The winter was a sleeping, a rejuvenation. The world folding into itself to prepare new life and new opportunities. It meant death, but from death would come birth.
Not this winter.
It is like a beast, snarling and thrashing. Its eyes are filled with hate, and tattered wings cast shadows that blot out the Sun and Moon. Every movement is like crashing ice, and its claws are the cutting wind.
It crawls and lopes over land and life and waters, marking dominions. The gift of agony is its lifeblood, a draught of suffering, a feast of torment, given freely and in heaps. Cruelty flows like a winter river in its veins, and it pours such blood for all to drink.
With cruelty comes suffering and pain. From that comes a fury that burns with no heat, no warmth. Loathing seeps deep into the heart, chilling it and banishing all light.
From it come forms of twisting darkness, like fresh fruit already rotted on the vine, spreading the chill and the pain with every creaking step and broken howl.
This is what it means to breed suffering.
This is what it means to spread cruelty.
This is what it means to be the endless winter.
It is a white death.
The night was restless, but she awoke early anyway. Out from underneath the thick blankets she could already feel the chill seep in. The stove was only dying embers, but a quick thought brought it roaring back to life. Still, she pulled out a layer of clothing and wrapped her cloak around over that. Her hostess, Sky Chancer, still slept, and even Philomena dozed on her perch.
There were no unobscured windows to see what time it really was (although with the cloud cover it may as well have been futile), and she didn’t want to risk unsealing the door in case something unpleasant was still outside. She grabbed up her bags, her cloaks, and a few blankets and found a place to bunker down.
She sifted through her belongings, fishing out the poltergeist’s shield. It had been refitted to fit her, and padded to make it more comfortable, not to mention oiled and shined, and decorated with some flourished.
It took some doing, but she was able to slip it on, covering it with her cloak. She also dug out the weapon she had chosen: she had debated on several kinds, from sword to spear to axe, but settled on an unusual weapon Copperhead told her a minotaur had dropped off. It was a long rod of sturdy wood, with an iron ring at one end, while most the rest of the rod was plated in iron studded with rivets. She found it awkward to wear, but most wouldn’t think it a weapon. She tested the shield and staff experimentally a few times, and it functioned as flawlessly as it had when she first tried it.
A shuffling met her ears. She turned to see Sky Chancer blearily rising from bed. “Good morning,” she said to the Pegasus mare, stowing the weapon.
“’Mornin’,” she said through a yawn. She didn’t say anything else, just stared at the far wall. Nothing happened for several long minutes.
“Perhaps I can--”
“Tea,” Sky Chancer interrupted, still sounding asleep. “I have some tea. I should probably put on some tea. Would you like some… tea?”
“Yes. Can I do anything to help?”
The mare seemed spurred to action, if lethargically, and they set about getting some water to boil.
“It should be safe enough for us to move the table back,” Sky Chancer said to her, as she did just that. “They usually disappear sometime close to early dawn, which should be about now.”
She perked up her ears, sending out a faint pulse of magic. She no longer could feel a connection to the Sun, but knew it well enough. It was indeed starting to peek over the horizon. She hoped she could sense who or what was coaxing it up, but felt nothing. “Yes, I think you’re right.”
Sky Chancer prepared the tea. It was an unusual method, and not one she recognized, especially mixed with butter as it was, but was warming and tasty, if different.
“That usually gets me going in the morning,” Sky Chancer said, finishing a cup of the creamy tea and pouring a second.
“It’s very good.”
“I’m curious… what brings you to Grace? You said you were a traveler, right?” Sky Chancer asked at length. She had begun working on straightening up the home, putting away bedding and apparently preparing for the day.
“I was heading towards the City of Light. I understand the village is a stop?”
“Well, it used to be,” Sky Chancer said. “Before the storms, we used to get many travelers seeking a roof over their heads. Ever since, most have traveled further south.”
Chores finished, and another cup of tea downed, Sky Chancer donned her cloak. “I have some work to do today, but my home is your home. Help yourself to what you need.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Well, you saved my life – it’s the least I can do,” she replied. “I’ll be back by evening.”
A minute later, the Pegasus was gone.
She finished her tea, thinking of what she was to do. She couldn’t just leave, she knew. She couldn’t leave the village to its inevitable fate, as she doubted there would be much time before they all froze to death. She’d tour the village, perhaps, ask a few questions, and perhaps seek out a reliable way to undo the damage.
Already suited up, she slipped out, content to leave the sleeping phoenix on her perch. The morning was gray, but there was no wind and it wasn’t snowing. Yet, at least. The poignant stench of darkness was everywhere, swirling around everything.
She took a moment to inspect the outside of Sky Chancer’s home. There was no evidence they were beset by monsters the night before, as far as she could tell. No scratch marks or indentations on the walls or door of the house, not even any signs that anything had moved through the accumulated snow. But she had heard them, seen the shaking they caused.
She turned for the village, and spotted an Earth stallion, clearing snow from the front of his home. He was relatively young, still in his prime, perhaps. He looked burdened, however, as if dragged down by a multitude of weights, and moved with a lethargy of somepony far older than he should have been. He spotted her and offered her a friendly wave, but his smile was fragile and his eyes had bags beneath them. He shivered. It wasn’t from the cold. She moved on.
The village was small. Little homes were built in a scattered cluster, and it was likely quite spacious without the snowdrifts. The style of homes was unfamiliar to her, not the ‘modern’ style she was familiar with, but charming and efficient. She tried not to linger on the houses that appeared dead and empty.
Near the center of the village was a home a little larger than the others. Smoke was steadily rising out from a chimney stack, and she could see a warm glow from inside. It seemed like as good a destination as any.
She approached and tapped on the door, and a faint voice invited her in. She slipped inside and shut the door behind her. It wasn’t a home, but reminded her of a small auditorium. It was likely the place where the village met on important matters, she thought. There was a large stove near the center of the room, and a pony sat there, with a large pot of tea and a heavy blanket. She approached.
“Greetings!” They – he – said. He was a venerable Earth stallion, with a faded green coat and a light blue mane. His voice was shaky, but belied a strength that more than made up for his frail appearance. Much to her relief, she noticed that the darkness was weaker here. “Have a seat.”
She settled down by the warm stove. “Tea?” He offered. She mulled the offer over a moment, and nodded. The cold from outside had affected her more than she expected.
“So you’re the traveler I’ve heard all about, hmm?” She quirked an eyebrow at the question. The stallion chuckled. “Little Sky stopped by earlier, told be ‘bout you.”
“Ah. Yes. You may call me Celeste. It’s fortunate I arrived when I did.”
“Yes, very fortunate…” The stallion said with an idle nod. He chuckled softly. “Perhaps not fortune, but providence, hmm?”
She quirked an eyebrow at the comment, bemused. “You think I was guided here?”
He chuckled again. “Perhaps.” He pointed an old huff at her twice, one towards her head, then her back. “You’re something special, yes?” He grinned.
She glanced up at her horn, then to her back, where her wings were concealed by her cloak. “You’ve noticed,” she said. His grinned widened. “Not many have, although I’ve only met you and two others.”
“Perhaps they do not know,” he said. “Perhaps they do not understand. Perhaps they do not even care too. But I know, I can perceive – you are no mere traveler. A journeyer, on a mission.”
She glanced away, to the cracking fire within the stove. It cast a warm orange glow as it fought back the cold and darkness. She took a sip of her tea – the same Sky Chancer provided, but more flavorful, brewed at the hooves of a master, perhaps. “I’m trying to find answers.”
“And you have found a purpose. Something better, yes?” The stallion said.
“You want me to be a warrior princess?”
The stallion chuckled again, bordering on full-on laughter. “You’ve heard the story, then,” he said. He looked up, thoughtful, then spoke again, his voice factual, lacking the humor: “The story is very old, little more than a legend. How much is truth and how much is myth is a mystery to even me – and I am very old.”
But not as old as…
“I will tell these thing: there is a burial chamber in those caves the story speaks of. An epitaph, even, although time has worn it to scratches. There is power in those caves, power that even a dusty old earthwalker like me can perceive.” He stopped, frowning for the first time since she met him. “And there is now a monster. If it was the kind of monster that tore flesh and devoured the living, it would be a mercy. But this is a slow, freezing death. Minor aches and pains are slow to fade, and wounds don’t seem to want to heal very quickly.”
She sighed. “I don’t know about a purpose, or any divine will, but I know that I want to help.”
He nodded. “Very well – it’s up the hill to the north, can’t miss it. Best to leave early before the storms get fierce,” he said. He nodded over to a folded cloth on a nearby bench. “Please take my cloak. It’ll be a bit warmer than yours.”
She rose and quickly swapped cloaks. His was heavier, smelled of wood smoke, and was embroidered with birds. “Thank you for your help,” she said. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”
“Oh? I don’t think I got yours either,” he replied. She smiled.
“Perhaps after I return.”
Then she turned and left, leaving the warm fire for the dark whiteness.
The cave was further up the hillside than she thought, but she found it. Although she could have found it with her eyes bound and her ears plugged by the darkness that practically flowed from it. What may have once been an uninteresting little hole in the rocks was ominous, icicles dangling down like the fangs of a savage animal. The darkness beyond the mouth was like a solid wall of nothing, obscuring what lied beyond.
She didn’t hesitate, stepping past it. it may have been her imagination, but she thought the darkness ripped like water, resisting her passing.
She conjured a pair of flares, illuminating the winding, ice-covered tunnel. Despite the wind outside, it was deathly still. She sent one flare shooting forward, and it curved off through the tunnel, leaving a faintly glowing trail of light for her to follow.
The next chamber past the entrance tunnel was little more than a junction, with several other dark tunnel mouths branching off in different directions. Pale light filtered through a gap in the ceiling, and ice and snow had formed a pile beneath. Icy formations were clinging to walls.
She stepped into the center of the chamber, ice crunching beneath her hooves. The different tunnels each presented a myriad of unknown possibilities, and she wasn’t sure which one to take. She examined each one, coming to a complete stop in the center of the chamber.
So why did she still hear a crunching sound?