• Published 12th Dec 2015
  • 308 Views, 5 Comments

Unfrozen - Capacitor



The Crystal Heart blesses the Crystal Empire with warmth and constant spring. However, during the Equestria Games, the Crystal Ponies grow so exhilerated its warming magic reaches farther out than ever before. And beneath the ice, something awakens.

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expergiscens – Waking Up

Bulls-eye! Ice covered the target. The Crystal Ponies cheered. The Equestria Games were in full swing.
Never before had the Empire known such merriment. Another wave of blue light expanded from the Crystal Heart, pushing outwards, spreading warmth and love. It rolled forth, past the city borders, past the farthest outskirts of the Crystal Empire, hitting the arctic climate beyond the boundary of its influence and pushing it back just the teensiest bit, replacing snow with grass, chilling frost with mild and pleasant air and death with life. Of course, over time, the ice would slowly return, but on a day of celebration like this, the power of love and unity was stronger than the arctic cold, and the ice was pushed back farther than ever.
And below the ice, just a few miles from the Empire, laid a dying creature. It had been there for a long time. A few months ago, when Sombra's spell had waned and the Crystal Empire had returned to normal space-time, it had already been lying there. More than a thousand years ago, when a bitter mare had tried to thrust the world into eternal darkness, it had already been dying. When the world had been blighted by the anarchic rule of a mad spirit, it had already been buried under the ice.
But now, with each wave of magic exuded by the Crystal Heart, the ice grew thinner, the burden lighter. Eventually, the tiniest trickle of magic wormed itself through the layers of snow and sunk into the frozen being.
For the first time in millennia, the sleeping conscious teetered away from the brink of death, and the entombed creature awoke.


Panic. It could not move. Darkness. It could not see. Cold. Ice, everywhere around, pressing hard against its chest.
Heart still beating, slow but steady. It could not feel its limbs. It felt hungry, weak. It called for help, but its cry remained unheard, its voice failing in its weakness.
Confusion. What had happened? Why was it buried under frozen water?
It could not remember. The long sleep still clouded its mind. How long had it been asleep?
It began losing its hold on the waking world. The cold, the dark, the hunger – all began to slip away. It drifted back into the darkness.

Some time passed.

It awoke again. Something had happened. It still felt weak, so weak, so hungry. But it also felt its limbs, its arms, its legs. The snow and ice that pressed down on it felt lighter, too. A faint orange glow could darkly be seen through the milky-murky ice. The glow, barely passable for real light, ignited something deep inside its brain, a spark as old as life itself, a spark of hope.
Exerting all of what little strength it had left, it pushed against the prison of ice.
The frosty wall cracked and gave away an idea or two, but no more.
It wriggled, manoeuvred, brought its legs against the cold, hard ground, pushed down into it, pushed upwards with its arms.
With surprising suddenness, the ice broke, shards of it flung outwards. It shot up with them, quickly losing its balance, firstly caught in the motion, secondly blinded by the influx of brightness. It fell over, landed on its back, legs sprawling in the air, staring into the sky it so long had not seen. Purplish streaks of cloud ran through it, painted from one side by the fiery glow of dusk. It was one of the most beautiful things it had ever seen. It wanted to capture the moment, maybe in image, verse or even memory, but found itself to exhausted to do anything but bask in the light.
Eventually, the almost meditative state of primal happiness wore off, and it found the joy of simply being alive replaced with gnawing hunger in its body and the pain of weakness in its limbs.
It got up, calling out for its mount to come and carry it to the city. Once again, no answer came.
Then memory returned, and it was like being caught in the ice again.

There had been catastrophe. Disaster beyond everything imaginable. The cries had echoed through many worlds, even reaching this far outpost. The Enlightened had received order, an order to transfer power to higher up, rare, but not unheard of in times of need.
That would explain the weakness it felt. It was good to sacrifice for the greater cause.
Still, why had it been buried in ice?
Another order had come, it remembered, one of desperate action. To unleash...
Of course! Their mounts had turned on them, it remembered now. The shackles that had bound them to their command had inexplicably failed. They had been driven out of the city. But what then?
Once again, boring hunger interrupted its musings. It was starving, dying, it realized. But how? How long?
It didn't matter right now. Survival came first.

It lowered its gaze from the vastness of the skies, searching left and right for orientation. The lowering sun indicated one direction as west, but the stars were not visible yet, leaving it with no hint towards its position.
But those thoughts were quickly pushed aside when it beheld what lay just a hundred odd steps to its left: grass, green grass. It wasted no time, limping, stumbling, falling, crawling towards the meagre pasture. Food. It was grass, not particularly nourishing, not sating and most definitely unable to sustain it for long, but for the moment, it was food, and would suffice.

It ate from the plants.

It gazed into the appearing stars with wonder. The grass had been small help, but still riddened it of the worst shaking of its limbs. The stars, the stars, they were a reason for concern. It was a riddle without answer. The stars were all wrong. Their movement was odd, their positions even worse. Not one was there it recognised. Where was the wide band of the Red Nebula? Where the Eye of Harmony? The Traveller's Beacon?
There was a moon in the sky, but that, too, was nothing like what it remembered.
As it sat there, shaken, it felt a rhythmic tremor of the soil beneath it. It turned to find a small, glistering quadruped nearing. The young sheep was bouncing along, having probably left its flock in a fit of youthful recklessness and sense for adventure.
When the previously still creature suddenly moved, the lamb stopped, ogling it with big, curious eyes.
It remembered this kind of sheep. They had kept them around the city; as pets, and for their crystalline wool to weave crystalline fabrics from. Adorable little things they were, good-natured and trusting.
Pets. Not food.

One did not eat their pets. It was wrong.

But it would provide more of a meal than all the grass in eye's sight would.

But pets were not food.

It had to find the city. Blades of grass could only keep the hunger at bay for so long.

Pets were not food.

It needed to survive. The lamb's life was of less import than its own.

This was wrong.

This was necessary. It needed the nourishment.

There had to be another way.

There was no other way.

It did what had to be done.

It looked down on the pitiful remains of the sheep. An odd thought struck it. The remains would still serve as nourishment for the plants that grew here. These in turn would then nourish the lamb's brethren. It was like an eternal cycle of living and dying. It shook the thought off. It would not serve as another being's nourishment. Feeling sullied, but strengthened in body and resolve, it turned the direction the sheep had come from.

In the distance, offset by a pale moon that shone behind it, stood a great city of shining spires. The being pushed its glum thoughts aside; it had found the city. More importantly, the city was not empty and desolate as it had feared, but gleaming with life, overflowing even, for great bands of light were streaming from the tip of the highest tower. Joy rose in it at the prospect of its people being still alive, and it called out keenly, striding forward purposefully in intent to swiftly return to its home.

Again, there was no answer. It reasoned that its voice was still too weak to bridge the distance. No matter.
As it came closer, it could make out details of the city's structure. More had been built, it realised. The city obviously had grown since it had last seen it, for the number of houses had increased greatly. It, of course, realised what that meant. Catastrophe had been ended, disaster overcome. As always. That was good. And now, they were flourishing once again. That, too, was good.
Straining its eye, it could see lights from the windows and even a faint twinkle that indicated the Heart of Light in its rightful place below the Citadel. Joy! All was well.

It crossed the city perimeter, calling out again. Still, no answer came. It stopped.
Uneasy, it glanced about. No signs of guards keeping the city safe. No one on the streets. No answer to its calls. Yet there was light behind the windows, life in the city. That made no sense. It hurried forward, past the shimmering houses, quickly reaching one of the six main roads and turning towards the central spire, where the Heart of Light hung glowing. It made no sense. It was impossible. The city was abandoned, yet full of life. There was no one to tend to the Heart, yet it was alight.

Approaching, it passed the last of the smaller buildings and entered the plaza of the Heart. A statue of vaguely familiar motif caught its eye. It was the statue of a dragon hatchling holding up the likeness of a Heart of Light.
A dragon. A gem-eater, a treasure-hoarder. Righteous fury welled up in its chest. Of course, it had been dragons that infested the abandoned city! Those ignorant brutes with their selfish desires would never be able to resist such shining magnificence. Dragons! Undoubtedly, they were feeding off the nearby crystal mines and bathing in the splendour of the Heart of Light.
It glared at the monument, realising why it seemed familiar. It was a mockery of the statues they erected in honour of the Great Engineer, who had forged the first Heart of Light.

It rose a shaking fist. It was still weakened, but such a mockery, such a disgrace, such a lie would not stand! It drove all of its will forward and commanded this heresy of a sculpture to break. With a flash, the crystal ruptured, and nothing remained of the blasphemy but a heap of broken fragments.

There was a small yelp from above.

Surprised, it looked upward, but found only a few furred creatures standing up on one of the balconies, looking down at it. The little things had likely been singing one of their quiet songs, and the destruction of the statue had startled them. In its anger, it must not have noticed them. It turned away. The ponies were of no import. It had to find a way to get rid of the dragons.

But wait!

Why were the ponies still in the city? Before, they had been kept around to carry loads, to shepherd pets, or for their quiet, but beautiful singing voices. But dragons had no need for ponies except for food. Why would they keep them? And what were they doing inside the Citadel?

It called out for them, ordering them to come down. It would question them in the hope of shedding some light on what had happened. One of them rose into the air, followed shortly by the other three. So they were winged ponies. It hoped they would obey, for without its mount, it could not follow them into the sky. If they decided to flee, there would be nothing it could do.
But those worries were unfounded. The ponies quickly descended, swooped down and landed before it. Either they still knew to obey, or they had, over whatever time had passed, grown more curious than frightful.

Those four were tall for ponies, it noticed. They were also horned and winged, which was curious, and suggested that the horned ponies and the winged ponies had cross-bred and become one. All were adorned with some pieces of jewellery and had strange markings on their sides, presumably indicating some sort of hierarchy. Yet something else was odd about the ponies, even if it couldn't see what. Curious, but of no true concern. It turned towards the smallest pony, for this one, bearing the mark of the Enlightened, was obviously the leader and therefore most likely to possess valuable information. It reached out to the pony, but the small equine shied away. The pony's mouth began to move quickly. Hand reaching out, it told the pony to come closer, but this time, the pony didn't react.
So it was curiosity, not obedience, that had driven them towards it. That was unpleasant.

It had no strength to compel them. Its gaze passed over the ponies, who seemed to be taking turns in moving their mouths. It had paid little attention to ponies in the past, and this kind of behaviour struck it as odd. But then it remembered ponies would also move their mouths whilst singing, so perhaps that was how they communicated. An idea struck it, and it began to sing. It had little skill, but there was at least some hope this would allow it to tell the ponies what it asked of them.
Its song was questioning, expressing its confusion, pressing for answers. Soon, the ponies began to sing, too, but instead of singing an answer, they merely joined the song. It stopped singing when it realized that nothing would come out of this. The ponies continued the song for a bit, dancing slowly around it all the while. After that, they fell back to their mouth-debate.

Suddenly, a gust of wind pressed against it, some kind of tremor of the air around it. It turned its head to find the odd vibrations to originate from the blue pony. The other ponies were covering the sides of their heads with their hooves for some reason. Strange. It ignored the ponies and tried calling out for its brethren once more, but to no avail.

The ponies' presence indicated there was no dragon infestation. So it was probably the ponies who now inhabited the city. That still neither explained the dragon statue nor who tended to the Heart. In fact, looking up, it noticed there was still light streaming from the highest spire. It was no Enlightened and knew little of the technicalities of forging or operating a Heart of Light, but it knew that meant the Heart was powered up to the brim.
It was still not at full power. Should the ponies turn hostile, or should there be dragons after all, it would be in no condition to fight. It looked at the Heart. It knew little, but enough. It drove its will towards the Heart, ordering it to divert the energy overflow into it. It worked.

The ponies backed off in surprise when a broad, many-coloured aurora streamed down from the sky and engulfed the creature before them. The power of the Heart of Light sank into it, and its body, drained from the long time under the ice, was slowly restored. It straightened, even grew a bit taller. The lingering numbness in its limbs faded. Its mind calmed. It turned its will unto itself, mending the damage done by the time under the ice. The effect was stupendous. Long-forgotten sensations rolled over it as its higher senses were restored and it could feel the Heart glow, could feel its own heart glow, could feel the ponies, could feel the life pulsing through its body. It was bliss, for a moment. After the healing was done, it severed the cord to the Heart of Light.

It turned back to the ponies. They had called for reinforcements, it seemed. About two dozen pony soldiers, mostly neither horned nor winged, armoured and armed with lances, surrounded it and the four horned and winged ponies. It was not too worried about the prospect of a fight any more, even if it was outnumbered. Its body was strengthened once again, and at a single command towards the Heart, all of the Citadel's defences would be directed against the ponies. It looked around. The ponies were still taking turns at mouth-moving and showed no inclination to attack, but probably would not let it leave, either. However, the next logical step after ensuring its own survival was getting to the Chamber of Voices, where it could try and contact the rest of its people.

It was just pondering whether to simply ignore the ponies and jump into the Citadel, when it felt space and time warp and ripple, and a voice called out with a cheerful greeting.
Relieved, it turned to greet the arriver in turn, but the one who had called was not, as it had hoped, one of its kin, but something different. It was the Enemy, wearing a form slightly taller than it and waving at it and the ponies with one arm.

Anger. The Enemy must be destroyed. But it was alone. It only had one Heart of Light as supplementation, grossly insufficient to take on the Enemy. The only feasible tactic was to stall until more troops arrived.

Dread. No reinforcements were coming. It was alone, no one would aid it against the Enemy.

Resignation. Its assets were insufficient to deal in any way with such a threat. It had no way of even hoping to have a chance. Struggle was pointless. Negotiation was pointless. It was completely at the Enemy's mercy. The only thing left to do was wait for the inevitable end.

It stood motionless as the Enemy laughed and moved closer, asking the ponies where they had found it.
That was odd. Why would the Enemy question the ponies before questioning it? Why ask such a question at all?

There was some mouth-movement from the pony leader. The Enemy seemed to understand.

The Enemy asked it where it had so suddenly come from.

It denied. It would not give any information to the Enemy.

The Enemy laughed again, calling it droll.

The big white pony moved its mouth. Curious affirmation from the Enemy.
This did not make sense. The Enemy had no allies. Why would the ponies and the Enemy interact like this? It had to remind itself that any information coming from the enemy was either false information or poison.

There was more pony mouth movement. The Enemy offered fixing a problem mentioned before, then moved towards it. That would be the end, then. Nothing short of a miracle could save it now. And of course it knew there was no such thing as miracles.
The Enemy raised both arms and touched the sides of its head with a finger each.

There was pain. A sensation a if its head had been split open. A sudden, new, clear, inescapable quality to the air. Unknown sensations flooded its mind, fresh, sharp, strong. Some sort of – thrumming shook it, and terrible, strange vibrations tore through its very being.
It grew a new, a seventh sense, and it was the most painful thing it had ever experienced.
Luckily, the pain did not last long, for soon, the blackness of sleep fell over it again.