Chapter 4- Fork in the Road
Pyro Mance slowly opened the door to the plantation manor with a creak. He took a peek around the door into the room he had come into. It was no more than a transition room, where one could clean of their hooves or claws before entering the house. He slowly crept inside, slowly letting the door return to its resting place so as to make sure that it did not slam shut.
Once that was done, he turned to the inside and made his way deeper into the lion’s den. Upon exiting the transition room, he found himself in a sort of sitting room, filled with plush and pompous chairs and couches. The sight of it made Pyro sick, bile climbing its way up his throat. How could this monster live in such luxury while hundreds of slaves stood right outside, working themselves to death, all to make sure his cushy lifestyle stayed the way it was.
His anger fueled to new heights, he continued on, eventually coming to the kitchen. Silver pots and pans hung everywhere, some swaying on their hooks as he walked past. The counters gleamed, even with the little light the moon provided. He walked along beside the counter, coming to a stop in front of the only thing that had interested him thus far; a wooden block filled with knives. He pulled each one out, inspecting it, until he found the biggest knife. He held in his magic, twisting it around so he could see all sides.
Satisfied, he made his way out of the kitchen. He wandered around until he found a staircase. Following a hunch, he crept up the wooden steps. Once on the second story, he looked around and saw nothing but doors all around him. He started down the hallway, moving his head from side to side in order to glance at each door as he passed. Every door looked the same, each identical to the last, without a single detail to tell them apart. He shook his head. There was no way for him to tell which room belonged to Grimwrik, and he couldn’t just start opening doors. His luck would eventually run out, and he would alert someone to his presence.
He eventually decided that the best thing to do was search the rest of the manor to see what he could. He made his way back to the stairwell, knife bobbing around in his yellow magic the entire time. He made his way up to the third floor, which was one big open space, filled with tables and other attractions that he had no idea about. There was one table covered in green fabric, holes in each corner and two in the center on opposite sides of each other. Another table, this one oval in shape with one chair facing five others. It was also covered in green fabric, but this time white patterns criss-crossed over it. He walked between each table, looking over each one. After looking down at each one, he took another look around the room. His eyes finally fell on a second stairway at the back of the room that had escaped his notice. He walked towards it, and stared up into the darkness beyond the stairs.
He slowly made his way up, making sure not to let a sound reveal his presence. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he found himself in a hallway, and, there at the end of the hallway, was the most elaborate set of double-doors he had yet to see. In that moment, he knew. He made his way towards the door. When he reached the door, he took the handle in his magic, pushing it down slowly, and swinging the door open even slower. He peeked his head into the room, and took a look around. It was a fairly large room with two other doors leading to a bathroom and the other to a large closet. The room was extravagantly decorated, chest-of-drawers, tables, and other furniture giving the room a homey but imperial feel to it. But none of that really interested Pyro. No, what really caught his attention was the enormous, custom bed with a single figure lying within. The slow rise and fall of the figure showed that it was sleeping.
Pyro crept into the room, careful not to let the door squeak or groan. He made his way slowly to the side of the bed where he found exactly what he was looking for; Grimwrik, blissfully snoring in his slumber, limbs giving slight twitches every now and again. Pyro stared down at the sleeping hybrid, thinking over all the times he had thought about this moment, of all the hate he had for this monster that had taken everything from him. He began to raise the knife in his magic, bringing it to stop high above the hybrid’s chest. Grimwrik gave a snort in his sleep and shifted, unknowingly opening his already vulnerable chest even more to the oncoming attack. For a few moments, Pyro simply stood there, savoring the moment. He raised the knife a little a higher and tensed up, ready to drive the knife into Grimwrik’s heart. But, just as he jerked the blade downwards, a gasp sounded out behind him. He turned swiftly, brandishing the knife in front of him, prepared for anything. Or so he thought.
Standing in the doorway leading to the bathroom, a pale blue, earth pony mare with a dark violet mane had her hoof raised to her mouth, eyes open wide. For several moments, both ponies simply stared at each other, both shocked by the other’s presence. Slowly, the mare lowered her hoof, her features changing from a look of surprise and fear to something more akin to understanding. She made her way across the room, coming to a stop a foot away from the still floating knife. She glanced down at the knife, and then back up at Pyro, looking him in the eyes. After a few seconds went by, she looked to the floor, closed her eyes, and sighed.
“I knew this day would come,” she spoke quietly, opening her eyes. “The way he treats the slaves, how he keeps the plantation going. I’ve told him time and again to rein in his handlers, and to be more gentle with the ponies that work the fields. I was beginning to think that I was getting through to him.” She brought her gaze back up to look at Pyro. “But I guess it’s too little, too late.”
Pyro simply stood there, completely stunned. His mind raced a million miles a minute, trying to figure out exactly what was being said, and trying to find the next logical move. At some point, his mind stopped working, one question burning in his mind. “Who are you?”
The mare smiled, slightly looking to the side. She turned back to Pyro, a look of knowing spread across her features. “My name is Meadow Bonnet, and, like you, I was once a slave. I worked on a different plantation for most of my life, before along came Grimwrik. He was terrifying, but, at the same time, regal and handsome. I was made to serve them as my master and Grimwrik talked of business. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and it cost me. I ended up stumbling, and spilled coffee on the carpet. My master was furious. He began yelling and stomping around, even went to strike me. I closed my eyes, awaiting my punishment, but, when nothing happened, I opened my eyes. Grimwrik had caught my master’s claw before he could bring it down. He looked down at me, and told me to leave them. I did so quickly, and went and hid in one of the slave quarters amongst the other mares. After a time, the door opened and Grimwrik stepped in. He sought me out and told me to come with him. I rode back to his estate with him in his carriage. He made me a maid in his household, and for years I served him. One day, out of the blue, he asked me to marry him. I was stunned to be sure, I of course accepted. We wed and I have spent the last fifteen years by his side.”
With her story at an end, both ponies simply stood in the darkness, the only sound disturbing the silence being Grimwrik’s snores. Pyro looked at this mare, a pony that had been a slave her entire life, and wondered how on Equis she could have possibly fallen for this tyrant. A being so dark and evil that all others in his field of work feared him. He simply could not wrap his head around the idea.
“Why do you want to kill him?”
The question caught Pyro off guard, dragging him out of his thoughts. When he finally processed the question, his face grew dim, anger once again replacing all other emotions. “He took everything from me,” the colt eventually spoke up, turning to stare at the monster that was the source of his nightmare. The knife had been sinking slowly downward as they had been speaking, coming to rest a few inches from the floor, but now it began to tremble as Pyro’s magic responded to his rage. “He executed my father before I was born, he sold my sister to the highest bidder, and he let his handlers work my mother until she collapsed from exhaustion. I’ve lost everyone that I’ve ever loved, and been forced to work for the monster that took them from me. For years I’ve been beaten, starved, overworked, and thrown around, all for HIS benefit!” By this point, Pyro was trembling, his wrath filling his entire being.
Soft hoof-steps behind him told him that Meadow was slowly coming closer, but he didn’t care. The only thing he could think about was the being sleeping in front of him. He wanted to make him pay, to suffer for all the wrong he had caused him. The knife began to slowly rise back into position. He was once again ready to plunge the blade into the hybrid’s chest, when he felt something soft wrap around him, not in threatening or restricting way, but as some sort of comfort. Pyro’s eyes widened, the sudden shock causing him to once again hesitate.
“What will killing my husband solve?”
Another question, and, just like the first, it caught him completely off guard. He stood there, rolling the question roll around in his mind. What would this accomplish? How would this change anything? He was still going to run away, the only difference this would make is that they would come after him, or at least be more motivated to do so. After several minutes, he could only come up with one answer.
“It will solve the pain in my heart.”
“And what of my heart? What happens after you kill him and I’m left here all alone?”
Pyro winced. She had a point. Could he really go through with this? Could he really get rid of all the pain in his heart, just to put it into the heart of another? Someone who had gone through the same things he had, no less. Slowly, he started to lower the knife… only to have something darker take hold.
The yellow aura of his magic began to lose its color, slowly morphing into a deep, dark red. Pyro’s eyes began to burn and itch, and he knew that, if he looked into a mirror, he would see that his eyes would be changing from blue to black. But that worst had yet to come. What came next would, unbeknownst to him, decide his fate.
Kill him…
A dark myriad of voices began ringing out in his head, crashing into his consciousness, trying to force him to commit the dark deed. He struggled against the voices, straining to keep control of his own body and magic.
N-no…
KILL him…
I w-won’t…
Do it… Kill him….
But… Meadow Bonnet….
She is… irrelevant… kill them BOTH….
Pyro’s eyes widened, the last phrase getting to him. They wanted him to kill her, an innocent pony that hadn’t done anything to him, or to any other pony for that matter. They wanted him to hurt her, to take her life.
No… I refuse….
You will… you have no choice....
He fought back with all he had, but still the voices pressed, slowly bringing his resolve to its knees. He could hardly resist the voices any longer, but he couldn’t let them win. He couldn’t let them hurt Meadow. No, he wouldn’t let them hurt her!
That’s it… fight them….
D-dad…?
Yes… keep fighting….
But they’re so strong….
You are… stronger….
Pyro began straining harder, trying desperately to fend off the voices. Yet they continued to beat on his mind, pushing him further and further out of control.
Dad… I c-can’t…. They’re s-so strong….
Then… we will… fight them… TOGETHER…!
A rush of strength flowed through him, and slowly, they began to regain control. The became enraged, fighting like one beast to swallow father and son alike. The fight felt like it lasted hours, but the struggle only lasted a few moments. Together, Pyro junior and senior had pushed the voices back into a corner of his mind.
Now… we must… seal them… away….
How…?
Imagine… a chest… as solid… and… inescapable… as possible….
In his mind’s eye, Pyro conjured up a box, made completely of metal, what kind he didn’t know, but stronger than any he knew of. The box had no seams, no lid or opening. Pyro focused on the box making it less tangible.
Alright, it’s ready….
Then… together….
The pair began to shove against the dark being(s), pushing them/it into the box. It took all of their concentration, all of their combined strength, but after several moments they pushed the darkness into the box.
You cannot win… we will escape… and when we do… we will have you…!
Pyro slammed the box back together, the voices fading from angry shouts, to whispers, and finally into nothing.
Thanks, dad… you really saved my flank… dad…? DAD…?
I’m… here… but… I am… weak… very… weak… I must… rest… I will not… be able… to speak… with… you… until I… regain… my… strength… take care… my son….
And with that, Pyro felt his father’s presence leave him. He opened his eyes and sat down hard, panting and sweating. He looked around, and found that the knife had been buried into the headrest of the bed, its occupant none the wiser as Grimwrik continued to slumber. He turned his head and saw Meadow Bonnet cowering in the corner. She looked terrified.
“Are you alright?” Pyro asked quietly, still panting. The mare simply nodded, slowly seeming to calm down. Pyro turned back around and took a few more moments to catch his breath. He finally stood up, and, taking the knife in his magic, removed it from the headboard. He turned to Meadow Bonnet, who was looking at him with a mix of fear and confusion. He looked at her, then to the knife, and came to an understanding. He put the blade on the floor, and made his way towards her. She seemed to calm down a little, but still didn’t move away from the wall.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I’m not entirely sure myself,” he replied, shrugging. He stopped a few feet away from her. The young colt looked at her, thinking through the events of the night. Thoughts and questions ran rampant through his mind, leading him to ask a question. “Why did you hug me?”
Meadow seemed to be taken aback, before she softened. “Because,” she started, getting up and moving to sit in front of him. “I saw a young, confused, and angry pony that was in so much pain that he wanted to make others feel the same… and, when I looked at him, I saw myself. When I was a slave, I spent years hating my master, wishing that he would just die. After marrying Grimwrik, I realized just how much that anger had affected me, and how lucky I was that someone had come along and taken it all away.”
Both ponies stared at each other, neither knowing what more to say. After a while, Pyro got up, went and picked the knife back up, and started walking back to the door. As he opened the ornate door, Meadow stopped him.
“You could stay here,” she said from her position across the room. Pyro turned his head to look at her, before sighing and looking away from her.
“Thank you… but I can’t,” he said, never looking back at her. “There’s nothing here but anger and bad memories. I’m leaving, and never coming back.” And so he left. He closed the door, walked down the hallway, down the stairs, passed the strange tables, down more stairs, through the kitchen where he replaced the knife on his way out.
He finally made his way out of the mansion, and looked out over the horizon. He started walking, never looking back. The path had been split before him, and he had made a choice. He was powerful, extraordinarily so, and he knew it, but he decided then and there that he would never use that power to hurt anyone out of spite. He had chosen his path, and it was his path to travel. And travel he would, so much so that, one day, people would tell tales of the Wasteland Wanderer.
End Freedom Arc