//------------------------------// // 十四 (Something Really Matters) // Story: Divine Move // by Ice Star //------------------------------// I swatted a branch away with my magic, watching the flames of green and violet consume it and the ashes drop the ground where they would soon be buried by leaves and other debris and be buried beneath something far more vast just as that castle was. There wasn't even any Alicorn Amulet there. I couldn't find a single trace of dark magic within the old castle. In the ruined one I first entered I was able to feel the barest traces of dark magic, but whatever artifact - possibly the amulet - was the source that was removed I didn't however bother to try and figure out if it was the amulet or not since I doubt I'd be that lucky and I'm not sure why Celestia would want it. Luck has never been something I played with, I have skills that would put such an idea like 'luck' to shame. It would also be foolish to meddle with such a fickle thing. Just ask Onyx. He got everything he ever wanted, and nothing he bargained for. After all, luck was on his side the whole time, and it turned on him as well. Nothing will stay by your side if you lie to it, use it, torture it, and abuse it. Of course, somepony like him wouldn't understand that. I've seen what's in his mind and know things about him that I don't think he'll ever learn about himself. One of those things is that he killed other creatures, equine or other, because he knew nopony loved him, but of course he'd never admit to that. It's safe to say he doesn't realize it either. He had a head but he sure didn't use it and I do have copies of all his memories to access as I please, so I didn't even have to try to poke around the deepest depths of the deranged subconscious that belonged to that unbearable brat. ... There are many things I question, and even more that I judge. I'll criticize anything and anypony. Nothing is free from the inevitable conclusions that I will make. I can tear apart the life choices and entire existence of somepony in five minutes if I'm feeling lazy, and I can doubt any philosophy back to the paper and ink it sprang from. It appears that I'm the alicorn princess of judgement. I simply have yet to earn my wings. Currently, I'm judging what is either a tree... or a house... I'm not entirely sure how I found this place. Should I pull out the map Mayfly gave me? The air around here smells of strange plants coming from inside the tree. Does the creature who live here do some kind of plant rearranging? I don't see any gardens or space that would be devoted to farmland. I'm more interested in what could be inside since I don't sense anypony besides me here. I have got to be the world's oldest petty criminal. ... Whoever lives here probably has more issues than Canterlot's newspaper which can still trace its roots back to before this Discord. So technically it's older than me. I'm not the only book from a bygone era but at least newspapers usually don't die of time displacement. Still, the door should have been locked, charmed, or something. Just because you live in an enchanted forest doesn't mean that you'll be forgiven for leaving your door unlocked. Now that I can view the interior, the presence of the many different plant scents are explainable. This... tree-house? Is there a technical name for these structures? I suppose I'll just think of it as..., I levitate an open book over so I'm able to read the label pasted inside the front cover, 'Zecora's' house. "May I never have to pronounce that aloud," I mumble, closing the book and putting it down right where I had found it. This small and unusual dwelling belonged to an apothecary or perhaps some kind of botanist. Many trinkets are lying about, hardly any of them are Equestrian in style. I poke a large mask with my hoof. It looks mostly decorative in nature and I can't see any sign that it should be used for wear. The only objects that lie about that I am familiar with are various books, some of which lie open to various pages featuring illustrations of exotic looking flora as well as small tears and even a few signs that something was spilled on one or two of them at some point in time. It doesn't take long for me to feel it: the unmistakable steady pulse of strong magic. No, not just magic itself, a source. This is improbable. It isn't exactly passive magic either. Unlikely. It rises from the floor, I can feel the energy best in my hooves. Coincidence. Whatever this is is simply waiting for a pony to come along and find it. And it's only improbable. My eyes scan the cabin hungrily until I'm sure that I've got the exact condition and location of every single object memorized. Overwhelming. That's what this energy has become now that I have found something similar in make to myself, or rather it has found me. It's unbelievable but then again, whose beliefs are we going off of? In less than a minute I have this place torn apart. There's a searing hole in the floor. There's a chest inside that hole. I found the magic. The Alicorn Amulet is mine. The interior is reconstructed in an instant and everything is replaced as it was except the prize I have just acquired and the hole in the floor sealed without a trace. I slip away just as quickly as I had entered. My tracks are cleverly covered up just as they should be. Some think it's wise to hide any trace of their presence as soon as they know somepony will be looking for them. That has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I have heard to date because by then it will be too late. If anypony were to attempt to do anything properly they would cover up their tracks before anypony even considered looking for them. For me, it's as simple as dissolving into shadows. ... I only inspect the amulet once I can guarantee that I'm not being followed and I have safely slipped into a forest clearing free of any other creatures that would think to spy on me. A quiet breeze finds its way through the trees and it was oddly cool for what I had seen of Equestrian summers thus far. Metal meets metal as I lean against the trunk of a tree balancing the amulet on my forehooves, I can still feel the magic it has drifting about the air as it rests on top of the cold soles. It was in the Book, and that was enough for me to want this trinket. I don't know the history it went through before it came to where it is now, nor could it possibly know how I have arrived here. I'm not an object and the amulet is not a pony but there is an undeniable connection between it and myself, but there are even more divides. It is not my equal, my superior, or like nearly all I have encountered, my inferior. How is such an object comparable to me? I slump against the tree and sink to the ground where I set the amulet beside me, not bothering to cast another look at the dull hunk of metal or push away the few strands of my mane that have found their way in front of my eyes. I could destroy it. It cannot corrupt me for I am magic as well. The breeze has returned and a few leaves are stirred. Up north there was never much of a summer, just winter and not-quite-as-cold-passable-as-spring-so-who-even-cares-at-this-point winter. I never loathed the cold as Onyx did but it was still interesting to see how seasons shift wherever I happened to be, even if I personally prefer the cold. Cold can preserve things, some physical, others hardly even visible and yet more powerful than most could possibly dream of. Memories are clearer than the crystal city. Hatred that will never consume wantonly, but gradually cripple with careful calculation before one is buried with all they have ever loved drowned out as malice is packed around them, numbing their victim to everything but the poison that was so carefully crafted for them. So many things can be preserved by cold and though as fond of hatred as I am, its opposite has become my favorite. They really aren't as dissimilar as most ponies would think. Their natures are even more varied than coat colors and a thousand times more personal. Both can bring about one's downfall, or become a saving grace. With little effort on the part of a manipulator and time itself they can transform into one another. Destruction, salvation or something else entirely, perhaps much more simple in nature can be achieved with these powers. Each one is an infatuation of some kind that can be mistaken for one another. Out come the silver fragments, like a fallen star. They tumble out onto the grass landing with a soft thud, each falling from the grip of my magic where I coolly watch their brief course. Destruction is not mandatory, I need not break this amulet, but I can still twist it into whatever I please by tapping into the artifact's magic and altering it with my own in order to mend what has been broken. Bright red is quickly overwhelmed by crimson as the silver stars re-arrange themselves in the incomplete shape of what was. I ignore the missing pieces, that's what my magic is for and what the amulet will aid in. I'm no weaponsmith and I've never been fond of doing anything through the most conventional means since most tasks, such as this, are hardly any fun without some kind of experimentation. The glow I've been controlling up till now swells until ruby light bathes the clearing as I wrap up the last bit of the spell. As it fades I am able to see what I have created. Resting on the grass is a sword none but myself have ever laid eyes upon before. The blade is a sharp, thin tempered silver with all sorts of renewed enchantments. Compared to Phobos, a plain broadsword, the shape of this blade was that of a scimitar which was a type of sword with a curved blade that comes from some of the other southern countries. While I've never seen the land where the kind of sword comes from, I had seen and even held one of the blades in my magic before. Crawling across the the silver colored metal as vines creep across a trellis were crooked veins of red crystal that avoided forming near the edge of the blade. The pommel was marked by a silver jewel with the qualities of a pearl even though I had never seen such a gem before. This unearthly gem led to the hilt of dull red metal, a swirling pattern cleanly etched in it and from there the crossguard of dull black. It was still in the recognizable shape as the amulet, minus the miniature Alicorn sculpture. The red gem still rested in the center gleaming with the light of the nearby veins of the blade, unlike those this gem was embedded in the metal... I remember when metal used to feel cold, like ice did but that was some time ago. Silence, in name only, until the air is punctuated with a sigh from myself and another whisper of the breeze, both a minute apart. My gaze is drawn to the silver crescent-like claws that adorn the ends of the crossguard. Each grasp their own pearl-like gem like that of the pommel and they are the color of moonlight. Sun scorches the leaves and grass as I reside in shade. Moonlight. A single word that echoes with a heavy heart throughout my mind. Another half-hearted sigh from myself as I get up, not bothering to brush the grass from my coat. Magic, mine of course, grabs the new sword while pulling Phobos from the sheath it had know throughout its run. As I stick the black blade in the ground, and wedge it in as best I can, I feel myself stumble and my vision blurs. A minute later I'm almost crumpled to the ground, heart hammering in my chest and gasping for breath. Blood roars in my ears and I can feel the smooth coolness of Phobos’ dark blade through the cold sweat. Running out... I'm running out of magic... I- My mind falters for words, there's no point in trying not to cry anymore because I know I can't. I open my mouth to say something, to apologize, utter anything, but only manage something in between a choked gulp and a dry heave before the wind resumes, clearly having much more to say. There's so much to say but nopony to say them to. Everything around me is screaming. Somewhere inside, I'm screaming too. After a while there's a dull flicker from my horn and I manage to stand up, my legs are shaking. I still hold the new sword in my forehooves, but after much effort I'm able to slip into the battered sheath it will now call home. The shape's a bit off but maybe if I have the time... if I have the time... I can alter that. It's a simple exchange. Fear for Fate. Now I wield Fate.