Rise of Ponietheus

by twitterdick

1. 'Theus: Prologue/Every Beginning has an Ending

A lady alicorn, deep gray, pushed her way thru the clouds and gently laid her hooves upon snow covered rock. A brisk cold swept around her, like nothing she'd felt in space, and her face squished with indignity as she shivered for the very first time. Fog had crept upon the mountain, though she cared little for the lands below.

Just then, a great white figure appeared from a nearby cave. He flexed his mighty wings, a stretch, then called to her. "Solon!" he said, "Always a pleasure. I'm a little surprised that you accepted my invitation, with most of us disinclined to set hoof on this planet."

Solon bit down as her neck stiffened. "What is this unbearable sensation!?"

The white figure laughed. "That's cold, sweetheart. The same cold Draco has confined my friends to. I've a shelter in a cave over there, it'll warm you up."

Solon stepped into the cave and shook off the snow. Her host moved about the abode before her, sending sparks into a fire with his magic. He grabbed a grey, patchwork quilt from a rack and tossed it towards his kin. It landed upon her back as she settled in.

"What's this?" She asked.

"They call it a 'quilt'. The ponies use it to keep warm in these storms." The host replied. There were several others upon wooden racks, but he did not reach for one. "You're supposed to wrap it around yourself."

Solon was puzzled, but complied. She suffered one last shiver before settling. The warmth captured by the quilt embraced her. She shut her eyes for a brief second, relieved. Heat radiated from her host's fire. He was silent, as if anticipating a blow. Her eyes opened suddenly. Fire. She met her host's bright blue eyes with her own.

"This quilt, this fire, this was not your work but work from the Lessers. Draco has forbidden them fire. 'Theus, where did they get this fire!?"

Ponietheus smiled weakly. "I'd like to show you something, if you think you can handle that dire-some cold for a bit longer."

He took off then without waiting for her response. She followed him as a hound upon prey. He shot from the cave and leap from the edge of the snowy mountain in flight, diving downward against the wind. A valley entered view below with great mountains scattered around its contours, like the edges of an iron box. Beneath the dusty clouds was a stone city nestled in the valley as perfect a rectangle as nature would allow. Towers neared the skyline, and Solon found it hard to spot Ponietheus among the lights and buildings. Never had such a creation been carved from this planet, or any planet Solon had witnessed. Her heart fluttered at the marvel, and her eyes poured upon the white and grey structures, the banners, the streets and the ever expanding walls. Noises burst from the corners of bustling marketplaces, homes, business and industry. Smells of steam and of bakery blended with the bitter cold in her nostrils. Her head filled with thoughts of wonder, of anger and of foul things to come.

Ponietheus perched himself upon the highest structure there, a mighty watchtower near the city's southern border that oversaw vast plains of temperate green. He waited patiently for his guest to join him. She landed just behind him, her mouth still and agape in amazement - her brow a flurry of worry.

"…Pretty nice place, south of here. It would sure beat this cold." Ponietheus said, his gaze fixed upon the gardens beyond the southern mountains.

Solon scoffed. "That… that city! What is that!? Where did it come from?"

"The mighty city of Hailcryon; Those 'Lessers' built it. They finished it in just 87 years. All they needed was a little fire, a little thought and a little motivation." Ponietheus broke his stance and turned to her, his face uncannily sincere. "They are not chattel and they are not a living mockery. They are my friends, they think and they can barely stand the cold of this valley even with all I have given them."

Solon shuttered from cold and anger. "So you summoned me here for this - to display your rash actions like a trophy? Do you not see what you've done? Do you not see the wrath you shall bring on yourself?"

Ponietheus paused and studied his guest. He smiled. "How are your girls?" he asked, "The younger one especially, I do miss her so."

"What right have you to ask such questions?"

"The same right you have to question me. Questions are a marvelous good, Solon. They have all sorts of uses. It's best that one should question everything; every fact, every belief… every order."

"You've done much wrong. Draco urged caution and you ignored him, and in doing so you've only sown more violence to come. These hornless, wingless creatures - All they do is eat and grow. They'll ruin the landscape and the other animals if they're allowed to roam freely."

"You're quite morbid. I only mean to pose a game - a game of questions. You ask me a question and I shall answer it truthfully. Then you provide the same for me. Deal?"

Solon stood still a second, eyeing her white host. She swallowed. "Very well. What's your plan, then?"

Ponietheus laughed merrily, as if at a social gathering. "Solon, it is my turn," he said. "You asked about the city before and I answered you. So it is your turn to answer me: How are your daughters?"

Solon slunk back, shifting her head lower. "They are both doing quite…well," she said with a voice fully embedded with hesitation. "Luna is very fond of you. She asks about you all the time."

A somber look fell upon Ponietheus's eyes. "Tell her I'll be away a long time, but I'm very fond of her as well. She'll be a powerful magic user in the future, if she remembers her training."

"Now then, what is your plan?"

"To ask Draco to allow my friends beyond the southern mountains so that they can lead better lives. If he complies, he'll see no more of them or of me - he'll keep his beloved order. If he refuses, which he'll probably will, then we will force our way out. He hasn't so much as glanced at the ponies here in 87 years."

Solon scoffed, "Your love of the Lessers and of challenging those above will be your downfall. Draco will hear nothing from you and he will sweep down from the heavens and destroy you. You wanted violence, you've sown it and you shall have it. You're so very quick to judge, but so slow to understand the consequences of your rash actions!!"

"Very cryptic, madam," he replied swiftly. "My turn."

He began to pace subtly. His eyes shifted in calculation and his head drifted in thought. "Have you ever wondered why Draco proclaims our liberator and savior then damns a race of creatures simply because they look like us without the wings, horns and words? Does it not bother you that he named himself our diligent and omnipotent lord then spends 87 years doing nothing? He didn't even look down and notice a city being built."

"Such thoughts never entered my mind; I am loyal to my lord, just as you should be. I won't play your game any longer. Draco will hear of your betrayal and your theft of fire, and you will meet a just punishment. I pray it swift and satisfying. You are my friend no longer."

With her poisonous words spattered at her unsuspecting host, the deep grey maiden rose to the skies and soured away with indignity. Ponietheus stood in place a moment, and dismissed such with a joke. It did not mitigate those words. He swallowed, and then walked towards the way into the tower.

Another alicorn pushed his way outside, swinging the door open wide. He was tall and broad with a coat like blood - more black than red; crimson, fiery. He met Ponietheus's eyes with his own auburn pair, and tipped his head slightly.

Ponietheus's heart skipped. "Saturn!" he shouted. "You startled me."

"I have that effect on others." Saturn responded dryly with a voice like gravel. "Gaea and the rest of the dissenters await you below. They'd like to hear your plan."

"Solon did exactly what I expected," Ponietheus said, pushing his way into the tower's entrance. Saturn did not follow immediately.

"I do not approve of your alliance with Gaea, Drifter." Saturn said, employing his self-issued nicknames. His face was grave. "She has an agenda and she means to drag you into it. She does not care for your… friends, and I fear she will become another Draco; stagnant and hollow."

Ponietheus paused. He stared down at the floor. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose," he responded frankly. "I have no great love of her, and I doubt she feels any different. Our dealings are just a transaction. She gets her power and my friends get out of this valley. Everyone wins."

"Except Draco… and you," Saturn said.

"…And me." Ponietheus whispered. He turned to his friend, "No more wars after this, Saturn. This universe needs to… settle down a while and catch its breath. You'll see to it, won't you."

Saturn shook his head. "There will always be wars," he said coldly.

"…I fear you're right."

"So that's your plan then!?" Gaea barked, her deep green skin flustering. Her pale auburn eyes struck at Ponietheus. "…To have Solon run off to tattle to her husband - to pit all those hornless idiots against the might of Draco's followers? Are you blind or just careless?"

Ponietheus stood across from her at a stone table in the tower. She was dressed in silk and bore bands of gold and jewels. Her lap dog, Jupiter, stood diligently at her side.

"Neither," Ponietheus replied, his voice struggling to mask anger. "My friends have known what's to come and I've spent many long years planning this. I do not proceed with these kind of things unless I am damn sure I know what I'm doing. I've got contingencies covered, Gaea, including if you choose not to uphold our agreement. Solon will relay a message to Draco and he will gather his best lackies and attack me. You will find his keep easy to take and the power you covet so will be yours."

Gaea scoffed, "Do not think your 'wit' frightens me. I am no 'contingency'. I remember my family and my people while you galavant in the fields of this fickle planet with your dear 'Lessers'. You can have them, and trust me - I mean not to betray you. I desire Draco gone as much as you, so don't call me to a council to fill my ears with your 'contingencies'-"

"Then don't come here to insult me!!" Ponietheus said firmly, "You and your lackies didn't have the brains to pull this off! You can to me, remember!? Draco will attack soon, and when he brings his guard planet-side, be sure you and all your followers are out of Earth's atmosphere. I will deploy my weapon, you take care of any that flee the system. Draco's place is yours, Earth is mine."

"Very well!" Gaea snarled. "Earth is yours - take it! Don't poke your nose up in the Empyrean after, or I very well might hack it off. My followers and I will keep our part of the bargain, you can be sure of that. Let's just hope your 'weapon' and your 'contingency plans' hold up."

She snapped her head towards the exit, and Jupiter moved quickly to get the door for her. The two pushed past Ponietheus and Saturn and embarked upwards into the cloudburst. Saturn stood still. Ponietheus remained in his place, staring down at the stone table.

Saturn spoke, "Can't seem to put you in a room with anyone with there being anger."

Ponietheus barely snickered, "Hmm. I have that effect on other folks, evidently."

"…What is this 'weapon' of yours. Is it truly so wicked?"

Ponietheus looked coldly at his friend. He pulled a shred paper from beneath his left wing and slapped it down on the vacant table. Saturn eyed the deep black letters and symbols that covered its surface and marveled. Anxiety spread about his frame like the flames of war, and he regarded that strip of meager paper like a prophet, or an ending. "No amount of hate… not even hate of Draco would power such a curse. That thing will shatter you, Drifter."

"Every pony in Hailcryon hates Draco, Saturn. There is enough to power this spell. No one can stop us now."

---

Ponietheus awoke alone in a stone bed. He exhaled. It was a very special day. He pulled himself from his makeshift cot and ventured through a dimly lit stone hallway into a vast camber of pillars, shelves and books. He walked up a wide set of steps onto the second floor and approached a tall stone mural of times long since passed. The depicted pictures there were long since glossed over in immeasurable rows and columns of tally marks the stretched up high into the overhanging ceiling. Ponietheus levitated up to the bottom row of tallies that came down about 6 ft from the base of the wall. He dug his mighty horn into the stone work and crossed over a group of four tallies then redid the lingering math that haunted his mind. '1,599,999 plus 1 is equal to 1,600,000.' he thought, 'This is my 1,600,000th day in this forsaken place.'

It was Tuesday. Yesterday he had continued reading the many works of fiction stored in the grand library he lived in; so that was Monday. Today, Tuesday, he would walk eastward through the deserted marketplaces and crumbling buildings and hike up the great mountain and nap in that cave he used to live in. Tomorrow would be Wednesday, when he would walk south and climb the great tower to watch the sunset and look to that valley his 'friends' had long parted to. On Wednesdays he would bite his tongue and sneer up there, cursing himself for being so weak.

He walked amount the buildings as they fell further and further into decay. The life that had lived there was thousands of years dead, and he had stopped maintaining the ruins for some time. The walk would eat up for hours, and he would hum hymns of respite that had ceased meaning.

The abandoned streets echoed with his words, his songs:

I won't cry when you leave.

When I have lost you, I won't grieve.

I don't bleed when you bite.

Nor will I crawl back to you despite hate or fright.

I won't shiver in the cold.

I won't let the shadows take their toll.

I won't cover my head in the dark.

And I won't forget you, when we part.

I won't heal given time.

I don't try to change your mind.

I don't feel better in the cold light of day.

He repeated those words between fits of silence and thoughts, as if they were all he needed to stay darkness and cold. The winds of Hailcryon bit into him as he bit his tongue, and ignored the howling around him. Snow cut his soul, and he walked up into the mountains past the dead plants and cold rocks. He went into his cave and shot fire into the wood he had left last Tuesday. He slept there near the fire and dreamt nothing.

His city welcomed him with its perennial silence, and he returned to find his library vacant and endless. All seemed as he left it - a still, disorganized study. Books were littered disjointly on shelves, and scattered on desks. A long stone table stretched from the dimly lit stairs where Ponietheus marked the days to the large, wooden double-doors where he enter. It was littered with scraps of food where he left them, books and sheets of paper where he left them and… a ceramic jar that was not there before. The oddment caught his eye almost a soon as he entered the library. He approached it and lifted it up into the air near his face. Etched on its front was a strange upright figure atop a wingless, hornless white alicorn - much too large for a pony. The Eldridge figure was draped in decrepit, emaciated bandages - save his left eye - and it wore a dim crown. It faced him, its left eye ablaze in blue. A note was suddenly illuminated by a candle near him, and he caught it with his gaze:

Oh stricken one, doomed to linger within the dead city,

it has been thousands of years since you and Draco exchange curses

and you found yourself alone.

But I have not forgotten you, despite your thoughts of the contrary,

and I hope to repay your for your good deeds,

even after so much time.

I have searched for a certain mighty power for years, and I have found it.

Within this jar, you will find a powder that will answer that which burns inside you.

It's magic will bend to your will and override Draco's;

You will be free of Hailcryon,

and able to return that kindness those you fought for gave you.

Oh, and Draco's daughters live south of here, in that kingdom you see off in the distance.

I'm sure they'd love to see you again.

Happy hunting.

Then, he slammed the jar back upon the stone table and backed away, backed away as if the note was the very specter of the past - the various moments he wasted in that library brought to life. His heart pounded like thunder, and his focus shifted upwards to the various dark places in the library. His mind buzzed with the perception of unheard voices, his eyes brought alicorn shapes to the shadows. "No, no, no…" he mumbled, "No, I won't…shiver."

He moved away from the jar, up to the balcony where he could watch the sun set. His body stood in that place where the sun sank behind the western mountains, crossing the tip of the very tall one that held his cave. Yet his mind lay fixed on the jar, the note and the pale blue eye of the slender figure that stared into him - into all he was! He squeezed his blue eyes shut, and shook away those thoughts. The skies above him rumbled.

Peace and sleep evaded him that night.

Morning crawled to the valley, and the sun found itself forced behind formations of cloud. Ponietheus pulled himself from his bed near noon after laying awake for hours. 'Wednesday…' he thought, 'It's Wednesday and I'm to climb the south tower.'

He rushed to the library's door. His eyes did not meet the jar, but his peripheral vision sure caught it. It was pushed to the edge of the table near the base of the stairs, as if it had been drawn closer to him. Light from windows above fell upon it perfectly, setting it apart from the rest of the clutter building up on the table. Ponietheus slammed the door behind him and did not mark the day upon the wall.

He sat still up on the great southern watchtower as the sun spiraled above him. His eyes were fixed on the wondrous green plains to the south, to the home of his old friends. Cloud clotted the skyline above. He baked in the warm bath of the sun, but all he felt was mud and red and a deep festering burning in the pit of his gut. He felt the urge to eye his library hinging on the back of his head as if it were a physical thing attached to his very skin. The sun began to approached the mountains to his right, and he stood and spread his wings. They pinged from the lack of exercise, but he shot above the dead city to his library. The front doors opened so very easily.

There, before him on the table, was that terrible clay. He lifted it quickly and poured the black powder within onto the table. It sat and dissipated; lifeless. Then it shot up and spiraled around him, wrapping itself onto his very skin. Clouds gathered above unnaturally fast, and they shook and boomed violently. The winds outside howled mercilessly, and the black powder was set upon him now. It covered all but his snout, his left eye and the tip of his horn. He heard a buzzing then, and a masquerade of whispers - calling. Calling. He did not smile, but faded into a dark melody in his head.

A plague upon your home;

A defiler all alone.

A cat among the crows;

A butcher and his prose.

A raider… conquering.