The Family of Time

by Ephraim Blue

Prologue - Where We Do Not Dwell, We Wander

The changeling queen paced back and forth constantly, nervous about anything that could be said. It had been some time since she became pregnant with the last of her hive's eggs, and she wanted only the best of news.

The sound of slow changeling hooves on the hard ground caused her to stop pacing and turn in the direction of the sound. She saw her grandmother walking down the halls, and she ran up to greet.

"Grandmother," she said. "Please... What news do you have?"

"Good... and bad..." she replied in a weak voice. "I should have... told you before..."

"What?" the queen pressed on. "Tell me what?"

The older changeling rested a hoof on her grandaughter's stomach, which was a little plump due to her recent pregnancy. "T- The eggs you carry in you... There are eight of them..."

"Eight?! I'm pregnant with eight eggs?!"

The elder changeling nodded slowly. "That is good... Our hive might live on..."

The younger changeling smiled before realizing what her grandmother said. "'Might'? What do you mean, 'might live on'?"

The grandmother, realizing what she just said, shrunk back a bit. "I'm sorry... But you're dying... and won't live to bear your eggs..."

The queen stepped away from her grandmother in shock. "B- But that doesn't make any sense! How can our hive have a chance to live on if I die before bearing my offspring?!"

"It can't..." the grandmother said flatly. "But... there is a way for you to live..."

The queen's ears perked up. "What is it? Can you tell me?"

The grandmother opened her mouth to speak, but coughed a large fit before getting her words out. "I'm sorry... I fear that my time is coming soon..."

"Grandmother, please tell me! How can I live for our hive to survive?!"

The elder changeling said nothing and instead turned around and motioned for her granddaughter to follow. She did, and they both walked further into the hive.

---

"Grandmother, where are we? I do not recall ever traveling this far into our hive," the younger changeling pondered aloud.

"We're in the catacombs..." the grandmother said. "You never came down here because you were never told they existed."

"But... Why?"

The elder changeling shook her head. "After I told your cousin, Chrysalis, she went mad... Trying to fulfill what I had told her..."

The queens' ears perked up. "What does Cousin Chryssi have to do with any of this?"

The grandmother shook her head. "Nothing... But she is the reason I did not tell you... For I feared the same would happen to you..."

"The same?"

"She went mad... ran off with over half our tribe... The rest of us were forced to live like the two of us do now... Sadly... they are all gone..."

The queen looked down. "So that's why cousin Chryssi was acting that way..." She looked back at her grandmother. "But what did you tell her that made her go mad?"

"What I told her... has been passed down through our changeling tribe since the day it was born... A prophecy..."

"A prophecy?"

The grandmother nodded. "A prophecy of eight... the eight you now carry in your womb..."

The queen stopped and placed a holey hoof to her stomach, rubbing it slightly. She ran back up her grandmother and continued walking with her in silence until she stopped.

"We're here..." she said, looking at a large wall with writings of the oldest changeling language on it. "This is the Prophecy of the Eight..."

The queen looked at the writing for a bit before shaking her head. "Grandmother, I cannot read it..."

The elder changeling laughed a bit, stopping right before another fit of coughing erupted. "I might not be the most talented of reading this old language... but I should be able to read what's here..."

The elder changeling lit up her horn to illuminate the words, glaring at them a bit before beginning to speak.

"Eight eggs lay in a patch of blue...
The scientist does what he has to do...

The mother yearns for her eight lost kids...
But sends seven away and they do as they bid..."

She stopped suddenly, looking harder at the words. "Grandmother?" the queen asked.

"I was certain there was more..." she said quietly. "Five of the eight lines in the prophecy are missing..."

"Well... What does that mean?"

The grandmother shook her head. "It means that it is missing... all that remains is the first two lines and the final one..."

"Well... what does the last line say?" The elder changeling lit up her horn once more and glared at the words on the wall.

"They will unite one day to fight...
To send the world into a dying light..."

"Dying light?" the queen asked. The grandmother nodded. "So... my children are going to destroy the world?"

"I cannot be certain... But I am certain that those eight mentioned in the prophecy are indeed the ones you carry..."

"But.. you said I was dying... If I die, don't they die as well?"

"That is correct..."

"So... If my children are going to be evil, should I just die and never let the prophecy be fulfilled?"

"If that is what you wish..." the grandmother replied. "But the prophecy from last I remember it also mentioned good in it..."

"Good?"

"Yes... If you die, then the prophecy, our tribe, and any future they or you will have die as well... It is your choice to make it happen..."

The queen looked down at the floor, lost in thought. She stayed that way for several minutes before lifting her head. "I've... I've decided. I'm going to live, and so will the prophecy. It mentions evil, but if what you tell me is true, it also mentions good. So today, I will count on the good to overcome what is evil."

The grandmother nodded. "Then go... Find this patch of blue... begin the Prophecy of the Eight... and live..."

The queen nodded, walking off to the entrance of the catacombs and leaving them altogether. The grandmother sat down, staring at the wall.

"You lied to her..." another voice spoke. "Why?"

The grandmother didn't turn to the voice, but smiled anyway. "Because she wasn't the one who needed to hear the rest... You were..." she stared at the wall as a pony stepped out of the shadows and sat next to her. She turned to them, smiling. "My great grandson..."