Tear the Sky Asunder

by Ice Star

United Brothers

Sister and sister only grow apart, but brother and brother are as close as can be
Neither ponies, Alicorns, or gods; they owed allegiance to no tribe or faction, and hailed from no land near or far across the sea

They came from the dead worlds — Paradise and Tartarus — and were born to the forgotten gods that resided within
These brothers were Reapers, immortal beings who could shift their form from a pony's, to a god's, and their own monstrous skins

They had been journeying across the farthest north of the Arctic plain. The eldest used his own powers — his Reaper's birthright — to open an otherworldly gate. Their bulky forms were strangers to both this world and the gray-white blur of the horizon. The sky that battered them with snow in an attempt to bleach the already bleak landscape of mountains, piling upon the faults that they walked over. Mixed in with the snow was ash from the great fiery-mouthed volcanoes towards the land nearer to the Pole and its star.

The brothers continue their self-imposed exile from all they've ever known. It is all so Tirek might use his power to rip the magic from pony's souls. Scorpan, the younger of the two, took the lead, as if trying to part the snow they were trying to walk through. His form was sheltered by only the leathery shield made by his stilled wings. He used his talon to point out their surroundings, calling his older brother's attention to the most trivial of things in this land, which was so unlike the diverse Tartarian hellscape they grew up in.

He chattered on and on about the fame that they would bring themselves, now they would finally prove their parents — who had acted as their teachers — wrong. Soon, the ponies that had somehow survived the mysterious fall of the Old World, would bow before them as their new kings. These autocrats would be the only ones worthy of wielding any power on this miserable, freezing continent with no one to question or challenge them. They may not be Alicorns, like their sire or dam, but these two immortals wanted to gain the power that came with godhood in one way or another.

Scorpan fingers the medallion with his free claw, the gold unable to glitter in such conditions. It was the only token he had to remind him of the mother, father, and the little sister he had left behind. He had abandoned all in order to ally with Tirek in his quest for power. He hated the necklace and all it stood for. A moment of silence as Scorpan walks on, and then he suddenly pauses and rips the piece over his head with a brusque, careless movement and turns around to face Tirek, clasping it in his hand-like paw.

Tirek
Who is built
not with the
structure of the tallest tower,
a brief, thin shape to
pierce the sun's light but
with the brutish
concentrated might
of every palace wall
whose harsh features bear a
snarling grin when
given any power,
his teeth flashing brighter
than his polished horns
His mouth
only ever scowled
with brooding irritation
hidden to none
At the sound of his name
The tyrannical harshness
that is his natural state
twists slightly
As if bearing the semblance
of whatever brotherly sneer
he could muster
cruel despite its bizarre earnestness
and all Scorpan had ever known

"Here," Scorpan offered, extending an arm and holding the medallion, letting it swing feebly to catch whatever sunlight it could.

Tirek pauses, waiting for this to be explained to him, as his mind was already that of a king.

"To celebrate," Scorpan calls loudly, above the snow, "what we are about to do?"

Tirek scowled deeper, muttering a few garbled words to himself about chatterboxes despite his brother's sudden brevity.

"Just take it, Tirek."

"What would I need your necklace for? It is the key through which you channel your magic. You will not be as sharp in power without it."

"My magic will work very well despite lacking a proper key to open many realm-doors with, and I am always able to forge my own. They may be sloppy, but they work, my brother. Call it a token of our brotherhood. We shall be kings, after all, and of all!" Scorpan cheered, "Our strength will be proven, and no longer shall we have such empty titles such as Lord Scorpan and Lord Tirek. No longer will the spirits of the damned whisper our names with the hollow fear that Tartarus instills in every mortal soul, but with the fear any good kings deserve. We shall be subjects of the same dread they show to father! Oh, this is going to be thrilling and—"

A simple swipe of Tirek's great hand snatches the necklace snagged in Scorpan's claw. He roughly slips it over his head and horns, past his long white mane, which had become overgrown during travel. It was tied back with a simple jeweled piece that marks him as having been a prince in all but name.

This simple gesture silences his eager sibling, although the quick glance from the elder's darker eyes doubt his most loyal follower. It was the same, sneaky doubt Tirek had regarded their parents and younger sister with.

"Ponies are but husks of magic, Scorpan. No glory will come from taking their land; it is the weak hearts of ponies themselves that we must conquer!"

Scorpan nodded solemnly and battered back the storm with a few waves of his arm before resuming his trek, all as his own steps in the snow are overtaken by Tirek's.

Tirek
is but another
spelling for 'tyrant'
He who seeks only
only to triumph by
building a throne
upon others that
he has felled in
the worst possible ways
where each red cape
is colored with a sheen
of innocents' blood
and the purple trimmings
of royalty
are but the bruises of those harmed
to obtain the power
that he seeks
to wrench from hooves as cold
as snow and so frozen
they can barely hold onto anything
and are marked
with their own blood
as he, the
lone tower
soars above their cries