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// Prologue: Mercy 
// Story: Embers of The Past 
// by zeroxwolfx 
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        He was dragged up the stairs, face covered in a hood.  He knew of course that this hood was not to conceal the location of where he was going, he knew very well where he was going. Unthar, son of Inthar was dragged into the large, chiseled, stone temple in the heart of the city.  He had seen it many times before, a few times even being curious as to what it was like inside, but he never wished to actually be there, let alone bound and carried by two burned guards.  As he was dragged through the open hallways of the great temple, he was pushed onto his knees, the hood tugged from his face, and a strong hoof pushing his head down, forcing him to look to the ground.  Another black garb covered him, this time his eyes only.  His brow and face dripped with sweat, the pony panting from exhaustion from the terrible heat of the room he found himself in.  As he knelt there, face to the ground he heard heavy hoofsteps coming from further way.  They trotted one after another, slowly and in such a foreboding matter that it made young Unthar tremble, made all the more fearful by his lack of being able to see anything.  The burned guard yanked him back up.

An eerie whispering was heard, in an unknown language.

Afterwards, another pony spoke out, in a loud, yet raspy, cruel voice, “To all those who hear, let it be known that we disturb her greatness this day to bear witness to the guilt to the one who stands before us!” The Hooded pony, whose face could not be seen pointed a hoof towards Unthar, who was helpless to react.  The voice was scornful, but it spoke more plainly next, “Who stands before us Caniff?” he asked.  

A different hooded pony strided up to him quickly, handing a crudely written parchment.  He looked towards the blinded pony with a scowl, “Bear witness, Unthar, son of Inthar, a THIEF who sees himself fit to steal from the servants of her greatness,” The speaker walked closer to Unthar, “Such cowards deserves only the swiftest of punishments, of the most ill of nature!” he said with his lips curled as he leaned down to him.  The hooded figure leaned back up, and softened his tone slightly, “Alas, it is not for us, even the burned ones, to deliver judgement.  Perhaps you have something to say in your defense, Thief?  Hmm? Do you wish to address the great one?  Speak if you will…” he said, first putting a hoof on his shoulder before stepping back.  The hooded pony stepped to the side of the room, looking towards the black throne in the center of the room.

        Unthar was silent, still quivering, and sweating from his brown, still in shock that he would be allowed to speak at all.  Peeved, the burned guard behind him nudged him with the butt of his spear, making him jump slightly.  He looked forward, the most painful spot to keep his closed eyes.  

He took a deep breath, his words barely stuttering out of his lips, “I-it is true… I did t-take food from the watch barracks… I had no other options y-your greatness… the land is hot… a-and most things will not grow… the soil simply turns to dust… I… I do not have the talents required by her greatness to work… p-pease your greatness… I am sorry, I am so sorry, I was… I was just hungry…” with a squeak of fear, Unthar bowed his head again, bringing himself low to the ground.

        The raspy, hooded pony stepped between the throne and Unthar again, “So, it does seem that her greatness gives you a chance to speak.  What do you do with this chance? You spit in her face… you call her lands unfit! You speak ill of her kingdom!” he stomped towards Unthar, speaking just inches from his face, “You most insolent one! You do not even deserve to stay in her presence… if you would even…” he was cut off by a whisper, in a different language.  As he heard this he bowed his head, backing up.  He came to the side of the black throne, leaning in to the figure that sat upon it.  It spoke to him, whispering in the terrible language that it did.  Unthar could hear each whisper.  Although he did not know what they meant, each word pained his ears, poking at his ear drums, like the flames of a candle licking at his brain.  

        The dark figure listened for a moment before he stepped towards Unthar again.  Through his hood, he smiled, and he smoke in as pleasant a tone as he could, “This, is a most fortunate day for you, Unthar son of Inthar,” the hooded pony said as he knelt down, setting a hoof on his shoulder, “Her greatness has decided that she will show you mercy,” he said in a comforting tone.

        Unthar looked up, gasping some, a small smile forming at his lips, “She… she has?” he couldn’t believe it, but he didn’t want to push his luck, “She… oh, great one thank you… thank you!” before he could continue his praises and thanks, the hooded pony spoke again.

        “Her greatness has seen the impurities of theft, and lack of devotion in you, however, she has seen you fit to be purified and cleansed through her most righteous and holy flames!” he said smiling.   
        
        At these words, Unthar’s smile quickly disappeared, “Through f-f… wait… wait what does that mean… wait!” he said as he tried to protest.  Even as he did, two burned guards picked him up, moving him further towards the black throne, “No no NO WAIT! PLEASE!” he shouted out, struggling fruitlessly against their hold on him.

        Unthar’s struggles were in vain.  The burned guards turned his head forward and quickly removed the blindfold from his eyes.  In a great flash of light, Unthar saw the tall, imposing pony that stood on the throne before him.  The mare, with a mane of fire, and a coat that glowed like red-hot coals stared at him.  He only had a few seconds to stare back into those eyes before he felt his own eyes begin to boil.  He screamed in agony as they boiled themselves right out of his skull.  In the next moment, his entire body was engulfed in flame, burning with such intensity that it took less than a minute for his form to turn into dusk.  Unthar son of Inthar, had been purified.  A most merciful judgement, from the great, the terrible, the ever burning Solar Flare.