Your body is being repaired as we speak but without you it's just a useless shell. You better be cautious so you do not get lost in here. It's a very big place."
"I'm not sure I'm walking the right way."
"For you, in here, forward is the only right way you can take," said the voice. Ivanhoe started to see something in the distance, a shape of some sort. The closer he got, the colder the air seemed. He had to focus on the blurry form in the distance, it seemed like some sort of building. Suddenly Ivanhoe realized that everything white around him had started to take a shape, a characteristic, a texture. He was standing in a never ending landscape of ice and snow. The building in the distance had a very distinct and familiar outline.
"What is going on?" asked Ivanhoe as he got closer. It was a simple building, but time had taken its tool on the once stable house. He recognized it very easily, it was his own house. It was his farm, his parents' farm.
"You have to face your fears in there, my dearest Ivanhoe. Only someone who has courage can get the last artifact. Do not be afraid, however. I will be here, by your side. I'm closer to you in here than I've ever been before. You are not alone." Ivanhoe inspected the ruins of this old shack, it had a very large crack around its middle than went from roof to foundation. The large crack was the most eye catching damage, but hardly the only one, there were smaller details that further told of the home's neglect such as that of the fading red paint and the cold ice covering parts of it.
"This is my farm. Why is it here? What happened to it?"
"This is not what you remember. It is here because it is 'close to home', as they say. This could've been anywhere that held deep meaning to you, it could just as well have been Steady Stables Inn," said the king and chuckled.
"Why is it so broken? This doesn't seem quite like my farm," said Ivanhoe with doubt in his voice. He wasn't sure he wanted to go in there, it was very ominous.
"Your 'farm'? No, dear Ivanhoe. This isn't a farm," said the king. His voice left an echo in the white, dead landscape. The echo stayed, however, and with time it grew, it grew and grew into something more like a bombastic shout that settled in a vibration. The sound destroyed the ice on the house. Ivanhoe heard the sound of wood breaking apart. In front of his eyes the building was split apart and teared its two sides from each other, opening up the entire building to him. "It's a doll house," said the king. There was silence again. Ivanhoe felt safer being able to see inside the building, there was nothing in there but old cold furniture. Ivanhoe stepped inside it, both curious and cautious. "Now, Ivanhoe. To get to the artifact, you are required to take upon yourself a role, like you are in a play. This play will be disturbing, horrifying and incredibly macabre. The door will always be open for you to step out because of fear, but if you do this at any moment without getting the artifact, you will at least be cast out of this realm and into the real world. Then you will not be able to return here, the artifact will be beyond your or anypony's grasp for a long time. You must be strong and endure the play until you can touch the artifact. It should be noted that if you are cast back into the real world, you will inhabit your body that is still under intense repair. In other words, you need to endure this...or die."
"Under- understood," said Ivanhoe. If it wasn't so cold he would probably start sweating.


***


He explored a bit around the enormous doll house. Everything looked like it normally did, just frozen. He just walked around without any real goal for about ten minutes before he realized he needed to take the initiative. "So, how do I start this 'play'?" asked Ivanhoe to the king.
"Why not take a seat for a nice and warm dinner? This is a piece of your everyday life, after all," said the voice. It was all Ivanhoe needed to hear. He went down the stairs to the kitchen. This kitchen looked great in the real world. He could almost smell the baking his mother sometimes did above the old stove. The most modern thing in this old home was the refrigerator. Ivanhoe looked at his usual chair at the end of the table. It sure looked familiar enough.
"Break a leg, Ivanhoe...hopefully not from a train this time," said Ivanhoe and took a deep breath. He jumped up on the chair and sat down. For a short moment nothing happened, then he heard two things. Hoof steps from the upper floor, and a creaking noise. Suddenly the other half the building started shaking with great intensity, and like a trap it snapped shut.


***


Ivanhoe could not see anything. He was stuck in complete cold darkness. For a short moment he was almost panicking at the idea that he would be in this void forever, but he quickly calmed down. The steps got louder and louder as they walked down the stairs. They got closer and closer to him in the darkness. Ivanhoe just sat completely still. He didn't know what to expect. He was shivering, both from fear and the biting cold. Then, the steps stopped. There was nothing in the darkness but his very loud breathing, he could hear his heart thumping. He jumped when the light returned in a flash. 
"Why, calm down, Son! What's all this about?" said his father in his usual chair. He was smoking his old pipe. Ivanhoe looked around. Despite the fact he hadn't really moved from his chair, he had lost his bearings. The kitchen was... nice again, it was warm. There wasn't a winter landscape outside, just the usual farm. Everything in the kitchen was colorful, fresh and right. There was an odd scent in the air. His mother was standing by the stove and was cooking something in the frying pan. They both looked mostly normal, but there was a reminder they were not real. They had strings in them. They were the dolls, Ivanhoe just had to play along. 
"Oh, nothing, Father. I'm just, I was thinking about a play my friend told me about," said Ivanhoe. His voice wasn't very convincing, but his 'father' didn't seem to notice. It seemed like he could play his part badly if he wanted to.
"Well, maybe you can go see it. What is it about?" asked his 'mother'. 
"It's about this...uh, this odd disaster and how everypony and a dragon is trying to solve it," said Ivanhoe. He realized he hated having to ad lib.
"What genre is it?" asked his father.
"I bet it's a tragedy," said his mother.
"I don't think I've ever actually seen a play that is a tragedy," said his father with interest.
"I don't think it is. I prefer a comedy. I know someponies like tragedies, but I want a good resolution to this. I mean, the story," said Ivanhoe.
"I sure hope you get it. It better not be one of those stories that have a cruel sad twist at the end. Those are just the worst," said his mother and rolled her eyes.
"Indeed," his father agreed.
"Breakfast's ready," said his mother. She put something from the frying pan into some plates and walked over with them. She put it down right in front of Ivanhoe. "Hungry, aren't you?" asked his mother with a smile when she saw how he stared at the meal. It was meat, not hay, not grass, it was fried meat. Ivanhoe felt disgust at the prospect of eating it. Ponies were supposed to be vegetarians! This was disgusting.
"What's wrong, Son? Not actually hungry?" asked his father. Ivanhoe noted how it was starting to get cold again. Ice started to form around him, to his shock. It grew not only on the walls and his parents, who were oblivious to the entire thing, but on him as well. If he didn't play his part, he would be here forever. He just shook his head and gave his 'parents' a smile. Then he leaned his head forward and started to eat. Now, the idea of creatures eating the flesh of other creatures was not unnatural, he knew that, but ponies eating meat... They were supposed to care about life and nature, even in some lands have control over it, never devouring life like this. The thing that truly horrified him though, is that despite how much the thought sickened him, despite how much he didn't want to, despite the fact he should hate this, he actually enjoyed the taste of it. The taste of cooked flesh, not only could he eat it, he enjoyed it. It was like some sort of twisted torture, but eventually he managed to eat the entire thing. Why was it so easy for him? Why did the taste seem so familiar?
"Was it good, dear?" asked his mother.
"Yes, it...was...good," said Ivanhoe and tried to keep himself from tearing up.
"I think I'm going to make cupcakes later. Would you check the fridge for some eggs?" asked his mother and walked out of the kitchen. Her movement was so smooth, so natural. It wasn't like she was a puppet, it was like she was alive. Ivanhoe walked towards the freezer. Why did he wince at the word 'cupcakes'? He opened up the fridge and looked inside. His body froze, not literally, though. In shock, he kept himself from screaming. There was a head inside the fridge, and it was still alive.
"You think you've had a bad day? How about you finish this play so I can go home?" asked the pony head in the fridge with a very calm voice. Ivanhoe closed it very quickly.
"Well, there's something I'll never speak of ever again," said Ivanhoe who had to keep himself from shivering.
"Did you say something, Son?"
"No, Father. Only that there are enough eggs," said Ivanhoe.
"Excellent. Perhaps it's time for you to do your chores," said his father, his intention was pretty clear.
"Alright, I'll do them," said Ivanhoe, finally being able to at least somewhat effectively hide his own fear. Ivanhoe realized right afterwards that to do that he would have to step outside. If he did that then he would...
"It's alright, Ivanhoe, following the play's script is within the rules. Simply going outside is not necessarily not the same as running away," said the king with a calming voice. Ivanhoe gathered whatever courage he had and started walking towards the door. As he got closer it opened by itself, he expected a chilling wind, but he got warm sunlight. The grass outside was as green as he remembered it, the mountains in the distance as majestic as they always had been, the wind soothing and relaxing. Flowers covered the hills in the distance, the ground around the farm was worn out from the countless hours their chickens had scurried around pecking at the ground. Ivanhoe could feel the familiar smell in the air, a smell of home. This illusion was very convincing, but when would it show a darker side again? The answer to that came very soon. As he stepped on a single flower, it suddenly twitched, and with a quick movement it showed fangs and bit him right in his leg. He jumped back, it wasn't a deep wound, he would be alright. "Ivanhoe, constant vigilance is key. Just because you have a role to play doesn't mean all parties will support you blindly," said the king.
"I get it, this is used to protect the artifact after all," said Ivanhoe and looked over at the chickens walking around. They were his first basic daily chore. He needed to get them inside their coop. He cautiously walked closer to them, those chickens were most likely very dangerous. He gave a quick glance up at the second floor, at his bedroom window. Why was his eyes suddenly so focused on it? It was almost like...he could feel it. The artifact was in his room. He just knew it, he didn't know why, but he was absolutely sure it was in there. He could even feel where it was, on his bookshelf. He couldn't stop the play though, he had to keep going and get up there naturally. He walked up to the chickens and started very carefully to lead them into their coop. He never stopped being afraid, but to his surprise and relief he managed to get the chickens in without any hassle. It had almost been easier than usual. He was about to close the coop door, but then he felt something, a moist faint air current. A breath. He looked inside the chicken coop, there was nothing in there but chickens.
"Ivanhoe, move, NOW!" yelled the king. Ivanhoe withdrew his face immediately, just in time too. Sharp spikes were only a few inches away from chopping his hair off. He started running backwards from the little structure. The chickens were dead, but the coop was alive, it was itself a monster. Ivanhoe didn't know what to do. He was quickly thinking about solutions. This thing on top of the other two chores...the chores, he would always go up to his room for a nap after they were done, that was it! He needed to focus on the chores.
"Well, since that's done I better start to water the garden!" said Ivanhoe with a very poor impression of a pony in a situation where everything was just peachy. He started running towards the small fields behind the stable. He picked up a watering can while doing so. He would have to do a really half-flanked job. He simply ran past the garden and threw water on it while being chased by that wooden monstrosity. Before his eyes the vines and vegetables, who looked disturbingly like pieces of raw meat, started to shiver and turn into black and red snakes with teeth frankly too large for their eyeless heads. "Boy, this day sure isn't a walk in the park!" said Ivanhoe who tried and failed to give a convincing smile."Today is just dandy!" he said in that same phony voice. He was a very bad actor in his current situation. He focused on not breaking character and going to work on his next chore: what was it? Washing the clothes? Doing the dishes? It was hard to focus with monsters on his tail, literally, he had to shake off three of the snakes who tried to bite him. He remembered, he had to simply retrieve the mail. He turned quickly around the barn, his 'mother' and 'father' walked out of the front door. They looked more like dolls now than anything else with expressionless eyes and rigid motions. Ivanhoe could see their porcelain joints. He rushed past them towards the mailbox. He didn't know what would be inside, but he simply crashed into it. "Oh, silly old me. I'm ever so clumsy!" Ivanhoe said as a lame excuse for taking care of the problem quickly. He grabbed the single envelope that had fallen to the ground. It was addressed to him. It started folding itself into a shape, it turned into some sort of small dragon-like snake. He needed to bring it back inside, upstairs where he always read his letters, but that wasn't easy as it kept cutting his face with its sharp edges. He rushed to get to the front door. Ahead of him there were monsters and two uncanny dolls, blocking his path. "I sure would love to go to bed, rather urgently, in fact!" said Ivanhoe and bit down harder on the envelope to keep it from hurting him. He could see the ending of the letter inside. It said 'Your dearest father, D.' Ivanhoe jumped through the window. He suddenly felt a chilling wind, the ice was returning, slowly. He would've picked the front door, but there was just no way.
"Run Ivanhoe! The world is unable to uphold itself. You are playing your role wrong!" said the king with urgency. 
"I play my role as I want to!" said Ivanhoe and rushed up the stairs. Behind him everything was freezing up. He needed to get into his room. He broke down the door and immediately jumped over the bed. He could see it, it had that faint glow around it as the others had. It wasn't a feather, or a ball, it was a lock of glistening blue hair. He could feel his body freezing as he in mid-jump reached out his hoof for it. Just another inch, just another inch and he would be out, just another inch and he could save the world. Then he touched it. Clearer than ever he could hear that echo from the young voice, it was a boy's voice. 
"We'll always be friends, right?"
"Of course we will, silly!" said a new voice, but a familiar one.
"Good, pinky swear on it?"
"But I don't have fingers or claws!" said the other voice and laughed.
"But you swear, right, Celestia?" That was it, it was a young Celestia he heard, but who was the other one? Well, it was obvious by now, who else to be a friend with a princess but a prince, or rather, king? Everything around Ivanhoe was falling apart, bit by bit all around him got warmer and white, just like when he had entered. The ice encasing both him and the artifact started to melt.
"Ivanhoe. You have done well," said the real king's voice with pride. Was it just Ivanhoe's imagination, or was his voice slowly becoming clearer?
"King, why could I sense the artifact? I just knew it was there, it doesn't make any sense," said Ivanhoe quite perplexed. He didn't even know if he could be heard from inside the melting ice.
"Because, as you have been talking to me, been gathering my artifacts, you and I have made a connection. We are linked, which should help you with your next task. After all, it seems to have  helped you not getting destroyed by the rain, and it helped that young Fluttershy, did it not? Somebody as you should be able to know where you need to go once you have reached your next destination."
"What is the next task, then?" asked Ivanhoe. The ice was no longer cold, he actually started to sweat.
"The next, and last thing you need to do is fortunately simple, yet more dangerous than ever," said the kings voice as Ivanhoe's head broke free. He was basically just floating in an endless white glow. 
"Don't sugarcoat it. Please tell me at once," said Ivanhoe.
"Your final goal is in the Canterlot castle. The center of Celestia's and Luna's domain... Good luck," said the king. The ice cracked, and he was falling with the artifact. He reached out his mouth to grab it, he couldn't lose it now, not now! As everything started to fade, he managed to bite down on its velvet texture.