She sprinted onwards through the dead forest of skeletons.
There was no sun in the sky – it was a burning husk of darkness.
No moon to guide her – it was bleeding and devoured.
There was a demon of darkness snapping at her heels.
Its form was pitch.
Its spirit was made of fangs.
Its gait was unstopping.
Rot was its footfall.
There was no mercy in its heart.
There was no peace on its breath.
A paean of death was the sound of its movements.
No act of guile could shake it.
No pit or prison could hinder it.
She could only run.
She awoke to a bed of straw. It permeated her senses. There was a thick blanket covering her, soft and heavy. She forced herself up. She was in a sloping, uneven room, end she could smell smoke and oil and metal. The thick blanket was some kind of animal fur.
“Geh!”
She kicked it away, horrified, and it flopped at the base of the bed. There was a constriction on her shoulder and around her neck. Looking down, she noticed she was bandaged up.
The fight.
She remembered leaving the forest, pursued by those things. She remembered fighting them, and being knocked against a tree and being clawed. She didn’t remember much else.
Poison.
That must have been it. The creature’s claws must have been poisoned. She’d have to remember that.
She heard steps and activity in the room over. She rose and walked out. She was sore and stiff, probably from being thrown against a tree. Inside the next room was a stallion, and she sighed, smiling faintly. It was nice to see a familiar form.
An earth pony, with a brown coat and mane, and a ball-peen hammer for a mark; he would have been quite strong, but age had worn him down, although he wasn’t venerable. The room was quite large, with one part serving as some kind of kitchen, the other being what was obviously a blacksmith’s forge. Openings in the room – both natural windows and gaping holes – brightened the room.
“You’re awake,” the stallion said, working at what looked like a crude kitchen counter. He would have made a good narrator, she thought. “Hungry?”
“Yes,” she said, but her throat was dry, so it came out dry and scratchy.
“Water’s over there. Help yourself.”
She did so. The large bucket, with a ladle and copper cups, was nostalgic. The water tasted fine, and not particularly contaminated.
“How’d I get here?” she asked. The water had done wonders.
“Found you yesterday evening, screaming and flailing around not far from my home. I take it you crossed paths with some of the monsters in the woods?”
“Thank you, then. And yes, I did.”
“Thought so. They have poison on their talons. Makes folk hallucinate.”
That confirmed it, she thought. Explained the dream she had as well. “You treated the wounds, then?” He nodded. “What were they?”
“Demons, monsters, ghosts. Whatever you want to call them. They don’t eat or sleep, just kill. Drove out all the life in these parts except for the trees and plants.”
He walked over and placed a bowl of apples and other vegetables on a crate, which she suspected must be his table.
She took an apple. It was sweet and juicy, good enough to give the Apple family a run for their money. “Where did you get these?”
“Oh, they grow wild all around these parts, ‘specially a little towards the west. When they ripen I harvest as many as I can; I make all kinds of things with them.”
“Wild…” She finished her first and grabbed a second.
“So where do you come from, stranger? You don’t look like a traveler, or a courier, especially if you got tangled up in that part of the woods.”
“Oh.” She didn’t exactly know how to answer that, especially since she didn’t really know for certain. “I think I’ve been… displaced somehow. The details are foggy.”
The stallion grunted and finished his meal. “Well, I’ve heard of weirder things.”
“Do you perhaps have a map? Maybe I can find where I am,” she said. The stallion – just realizing she should probably ask for his name – nodded.
“Hold here.” He disappeared into a side room, before coming back out with a scroll. She helped him unroll it, holding its edge to the tabletop.
“I’m afraid I didn’t ask your name.”
“My name is Copperhead. I run this little outpost. You?”
“My name is…” she paused. What would she say? She knew her own name, but would he recognize it? She somehow didn’t think so, but she was still unsure.
“What, forget that too?” Copperhead asked, sounding a little amused.
She shook her head. “No, sorry. Just had a thought. You may call me Celeste.”
Copperhead grunted, as if finding something funny, but nodded.
She turned and looked down at the map. It was very detailed and expansive, but it didn’t have the professional overview of the maps she was used too. The map included intricately detailed features of the land; a forest with tiny trees here, a mountain shrouded by clouds there. She would have thought it a map for foals, but the level of detail was so high only a professional could make.
“Quite the map, isn’t it?” Copperhead said. “A group called the Cartographer’s Guild, from the City of Light, drops by about once a year and leaves a few with me.”
“Yes, it’s… quite something.” This was her home. Geographically, the land was her home – Equestria. But everything was wrong. There were none of the great cities, save one, called the “City of Light,” where the Crystal Empire was supposed to be. Not even Canterlot was on the map. “And where are we…?”
Copperhead tapped a spot on the map, right where she suspected, above Ponyville, or at least where it was supposed to be. The only things on the map was a penciled in mark, probably Copperhead’s home, and a strange star-shaped object.
“I fear I am a long way from home,” she said quietly. Looking over the rest of the map. ‘City of Light.’ She wondered if that was really the Crystal Empire anymore, and if that meant Cadance was there. She glanced back at the strange star mark. “What’s that?”
“Some big rock crystal formation, been around forever,” Copperhead answered. “Every once in a while those unicorn magi come around for a few days hoping for some reason or another. Only thing they learn is that they wasted their time.”
Crystal.
“I’d like to see it, before I… go.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not far. I have some work to do, but if you need anything, holler.”
“Alright, thank you.” The old stallion moved on to his forge, leaving her to her own devices. She glanced around, not sure what to do and finding nothing of interest, and decided to head outside.
It was sunny and cool, still early morning. She closed her eyes and spread out her senses, soaking in the world. She first tried reaching out to the Sun, but found it was closed to here. There, but distant, like a shadow on the horizon. Everything else felt… muted and quiet. The forest was there, like a blot on a painting. There was something foul, carried on the winds; it was faint, but she could feel it. She followed the pollution, but there was no source that she could find.
But it didn’t detract from the morning, only sitting at the back of her mind like an irritant. She flared her wings and extended those senses, but found nothing more than what she already knew. She took flight, rising up and circling Copperhead’s outpost.
It was a small place, and he seemed to have adopted some kind of crashed airship. There were a few other shacks and outbuildings, and a crude fence surrounded the compound. She didn’t see much by way of roads, but she spied a lake over the hill not far away.
One thing that stood out to her was the massive Mountain to the north. It was a familiar sight, almost unchanged from when she saw it last, except for the thick fog and clouds that obscured the entire upper half of it. She couldn’t even make out to see if the castle on the mountainside still existed, although she suspected she didn’t want too.
She turned away and focused on the forest canopy, scanning for something… there! Sticking above the trees was a strange white object. She dived and flew low over the forest canopy. It wasn’t long before she reached it and she touched down.
It was set in a small clearing, but that was dwarfed by the massive pillar of white-gray crystal. In the most distant sense, it would have been shaped like a castle. A child’s imagination would likely view of it as such, but to her she thought it looked like a massive, gnarled tree, with several peaks (six, she counted) twisting and grabbing at the sky.
But it was a castle.
She approached closer feeling the surface. It felt like rough, natural, weathered quartz, a little warm from basking in the morning sun. She thought she could see something through the surface, but it was too murky and opaque in places she must have been seeing things.
She released a long sigh, sitting down and leaning against a sun-warmed side of the object. What had happened to her and this land?
Was she petrified, and the land had suffered some catastrophe while she slept? That didn’t seem right, as every instance of petrification she knew of left the victim conscious.
Was she actually displaced, either by time or reality? That seemed possible, but as far as she understood, doing so wouldn’t have put her in the state she was now. Drained, maybe, but she had been drained before, and she felt she had actually degraded in strength.
Was she… she hesitated. Perhaps she wasn’t who she thought she was? A transference of memories onto a homunculus would explain the supposed weakness, as well as the missing memories, especially if… if the original had died at some point, and the memories were just blurred to not make it apparent. That seemed workable, but why had she awoken in a cave, in the middle of a dark forest? Every instance of homunculus she had seen was restricted to a lab, a controlled environment. And her memories. Memory transference was a tricky process, and it worked best to transfer personality, but the older the memory the more difficult it was for the subject to recall, and it was better for preserving raw information. She could remember things in clear detail that had happened a very long time ago, and her memory had always been fairly good.
The most likely explanation was that she had been sealed away somehow, and simply had awoken down by the tree. That would also explain the degradation, as she had seen a case of it before, although never to her degree.
There were other things that weren’t right, either. The plant life was wild and untamed. Copperhead hadn’t even hinted to caring for the forest, just living off the wild lands as if nothing was wrong. The weather, too, hummed with wild power, uncontrolled and free. And most significantly of all, the Sun was beyond her. She reached out, stretched out, with her power, but it felt so far away she would have thought it was gone, had she not seen it, felt its rays warming her.
She needed answers.
The City of Light.
She didn’t know if it was still the Crystal Empire under a new name, or if it had fallen and something had taken its place, but it likely would contain the answers she needed. She hoped. She stood, spread her wings and took flight.
She briefly considered simply teleporting there, but a brief prod to her reserves told her that would be impossible. Even if she could pull it off, she’d probably pass out, and that didn’t sound appealing, especially as she wasn’t familiar with the geography. Getting stuck in the geography from a faulty teleport was an uncomfortable experience. She’d have to travel the old fashioned way.
The return flight to Copperhead’s place was quick. She landed out in the yard and looked around. There was far more than just a little forge, she noted. Besides the forge both inside and out of the structure, there was also a wood shop, and what appeared to be some kind of tanning booth.
She headed inside, seeking the old stallion. He was still inside, prepping his forge. “Find what you were looking for?” he asked her as she walked in.
“I think so. I’ll probably be heading north, to the City of Light,” she said, walking over.
“You should probably leave early tomorrow. I can lend you the supplies.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose more than I have already.”
“That’s my job. And besides,” he said as he inspected the tools of his forge, “you can reimburse me later.”
“Of course. I will, I promise,” she said, smiling. She glanced around again. “Still, though. Isn’t it strange for you to be working, way out here?”
“This is a refuge,” Copperhead said. “A place for the lost and a resource for those who risk their lives in the wilderness. I’m fine with that fact.”
She nodded. “I understand. Don’t you get lonely, though?”
He laughed, a barking sound that seemed equal parts amused and sarcastic. “If every pony in the world is as colorful and unique as the ones I meet here every so often, I don’t think I’d last long in the City.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking in surprise. “That’s…” Certainly something. “What do you do, exactly? Just run the trading post?”
“Metalworking is my skill. Crafting, my trade. Besides a bite to eat and a bed, travelers that come through might need a vital tool, or something repaired. And they’ll leave something for me to work on, for whoever needs it,” he explained. He set aside his things and turned towards her. “Now, we need to get you some supplies. Follow me.”
He led her to one of the outbuildings, a tall, boxy wooden one. It was dark inside.
“Spare a light?” He asked. She nodded and a moment later a bright light flared from her horn and rose to the ceiling, illuminating the whole room. Copperhead whistled appreciatively at the light.
The room was full of things. Weapons of all kinds were stacked on shelves, hung on racks, or stored in barrels. Tools, from rope to wood axes to pruners, were piled up the same. Bags and baskets and flasks were piled in one corner, and rolls of fabric and bedding in another.
“You’ll need some bags. A cloak and a blanket. Some rope is always useful,” Copperhead said, more to himself. She wasn’t paying much attention, examining the multitude of supplies in the shed. The light glinted off something coppery up on the wall.
With a golden glow, she gently lifted it and brought it close. It was shaped like shoulder armor, with a thicker shield-shaped plate mounted on top, seemingly for extra defense. Her eyes widened. It was, if she wasn’t mistaken, a very, very old style of weapon.
“Not that old thing again,” Copperhead said, interrupting her inspection. She turned to him; he was carrying a variety of supplies. He sat them on a nearby crate and gave the object a disdainful look.
“Is it what I think it is?”
“Depends on what you think it is.”
“A poltergeist’s shield is what some call it,” she answered. Copperhead nodded.
“I’ve had it a long, long while. The City of Light’s Honor Guard uses them; I found here when I discovered the airship,” Copperhead said. “But it’s broken. Haven’t been able to fix it in forever.”
She looked at it again. When worn, it would allow the pony – any pony – to telekinetically wield a weapon. And because the means of control were protected inside the shield part, it didn’t draw on the wielder’s energy and never tired them out, giving them a telekinetic weapon.
It had its downsides, though. It could only link to one weapon or tool at a time, and although the wielder could easily change what tool that was, it wasn’t so easy as to perform on the fly. The telekinetic field was also very limited, usually no longer than a body length, and, while powerful, if the weapon was knocked far enough away, it left the wielder defenseless. The telekinetic field was also unable to attack foes directly. Finally, if the intricate rune work housed in the shield were damaged, it would stop working entirely. Even though it was made with incredibly durable aurichalcum – giving it its distinctive bronze or copper shine – she personally knew of dozens of things that could rend through it easily and damage the runes. All of them extremely dangerous.
She disassembled the device, sliding the main plate from the armor. It came apart easily, and she opened the shield-plate, inspecting the runes within. They were faintly pulsing blue, but in complete disarray, more of a spattering of paint than intricate writing and symbols.
“Of all my skills, runework is not one of them, and few of the travelers I get are unicorns, let alone a unicorn skilled in it. I could fix it if I knew that. All it does now is sit on the wall, gather dust and tax my patience when some bright eyed wanderer spots it,” Copperhead explained.
“I know runework. I can inscribe the ones needed if you’d like.”
“Oh? And take the bothersome thing of my hooves?” She thought for a moment, trying to discern if he was serious or not, then simply nodded in reply.
“Deal. We’ll consider it an even trade – I’ll even toss in a weapon with it,” he said, sounding somewhat eager. He paused. “Although, you’ll still owe me for the pannier and other supplies.”
She reassembled the device and passed it over to him. “I’ll need some parchment and a writing tool.”
“I know the process. Take a look at these things and see if they’re too your liking. I’ve got a workshop to prep.”