To the End of the Moon

by dashie76

The Oracle

With two royal guards at his back, Flowing Wind walked rigidly through the hallway. He had been taken from his home by them and flown to the castle. His wife and daughter remained at his cottage, undoubtably frightened and worried as to his current whereabouts. He had not been able to inform them of his predicament before he had been forcibly taken from his home - with little choice in the matter on his end of the 'summons.'

At some point during the chariot trip, he had fallen asleep, so he wasn't as tired as he had been before. However, his muscles were still sore from the uncomfortable vehicle and his eyes remained bleary and watering. Although his frustration and fatigue prevented him from being particularly interested in his surroundings, his eyes wandered nevertheless. The hallway was a small, simple one with little indication of the royalty that lay at the end of it. There were no paintings, no upper class works of art, no chandeliers - in fact, the corridor was only kept from complete darkness by the occasional torch that offered a small sphere of its light before fading behind Wind's continuous march towards the Oracle.

He was dimly aware that his procession had led him to that very pony. He was dimly aware of the guards stopping him before one went on ahead. He pulled back a large tapestry and walked through it for a moment before reentering the corridor.

"The Oracle will see you now."

~~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~

As he entered the room, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was as though a warm, comforting wind had blown over him. He shook his head slightly to regain his concentration and searched the room for the Oracle.

The room itself was nearly empty, save a few candles that burned on the floor of the enclosure. Apart from them, there were no other objects adorning the room in any way, and the walls themselves were lumpy and gray. Wind saw no sign of anypony else in the room and began to shift his legs nervously. Suddenly, he sensed movement at the other end of the room and tensed up his body. Glaring into the darkness, he gritted his teeth and darted his gaze about.

"Who's there?"

There was silence for a moment before a quiet clapping sounded. Despite the relative smallness of the room, the noise seemed to echo inside of Wind's head for far longer a time than it should have. A small filly walked into the candlelight, smiling.

"Greetings, Flowing Wind."

Wind stood still for a moment, pondering the situation. "Um...hello, little filly. Do you know...that is to say, do you know where the Oracle is?"

The filly chuckled, shutting her eyes. "Ah...it really is amazing to me..."

She strode forwards confidently into the light and laid down before the candles. Wind awkwardly shuffled closer, but as he noticed the filly's horn and wings, realization dawned on him. Noticing a change in his expression, the she smiled knowingly.

"You were expecting somepony a bit larger, perhaps?"

"Heh...um...my apologies, your highness." He sat down on the opposite side of the candles that the Oracle had taken. "You were saying before...?"

"Ah, yes," she replied. "You see, when ponies are left in the proverbial dark about something, they typically construct their own visions to explain that darkness. I find this aspect of them fascinating...it never ceases to surprise me."

Wind tilted his head slightly at this. He silently debated with himself for a moment before opening his mouth.

"I guess you've...um...noticed the moon..."

The Oracle frowned and closed her eyes. They sat in silence for a few moments before the she once again spoke.

"I am aware of the moon's...'condition.' That moon is a part of the reason why you are here."

She looked into his eyes, unsmiling. "You are familiar with 'The Legend of the Hero of Time?'"

"Yes, of course. But that's just..." The Oracle's stare caused his sentence to trail off into silence.

He chuckled nervously. "C-come on. That can't possibly be the case."

The Oracle's expression did not change.

His expression turned to one of extreme worry as he leaned farther into the candlelight. "Tell me that's not case..."

The Oracle bowed her head. "If only it were that simple."

He leaned back and stared off into space as he considered the filly's implications. If it was really true...and the moon was...how it was...then...

Abruptly, he leaned back forwards, looking desperately at the Oracle. "Wait! You're the Oracle! Y-you can stop it, right?"

She sighed regrettably. "I'm an Oracle, not a hero. Not the Hero we need."

He stood up and shifted nervously, as though he was trying to fit as many emotions on his face at one time as possible. "Wait. Waitwaitwait. The Hero is...that is, if the legend is true, the Hero is dead. She died saving us when the Black Child was resurrected by his mask. You called me, so...I...I can't..."

She sighed. "Close your eyes."

He jumped. "W-what? Why would I do that? We've got to find a way to fix this, right?"

"Just do as I say, please."

He unwittingly squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay, now what?"

"Focus on breathing."

Following the Oracle's instructions, Wind began to hyperventilate for a moment. After some time, his breathing - and heart rate - slowed to a slightly healthier pace.

The Oracle smiled, her grin both playful and knowing. "Better?"

He opened his eyes and laid down once more. "M-much. Thanks for that." He looked up into her eyes. "Can we please start at the beginning?"

The Oracle nodded.

He gulped. "Okay. In the legends, there was this old kingdom that was full of peace and prosperity. In it, there came to be a child whose heart was...uh...'black as night,' right? And there was this evil deity who was locked away in a mask who preyed on that guy and gave him immense power. He basically caused such an uproar that the entire kingdom tore itself apart in a matter of three days. And the only survivor - the 'Hero of Time' - defeated him by using the power of a different mask."

He began to motion with his hooves as he spoke. "But there were three masks, right? For the three days that the moon was falling, she found a different mask. They represented the three spheres of influence that the Hero embodied - Power, Wisdom, and Courage. When she fought the Black Child, those three masks combined into something that allowed the Hero to channel the power of another immortal being - the supposed 'Fierce Deity.' As the story goes, the Hero used the Fierce Deity's power to defeat the Black Child...and destroy herself in the process.

"But the child's hate was too powerful, such that his spirit endured throughout the centuries. Finally, the evil deity had regained enough power to resurrect the child...b-because it needed a vessel, right? It couldn't affect our world directly, and since there was no other creature with as much hate and anger as the child, it had to sort of lay low for a few centuries and regain enough power to bring him back to life.

"The reigning Princess of the time sacrificed herself in order to resurrect the Hero in the same way. But the Fierce Deity knew that the child would return...so it remained in our world, imbued in the spirit of somepony. Its power was passed down through the generations, and when the Hero returned, it was ready to fight. The Hero channeled its power and once again defeated the child. Again, she was destroyed in the process and her body was buried in the Royal Gardens."

The filly nodded. "In the proverbial nutshell, that's it. However, there a few parts of the legend that history did not care to document - or perhaps the writers were simply not aware of those details at the time. During the first battle, the Skull Kid merely died. However, during the second battle, the Fierce Deity's power erased his very being. His soul was wrenched from his body and blown apart, the pieces scattered to the farthest reaches of our world. In regards to our current predicament...it is not possible that he is responsible." She looked up, seeing his confused face. She chuckled in spite of herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. 'Skull Kid' was the child's name in the original legends."

"Okay," he replied. "But if he's not responsible for the moon being all possessed 'n' stuff, then who is?"

The Oracle frowned, sighing. "We cannot know for sure. Unfortunately, there is only one culprit who makes sense given our current knowledge."

He gulped. "The evil deity..."

She nodded gravely. "Yes, or 'Majora,' as it was once known. It has somehow gained a new vessel with which to affect our world or has gained the means by which to do so without a vessel. The latter prospect is infinitely more terrifying."

"Good, I need more fear," he replied, rolling his eyes. "I think the reality is that, whatever the case, our only hope for survival lies in the Hero, correct?"

"Yes," she replied. "However, for the Hero to return to our world in any sort of physical form would be impossible. By eradicating the Skull Kid at the climax of their second battle, she used up an unprecedented amount of the Fierce Deity's power. Because of those actions, two things happened. Firstly, the Fierce Deity's Mask - the channel through which the deity's power flowed - was shattered. It was separated into its three original forms, the masks that represented Power, Wisdom, and Courage. Those masks repelled each other and flew to the farthest corners of the kingdom. Secondly, the Hero's mortal nature was destroyed forever. Her spirit lives on in the next world, but no way of resurrecting her into a physical form that she directly controls exists."

The Oracle raised her head so as to look Wind directly in his eyes. "Only by channeling her spirit through a mortal vessel could she influence our world and potentially save us."

The Oracle continued to stare at him during a few moments of silence. When her statement finally registered with him, he stood up and backed away from the candlelight.

"Oh, no. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, so much nope. I'm not doing that."

The Oracle sighed. "We don't have a choice, Flowing Wind. She is our only hope of survival, and you, in turn, are her only hope of assisting us.

"But...but..." he stammered. "No! J-just no! I don't want to 'channel' her through my physical being or let her use my body to 'influence' our world! And what about my family? I can't just leave them and go off on some crazy journey without an explanation!"

"I apologize, but your family is not what's most important in our situation," she replied. "You must allow the Hero's spirit to flow through you. The greater good demands it."

"And why can't the greater good find someone else?!" he shouted. "Why me?"

The Oracle stood and rested a hoof on Flowing Wind's shoulder. She quietly raised her head.

"That is a question that I will answer when we come to it. For now, I need your cooperation."

Flowing Wind closed his eyes, deep in thought. He had no desire to leave his family alone and cowering under the moon with no way of knowing what would happen to them. At the same time, he was still having trouble comprehending what the Oracle was asking of him. He didn't know what would happen when the Hero's spirit 'influenced the world through his body,' or whatever, but he knew that it would require a long and surely arduous journey soon thereafter. He was not prepared in any way for such an ordeal. However, if he stood idly by - regardless of being with his family - the moon would crash and all life would perish.

Coming to a decision, he cleared his throat. "...how much time do we have?"

The Oracle smiled sadly. "It will soon be the dawn of the first day. We have roughly seventy-two hours."

Wind sighed and ran a hoof through his mane. "Seventy-two hours to save the world..." He stretched, his various joints cracking from sitting on the rough floor. "Let's get started."

The Oracle smiled once more. "Thank you, Flowing Wind. History will be sure to remember your name. Your family will be honored to-"

"I know, I know," he replied, cutting her off. "Just do it before I change my mind."

The Oracle nodded. "As you wish."

She lowered her head such that her horn rested on Wind's chest. After a few moments of deep concentration, her horn began to glow with white, ethereal magic. As the spell began to take affect, he felt as though strange tendrils of something were flowing through his body. They seemed to stretch across his back, down his legs, up his neck, and every part of him until he felt as though something long and large was shifting about inside of him. It was not a pleasant sensation.

"I-I think I'm going to throw up..."

Oh, come on. It hasn't even started yet.

His eyes snapped open. "Wha...w-who's there?!"

The Oracle opened her eyes confusedly but kept her horn pressed against him. "Wind...?"

Oh, check it out. It's the little filly again! Hey, you're not going to wait until the last second to swoop in this time, are you?

Wind gazed about the room frantically, his eyes frantically searching for the source of the voice. Finding none, he began to panic. Suddenly, he felt the thing inside of him begin to grow. He felt it fighting for room within his body, trying to cram itself and him into a space meant for one pony. He felt as though the walls of the dark, featureless room were closing in, threatening to crush him.

Ah, last part. Just tough it out, big boy.

Wind did not share the voice's sentiment. He felt his strength slipping away from him, his mind grappling for any sort of foothold on consciousness. Failing to find one, he felt himself falling into a deep sleep.

Oh, come on...figures that she would pair me with someone this weak...