Tales of Valor - Part 2: Web of Deception

by Scribble Script

1 - Studies and Stories

Author's Note:

This Chapter is my tribute to the band Poets of the Fall in general and their song 'The Poet and the Muse' in particular.
As my OC was born (as part of a P&P roleplay actually) and long before he was turned into a pony by a mean writer (me ) this song and the story it told was part of his origin story. A very emotional part ... Maybe Valor will tell the full story one day. Ponyfied, of course...

PS.: I know the song's borrowed from the game Alan Wake, the adventure took a different turn however...

Web of Deception

1st: Studies and Stories

It lieth far beyond the stars in the night sky, unbeknownst to most pony-kind. It is nothing but emptiness, the death of all that liveth, a Void in between that separateth this plane from any other. But sometimes the walls of reality crackle and rifts appear that let the voice leak into our cosmos. And if the void is opened, hell followeth with…

Twilight used to admire the great medieval sorcerer known as Starswirl the Bearded. There was a whole wing of the royal library in Canterlot dedicated to him and filled with the spellbooks and researches he had written. And after all he was the first (and last) unicorn to do some real serious investigation on temporal magic. By now, Twilight had been desperately trying to gather some valuable information about temporal magic since she had met Valor Edge and therefor travelled to Canterlot to do her researches.
But this book Twilight Sparkle was currently trying to cope with was far too much. Said book’s title was ‘About Time, Space and Creation’ and it was Starswirl’s very own theoretical essay about how the universe was built up and working. If it was accurate to call a book encompassing over three thousand pages an essay…
The whole thing was way over the top cryptic and the fact that Starswirl had written it almost two millennia ago didn’t exactly help either.

“I don’t get it”, Twilight muttered in utter frustration. “I can’t prove any of his words wrong. And I can’t prove either that they’re NOT complete rubbish. It’s. All. So. VAGUE!”

If there had been other ponies in the same wing of the library, Twilight would have received a sullen ‘Ssssht!’ for her yelling. Instead she heard the hoof beats of another pony behind her.

A night-blue earth-pony stallion with blond mane, a collar and a bow-tie approached her. Twilight recognized him as one of the ponies she had met at the Grand Galloping Gala the year before. Though she didn’t quite remember his name.

“Evening, Miss Sparkle!” the stallion greeted, smiling. He opened the hatch of his saddlebags and fetched a book. “The librarian told me you were doing some research on temporal magic. May I then recommend this book?”

Twilight wound up her brows and looked at the title of the book as the stallion dropped it in front of her. 'The Silver Knight of Eternity', she read. “How exactly is this going to help?”

Then she looked at the subtitle. 'A Reference Guide to Temporal Phenomena and Legends by Clover the Clever'.

“Oh, I see… Well then, thank you…”

“You’re welcome”, the earth-pony smiled. “The great advantage with Clover is that she’s actually trying to explain things. Unlike ol’ Starswirl who was most likely making up words just to confuse his readers. Make sure to read the actual legend of the Silver Knight first, will you? It’s pretty good.” And with that he wished Twilight a good evening and left her with her studies.

Twilight rolled her eyes then looked at the index. The legend she was suggested to read was in the first part of the book. Alright then, she thought. Let’s see…
The pages got turned by her magic as she quickly skimmed through them to get to the legend’s part. And her eyes met a note stuck between the pages. Strangely the paper had been inserted at the very beginning of the Silver Knight’s legend.

Reverse the polarity! That was what words on the note read.

“What?” Twilight stammered.

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In the meantime, in Ponyville things went as usual. The ponies had very well accepted their new neighbor, Valor Edge and his funny outdated way to speak. He was doing his best to lend a hoof to those who needed one. Which meant he mainly was helping the Apple family with their day work. Valor had already done a good job at rebuilding the barn he had burnt down and on a farm there was always something that had to be done. So Valor was welcome to help as apple bucking season was upcoming.

Big McIntosh, sturdy built farm pony and Applejack’s brother, even held the opinion Valor would have made a great farmer himself if ‘he hadn’t ended up with some wrong Cutie Mark’. Valor had smiled about that strange compliment. To imagine him with a Mark showing an apple instead of sword and star! He somewhat liked the thought how everything could have been different.

In any case he wouldn’t have so many stories to tell (excluding stories about Apples which telling Applejack never grew tired of). But his stories were what made Valor Edge really unique to Ponyville. On the road of life he had seen countless wonders and dreads and heard more stories than a small-town pony could imagine.
Once he had been telling Spike a story about the Great Dragon Wars that had happened back in his homeland eons ago. By the time his story had reached its climax with Pyracor, the dragon-king, claiming to be the ruler of all elements, a dozen ponies had gathered around him and were listening as well.
He told the kind of stories they all liked to hear: Full of adventures and full of heart. Piteous stories of tragic love for the romantic. Tales about dangerous adventures and fabled treasures for the adventure-loving. And stories, dark and eerie that gave one the goosebumps. Many ponies, especially the youngsters appreciated a good spine-chiller while sitting at a campfire at summer- or the chimney at wintertime.
By and by ponies would ‘occasionally’ visit or invite him to hear his stories. And he would happily tell one or two.
Now AJ’s sister Apple Bloom, who was as keen on Valor’s tales as any filly, had one key advantage: Valor Edge was practically living under the same roof. As long as it took him to find some place of his own, her grandma Granny Smith had insisted that Valor stayed and used one of the spare rooms in their house. The Apple-family was big so they had quite some unused rooms for their family reunions…

And because it was summer the Apples and Valor often gathered around the bonfire after a good day’s work had been done. That was when Valor Edge told most of his stories. Almost naturally, like it was an old habit of him.

This evening as well they all sat at the fire. Apple Bloom had brought along two of her friends for a sleepover. Sweetie Belle was Rarity’s sister, Valor had met her occasionally at Carousel Boutique. The other one was an orange pegasus-filly dubbed Scootaloo. The three of them were planning to sleep in a tent they had set up in the yard. But first they all wanted to hear his stories. He could see it in Granny’s and Big Mac’s faces as well as in AJ’s and the fillies’. Even the elder ponies had grown fond his stories. They reminded them of the ‘good old times’. So Valor sat down and briefly took a look into an old, worn out journal that was even more precious to him than his blade. Alright, I will give them a chilling story for a warm evening.
Then he began:

“So I take you all know about places bound with magic. In fact you live at the very fringe of one. The Everfree Forest constantly reminds us that there is something beyond our grasp even if pegasi control the weather and unicorns schedule the four seasons. Suchlike places you fear, do you not? And it may be you are right to.

There once was a small town not unlike Ponyville. In this town there lived a poet, admired by all ponies around. And the pony himself admired one mare. All he wrote and rhymed, he did for her, the mare as beautiful as morning and night with the stars in her eyes, upright and noble.

Now, close by the town was a lake, spring fed from the surrounding mountains. And beneath its cold, dark waters lay something, different and not of this world. It was something that answered to the poet’s tales as he told them. Something that made the words arise as shining images from the bottom of the gloomy depths. And on an island upon these enchanted waters, the writer built a cottage for his muse so he could not only tell her about the wonders his mind created, but show her as well.
Oh, how she adored his soothing words. She had fallen for him the very first time they had met. If only the poet would by then have noticed he not needed to impress the star-eyed mare! But now he gave her something she did adore even more: The beautiful juggleries the unearthly lake shaped from his staves. More and more obsessed she became until she tried to summon the images herself, like he had done it a hundred times before. Hence she went down to the shore, right at the break of dawn when the fog still lay upon the lands. But she returned not.
The poet himself, driven by dark apprehension, went to the lake. The only sign he found of his love was the silver scarf of her. He called for her, cried out as loud as he could… He got no answer to but his own echo. As the night fell, the poet had to realize that his love was gone. That she never would come back to him.
He had to realize but he was not able to accept it. In his grief and his pain he would never accept that she was gone. ‘I used the power of the lake before’, he told himself. ‘I used it many a time. And I will use it again to bring my love back to me.’
So he wrote and wrote like he was to die if he put down the quill for even one minute. The story he wrote was about his love lost. It was the most beautiful story he had ever written. Also the saddest and the most terrifying for in each and every word a pony would have read his grave and infinite sorrow.
Eventually, one more time the lake responded: Grief, anger, pain and loneliness oozed from the poets words down to the black heart of it. Deep down where no light had ever shone, a nightmare started to shift.
In the dead of night the poet who had fallen asleep over his feverish writing, heard a sudden knock on his door. Right in front of him stood his muse as beautiful as ever. But she looked tired and weak. So he rushed to comfort her, to sustain her and lay her down on their bedside. But as he did, his look occasionally met her eyes. Oh, how wrong he had been: In the eyes of the pony that resembled his beloved one no longer was the light of the stars. Only blackness. It was the heart of darkness itself. In his inability to let his love rest in peace he had trailed it a path to his world: A Being of pure sorrow, hatred and loneliness.
Not to think if that horror was unleashed on the world. The poet finally saw his grave mistake and cried again. This time because he knew he had failed his love. Never would she have wanted him to do such a terrible thing. But he was not powerless either. His own words had formed the horror that was now staring at him with black eyes. And his words would lay it to rest!
Still his story was not complete. So for one last time he picked up the quill and wrote. A few words just, but each one carefully set. As he wrote his last sentence, the whole island shook. The waters of the lake boiled and seethed and then devoured the island.
The poet had vowed himself to the silence deep down in the lake and had taken the dark with him. His cottage and his island had vanished completely from the surface. Soon ponies began to wonder if the poet had ever really lived in their town and eventually the whole story was said to have been just a dream.
But mistake not. For some say they still are to wander around the shores, in nights when no moon shines.”

Six pairs of large eyes were looking at Valor as he had finished his story. This one had been a little different. Most of his tales were established in faraway and foreign lands but this story somewhat was unsettling familiar. There had been an incident with a magical pond a few weeks ago. What if something more dreadful and sinister than a bunch of too many Pinkie Pies had come out of it?
“That was quite a story… But it’s… It’s just a story, right?” Granny Smith stated but more than a little uncertain, still looking at Valor. The narrator very well took the hint.
“Of course, it is”, he smilingly confirmed and nodded. “Just an over three centuries old ponytale. Worry not!”
They all returned his smile. But from the look in his eye one could have read that he wasn’t telling everything.
“Oh, well. I got you good with this little one” he laughed though his look didn’t completely match what he was saying. “Now, after the spine-chiller for startup, how about a more adventurous story?
Shall I tell you about the adventures of great Norse-pony pirate and explorer Grey Wolf?”

“YAAAY!” the fillies screamed. And again Valor had captured them as he started with his new story. It was about how Grey Wolf had set sails for his most dangerous journey. He had been challenged to sail around the whole world and complete difficult tasks to prove that he was indeed the greatest and boldest adventurer. The new tale was a brighter one. Valor displayed Grey Wolf as kind of a rascal, often taking on dangers with a smile and a joke on his lips.

Eventually the bonfire was burning down and the Apple Bloom and her friends went to their tent. And as the rest of the Apple-family went to bed as well Valor stood back at the dying fire, lost in his own thoughts.

He had for no particular reason chosen the story of the Lake of Darkness. But come to think of it: It was by far not a mere ponytale but in fact a prequel to a series of grave events in his past. And his daughter’s… In an eerie way that old story wouldn’t let his family go completely.
By the time he had been dragged into, he didn’t know he had to deal with a rift in the fabric of reality. Now he did. Valor didn’t exactly understand the nature of these rifts but he knew they could be dangerous. Behind these cracks in the universe lay the Void, the great emptiness found between all universes, different dimensions and other realities.

Funny, Valor thought. Here I am, against all odds, incredible far away from home. But maybe I am not really separated from my past.

Funny, but also a little creepy. Valor couldn’t foresee what pieces of the past might leak through…

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