//------------------------------//
// Home is where the broken heart is. 
// Story: Revenge is a dish best served... with friendship? 
// by Grim Rune 
//------------------------------//

The rustic countryside was dotted with dark hovels that have become dilapidated due to being unused for many years. The once warm looking straw thatched rooves of the farming village now lay tattered and filled with holes as they go unrepaired and shred apart in somber decay. The once sturdy limestone and mortar walls crumble slowly under the unrelenting assault of time and weather; as they too remain untouched by an owners love.  Surrounding the empty and dilapidated homes; overgrown fields that now contain more rats and vermin than vegetables are a testament to what once was or could have been but will never be again.  

The village of aging homes, in all the wildly growing fields, seem to face inwards, accusingly, towards a center structure that still looks well maintained and in good repair as it stands on its own little island protected by water on all sides. With empty windows as eyes; the once farms stare up forever mournful at the castle as it towers triumphantly in the center of town against the backdrop of a night sky. The impressive castles high walls ever reaching over the meager village and grasp for the star filled expanse above and proclaim, -This castle’s still here and will not parish from the world even as the world around it dies.  

The moon, in her ignorance, shimmers on unawares of the proclamation for which the building stands and she casts her light indifferently to the earth in unending grace. The wild clouds drift past on the moon on their own and without the aid of pegasus guides; blocking parts of the moon’s glow in jealousy. One might stop and think the clouds covet the night as they cause dancing shadows on the cold stone structures below with their greed and gobble up the light from the celestial body, but neither the moon nor the castle are concerned with the cloud's mischief as they remain constantly unaware of the other.

And little did the night see or care that within the castle’s cold stone walls, on one of the most upper floors; it was much like the sky. Equally the castles hallways were empty save for a tiny glimmer of light that pushes at the darkness. The echo of hoof on wood fills the hallways like the stars twinkling in the night attempt to fill the sky, as a ghostly image of a bone white pony casts in a purple haze seem to float between the open windows.

If one outside were to be looking at a distance in said windows, at that glow several stories up from the moat; one may think the building would seem most definitely haunted by the sins of the past and nothing like the beautiful night sky as the apparition proceeds on its lonesome journey. Sadly, there is no pony outside to think this anymore and the field rats don't care about ghostly images.

Suddenly and for no seeming reason, the ‘ghost’ like pony stops and looks longingly out one of the openings it was passing by to the once thriving town below. Staring out of the window; its red eyes glow faintly with an inner fire that is so much different than the purple smoking light on the end of its horn that it’s shocking in contrast and almost looks menacing or evil. Pupils dilate and its eyes focuses on each vacant home in turn as it thinks; brows furrow and a scowl creases the ghostly muzzle adding to the sinister visual effect.

“Remembering the past again are we?” asks the unicorn of himself in a whisper as his mind becomes bombarded by memories of the past. Continuing his monologue to the empty village after a few heart beats; he says, “You and mother are the last left. Even when you took up your current mantel to try and save this place… it wasn’t enough. You’ve never had enough power. You needed more power and failed. So, stop reminiscing and keep going.”

In disgust the unicorn shakes his purple mane that droops over his neck like dark water and flares his nostrils with a hardy snort before simultaneously pushing unpleasant thoughts and feelings from his mind and venturing on. 
His broken white horn, a testament to his failure, shimmers with purple smoke and he plods dejectedly along his route; his only companion the echoes of the past that chase after his mind like hungry animals.

The young stallion is constantly pushing the darkness away from him -both in mind and surroundings- as best as he can and locking away his anger at himself for later contemplation. Due to recent events, the stallion has learned that in the face of all things an untamed heart is nothing more than a hindrance to what must be done in the face of extinction. All his life he was taught otherwise; to be free and loving, to be tolerant and express himself. As a result of his teachings he was cursed to watch the small kingdom, no, HIS kingdom now, dwindle to nothingness. Painfully he remembers lush fields tended by earth ponies full of frolicking filly and foal, He remembers skies of Pegasus and sunshine, and mostly he remembers the curse of unicorn ignorance that decimated the lands of his forefathers that his family caused and that no assistance came from neither Sun nor Moon when prayed for.

With a sigh and pausing at a door at the end of his journey; the purple hazy glow around his horn flickers as he concentrates harder and a knock can be heard echoing on the other side of the barrier. He internally berates himself as pain throbs in his head just under the base of his appendage but is thankful he didn’t drop the simple light spell and leave him in the darkness of night.
With a broken horn doing several things at once can be damaging to the user if not deadly. It takes a surgeons skill to work with a broken horn for any tasks. The reason is obvious and taught to any magic user; the horn is the tool a unicorn uses to draw energy and to focus that energy into spells. When that focal point is damaged, even with the slightest chip, it's much like a fractured lens and it becomes harder to point spells in the right direction without them fracturing. Knowing this simple fact he should have used his hoof to knock to save himself the annoyance of a head ache.

Waiting a moment the pony hears nothing from the room beyond and ultimate destination. Once more he knocks -this time with his hoof; a lesson learned and his headache begins to subside with the passing moments of silence.
Still, no answer beckons from the door or the room beyond to him. It's more tiresome than worrisome at this point though.
With an even deeper sigh he pushes the door softly open with his hoof but does not enter. The stallion clears his throat and then calls in tentatively, “Mother, I’ve come to check on you. May I enter?” 

He continues to hear nothing but the stillness of night surrounding him as a reply. He peeks his head in to look around the bedchamber where it's equally repressive and filled with silence compared to the hallway. This place is the bedroom of the only pony left to him and the one mare of which he cherished and that had promised once she got better to travel, they together, would move on to somewhere and start life fresh. When things got bad the remaining villagers fled and abandoned them here. It was disgraceful how the mighty had fallen but he and his mother still lived and that is what was important.

“Or is it?” Mumbles the pony to himself, thinking about what is important or not as he enters the room on his own without admittance. Once more he is assaulted by his dark thoughts before he can control himself. 

‘It’s an ever ebbing and cresting dark thoughts for him. Where did all the love go that was once in him?’ one that knows of his plight briefly wonders.

The master bedroom on this floor is inviting even on this chilled night. The bedroom’s wood adornments and finely crafted accents were once enjoyed by a line of unicorns that stretched back as far as the stallion could remember and yet now, all that is done save for the two of them; He and mother. No more shall the painting of valiant battles of the past be looked on by their line. No more shall books be read in an oversize chair by a roaring stone fireplace in winter as it howls outside. No more shall his line enjoy the feel of solitude and safety this place offered. No, his line is the end of all that and it shall all be left for looters or the mice.

Priorities first. Rune begins his chore of rebuilding the fire that will help chase the chill from the air in his mother's bedchamber. After a second or two of stacking logs with his hoof and watching the fire come to life with crackling might; he finds himself mechanically putting on a brave face and forcing a smile while ignoring his turbulent thoughts that surfaced once more. (He seems to have to do that a lot these days) he inwardly chides, but when his work is complete, Rune can finally trot softly over to the sleeping form of his mother that is cuddled in the middle of the large traditional styled four post bed in the center of the floor.

As he nears; his heart aches at the stillness of the blankets and for a fleeting moment the thought of him traveling alone in an unknown world flashes into his mind and makes his head spin with the sheer magnitude of the possibility. Thankfully; with what has happened these last few months instead of being reduced to a quivering sack of whimpers he has gained mostly an iron grip on his emotions and soon he is steadied once more while remembering one of his favorite quotes.

“Depression is a painful and heavy burden when you lift it on your shoulders constantly, so, why not let it go and put it down?” - Dalai Llama of Xiǎo mǎ xīzàng 

Almost in response to his previous thoughts before the monks saying came to mind; a sickly coughing is heard from beneath the covers.

“Rune, is that you?” asks the weak female voice from under the mounds of blankets as it shifts and the female unicorn begins struggling to get out from under them. 

Though the night wasn’t bone achingly cold Rune didn’t want his mother to get worse so he rushes to help her untangle herself from the coverings and yet keep her comfortably safe under their warmth. She also wouldn’t need to use the little strength she had for something so meaningless and attending to him when he was right there by her bedside.

Rune responds to her question as he gently peels back the covers from his mother’s head with his hoof and exposes her face to the waning moonlight that comes in from the window and his soft smile beaming down on her, “Save your strength mother, I am here. It will be dawn soon and I had thought that I could take you outside for some fresh air and sunshine today.” adding a touch of hope.

Looking down at her he can’t help but remember how she once was compared to this worn out mare in front of him now. The unicorn mare was once full of vibrancy and life befitting one of her station as mistress of the castle, but since the ‘infestation’ that caused all of this land’s problems; she had dwindled to a shell of her former self right before his eyes over the last few months. 

Everglade: The mistress of castle Coltsegg, Rune’s dearest mother, and Wife to Rune’s father Neutral Knowledge whom was the seeker of all things magic; was reduced to a withered thing that constantly needed attending to by her doting son.
Now her coat has turned a sickly shade green and black instead what once was one of deep forest and shades of mystery.  Her regal horn that could pierce the densest of shadow in the deepest woods; sputters at the slightest glow and incantation spell. Her mane that shimmered like summer leaves on the trees being caressed by the winds, now lay flat and dull like dead moss. 

His mother: the latest victim of this cruel unforgiving world and the last few years in them.

Everglade’s blue eyes flutter open to look at him; unfocused and still tired with heavy dark circles under them. She smiles up weakly at her son by her side while asking, “Rune, Have you seen your father? He keeps calling for me to join him somewhere but I can’t seem to answer or,” there is a moment of confusion in her eye before she continues with a chuckle, “Or he doesn’t hear me calling back to him the poor dear.”

Rune finds the question from her odd and his mother’s reasoning odder still, but he keeps smiling like a fool as he searches her face for an answer. Rune’s stoic contemplation for the situation begins to build a wall of silence between them unintentionally. He seeks to answer her but can only open his mouth a moment before closing it again in deep thought. 

(There should be no reason for me to explain where father is and why he can’t be reached by her.) Thinks the stallion to himself; so in confusion Rune lets the silence drag on since he is unsure how to answer that question without causing more stress to his patient. After all; He needs his mother to get well and the answer wouldn’t help.

As moments tick by and the silence expands around Rune, Everglade struggles to see him in the dim light of moon and orange glow of the roaring fireplace. Her eyes finally seem to focus in then and they sharpen; she gasps a little dramatically at what she sees before her.

“Rune! You, you look so run down!” exclaims Everglade as she struggles to move from under the blankets and reach for her tired looking son with a freed hoof.
“You’ve been working yourself too hard again. The servants will surely pay for this outrage!" soothingly she coos, "My little colt should be deep in studies with his father and not taking care of his ill mother!” 

Everglade tries to lean up to where Rune stands by her bedside and caress his face lovingly with a shaking hoof. She strains against her own body in an attempt to comfort him. “See? I’m fine anyway! I’ll be all better by noon. Just you wait!” but before Rune can gently lower her hoof from his face in concern for her sapped strength; his mother collapses back in a heap against the pillows and he proceeds to tuck her under the blankets once more while thinking how horribly she lies to herself and him. 

(This does definitely seem to be a pattern now.) He thinks in worry. The last several times he has woken her, something similar like this has happened. She distresses, expends herself needlessly over him in anguish, and he, in an almost rehearsed monotone voice states while tucking her in, “You need your rest Mother. I will make sure to…” and for the first time in a long time there is a briefest flicker of emotion that streaks across his face before it vanishes and he continues, “I promise I will reprimand all the servants we have in the castle for their lack of performance and shall also pray father to stop pestering you while you are recovering.” He figures since prayer is the only way to reach his dead father and there are no servants left. It’s not lying to her and it should be comforting.

Once the blankets are still again and the mare settles in a meek request is asked in-between a light yawn from the muzzle sticking out of the covers top, “Doesn’t your mother deserve a good night kiss from her little colt?”

Her son and ‘little colt’, Grim Rune, musters up all his might and forces himself to bow to the request in embarrassment. He is close to true stallion hood legally and with current events he has become more of an adult then his chronological age would suggest. Forced responsibilities and sudden loss can age you rapidly especially when there is no one else to help you.

Rune does love his mother but since he needs to be strong for her until she gets better it's best to lock those feelings, make that ALL feelings, away and make pretend; least they begin to break him and reduce him to a sniveling child once more. 
Leaning in he, places a gentle kiss on her nose and nuzzles cheeks with her briefly. Being so close and so conscious of his mother's care means he can hear her growl under her breath in frustration about being hungry as he pulls from the embrace and it shocks him a little bit.

“Mother, if you are hungry you should tell me. I can make sure breakfast is ready as soon as the Sun rises.” ,says Rune matter of fact like, it almost seems like he is scolding the blanketed pile as he steps back in a huff and stares down at the writhing bed but he could never truly be mad at his ill mother.

The unicorn mare responds in a rush of action, fed up, and she tosses the blankets aside from her body and onto the floor with a renewed vigor coursing through her body right before she gets up from the bed stepping to the floor beside it and in front of Rune defiantly. 

“I’m hungry because of YOU, you twit!” Her strength seems to be returned like magic as she boldly stares down her nose at her bewildered colt. 

Where did this sudden burst of energy come from? What’s going on?  The mare that is Rune's mother still looks sickly, she still looks thin, and feeble, but as she stands there and radiates an angry hate at him that gives her power to move like a predator hunting its prey. Nothing is seems normal any more to Rune and the world threatens to spin out of control over this one single exchange.

It takes a few minutes for Rune to understand what is going on and he trips over his own hooves while backing away from the glaring form of his mother. Subconsciously he tucks his tail between his flanks and creates more room between them as he stumbles once more and as she looks on him with deeper disdain. Most would think he was cowering but it’s not exactly fear that grips him and causes him to act, no, his emotions are still tightly locked up and it allows other forces beyond fight or flight to take the helm. His movements are a logical and tactical response prompted by him giving over control to reason and that will allow him to give distance to the unknown while forming a plan of action in safety. 

Anger shoots bolts of loathing from her blue eyes as EverGlade growls at Grim Rune; her supposed son. “You! You bothersome annoyance! At first you were like a constant flow of nectar and now you sour like milk in the sun with all your dark thoughts. I'll no longer put up with this. My time here is done and my Queen will be pleased as I bring back the last of this dwindling harvest that I have stored.”

“Queen?!” Repeats Rune as he gapes slack jawed and shocked at his mother’s form and her incoherent ramblings. 

The form of Rune's mother that now stands tall and straight before him in all her pride as she mockingly looks down her nose at him is one he knows well; the form of his mother; one that is of a mirror of his memories which are forcefully being dragged to the surface. In horror, Rune watches as she suddenly changes in hue right before him. She becomes instantly healthier looking and recharged; back to the way she used to be before father died.

His mind begins to churn as he stares in utter disbelief, (It couldn’t be! Father ran tests. He used his magic. Mother cannot be a part of all this. It just can’t be!)

“Yes, My QUEEN.” responds his mother before she cackles in menacing glee. “Oh little Rune. Once daddy was sucked dry and passed away and you became responsible for everything; it was so easy for us to finish off this town. He was the tough one to get around, not you. He was so tolerant, so noble and self-sacrificing, Everypony adored him unlike his introverted son. You're the reason this venture became so plentiful for the hive little Rune.” Ending the explanation on another villainous laugh.

A stomped hoof later from Everglade and his mother’s shimmering form begins to change once more. A green flame erupts to consume her body while startling Rune out of his daze and allowing him to scrambles back up to his hooves. He’s finally figuring it out even as his ‘mother’ prepares to gloat some more. 

“Changelings….” Is all he can gasp to himself but Rune cannot afford to give in to his emotions and sink into despair now or he may never learn what he needs to; that thing he cannot live without. Unfortunately, changelings are not this vocal unless they are powerful or a queen themselves. She thankfully had stated that she is serving a hive queen so there could still be a chance. Even as he lowers his head and points his broken tip at his mother/changeling he knows no matter what he has to take the chance. 

Roaring out at the thing in challenge Rune demands, “Where is she?!” (Caution, keep those emotions in check.) He must be careful not to give any more fuel to this thing.

The blazing form of his mother finishes its transformation by collapsing into a black and twisted alicorn filled with holes perforating its chitin covered body. It’s slightly smaller in stature than Rune, but not any of the less dangerous since changelings can feed off emotions, transform, read minds, and have limited magic’s of their own. Worst of all the disgusting thing seems more insect than pony as it stares at him with pupil-less eye chambers and flaps its buzzing wings; chortling in arrogance.

“Where. Is. she?” growls Rune in the face of his advocacy as his red eyes narrow and the anger begins to seep out from his mental locks. “You, you, you," stammers the stallion as he searches for the right words to convey his writhing hate. "Changeling fraud! Answer quickly and I may not squish you like the bug that you are!” The purple hazy glow begins to build on the broken tip of his horn as he waits for an answer and he begins to form in his mind an offensive spell.

The changeling feeds off of a small bit of leaking love without Rune knowing. Rune's love for his parents and lands exudes from his mental locks unintentionally as it fuels his anger and supplies more fuel for the hive to collect. The changeling plans to take every last drop it can so it continues to monologue in the face of supposed danger.

“She? Whom do you mean? Your dear, old, mare of a mommy?” and once more the changeling is giggling at Rune’s expense before it continues to explain to him. “Why I’ve been your mother for these last years after switching with her. As the town was invaded, I poisoned your father’s heart and drank him dry for our Queen, then the village was left to you and me to rule and defend and ultimately that means it was unguarded. I played helpless bed ridden distraught Everglade; well,” it paused, “after your father’s body was found that is. It was just too much for me so I collapsed. And that, Rune, was also the beginning of you missing the signs that the hive was well established here; we were able to eat this hamlet from within unhindered.” Adding a smile it proceeds with a smirk. “All as planned by the way. So, Here I stand right before you, your surrogate mother. Come give mother a kiss Rune.”

Rune doesn’t know what to say as he keeps a steady aim on the changeling. His broken horn was part of their plan? His mother was replaced? For how long has she been missing? How much of his past was a lie? It hadn’t been that long since the disappearances started, in fact, a letter requesting help was sent right before his father died. Was it Runes fault? The ponies fleeing. The lands decaying. How long though? Does this mean…

More buzzing laughter at the stunned stallion fills the room before the changeling moves around Rune and to the window cautiously. It keeps a steady unblinking eye on the unicorn before turning and gazing out at the coming dawn; the black alicorn-thing leaves it’s back exposed to the charged up horn of Grim Rune without fear for some reason. 

The changeling then chooses to continue its taunting another way in hopes of feeding off his prey just a LITTLE more before planning an escape. Pausing in the laughing and giggling at Runes expense, the changeling poses the next question with sudden seriousness. 
“Does really it matter anymore Grim Rune? You’re alone with just your name. Give it up already. You’re weak and all alone. You even stopped summoning monsters to help you upkeep the castle or maybe they wouldn’t come to your call since you blew your top? You’re nothing and nopony any more my dear Grim Rune. Why not just wither or run away like the rest; those that got away?” It sighs as if to say the answer should be obvious to anypony in their right minds.

There is a brief pause after the creature finishes posing its question, right before dark energy crashes against the wall by the window the changeling was staring out of in a shower of dust and crackling energy. The bolt mostly sends stone and much of the glass into the predawn to cascade into the moat below. The magic was shockingly strong for a unicorn that supposedly has his powers limited due to injury; the blast shot a chunk of the supporting structure outwards and created a large round gap through inches of unyielding earth. The changeling, unharmed, as it wasn’t the intended target stands perfectly still as the dust clears. 

(A warning shot?) Slowly turning the bug like creature's head, in mock horror, looks over its shoulder at the young unicorn with the broken horn and eyes of flame. "You missed." It says with tension building in limbs.

His mother’s voice echo in Rune’s ears suddenly as the changeling uses magic to distract its prey. “Rune! You wouldn’t hurt mother would you!?” and for a moment it’s as if the changeling had changes back to his mother but quickly Rune shakes off illusion and false images before staring daggers at the black thing that is truly there; the focus of his all his hate. Knowing the illusion is in his mind does little to comfort Rune though and he struggles against the feelings of anger the changeling is causing and keeps from turning it to ash. 

Rune must focus on getting information from his captive drone and stop feeding it power from his emotions....

A captive that is now leaping out the open window before it....

A captive that has wings and Rune just gave it a way out!!

“NO!” screams the white stallion as he fires blast after blast of dark energy from his broken horn towards the direction of the gaping hole he created and the fleeing monster. His magic strikes the remaining walls sending up more dust. The magic strikes the remaining shards of glass that are still in the frame and it even hits a passing moth turning it into, well nothingness,  but Runes strikes never score his intended target. 

Rushing to the hole after the changeling; Rune coughs dust out of his lungs and tries to see through the cloud and is left wanting so badly to continue on his assault on the drone but Rune knows it’s too late.

At the exit he provided to his once mother/changeling/target on accident and as the Sun begins to rise to chase away the darkness around his home; Rune watches helplessly as the fading form flees further into the skies and away from him. Rune feels the darkness in himself growing even as the first rays of Celestia’s sun touches him among the ruins of his home. The warmth and the promise of a new day may mean a lot to others but it means nothing in this valley of decay nor to him. He has completely failed everypony that once was here and could have been... but maybe, just MAYBE, there is still a chance of some type of fleeting happiness.

Calling out to the fleeing form Rune yells in desperation, almost sobbing, and not wanting to be alone. “PLEASE! Where is she?!”

The changeling does the cruelest thing it could think and responds to the question while knowing it’s safely out of reach of the stallions dark and deadly blasting magic. It wants to enjoy and savor this victory in getting one last turn of the knife on Rune for all the starving it endured while being excluded from its hive these last few months. The escaping changeling uses one of its spells and calls back to him mentally, “Tsk, My dear little Rune. You know in your empty heart the truth. Your mother is loooong since dead. As I said... you're all alone.”  Ending with a fading cackle of glee it drops the connection and from sight in the distance. The changeling knows the Queen will be happy and Rune never will and that has made this all worth it.

Staring out of the window at the fading dot against the blue skies of morning, Rune feels his heart breaking apart at losing everything that means something to him and tears come unbidden to his eyes. His mother, Dead and lost for who knows how long. His Father, also Dead. His home, Dead. All the fault for all the loses the happened can be squarely placed on Runes slumping shoulders.

Rune’s own body is a reminder of his losses, his horn specifically, which was broken in two when he foolishly tried a shield spell he wasn't equip to handle. (Why couldn’t it just have succeeded?!) The shield spell was designed as a combination of friendship and love magic which was to push out threats to those he cared for and supposedly Rune cared for the village, or so his father thought, that is, until the spell had backfired. 

Rune’s has always had a stronger influence in dark magic and it started to overwhelm him and corrupt the spell which his father wrestled for control of in aid to his faltering son. Rune tried to cut off the flow of magic to his horn as he was taught; interrupting a spell usually made it stop. He didn’t know what was happening as the spell continued to build on its own power and grow uncontrolled. Slowly the spell was eating away at him; love and friendship magic were not his strongest subjects of study so he lacked the skills to know what to do. Then there was a bright flash; the spell failed and he paid a heavy price for his lack of aptitude. He woke some time later to find the separated piece of horn on the floor before him where he’d fainted and his father passed out to the side; his father's horn smoking but he himself was thankfully ok. The spell was meant to expel the changelings from his homeland since his father and he first figured out they were invading but now it could never be done. Only Grim Rune had the seeming endless well of magic to pull from that is needed for the complex spell and his father was meant to only help Rune along as he tapped that mystic ether. 

The loss had reduced his father to individually trying truth spells on each pony in the kingdom that remained in the town and castle. Once the recovered Rune learned he could barely help with his broken appendage and was no longer able to tap into his previous gifts, save the useless one, Rune found himself unable to do anything of importance. 
Looking back now, he assumed that his mother who was ‘tested’ by father somehow figured a way around the spell and since when Rune was learning to do the spell with a broken horn, ironically at her behest, it only figured such a thing went unnoticed and He and his father both remained unawares of his mother’s treacherous nature. Not surprising that his father died soon after that. The hive must have felt secure enough to move boldly with the removal of Runes talent.

Rune knows now; he will never achieve the greatness his family aspired to with magic. They had studied all magic equally and thinking of them as merely tool to be used in all forms and without fear. It was no wonder his family was so forgiving of Runes quick ability to tap into the forbidden "dark magic" that others shunned but now, no magic that could be deemed safe and worthy was available to him. It was either one extreme or the other with no middle ground. No teleporting; which he missed the most. He had lost it all, so is it any wonder his heart shattered? 

Logic steps in once again, his only companion left, and with cold calculations after long minutes of contemplation his resolve seals away every little bit of positive emotion completely. He wills himself to be as empty as the castle; as hard as the stone. He wills himself to be dead as his lands. He will only be driven by one desire, he concludes knowingly. An emotion nothing but his own darkness can consume as fuel.

Revenge.