The Legacy of The Shattered Dream

by Natomon01

Prologue

Author's Note:

This story starts out in the beginning of MrNelg's narrative; just after Megan is abducted. I wanted to introduce my own narrative as a parallel storyline taking place at the same time.

-Prologue: From One Dreamer’s Perspective-

Megan gave a startled cry as she felt her whole body rise with the griffins. She curled in on herself as she rose higher and higher. First she could see the river below her, and then the tree tops. Looking down stream, she could see that she was in a valley of some kind. She could also see that they were flying upstream. Turning to look up stream, she gaped in shock.

Good God in the foothills. Mountains! They were flying towards mountains. Towering, snow capped dark grey mountains. Megan was unable to utter a single syllable. There were no mountains on, nor within the general vicinity of her farm. Where the devil was she? She could not have gone that far. Her mind flipped back to the storm, with the blue lighting. No. There's no way it could have…

-From a Neutral Perspective-

The panicked cacophony generated by the clash of griffon and human voices faded gradually as the hunters carried their prize higher and eventually out of sight. There were some half-dozen individuals that stayed behind, chattering to each other as they walked back and forth in what was clearly a field-hunt search pattern. In-and-out of the gurgling water they walked. Occasionally calling back towards their comrades with news of something they had found.

Eventually they gathered a pile of strange foreign objects on a fur pelt. Their leader, or at least the one that was trusted the most, carefully drew together the corners of the mat and bound them together to hold the precious cargo. He was about to hoist it onto his back when another waved him off and produced a gem from a small pouch tied to one of his talons. Another handed him a hollow tube which he inserted the gem into the end of. He pushed it into the bundle for a moment while staring into one end with one open eye and watched intently before allowing his associates to take their finds into the air.

Moments later he too flapped his wings and joined them, thus leaving the area in peace and exactly as it had been less then an an hour before. The sights and sounds of nature once again enveloped the river bank and the day continued into night and then night into day again in the unbroken cycle to be observed everywhere the sky could be seen. During the day the vegetation bloomed, the birds sang, and fish jumped in the inexorable procession of water through the glen.

After three days it rained, and the added water erased from the sand and bare earth the prints left by the human and her captors. Thus proving that despite the gravity of events that might be felt by those involved in them, there was simply no way around the fact that the world and the passage of time truly were impartial. The “ordinary” would resume after the “extraordinary” had moved on. Yet, it was nearly three weeks later that something truly extraordinary happened again.

It was a another day with mostly clear skies and an agreeable temperature to most creatures when a perfectly ordinary line of clouds began moving across the sky. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss about the cumulus clouds as they drifted closer to the stationary glen, but if there had been other accumulations in the sky that day they would be most noticeably out of place at their particular altitude. Seemingly conscious of this irregularity, the amorphous mass began descending slowly and gently as if in a planned glide slope with the river bank as the destination.

As could be expected there was no one at the destination to witness the event. Thus there was no intelligence which would care enough to record. However, it was intelligence that was orchestrating the movement of the darkening mass as it continued moving below an impossibly low altitude for what it appeared to be. A strange sound now filled the air; a low gentle rumbling as if the sound of rolling thunder had been stretched out into a never-ending cycle and then polished to perfection. As the source grew closer still, a shrill whine could also be discerned. The combination of the strange sounds was powerful but at the same time would have been considered soothing to many ears.

Still closer it crept. Now directly over the glen its true size could be gauged. It blocked out the sun and covered both sides of the river in shade. One could clearly tell this was no cloud. It was almost as if something was merely wearing a cloud. This, in fact, was the truth. As the object began descending straight down the pitch changed and the white exterior evaporated to reveal its true dark, foreboding, and iron-clad form. It was massive, over an acre in size; an elongated form that ended in a semicircular point with two curved projections that extended from the rear and ran parallel to its entire length. Yet, it could fly without wings, and it now stayed aloft with nothing to hold it. Almost as though it were being willed into the sky.

It would have been truly frightening, or at least awe inspiring to anyone who had been there to see it. A series of protrusions, that could only be described as legs, dropped out from the interior of the giant construct, and the craft rotated slightly to align them with the flattest patches of earth on both sides of the river. The loose stones on the ground vibrated. Pine needles and leaves began to dance, though there was no wind. Specs of dust began to rise from the ground and the blades of grass nearby stiffened and bent all in the same direction as though reaching out to touch the great artificial beast.

It continued gradually lowering itself below the tree-line as though it were only a toy on a string. Yet, unlike a toy, when the beast at last made landfall its legs compacted slightly under its incredible mass. All five issued a satisfied groan. The whine ceased and the rumble gradually abated until it was barely discernible. Movement within was now apparent as smaller creatures, dwarfed by the massive size of their vehicle, prepared to exit. The first to emerge were winged equines and griffons. They fluttered to the ground chattering to each other in at least three different languages and began collecting at certain points under the craft. Some moved stones while others concerned themselves with establishing a patrol around the landing site. Still others emerged from the topside walking or galloping along the sleek and dark-colored hull before briefly taking to the air and studying the horizon.

As soon as the stones were moved the underbelly began to extend as it gradually lowered a platform, jammed with other equines, until it rested on the ground. A few of the disembarking passengers possessed a hornlike protrusion on their forehead. Their coats were a mixture of bright colors or striped patterns. Many carried paper charts or surveyor’s equipment, and they hurriedly conferred with each other before making their way towards the area of the river bank where just weeks earlier another out-of-place drama had played out.

The questions that no doubt would have plagued Megan, had she witnessed these events, would have been too numerous and diverse to fully reconcile with her then understanding of reality. The most pressing of inquiries she would have broken down her confusion into would likely have pertained to the nature of the strange craft and crew, but also why they were there in the first place. Though, these questions likely would have faded in lieu of another if she could only have known who it was that had brought them there.

The question of just "why they were there" plagued the group of equine surveyors as they wildly gestured and spoke to each other trying to establish centralized order. Presently, they became quiet and stiffened their posture as they were joined by a figure who obviously commanded great respect; a figure who walked on two legs.