The Light of Despair

by Gordon Pasha

The Brightest Flame

Radiant Hope stood alert. It was nearly midnight. Fortunately, only one pony had contracted plague while she had been asleep. Had there been more to heal, she could not have been everywhere. She could not sit by every bedside as the fatal hours came.

Besides, had she more than one pony to cure, there would have been no time. She would not have finished healing until perhaps the coming of the dawn.

But there had just been one. Something to be thankful for, though Hope would be more thankful if the outbreaks ceased altogether. But she was here now. She was here and moderately rested. What was more, she was now aware of the dangers of sleep stealing in upon her when she least expected it.

She would not make such a fatal mistake as allow it to come. Not tonight.

Hope waited, solemn, silent, her eyes fixed unwaveringly upon the youthful pegasus in the bed before her. This hovel was one of the larger ones – which was not saying much – but the interior seemed rather impoverished. Luck, not means, seemed to have determined that this particular pony would receive this particular dwelling. She had nothing else.

Hope watched. And thought.

Does Princess Celestia know the conditions these ponies live in? she wondered. Things were never this bad in the Crystal Empire. But it’s normal for them. Maybe if somepony did something about it, there would be no plague in this town.

And why did Princess Celestia want to stop me from coming? If she had just explained more about it, I would know what I’m up against. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why would she keep that from me?

It’s almost like… she doesn’t even know….

The pony in bed began to move. Hope teleported to her side. The crystal pony’s eyes grew wide as she saw little welts beginning to form across the victim’s body. And they were growing larger and larger with each passing second.

---

Somewhere outside, Fallen Fortune stomped toward the hovel. He had gone to find Hope at the inn but, finding her out, he had spoken to the innkeeper. A few bits was a modest price to pay for the information about the newest case of plague. So, after a suitable change into a new, unstained robe, Fortune quickly located the hovel.

He was standing outside the flap that passed for a door. He knew Hope was inside. The dark magic flowing through him told him so. He did not know how, he did not know why, but it seemed to have an adverse effect when it came within the vicinity of her magic. He felt almost sick.

But it was a sickness he knew how to heal. Just remove the healer, and it would be healed.

---

The pony in the bed began to shake and shiver as the boils grew larger. More and more appeared, growing faster and faster. Hope did what she did best; she cast a healing spell. And the boils subsided. But then new ones emerged. She cast another spell. Those boils were gone. But more boils replaced them. The boils were now appearing faster than Hope could banish them. Finally, she used her most powerful healing spell.

It seemed to have an effect. The boils subsided. The pony lay still.

Hope did nothing. She just stood and watched and listened. She saw nothing but her charge calmly sleeping. She heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing, heavy from the exertion. Hope began to relax. Maybe it was over.

And then the pony began to cough. It was strange and surprising. Hope had treated countless infected, but for all their many symptoms, none had been prone to coughing fits. Hope immediately tried another healing spell.

It did nothing.

---

Fortune grinned wildly at the thought of what he was about to do. A dark, sludge-like aura surrounded his horn. The flap moved backward. He peered inside.

---

Hope tried another spell, but it did nothing. The pony continued to cough. Once more, Hope cast a spell. Once more, there was no effect.

And then, the pony seemed to cough up something, as though it had been lodged tightly in her throat. It came shooting out of her mouth. But how could it have been stuck? It was merely a ball of light.

Hope stared at the ball. It was small and round and white, though with hints of blue and orange. She thought, for a moment, that she heard a laugh; a rude, merciless laugh, like one hears after a particularly mean-spirited prank.

And then she was blinded by a strong flash of light. Not just blinded, but sent tumbling. Hope crashed upon the ground. It felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of her.

---

Fallen Fortune shook his head. Whatever that light was, it had been blinding. But no matter. It was surely just another of Hope’s magic tricks. Now that it was gone, she would not escape.

As Fortune’s eyesight returned, he saw the crystal pony, laying prone on her chest, sprawled out, her eyes closed as though she was unconscious. This would be easier than he thought. He leaned his head into the hut. His horn began to glow a hideous purple and green.

Until Fortune’s eye caught sight of it. The golden staff, the intertwined serpents, the wings raised aloft. Radiant Hope’s cutie mark. Fortune paused.

---

Hope opened her eyes. She looked above her. The ball of light had grown. It was growing still. Growing and taking the form of a pony. But not a pony of flesh. A pony of fire, blue and orange. It now stood between her and the bed. It seemed to have no face, but Hope still got the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that it was staring into her.

And then there was that laugh.

“So, this is the little pony who's been using her little magic to hassle us, is it?”

The thing’s voice did not even sound like a pony. Rather, it was like the sound of fire crackling in the hearth, as though that hissing sound could be turned to speech. Fire made vocal.

“What… what are you?”

“I am one of my kind and we are the plague.”

“You’re causing the plague?”

“We are the plague.”

Hope shook her head. “How can that be? You’re fire. You’re… you’re….”

“Light?” said the creature, with a distinct tone of mockery. “Why, little pony, did no one ever tell you that not all evil hides in darkness?”

“E-evil?”

“Yes, to you little ponies at least. But then, your evil is our good.”

“I don’t understand. What are you? Why are you doing this?”

Another fiendish laugh from the fiend. “Why should I tell you that? You are nothing to us!”

Hope stood up. “Whatever you are, I cannot let you hurt any more ponies. If you try, I will stop you!”

The fiend clearly found this highly amusing. There was an even louder, raspy laugh, like the sound of flames as they lap upon wood.

“You are persistent, and you have courage. These are qualities we find lacking in most of your kind. Having an adversary is a novelty. Very well, since have done more than any of your species to… annoy us… I shall let you have a little understanding before you die.”

Die? Well, that had not been a surprise, really. Hope braced herself. She would have to fight. But for now, better to keep him talking.

“You may know of our kind,” said the flame. “There are many of us. In marshes and forests we prefer to dwell, where there is wood and where the air conduces to flame. Oftentimes, some lonely pony gets lost in the woods, stumbles into the swamp. This pony knows not how to get home. But then, a light appears in the distance, and the pony thinks itself saved. But it learns too late what we are. For no pony that follows our lights ever returns home.”

Hope gritted her teeth. She did not like standing here, so near this… this thing. It was not merely a distaste, either. She felt it, deep within her, though she could never explain quite what she felt. All that she knew was that she had felt it before. She had felt it every year, during the Crystal Fair, when Sombra had been at the height of his pain. And she felt it again that fateful night, when in the twilight he froze Princess Amore into stone and shattered her. And here, tonight, this midnight, the very air dripped with it, and Hope felt it like never before.

“But why are you here?” she asked. “Why have you…. The swamp!”

“Yes,” said the flame. “The foolish ponies, they drained our swamp, our home, for their own usage. We had to find a new home. But we are not bitter. You creatures, we find, are easier to burn from the inside.”

Hope’s brows rose in shock. “Burn?”

“Yes, burn. It is a shame that you burn out so easily. When our fire meets the heat in your own bodies, how strong we grow! How strong our fire burns! And it burns you up!”

“So… you need the heat in our bodies for… energy? But you must be able to get it from somewhere else. There must be another source.”

“Perceptive little pony. Another trait not common among you. Yes, we may burn up other objects. But nothing gives us such heat, such energy, as you do. By draining our swamp, you have opened yourselves to us, and what a feast you have provided! What answer to your hospitality would it be to refuse to partake?”

Hope struggled to find words. “But… but….”

“It is not so hard to understand, even for a pony,” said the flame. “We must eat, so we eat. It is as simple as that. Also, it is fun.”

Hope gave several little shakes of her head. “Fun? How can it be…. You’re hurting ponies! You’re killing them! How is that fun?”

“It is,” answered the fire.

There was another crackling cackle.

“But since you have been so persistent, we will grant you a favor. I will roast you alive.”

“How is that a favor?”

“Better to die quickly than burn slowly. Or so I assume. But then, maybe it is worse.”

This was what Hope had been preparing herself for. She was ready. Or she hoped she was. Swiftly, suddenly, her horn lit up and fired the most powerful offensive blast she had in her arsenal.

It did nothing.

But the adversary seemed to be caught off-guard. It took a moment to react. And when it did, it spewed forth a heavy burst of flame. But the delay had allowed Hope to ready her teleportation spell.

---

As she reappeared just in front of him, Fortune quickly pulled down the flap so that he would not be seen. But he could not resist keeping it open just enough that he might still see what was going on.

---

Hope launched another powerful blast. Again, it had no effect.

More crackling and more cackling. The fiend shot a beam toward her. Hope was not quick enough to avoid it. But to her surprise, it did not roast her. Though it burned, it did even singe her coat. Rather, it just held her still.

“Little pony, little pony….” the adversary said, its tone sounding like mock-disappointment. “Our magic is powerful. Yours is nothing. You can do nothing to us. Only a like magic can do us harm.”

Hope felt herself being shoved down. She collapsed once more onto her chest. There she felt a burning sensation. The pain shot like flame throughout her entire body. Hope felt beads of sweat beginning to form. But the perspiration would not cool her off. The fire was on the inside.

Hope knew she did not have long. She could handle the pain. But she knew it would get worse. And worse. And then, there would be no pain. There would not be anything, perhaps.

Hope could almost desire it. Almost, if not for him.

Sombra, Hope thought, I’m sorry….

---

Fallen Fortune had watched all this as though in a stupor. Still, he felt the power inside of him, the dark power. But his rage was dissipating. It would not last much longer.

---

Hope glanced above her as she felt her consciousness beginning to fade. She saw the entrance flap pull back, and she saw a pony enter. A pale blue pony with slicked-back hair and a small beard.

“Leave her alone!” she heard Fortune shout.

---

“And who is this?” said the creature. “And what is he doing? Do you not know that your magic is as useless as hers?”

“You haven’t seen my magic yet,” responded Fallen Fortune, his mouth curled into a long sneer.

He launched a blast at the creature. Like a flickering flame, it seemed to bend and contort. It certainly moved backward. It tried to reform.

But Fortune shot another blast. And another. The fiend was blown backward with each. Soon, it was at the edge of the hovel. It had grown smaller, and dimmer. It seemed to glare at Fortune with hatred. Hatred, but also anguish.

Fortune prepared a final blow. He knew it would expend the remaining dark magic in him. He just hoped it would be enough to immobilize the adversary.

But before he could do anything, the fiend let out a terrible shriek, like the whistling of a raging fire doused in water. It contracted itself back into a little ball of light and then burst through the wall, leaving a small hole behind. The edges of the hole had been singed black, and tiny strands of dark smoke slowly wafted, snake-like, toward the center of the room.

---

Hope quickly did a healing spell on herself. It felt cooling, as though rain was falling inside of her. She began to feel better. When she could, she got to her hooves.

Hope looked to the pony in the bed. She was sleeping peacefully now, more peacefully than Hope had seen among any of her other charges. And, most importantly, she was breathing deep, calm breaths. She was alive.

Radiant Hope turned to Fallen Fortune. There was complete silence. They just stared at each other, as though sizing one another up. But neither said a word.

Until Fortune smiled upon Hope, and he spoke. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink.”

---

What was this new enemy Radiant Hope and Fallen Fortune had just encountered?

Read on.

Comments

[DayDragon]

My dear Celestia, what a glorious fimfic. Let it please live on!

[Gordon Pasha]

7195407
Don't worry. The story is alive and well. More's coming soon!