In Which A New Day Dawns
The morning sun fell gently on Cobblestone’s face as she shifted in her sleep, sinking deeper into the covers of her bed. She was sleeping the boneless sleep of the very young, of the very tired. Every now and again, she would begin to grow restless, the smoothness of her face creased by worry, but the cat by her side would simply twitch his tail or an errant whisker, and she would settle back into dreamless sleep. She had earned it, given what she had endured over the past days, and what she surely would endure in the days to come.
She had been given this room, termed a “guest room”, last night, as the quarters she would be using for the rest of her time at the Regia were still being prepared. The servant who had showed her where she was to be sleeping had apologized profusely for the small size of the room, informing her that her actual quarters would be half as big again, containing her own workspace and eventually a library. The room she was in now was bigger than any place she had ever lived, ever.
Windows high in the air opened and shut individually with the flick of a switch, and so too did the curtains open and shut. The bed was enormous, the size of a small carriage, and was possessed of a mattress softer than anything Cobblestone could have conceived of sleeping on. A wardrobe stood empty to one side that could likely hold her and three more ponies of her size easily, and the bath in the other room was bigger than some ponds she had seen in Crescent City.
The room was silent save for the quiet ticking of a clock by the side of her bed, paneled in ivory and gold and ebony. Not a sound permeated the peace that had fallen over the room after Cobblestone had fallen asleep last night, not the sound of the servants in the hall outside, nor the sounds of the bustling castle grounds, dealing with the business of the coming day. And then, just as suddenly, there was a sound.
“Wake up,” said a voice that reminded her of charcoal and curdled milk. The stench of candy floss filled the room. “Wake up, daughter of Clarity.”
Cobblestone shot awake immediately, only to find herself pinned to the bed by a massive but gentle force. It was all she could do to turn her head and regard the stallion standing by her bed. The sunlight glinted off of the single fang in his grin, and she could see every individual hair in his matted gray goatee, but it was the eyes she found herself focusing on. They gleamed with the unpleasant promise of violence, unbridled rage, and utter insanity.
“Dis,” she said, her voice strained with effort. “What do you want?”
“Be silent, you little whelp,” the stallion snarled. “Do you know what it is you’ve done? What favors you’ve called on? Do you know what Archetypes you have invoked with your little stunt last night? Speak to me again and I’ll have you smeared to ashes, and damned be the consequences.”
The pressure on the unicorn increased, and Cobblestone’s survival instincts kicked in, warning her to keep very, very still. She watched as Dis readjusted his bloodred tie nervously, straightening his rumpled suit. “You were meddling with forces neither you nor your oh-so-precious Lady Everstar could understand,” he growled. “And now I’m being held accountable for your actions. Count yourself lucky that you called upon them, Cobblestone, or I would have killed you myself.”
Cobblestone looked at him, her heart racing. He could do it, she knew. He could crush her into a tiny speck with an errant thought. So why wasn’t he doing it? And for that matter…
“My mother’s name,” she said. “How do you know her name?”
Dis gave her a contemptuous look. “I know everything about you,” he said. “From the first word you spoke to the first step you took. I know how many times you’ve stolen to keep yourself fed, Cobblestone. I know every desire you ever had, and every mistake you’ve ever made. I Know you, Cobblestone. Otherwise I’d have left you to rot on that ferryboat, or let you die in the alleyway where you met that cat of yours.”
Cobblestone managed to glance at Hob, only to see him laying still, his chest rising and falling evenly. Still asleep, then.
“Your use of the power you possess puts me in a very delicate spot,” Dis said. “Not to mention that abominable oath you took.”
He shook his head, pacing back and forth. “I thought you were smarter than this, Cobblestone. I thought you knew what you were doing. Everything I’ve told you, for your own good, even! Out of the goodness of my heart! I tell you not to ally yourself with the Everstars, and the first thing you do is let yourself become the pet of their own pet mage. I tell you not to get tied up in deals with things you don’t understand, and you go and tweak the noses of gods!”
A pipe that had not been there before appeared in his mouth, and he began to puff on it nervously. The smoke, shimmering pinkish-gray, began to coil around his head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. This is why I chose you in the first place. But really, Cobblestone. There’s stirring up the pot, and then there’s…this.”
“You still haven’t explained what it was I did, exactly.”
“You made a deal, you little idiot,” Dis said, puffing his pipe more agitatedly, until hardly a thing could be seen of his face behind a shimmering cloud of smoke. “A deal with powers beyond the ken of mortals. By invoking blood, bone, wood, and sand, you borrowed power from things. Big things. Hungry things. They noticed you, Cobblestone. If you thought you had attracted the attention of some unsavory sorts before, you should know that compared to what you called up last night, they’re ants to a bull.”
Cobblestone felt her blood turn to ice. More things interested in her? Besides the Cult?
“You weren’t supposed to be able to do what you did,” the dun-colored unicorn continued. “Not for a while yet. The fact that you managed to awake your ability this early, and use it like you did, makes you very interesting for a great many reasons. The least of which being that you have absolutely no control over these bouts of magic.”
“What do you mean?” Cobblestone asked. “I thought I had it under control. Lady Everstar told me how to shut it off!”
“What you did with your mind was like putting a dike made of paper in front of a lake. A lake made of fire. Your control is tenuous at best and nonexistent at worst,” Dis said. He grinned through the haze of smoke, exposing his long, yellowed fang. “That power is…capricious. Chaotic. And it will only get worse with more ponies around, more sources of power for it to feed on. You were fine with Lady Everstar alone, and you may be able to control it in a room with half a dozen others. But more than that, and you’ll feel your control over it start to waver. And that’s a pinkie promise.”
“What’s more,” he continued, “You’ll be forced to maintain control over yourself day and night, especially when you’re casting spells. That means no more outbursts of anger, no more jumping for joy, no tumbling head over hooves in love, not unless you can keep that power of your under control, which you most definitely cannot. Because if you lose control of your power, if you slip up and are unable to regain control…”
His grin spread wider, and he chuckled. “I’ll need to…reprimand you. Give your brain a hard reset, as it were. Not by any desire of mine, you understand. I’d much rather you lose control of it, it’s far more interesting. But such is the price I must pay in order to stop those nasties I was telling you about from just making you disappear in a puff of smoke.”
He blew a cloud of too-sweet smoke into her face to illustrate his point, and Cobblestone felt her head begin to spin. Sure enough, she could feel something running ragged on the edge of her personality, a gnawing at the base of her mind, like little rats nibbling away. She shuddered.
“How do I stop it?” she asked desperately, her voice beginning to fill with panic. “There has to be a way.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Dis said. He held out his pipe, and it began to grow wider and taller. The stem curled in on itself, becoming a handle. Soon enough, he was holding a mug which contained a familiar brownish-black liquid, resembling tea. The bitter smell of anise filled the air. “A small amount of Dragon’s Kiss will allow you to bleed away excess power and keep it more or less under control for a day. But you’ll need to be careful. Too much, and you won’t be able to do much more than watch as you reach inside the souls of others and turn them into the drooling wrecks you almost made your cellmates.”
Cobblestone would have flinched away if she could have, but Dis’s magic held her in place. She felt a pang of desire, a primal want that filled every fiber of her being. She could almost taste the stuff on her tongue, and her body ached with the memory of phantom warmth and languid heaviness. She closed her eyes.
“Get it away,” she said, “Please. I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll stop talking. Just…just get it away.”
“What’s the matter?” Dis said mockingly. He lifted the cup to his lips and drained the whole thing dry. It was all Cobblestone could do not to cry out at the sight of the object of her desire being consumed by another. “I thought you liked the stuff. And besides, it’s rude to refuse a drink. Didn’t your precious mentor teach you that? You’ll need to ask her to make it for you anyway, so you had better get used to it.”
Cobblestone said nothing, shuddering with the effort of repressing her desire for the drug. It was like being in withdrawal again. She curled into a ball, pressing her eyes shut, and tried to ignore the unicorn standing by her bed.
“Spoilsport,” Dis said. He reached out and patted her on the head. “You haven’t even heard the best part! The part where I come in!”
“As of now, I’m going to be watching you. And since I’ve been forced to take a role in your development, I have a few expectations. When I speak, you listen. When I tell you to do something, do it. It’s for your own good, after all. Do you understand?”
He waited expectantly for her to speak up. Seeing nothing forthcoming, he continued. “I’m required to keep you alive until you can master your powers, Cobblestone. I need to keep you from causing too much trouble too soon, otherwise your power is going to cause a bigger headache than you’re worth. So I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Remember that, Cobblestone. No matter where you go or what you do, I’ll be keeping one of my eyes on you.”
A ruby red eye winked out of the cloud of smoke, leaving only one of the gleaming orbs regarding her balefully. “And I know exactly what kind of magic you’ll need to learn to bring that magic under control, Cobblestone. It’s a personal favorite of mine, messy and imprecise as Breaking magic is. You’ll have many opportunities to turn down the wrong roads, Cobblestone. So many wrong choices, so many things to lead you into the shadow.”
The cloud around his head grew darker, the pink fading to be replaced by black. “So if I decide you’ve decided to get a bit too chaotic, or that you’ve made deals with the wrong devils, then you’ll find me there. And then you really will vanish in a puff of smoke,” he said, his voice losing some of its false good cheer, becoming almost a growl, bestial and gravely. “Do I make myself clear, Cobblestone? Behave. Cause all the trouble you like. But make sure you can control it, or else I will personally find you and make you scream.”
Cobblestone nodded, cowed. “I understand,” she whispered.
“What was that?” Dis asked, holding a hoof up to where his ear should have been.
“I…” Cobblestone swallowed nervously. “I understand.”
“Good!” the unicorn exclaimed. The smoke around his head thinned and vanished, as if it was never there. He smiled warmly, all traces of his threatening nature almost gone. “And just to make sure you do…” He reached out and gently tapped Cobblestone on the head.
Cobblestone felt the threads of her sanity snap apart, flying away into checkered oblivion as she reeled, suddenly disconnected from the world around her. Nothing made sense, she had lost all sense of reality, of rational thought, of her essential self, and she was distantly aware of a screaming noise that keened and hummed in impossible ways, the background wailing of the universe, and the great unbridled howling of madness and chaos became part of her, and consumed her, and the sound went on and on and on and on and on…
And just as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation ceased. Cobblestone’s world coalesced around her, and she felt the shattered remnants of her mind knit themselves back together like nothing had happened at all. She shuddered, coughed, and almost retched, though something held her back. Her eyes cleared of the tears that had formed in them, and the first thing she saw the psychotic gaze of Dis, watching her closely.
“A taste of my discipline, dear Cobblestone,” Dis said with a wink. “You were driven completely and utterly insane for the space of a heartbeat. Displease me again, and I’ll see what I can do with a minute of your time.”
The alarm clock by her bed chimed the hour, and Dis straightened up. “Now, rise and shine!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “You’ve got a busy day ahead with your new teacher, and a new friend besides! I hear the tournament today is going to be absolutely marvelous!”
And as quickly and quietly as he had arrived, the unicorn vanished, leaving not a trace of himself behind, save for the barest whiff of sweet tobacco smoke and candy floss.
Cobblestone lay still in her bed for only a moment before she rose, trembling slightly, and got up. Hob regarded her lazily as she did so, not moving a muscle as she trotted to the bathroom to begin freshening up, knowing she reeked of sweat and fear.
Did I miss something? You seem disturbed, he said.
“No,” she replied. “You didn’t. Get up. We’ve got a tournament to attend.”
The room was spartan in decoration, and unremarkable save for a stand on one wall, upon which was hung a set of armor, unadorned and slightly dented, though lovingly polished. An unfinished letter lay upon the writing desk, squared neatly with the inkwell and quill, both of which were thoroughly cleaned and laid in their proper places, waiting to be used. The pony sleeping in the bed rested easily, covers tight and tucked against his body. The far edge of the bed had been made up with hospital corners.
Occasionally, the stallion’s ear would give a twitch, or his tail would flick itself to and fro fitfully, and once in a very great while, his entire body would shake, before settling down once more. He had been told he was a restless sleeper, but thankfully it never evolved past the occasional spasm. It was familial, he had been told. Another simple quirk of his biology. It usually meant nothing.
Today, though, the stallion was clearly troubled. Occasionally, he would flinch, or moan quietly in his sleep. A careful and quiet soul might have heard him protest softly under his breath.
“No,” he said quietly. Again, more forcefully. “No. No, Tannin! Tannin, no!”
Vino’s alarm clock went off with a clatter, shaking him from a fitful and uneasy rest into a cold and darkened room. The earth pony reached out and shut off the alarm, and simply lay in bed for a moment, an unusual act for the normally diligent knight. He wasn’t sure what he had been dreaming about, but he knew it hadn’t been good. He stretched, noting that he felt slower today, less sure of himself. But perhaps that was just the morning lying heavy on his bones. He closed his eyes and sent out a silent prayer, as he did every morning before rising.
Please, he thought. Grant me the strength to do what I must, the patience to accept that which I cannot change, and the courage to uphold the knight’s title that I lay claim to.
He rolled out of bed without further preamble, and mechanically began to remake it, lost in his thoughts. He shivered, not from the cold, though the room was chilly. A strange sense of foreboding hung in the air, oppressive and thick as smoke. He had learned to trust these instincts of his, and had prospered for it more often than not.
Last night had been a perfect example, he thought, opening his wardrobe and reaching for his bag of cleaning supplies, ready to start the day. He had been on his way back to the dormitories where he was staying, but had found himself inexplicably drawn down one of the side passages instead. Just as he was about to give up and turn back, he realized where he was.
The mare was nervous, that much he could tell. She looked young, though it was impossible for him to say how young. Her dress was the green of the needles of a pine, and while inexpensive and out of the general fashions of the Court, it had fit her well. Though she wore it with the poise of a goose made of granite, there had been a strange grace and surety to her movements that belied something more to her than the casual emptiness of many ladies Vino encountered in his work. He had stood speechless for a moment, captivated by her every smallest movement, before he remembered where he was.
“Miss?” he had called after finding his voice. “Are you alright?”
Her had eyes met his, a piercing blue, and Vino had almost taken an involuntary step back. There was hardness in those eyes, a fierce will that reminded him uncomfortably of Aura’s. Summoning his courage, he had mustered a smile.
“Are you lost, miss?”
She had regarded him for a moment before choosing to speak. “No. I’m just waiting. I guess I’m nervous.”
She hadn’t looked it, Vino reflected. Far from it, in fact. Compared to the vapid mares he often saw giggling and flouncing about the Regia, the young mare, whose name was Cobblestone, reminded him of nothing more than a knife, steel and edge as opposed to the flimsy silk of her peers. He had had only a moment to introduce himself before the clock struck seven, and her appointment had begun.
Her face stayed fresh in his mind like none other, and if he were a fool, he might have thought it was love. And perhaps that is what it was. But more than that, it was a familiarity, a deep seated knowing that whoever she was and wherever she had come from, they had met before.
It was strange. He could have sworn he had seen her before, or somepony very much like her. She had occupied most of his thoughts last night, as he had tried to remember just where he had seen that face before. It had kept him so wrapped up, in fact, that he hadn’t been able to finish the letter explaining to Lady Serale why he would not be serving in her Guard…
Vino’s eyes widened, and he glanced at his clock. A full hour late! The tournament!
Panicking, he dropped his cleaning supplies and began to buckle on his armor, the practiced motions speeding the process, but nowhere near fast enough. Boots, greaves, cuisses went on in less than three minutes, lashed tightly and flexible enough for him to move. The cuirass came next, buckled securely, and the gorget, which was the most finicky piece of them all. It snapped into place after a full minute of fidgeting. His bladeband was next, the spelled metal flowing up and around one foreleg before settling in its usual spot, and he grabbed the helmet from the stand, jamming it roughly over his head before charging out of the door and down the hallway.
In his rush to leave, all thoughts of what he would say to Lady Serale had vanished from his mind entirely. And the letter remained on his desk, unfinished and waiting silently.
The six ponies which approached the entrance to the sewer, blinking in the morning light, did not know the nature of the pony they were to meet. If they had, it was all but certain that they would have kindly told their leader Creed that they would decline his request, and then promptly galloped as fast as they could out of Starfall, out of the Evening Kingdom, and would not have stopped until they were well into the mountains north of Canterlot, or their bodies completely collapsed in on themselves. Had they attempted this, they may have been saved.
But Creed was nothing if not pragmatic, and he knew the value of having a powerful ally. Selecting a group of middling “lieutenants” in the Contheistic League, ones who were becoming more and more vocal in their criticism, he had approached them with an offer of peace and the chance to distinguish themselves for the cause. He had been very convincing.
So it was that they had received their directions, been told who they were to meet, and set off on their merry way to the sewer entrance where they were to meet Nightshade, in a section of town that was abandoned save for a few empty warehouses. Weapons had been collected beneath their cloaks, battle plans had been formed in case things went sour, and they considered themselves prepared for the task ahead, which they knew only was a chance to strike at a member of the nobility and so weaken the hold of the Evening Throne. They were prepared for anything, those half-dozen troublemakers. Or at least, so they had thought.
“Good morning!” the black mare chirped happily, waving at them from the entrance to the tunnel. She took a swig from a flagon of cider that she had with her, wiping her mouth with the back of one hoof. She stifled a burp with one hoof, and giggled daintily. “Pardon me! I’ve had a long walk, and I was terribly thirsty.”
She offered the flagon to the anarchists. “Care for a drink?” she inquired sweetly. “It’s very good!”
The self-appointed leader of the six, a brutish Pegasus by the name of Fidget, glared at the beverage as if it had insulted his mother. “You’re supposed to be our guide?” he asked disdainfully. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“That’s me!” Nightshade said with a dazzling smile. The mask over her eyes, gleaming bright silver in the morning, sparkled almost as much as her voice did. It was very nearly a painful amount of joy. “I’m going to be the one taking the shot at Lady Hedera this morning. I just need you to keep an eye out and make sure none of the guards get to me.”
“I don’t believe it,” Fidget said. “This is some kind of joke, right? Creed set this up?”
Nightshade pouted. “You don’t think I can handle myself?” she asked.
“You’re a blind unicorn with half a horn,” Fidget said. “I don’t think you could handle a starving kitten.”
Nightshade set the flagon of cider down carefully, not wanting to spill any. “Would you like for me to show you what I am capable of?” she inquired sweetly. “I’d be more than happy to demonstrate.”
Fidget rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Do whatever you want to do so we can get this done.”
He had perhaps half of a second to regret those words before he and his five friends were sprawled neatly to the ground, squirming like insects pinned to cork. Fidget attempted to gasp in pain, but no sounds could escape his mouth. He could feel the magic savagely pressing against the small of his back, right where his wings met in their most sensitive spot. The agony was excruciating.
And then it vanished. Nightshade gazed down at him, a patient smile on her face. “Do I meet with your expectations?” she asked.
Fidget could do little more than nod weakly. The mare helped him to his hooves. “There you are,” she said. “You’re alright. The pain should subside shortly. Are the rest of you well?” she asked of the group. There were various murmurs of assent.
“I apologize for having to do that,” she said, “But we’re on a schedule. Here,” she said, brandishing the flagon once more. “For you all to share. As an apology.”
Fidget accepted the flagon thankfully, quaffing a mouthful of the sweet juice. It left a refreshing tartness lingering on his tongue, and he passed it along to his companion, who did likewise. The flagon passed from pony to pony, until the last agent drank the final dregs of the drink.
“It’s sort of bitter,” he said, grimacing.
Fidget smacked his lips thoughtfully. There was indeed a bitterness that hadn’t been there before. He coughed, a bit unsettled by it. “Right,” he said, “What are we…we…” He coughed again. So did the pony who had spoken.
“Where did you get that juice?” he asked, as his throat dried up. “That stuff is terrible.”
Nightshade’s smile curdled on her face. “It’s a special preparation of mine,” she said. “Apples, spices, and a few herbs I’ve gathered. Don’t worry. They’ll take effect in a moment.”
Fidget coughed, and coughed again, realizing something was very wrong. His vision blurred, and the coughing and gagging of his fellows echoed curiously in his ears. His heart was laboring under what seemed to be incredible stress, and it was becoming more and more difficult to take a breath, as if his lungs were shriveling up.
“Poison!” he gasped. “You bitch! You poisoned us!”
“Calling what you just drank ‘poison’ is like calling a dragon a lizard,” Nightshade said. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t kill you, not really. I have need of you.”
Fidget tried to scream as he felt his heart stop, toppling over onto the cobbles of the road. Some distant, detached portion of him noticed that he was the last one to have done so. Shadows began to creep in at the edges of his vision, tinged with pulsing red. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, all he could feel was agony.
And yet, he didn’t die. The blackness remained, the heart in his chest was terrifyingly still, but instead of getting weaker he felt himself becoming…stronger. He lifted his head, and whimpered in horror as he saw what was happening to his companions.
Their health withered away, leaving their coats dull and lifeless, and their eyes appeared curiously sunken, deep-set in their skulls, which were now much more prominent, rising against their cadaverously tight skin. Their ribs were more prominent as well, and cords of lean muscle could be seen twisting and writhing under their coats like steel cables. Fidget could feel the same happening to him as well.
“What did you do?” he groaned. “What have you done to us, you…”
He looked at the mare who had fed them this drug, and felt something tugging at the back of his mind, an irresistible compulsion. The sentence, and indeed most of his thoughts, disappeared completely, replaced by the overpowering desire to stand. He did so, noting dimly that his companions were doing the same.
“Good,” Nightshade purred. “You are strong, I can see that much. And you respond well to my commands. You’ll make a fine revenant. Speak, Pegasus. Who controls you?”
“You do,” Fidget replied dully, realizing as he said it that it couldn’t be more true. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he could comprehend anypony else, including himself, controlling his actions.
Nightshade tossed her head proudly, the silver of her mask darkening to black as she did. She made a negligent gesture, and a staff appeared in one hoof. “Follow,” she said, and Fidget found himself wanting nothing more than to do so. The pack of revenants and their mistress disappeared into the sewer, leaving behind only a broken flagon, glinting wetly in the light of the morning sun.
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I don´t get it. Why was Dis so pissed with Cob? He is the one who suggested Lady Everstar to teach the young apprendice about Breaking Magic, exactly as he taught Celestia´s once brightest student himself so many years ago. And of course Twilight knows about the other archetypes; she met them back on the Aether.
4990841
He's angry because she went ahead and used her powers before she could figure out the how or why. He only ever agreed to teaching her Breaking magic insofar as to get her closer to the Shadow.
As for the bit about the archetypes, I'm afraid I'll need to keep that one close to the chest for now.
Necromancy!
Ask and ye shall receive! Love Dis in this one, a maddenly mad god in a mad world.
Vino's fitful sleeping might be magically induced maybe perhaps, years of influence used to produce one loyal to his mother. Idk just throwing bits about in my head.
And I believe that the last time we've seen necromancy would be in DDG, when the Celestial forces attempted to storm the Everfree and Radiant Zenith let loose the monsters within. Did that old crone die yet?
Next chapter promises to move a lot faster. And Vino's going to prove himself. Loyalty???????
whaaaaaaat???? how did I not know this was a thing!!
if this is even half as epic as the previous two... media.giphy.com/media/qhURwEDavrGQE/giphy.gif
4991072 improper use of it too.
it is a shame that others would call her a necromancer, I find that... Disappointing.
I'm starting to get very leery of some of these ponies. There seem to be several that seem capable of enslaving/destroying entire cities on a whim, they just don't feel like it for some reason. Dis could just have Cobblestone cease to exist and nothing, apparently, could stop him. Earlier, Nightshade(I think?) just turned two guards into iron bars with no effort. This just seems like gods vs. gods vs. mortals and the power discrepancy is mind-boggling. I'm still gonna read, but I am very curious how you're gonna balance all these powers.
4991439 Nightshade IS a Necromancer, and so is Cobblestone. A Necromancer is a mage that messes with the dead and souls. Nightshade killed them and used thier dead bodies. she is a Necromancer. Cobblestone can see and feed on ponies souls to do magic. She is a Necromancer. Fancy it up, use a different name with the same meaning. But in the end, it's all the same. They both mess with souls and the dead.
4992806 True, but she could atleast be a bit more creative with her necromancy, her use of the art is completely brutish at best.
4992029 If I had to wager I would bet that Cobblestone is on the side of the mortals.
So that would even it out pretty well considering she is probably the strongest mortal alive.
5004898 Do realize that Twilight and them are also gods/immortals, so there are "good" gods too. As for Cobblestone's power level, I would not be surprised if she becomes one of, if not the, most powerful "mortal," (she has Discord's boss/the millennia old evil interested in her, I would not be surprised if she doesn't stay mortal) probably with the help of that sword she saw.
5010335
Well, they're not a god if they aren't perfect, are they? The kind of absolute power that the aforementioned quote refers to is usually political power, along the lines of Hitler, Stalin, or the medieval and Renaissance European monarchies.
Now, when you make the scope of that cosmic... well personally I believe that only perfect beings could achieve something like that, but I think Celestia got close to absolute corruption in Lines and Webs.
5011196
You would call it corruption, but that isn't quite what it was, I think. Celestia is the archetype of Order, the counter to Chaos, and Luna being the Balance of the two. Being the embodiment of that concept, she tries to exert Order over the world, using whatever means she sees fit.
Mother, the only true god in this story, has seen this happen before in many different versions of the world that She created. In other worlds, Luna's Balance is tentative at best, and tends to fall apart at some point, making the fate of that world lean more toward Order or Chaos (neither being good nor bad). This world, Lines and Webs world, is different because this version of Luna was created differently. This one had a bit of Shadow rolled in to let her reign in her siblings better. Had she not been so, the world would have fallen into the Order category.
So, it's not corruption, just the way she is.
I think. I forget a lot of things.
4992029
What balance? if a God/Fae/Eldritch abomination/high level sorcerer put his eyes on an average mortal, either he/she is a plot relevant character or is fucked.
Sometimes it seems like binding all of them (discord and the others) permanently to a different level of existence would be best. Without their meddling this whole 'balance' thing would probably get along just fine on it's own. Perhaps Twilight should have just taken them all out and then killed herself.
5245029 Sure, they could do that, but then they'd just leave all of creation open to the nightmare to destroy. The immortals are there to essentially safeguard the thing they represent, literally with their lives because they are the thing they represent. Things could go along on their own for a while just fine, but then it would all fall apart and cease to exist as the nightmare corrupted the unguarded elements. Granted there's probably a better way, but Faust (the god, not the animator) wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time--being the original immortal and thus the only one the Nightmare had to work on corrupting.
4992029 Don't forget that Twilight moved a mountain to build her castle hundreds of years prior. She could probably turn another country into a smouldering crater at this point.. And she's not even a true goddess. I enjoy the cleverness of the plot, but I agree that most of the powerful characters are just too powerful.
That said, it's probably balanced by the fact that anyone can die in this series. There's less invincible plot armour to render all that power irrelevant.
im on
my third re-read of this series and it just hit me...is cobblestone vinos sister that lady hedara "killed"?