• Published 11th Jan 2018
  • 6,209 Views, 4,647 Comments

House of the Rising Sunflower - kudzuhaiku



Hard work is its own reward, and competence can be one's ultimate undoing.

  • ...
28
 4,647
 6,209

PreviousChapters Next
And it burns, burns, burns

These hallowed halls held secrets, but no means to convey them. There was history here—the air was thick with it—but if this place were a book its pages were written in a text that Sundance could not read. Emptiness, dust, and flickering flames awaited him and his companions in every room, every alcove, every carved stone chamber. This place was a tomb, but what had died here was unknown. These secrets were taken to the grave, or the crematorium in this instance, and burned into a fine ash that told no tales.

Paradox Sunflower grew increasingly frustrated that there were so few books discovered. What little there was to be found was largely useless and offered no information, no answers, nothing of meaning. Whatever secrets the cult knew, whatever great truths they had hoarded, they took with them into the Great Beyond. Old barracks had rotting beds, empty shelves, and offered no insight into those who had once lived here.

As for Sundance, he could not help but feel a profound sense of loss.

Stricken with a sombre mood, afflicted with introspection, Sundance followed along behind Paradox. She knew the symbols, the glyphs, the many markers on the walls, none of which he could read. What a gift Princess Celestia had given him; Paradox was more than a mere scholar, she was family as well. Her keen intellect and years of attentive study proved to be powerful assets, and Sundance wondered if he was as appreciative enough of them as he should be.

"They're all gone," one of the changelings said.

"All gone," another added.

"None came back from the flames." Tight vocal chords gave Paradox's voice an almost reedy whine. "The miracle never came. As Sundance said, their ways were never validated. They probably failed to attract new members. Those who remained grew old… and probably did so here, in this place. Eventually"—she paused, swallowed, and shook her head enough to ruffle her mane—"the flame went out. There was nothing left to believe in. No reason to keep going. So it ended."

Lifting her head, Paradox came to a halt, had a look around, and continued, "They left behind quite a legacy though. Other caches have been found. Hidden rooms in libraries, courthouses, and apothecaries. But all of those places were empty too, just like this place. No books, no ledgers, no journals… nothing to tell a story. This place is a find of immense importance, but just like all the other places, it offers no answers. It's as if somepony came along after the fact and cleaned up… just erased everything of importance and relevance. I had high hopes that by finding this place, we'd have some answers."

Saddened by these words, Sundance sighed.

"Not all is lost though," Paradox said. "Princess Twilight could come here and determine which spells were cast here. There are echoes… even I can sense them. Powerful magic was cast here. This place is inundated with magical residue. There might be something we can learn, but I doubt we'll have answers. Just more questions."

Head bowed, Paradox picked up her hooves and led the way…


Several changelings moved aside as Sundance made his way through the door and into the chapel. This was a room of stunning size, with high ceilings, fountains of running water, stone benches, and a roaring, flickering curtain of blazing flames that dominated the rear of the room. This room was hot, swelteringly so, and mere moments after entering Sundance began sweating. The ceiling overhead was just high enough to be lost to shadows, which danced and cavorted above the effulgent flames.

Above the flames there was a bronze cartouche that read, Beyond the flames, understanding.

As Sundance stood staring, he saw them. There were birds in the flames that crackled in and out of existence. Phoenixes? He squinted into the flames, trying to have himself a better look, but the ephemeral avians refused to remain real for any meaningful length of time. Nothing fed the flames; there was nothing down below but dull grey granite. Yet, the flames persisted, as did the phantom phoenixes that flitted about, flirting with the flowering, flowing flames.

Beyond the flames, understanding? Just what did that mean? Now standing near a stone bench, Sundance gave careful consideration to these words. Perhaps the treasures of this place were in a room beyond the flames. He doubted there was silver and gold to be found, or precious gemstones—but there could be books. There might be answers. To have them, all one had to do was brave the flames. Sweat trickled down Sundance's neck, pouring from his scalp. This room was oven-hot and those flames would surely turn him into a flash-fried pegasus if he got too close.

So lost in thought was he that he failed to observe how Hornet stared up at him.

Tearing his eyes away from the flames, Sundance examined the water. It came out of nowhere, with no visible holes to be seen. Somehow, it bubbled into existence and then poured down the sides of decorative pillar-like objects that stood in the middle of broad, shallow stone basins. Endless water, curiously drawn from some unknown wellspring. What wondrous power was magic, with its ability to sustain flames and maintain an eternal flow of water.

"I've never seen magic like this," Paradox said as she moved between the two flowing fountains and then stood still. "Those flames aren't illusory. I don't know what they are, but I know what they aren't, and they aren't illusionary. It's not unicorn magic… whatever it is, it doesn't want to be studied. Weirdly… it rather feels like Princess Celestia's sun, but she scolded me whenever I tried to study her precious flaming orb so it's hard for me to make a comparison."

"There's birds in the flames." Fudge Turnover, who kept a safe, respectful distance from the roaring inferno curtain, raised her left front hoof to shield her eyes as she squinted. "If you watch, they pop in and out of existence. They're beautiful."

"I don't know what they are," Paradox said. "They look like phoenixes, but I don't think they are. Might be some kind of magic spirit of some kind. These flames might be gated in from the Infernium, but I would need to run a lot of tests to know for sure."

At some point, without realising it, Sundance had already made up his mind.

All of his life had prepared him for this moment. Every moment of danger, every stupid, foolish act, each and every death-defying act of daredevilry. Slaloming the stacks. Picking a fight with an owlbear. Flying into Canterlot during a major storm when the smoke blew sideways. Crashing through the treetop canopy of the Froggy Bottom Bogg. Sundance was a lot of things; while he might be considered a noble pegasus—not noble because he was a baron, but noble in his virtues and deeds—mostly, he was just plain dumb, and this made him special.

Beyond the flames was understanding. At least, that was the promise. Maybe not so much of a promise, not really, but it was what the sign said. Understanding was wisdom, and wisdom was a precious thing, a commodity sought out by kings, queens, and prancing pony princesses. He licked his lips whilst his nerves telegraphed a rapid-fire distress signal to the main office. The main office—his brain in this questionable metaphor—was closed for the day, which meant that the rest of his body was subject to Sundance's most primal whims. It was a fate that no body should be subject to, but the main office was closed so it was impossible to file a complaint. Whatever treasures there were to be had in this place were surely beyond the flames.

And he would have them.

Hooves clip-clopping against the stone floor, Sundance broke into a run. There were shouts of alarm, and one of the changelings moved to intercept him, but Sundance bowled over the poor bug. Wings tucked tight against his sides, Sundance figured that it was just a matter of moving fast through the flames, so fast that the flames had no time to burn him. He might get a little singed, or maybe even scorched a bit, or his tail might smoulder, but those fates were but a small price to pay for understanding.

"No, you fool!" roared Megara, but it was too late; the manticoress could do nothing to stop him.

Clippity-clopping, there was no stopping, and Sundance flung himself into the burning curtain. Right away, instantaneously, he immolated. The flames consumed him from hoof to ear. Whatever he experienced in this moment went beyond pain—he had no understanding of what he felt, other than every other painful moment in his life would be a pleasant thing compared to what he endured now. Flesh turned to ashen parchment, peeled off, and fell like autumn leaves. His feathers turned into wisps of superheated nothingness. Tendrils of flame snaked their way up his nostrils and into his brain, igniting his thoughts. The flames devoured him, consumed him, long tongues of fiery wrath lapped at his body, exploring every tender crevice.

Thousands of flame-feathered birds surrounded his body and then he was gone.


Flames. Everything was on fire, including Sundance. He was made of flame and lacked a corporeal body at the moment. Being a living thing made of flame wasn't what it was cracked up to be, and he rather wanted his body back. To be flesh and blood again, to have a heart, and organs, and to be able to pee in the mornings so that he might mark his territory. All these things were lost to him, and he would miss them.

The burning birds circled as a swarm, and then formed a massive flaming face—an avian face. Inferno eyes stared unblinking at Sundance, and the fires of Tartarus burned along the blazing beak. Every feather was a conflagration burning beyond all comprehension. It was just a face; no body, nothing else, it was everything it needed to be and nothing else. This thing, whatever it was, regarded Sundance with austere calamity, and calm destruction burned within the fiery windows to its soul.

"Are you ready to be tested?" asked the fiery fiend.

"I guess," was Sundance's dull response. "I didn't study. Didn't know there'd be a pop-quiz."

"You guess? You guess? You dull-witted, simpleminded creature!"

"Yeah, I am."

The bird face made of many birds seemed perplexed in a stereotypical avian way. Its head cocked to one side, it's flaming feathers ruffled, and its calamitous gaze seemed rather stupefied, all things considered. A squawk like a roaring apocalypse parted its beak, and some great invisible force almost crushed Sundance as he was pulled closer for inspection.

"I would make you face your fears, but that would accomplish nothing. Begone, ye custard-brained, cretinous ignoramus! And do not come back! Away with you to the mortal realms, ye simpleton! Begone from the heart of the Sun!"


Whole of body, Sundance found himself standing in a strange place. Some kind of alcove? Was this an alcove? While his brain struggled to recover sapience, he had himself a look around. He'd wanted something—treasure! Yes, he wanted treasure, and shiny things. No, not shiny things, something else. He blinked, and the dimwitted dullard expression on his face relaxed a little. Beyond the flames was treasure, but not shiny things. Important things, but not shiny things.

He turned his head to look at his body, and he seemed to be fine—though his feelings were hurt. Some big bird-thing had called him a custard-brained something or other, and that was mean. Really mean, because he liked custard, but now the sweet creamy treat would forever remind him of the mean burning birdy creature out in the great beyond. A part of him thought about jumping into the flames again, so he could give that rude jerk a few choice words, but there were no flames to be seen. In fact, there was nothing in the alcove.

"Mean, bossy, bad bird!"

He extended a wing and checked beneath it, worried that he'd find flames.

Nope, no flames to be found. No feathers missing. Smiling, he pushed his face into the downy depths of his wings and shivered with relief. All of him was here, and that was good. He was a pretty boy, yes he was. Sundance was a pretty birdy, with big feathery wings, a long fluffy tail, and a body that was not a pile of ashes. What was it that he'd wanted again? Why had he come here? He rubbed his wing against his cheek and celebrated the ticklish sensation that made his ears quiver.

Intense worry pinched his face, his eyes narrowed, and a dreadful fear gripped him. He pulled his head away from his wing, folded his feathered extremity against his side, and then lowered his head down to peer between his front legs. The tiny room he stood in was dark, it was difficult to see, but he was able to check between his hind legs, and was quite relieved to find that everything was as it should be. He sighed, lifted his head up high, and gave himself a shimmy-shake that dislodged a few stray hairs.

And then, quite suddenly and without warning, he was no longer alone. Another pegasus crashed into him, a female of his species. Delightful. She appeared practically right on top of him. His treasure had appeared at long last, and what a treasure she was. He pawed at her with his hoof, which was a strange thing for an equinoid creature to do, pawing with a hoof, and then it dawned upon him that something was wrong—his treasure seemed distressed.

"Sundance!"

"Hi!" he replied with uncharacteristic exuberance.

"We all watched you burn," she said to him in an almost scolding tone. "You burnt to ashes and you screamed and hollered the whole time. It was awful. But then I sensed that you were still alive, so I came after you… and there was a horrible bird monster—"

"He's a rude jerk," Sundance said to the distressed mare.

"It was awful. He was awful. She? I don't know… whatever it was, it showed me a future where my kind never have acceptance. It was the most horrible thing. I couldn't protect them. It's my purpose… my reason for existing, and I couldn't protect them. Couldn't save them."

Leaning in closer, he slipped a wing over her neck and said to her, "I'll protect you."

"You have a grub-brain," she said to him matter-of-factly. "It's good to know that you're alright. The others think that you died. Well, not my fellow 'lings, they know that you're alive, but they are bawling and weeping and grieving your premature death along with the others. And my death as well."

Something stirred within the placid depths of Sundance's mind.

"Dirty, rotten, no good gigglebugs." He chortled, covered his mouth with his other wing, and suffered spectacular failure when he tried to withhold his laughter.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I… dunno. In the treasure place." Still he chortled, amused beyond all ends.

"How do we get back?"

"You don't know?" he asked in return.

"This is my first time here, of course I don't know," she snapped. Then, head low, she seemed to reconsider. "It's like shouting at a grub. Still bothered after seeing the future. I'm sorry, Sundance."

"For what?"

"I have to get you to safety. Back to the others. I have to bring you back from the dead so I can be a hero. But I don't even know where we are."

"We're together," he said, his congenial good-naturedness manifesting.

"And you really, really love me right now. That's very sweet of you, Sundance."

"Yeah, I'm sweet. I can be your fuzzy bumblebee."

"Alright, sweetness, let's see what's in the next room. Maybe there's a way out. I don't know if I passed the test or not… I sure hope this isn't some prison. We could be here for a while until my fellow 'lings burrow to wherever we are to free us."

"We can pass the time," he said with a reckless eyebrow waggle.

"Follow me," she said to him as he practically hung off of her. "Let's see what secrets this place has."


Sundance allowed himself to be led into the next room, and then halted in place when he saw the vast empty space. There was a massive statue of his Great Grandmother—terrifyingly large and her ruby eyes stared right into his very soul—and there were bookshelves. Empty bookshelves. There wasn't much else. There was a table, a door at the far end, a few stone chairs, a tall mirror that shivered his skin when he looked at it for too long, and a rather threadbare and dusty rug underhoof that had seen better days.

"Grandma, what big eyes you have," he said, almost murmuring.

Cowering behind his companion, Sundance shied away from Celestia's gemstone gaze. Surely she knew of his lewd thoughts and his hidden desire to explore all the carnal delights this pretty pegasus maid had to offer. It wasn't that he was afraid—but more that he was ashamed. A little intelligence trickled through his grey matter when he tried to figure out why he was ashamed, but no good reason presented itself.

No good will ever come from taking advantage of others, a quiet voice said to him from the back of his mind. Be good, or I'll fly you face-first right into a tree.

Shuddering slightly, Sundance realised that the voice meant business. It was his voice, and it was stern. Was it his… what was it called? The little voice that scolded when one was bad, and spoke soft encouragement when one was good. Try as he might, he could not recall what the voice was called, but this voice—his voice—made the rules very clear. Rules had to be followed, unless the rules led to somepony getting hurt, and then the rules could not be followed, because doing right was more important than obeying the rules.

It was all rather confusing to sort out during his current state of mind.

"There's nothing here," his companion said. "Just empty shelves. Nothing. Not a thing. There was supposed to be understanding here… some reason to jump into the flames. That's why you did it, Sundance… but there is nothing. You… we… us… we burned alive for nothing. Where is the promised understanding?"

He didn't know.

"Everything is gone," she whined, and then her body began to hitch.

He pulled her close, saying, "Don't cry."

"I'm not crying," she said as her body hitched even more, so much so that her illusion began to flicker.

Seeing the green flashes of light that lept and danced around her small, sleek form, Sundance remembered that his companion was not a real pegasus. It didn't matter; he loved her anyway, and her current state of hurt caused him to ache. Mindful of what the voice in his head had said, he pulled her even closer, but his actions were not motivated by lust. She resisted, pushing against him, but then relented and allowed herself to be held.

"There's nothing here!" she wailed, and then there were disgustingly gross snorgles somewhere down deep in her throat. "You big dummy, you jumped into the flames for nothing!"

A tiny sliver of ache throbbed in the middle of Sundance's grey matter.

"You idiot… I followed you and then I saw all kinds of horrible, terrible, nightmarish things. You did this to me!"

"I don't know what made me do it." The struggle to assemble a sentence was strenuous, and he just about gave himself a sore skull. After a bit of thought, which agitated the sliver of ache in the middle of his brain, he thought about treasure. There was something that he wanted—but this room had nothing—and now his beloved companion was hurt.

"I was trying to be tough so I could get us out of this mess but I failed and now I've fallen apart. I'm worthless. Worthless!"

"I did bad with the ogre," he said, which wasn't much as far as comfort went, but it was the best that he could do, given the circumstances.

"Keeping you safe means getting you to safety." She sniffled, snorgled, and then her illusion expired in a glittery flash of witchfire. "I followed you into danger… and that was the hardest part. But I'm failing at the most simple part, getting you back to where you belong. Everything hurts. You were so disappointed that there was nothing here. You hurt inside for Paradox and you wanted to find something… anything… just something to make this trip worthwhile and you had so many feelings and your kindness… everything happened and there's nothing here. Feels pointless."

A slick droplet of green goo dribbled from her nostril and sizzled on the threadbare rug.

"I'm leaking acid. You'd better leggo of me for your own safety. 'Snot safe."

"No," he replied with a fervent shake of his head. Better sentence assembly was very much out of the question at the moment; he struggled and made every attempt to encourage his brain cells to get back to work. There was a hazy, nebulous understanding that he was stupid right now, whatever that meant, and reclaiming himself meant being smart, which didn't seem appealing at all, but necessary.

"I know we didn't die," she began, "but we did come back from the flames. It's not the same, I guess, as coming back from the dead, but it still feels important." A drawn-out shuddering sigh separated her words. "A chosen changeling means being different. I wanted to be a chosen one. You know, like a hero in a saga. I would always get asked why I wanted to be different and choose to not fit in and not be part of one-mind. All of this makes sense in the moment I chased after you and dove into the flames. I was the only one. Everybuggy else stayed back. But now, after all is said and done, I don't know if it makes sense anymore and I don't know why I'm telling you this, because you have a grub-brain."

"Even grubs need stories of goodness," he managed to say with extraordinary effort.

"I suppose they do," she replied. "Maybe not all of them. I liked stories as a grub. Others didn't. The ponies in the lab read us stories and insisted upon storytime. Said it was good for us and our development. I don't know what that means, but I want to believe it."

He relaxed his hold a bit, thought better of it, and pulled the small, compact changeling to him so that he might reassure her. She smelled; he didn't mean to notice it, but notice it he did. It wasn't exactly a pleasant aroma, either. Oh, it wasn't as bad as her cheese stink, but there was something acrid about her, something vinegary and tart, a sort of stink that threatened to cause an outbreak of sneezes. It was not an equine smell, but something wholly different—just the sort of thing that a pony might not like.

After a brief time spent in careful deliberation, he decided that he couldn't be bothered by something so meaningless. After all, he lived in ye olden town of Rotten Egglünd. If bad smells became a factor of what he did or did not like, he was in big trouble. He lived in the stinkiest, stankiest place in all of Equestria. If stink made enemies, then he was The Enemy. Baron Bad Egg.

A green flare consumed Hornet and she became a pegasus once more. Sundance felt a strange pang, a sensation that he did not understand, but he was aware that it hurt him. He liked Hornet in her changeling form. But her preference seemed to be for that of a black and yellow pegasus. An unsettled sigh blew forth from the downward-turned corner of his mouth. If she was happy, then he was happy. Allowing others to be happy with themselves without interference seemed like such a simple thing, but Sundance recalled struggling with it, though he could not recollect the specifics.

"Thank you," she said to him.

"For what?" he asked, perplexed by the kind words she offered.

"For being my friend," she replied. "I was warned not to expect friendship from others. That I had to be cautious and curb my expectations. I was told that the best that I could hope for was acceptance. We should go back to our friends, if we can. Let's see what's beyond the door. There's magic that way, I can sense it. Strong magic."

"The mirror," he said whilst he pointed with his wing.

"No… forget the mirror… it's bad."

But Sundance could not ignore it. Even as his head turned, he felt his eyes drawn to it, pulled in by some mysterious gravity. Unsteady for a moment, he summoned what courage he had and took the first cautious step towards the mirror. Hornet pulled on him, but he would not be denied. Perhaps understanding would be found in the mirror, though the very sight of it caused his skin to crawl. Empty bookshelves and dusty scroll racks stood like sentinels against the walls. He heard a sniffle from Hornet, a gurgle, and then she was right against his side, a companion, a protector, a friend. She had followed him into the flames.

Darkness swirled behind the silvered glass.

"What if the mirror is our way out?" he asked. "Another test?"

To which she responded in a wary tone, "I hope it isn't. You sound smarter."

His head shook so hard that his ears flopped about. "Naw."

"I'd laugh, but that mirror scares me."

It was a scary mirror, that could not be denied. Sundance saw liquid darkness and smooth whorls of quicksilver flowing on the other side of the glass, but the two never mixed together. It reminded him of… a magma lamp? Reckless as always, he squeezed his brain for information until his eyes watered from the strain. Yes, magma lamp. Lava flowed outside a volcano, while magma bubbled on the inside. The mirror was some kind of spooky magma lamp that was wholly unnerving.

"Magma," he muttered beneath his breath as he approached.

At first, he thought the frame of the mirror was some sort of pale wood, but upon closer inspection it proved to be bone. Pale yellow, dark crevices, with off-white gleams. What sort of bones? Why bones? The reflective glass rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond, acting very much in a manner that glass should not. Even worse, there was no reflection. Just what was this mirror and how did it get here? All the books and everything else was gone, secreted away to some unknown oubliette no doubt—but the mirror remained.

"We should smash it," she said to him, almost hissing.

"That'd let the bad luck out," he replied.

"If you keep that up, I'm gonna like you less."

He sniffed, but had nothing to say. All of his attention was on the mirror. Every hair along his spine stood erect and the tension in his back pulled his dock tight into the upright position. There was not enough intelligence coursing through his grey matter to mute all of his pesky and sometimes annoying instincts, all of the troublesome urges that often left him unsettled, with his mind left disquieted. His mind was amazingly clear, like a summer sky on a perfect day, a cloudless expanse of endless blue.

A figure formed in the mirror. At first, it was indistinct, like steaming vapour escaping a too-hot kettle, but it gained form and meaning with each passing second. Also like a tea kettle was Hornet's hissing; it came out of her now in an unbroken stream. The sound was disturbingly unequine, almost alien in nature. Sundance was almost a regal figure, with a noble silhouette. His head held high, his dock raised, every thin and wiry muscle bunching beneath his sunny hide, he was not at all the pegasus that had left the city all those months ago. And Hornet was his loyal guard, a creature far more fearsome than a mere hissing cockroach.

He stood before the mirror fearlessly as the entity within took shape.

What a shape it was, what terrible, dreadful form it took. It appeared to be an unnatural hybrid of a rabbit and a fox, but with a touch of something else, something unfamiliar but recalled from a book. A koala? Perhaps. Sundance's mind had little access to the archives in the basement at the moment, so it was difficult to determine what he saw. It floated beyond the glass, some malevolent spirit that parted the darkness and quicksilver clouds so that it might peer out. Seeing it filled him with loathing—and an intense feeling that was akin to hatred, but justified in some way, some righteous sensation of contempt. This creature was wrongness manifested, made real, and its existence offended in some way that words could never express.

"Hey… yeah, hey you… yeah, you"—the mirror-spirit's voice was raspy, almost croaking, and his accent strange—"if you let me out, I'll grant you three wishes. That's right, three wishes. What a bargain!"

Hackles raised, Sundance considered this. Oh, he did not consider accepting the mentioned bargain, oh no. Rather, he thought about the deal for what it was, and what sort of creature he might be dealing with that could offer such a transaction. His clear mind was not distracted by such things as his desires, his needs, and all the things he might want. He was still too stupid to conceive of three worthy wishes. No, what he wanted was understanding, and he was just smart enough to know that such a thing could not be granted by some mere wish. One had to live to grow wise and to gain understanding—which meant that this room and all it once had to offer was meaningless.

"Can I use my wishes to wish for more wishes?" asked Sundance.

"Well, no"—the mirror-spirit raised one koala claw to scratch his head just below his foxy bunny ear—"that's not how it works. I'm not powerful enough to violate reality that much."

"You don't seem powerful at all, being trapped in a mirror."

The mirror-spirit visibly bristled. It was a small thing that radiated more malevolence than its foal-sized body could possibly hold. Sundance and the creature stared at each other, hating each other, and neither turned away from the other. Yet, the mirror-spirit wanted to be free, and Sundance wanted understanding, so they were stuck dealing with one another. Both seemed surprisingly cordial, given the circumstances.

"If I were to free you, how would I do that?" asked Sundance.

"That's a tricky question," the mirror-spirit replied. "You'd have to earn those wishes with hard work."

"Well, who did this to you?"

This caused the mirror-spirit some distress, as evidenced by its piercing yellow-red eyes, flexing claws, and the way its tongue lashed out over its vicious bunny teeth. More than a little amused, Sundance watched, and enjoyed the creature's impotent rage. It floated there, existing in a vast nothingness that loomed impossibly large beyond the glass. This was what boredom looked like; endless nonexistence, forever grey and forgotten about. Sundance knew it was a fate worse than death—and probably deserved.

"Celestia and her bratty baby sister did this to me." The creature spat out the words with such force that his words lisped and whistled through his prominent buck teeth. "The crybaby brat lopped my head off with a bloody big axe, but I showed her. I just self-revived and reattached my head. Then Celestia tried to kill me, but I wouldn't stay dead, because you can't kill chaos."

It took all of Sundance's willpower to restrain his need to chortle.

"And then Celestia ripped my soul out of my body, and that hurt, let me tell you. No consideration at all for the feelings of others, that one. Then she destroyed my body… with predictable results. A new body formed and my soul just jumped back in. So being the sociopathic psychopath she is, she tore my soul out of my body again, but this time she turned my bones into the mirror and then imprisoned my soul back inside of my body, and now I'm stuck here, technically alive, whole of body, and absolutely powerless. Needless to say, I hate Celestia, and her bratty baby sister, too."

"That sounds adorable… two best friend sisters out spending best friend sister-time hunting abominations." A thin smile appeared upon Sundance's face, which now shone like the sun. "So, these bones are yours? How do bones become a mirror?"

"Bones are really just mineral deposits, which are really just rocks, and stone shaping magic is common to earth ponies." Scowling, the mirror-spirit shook his head, flexed his claws, and pressed its foxy nose against the glass. "There's something familiar about you… that radiance. Something downright unpleasant about you, fellow." It cleared its throat, a sound that rattled the glass, and then asked, "Does Discord rule, or did Celestia best the Lord of Chaos?"

"Discord now serves Celestia and is loyal to her," Sundance replied.

"⸘How‽" Shock caused the mirror-spirit's eyes to widen in impossible ways that defied nature. "How does she do that? How does she keep winning? This world was ours! Oh, that insufferable bitch… ugh!" It coughed—which fogged up the glass on the far side—and cast a baleful gaze upon Sundance. "She must have found the weapons she sought out. There's no way she could best Discord in a stand up fight. She must have found the Moochick's gems."

"So, she stuffed you into a mirror… and you ended up here, in this place." Hornet, still pressed tight against Sundance's side, was more than ready for trouble. With each word said, she dribbled tiny droplets of acid down upon the floor. "How?"

"I exist as a battery!" the mirror-spirit shouted. "One day, a long time ago, Celestia gave me to one of her servants… an insultingly good unicorn named Eternal. He had ideas that the magical energies specific to preservation and immortality could be harnessed. She gave me to him for study… can you believe that? He refused to bargain with me and with Celestia's help, he turned me into a magical battery, which keeps me absolutely powerless and drained. You gotta do something to right this wrong. Set me free!"

"So… your magic powers this place?" Head nodding, Hornet seemed to make sense of things. "The fires stay lit, the water keeps flowing, the temperature stays nice and comfortable. This place, this temple is capable of sustaining life, and you remain drained and powerless, unable to break free and cause trouble."

"It's a travesty, isn't it!"

"Oh, it is," Sundance agreed with a solemn nod of his noble head.

"So, how about setting me free and righting this wrong?" the mirror-spirit asked.

"My greatest grandmother has a lot to answer for, doesn't she?" Sundance's smile became one of unbearable radiant smugness, the sort of righteous smuggitude that radiated heat and possibly light.

"You!" the creature in the mirror croaked as its whole body convulsed with rage. "I knew there was something familiar about you. I sense it now… you're like her… an abomination! You're a violation of nature! You share her inherent, innate goodness… and that makes you unreasonable. Oh, how revolting! How disgusting! Your sense of goodness is false, you know. It's magic compulsion! You're robbed of your free will by this foul unwholesomeness. You have a disease! A sickness of the mind that robs you of self-determination!"

Neither stupid nor smart, but somewhere in the middle, Sundance considered these words. The creature was most certainly lying—or perhaps not. If there was a magical goodness to him that stole away his free will, was it really a problem? An issue? Was it a bad thing? He thought about his life and everything that brought him to this very moment. Did he make these choices? Did it matter? Beyond that, was Princess Celestia also a slave to some predetermined fate? It might explain a lot of her behaviour. But, what was the point of goodness if one did not choose to be good? The choice was important and if said choice was made for you by some outside cosmic force, did it take away from the good that one accomplished?

Eyes narrowed for danger, ears forward, an expression of unreasonable violence lurking just behind the features of his face, Sundance demanded that his brain offer up some answers. The creature in front of him was a draconequus, an aberration that warped reality and disrupted harmony. A creature of disharmonious evil. It too, stole away free will. It was a parasite that robbed choice and feasted upon will. For Princess Celestia to be inherently good, to have some sort of magic that radiated goodness, surely that was a defense mechanism of sorts. She would succeed where others might fail. This creature could not bargain with her, could not cajole her, it was utterly unable to influence her with honeyed words—and Sundance knew that he himself could not be swayed.

Like Celestia, he was resolute.

This creature was lying, Sundance decided. Or, if not lying, not telling the whole truth. If the truth was being told—which was a dubious prospect—then it was told in the most destructive manner possible. Nothing said by the mirror-spirit could be trusted. Truth or a lie, the creature's words were meant to sow chaos, create doubt, and cause conflict. This thing was his problem, his responsibility, and the right thing had to be done.

"So… can we deal?" it asked. "If you set me free, I might be able to set you free. Maybe I could unravel that magic knot in your brain that keeps you from being free. If you can overcome it to free me, that is. You let me go, I boop you on the nose, you get three wishes, we both get our happily ever after. Deal?"

"Do you really think that you can do that?" asked Sundance.

"Well, I did something to Celestia's bratty baby sister. Tried to get her to see my way of things." The creature reached up and scratched at its buck teeth with one yellowed koala claw. "Not sure what I did, exactly. But if I had a second chance to try it, I could probably figure out just what it is that I am doing. Just imagine it, buddy… you could be free. No conscience. No remorse. No nagging voice in your head compelling you to do good against your will. No more late nights, laying awake and thinking about all the things you did wrong. Doesn't that sound great?"

"I sleep pretty soundly at night," said Sundance.

"Ah, the sleep of the self-righteous." The mirror-spirit's expression turned deadpan.

"I think we need to thoughtfully define our relationship." A certain radiance shone from Sundance's face, a gentle warmth that graced his every angle and contour. At long last, there was understanding—though not from some long-forgotten tome of ancient lore, or an oracle hidden in the bowels of a mountain. "You… you are my prisoner, and I… I am your warden."

"Oh, you insufferable Sun-Touched bastard!"

While Sundance wanted to know what that meant, he would not be distracted.

"You will stay down here. For as long as this mountain exists, you will remain buried beneath it. Equestria is ours, and will remain that way as long as Princess Celestia rules. You… you are mine to do with as I please. You will continue to serve out your sentence as a battery—"

"Oh, you arrogant prick!"

"Take comfort that you will not be forgotten again," Hornet said to the mirror-spirit, who now pounded against the glass with its koala-paws. "My offspring will guard this place and keep others from you. They will find purpose in keeping Equestria safe from the likes of you. We will earn our place as protectors of the Empire."

There was a pop, like a cork shot from a bottle, and then the mirror-spirit was gone. Liquid darkness swirled around quicksilver whorls and the mirror was, at long last, silent once more. Annoyed, but also relieved, Sundance was sad to see that the creature had scarpered off to wherever it was it could go in its prison beyond the glass. There was more to say—or maybe there wasn't. What more could be said? He looked down at Hornet, only to find that she stared up at him, her eyes brimming with worshipful adoration.

"You don't seem so sad," he said to her.

"And you don't seem so much like a grub-brain," she replied to him.

This made him smile, a real smile, full of warmth and good cheer.

"Acceptance isn't always given," she was quick to say. "I was shown a future where my kind had no acceptance. It was pretty awful, having to stare down my worst fears. I was so scared that nothing I did or could do would make a difference." She inhaled and her eyes shimmered like oily rainbows. "Maybe if we act as guardians of this place and keep Equestria safe from the evil entombed within, we could earn the trust we so crave. This is a meaningful task… one that is sure to build trust. For both of us, Sundance. I mean, you and I, we went into the flames, and we were tempted. We both walked away better creatures, having stood against temptation. Maybe someday my grubs and your sons and daughters, they might face the flames and do the same. I know it's not the purpose of this place, but a new purpose could be made from all this forgotten stuff."

"Perhaps," he said, nodding.

"You're glowing, Sundance. It's faint, but noticeable. There's light."

For the first time, he noticed that Hornet glowed as well, and not witchfire green. She too had a faint warm glow, something perhaps not seen at first glance but noticed during a doubletake. They were different, she and he, changed in some way that was beyond his comprehension. The two of them shone like the sun, a warm sunny golden radiance. He examined his wing, admired every feather, and saw luminescence in every shaft.

It occurred to him that he would never stand in darkness ever again.

"We should check out that door. There's strong magic there. It might be the way out."

Head heavy, he nodded. It was time to return, if a return could be made. He wanted to be free of the mountain, to stand in the sun once more, and to breathe fresh air. Lifting his head, he studied the mirror one last time, and no longer felt afraid. His skin did not shiver. No sense of cold deterred him or compelled him to turn away. The mirror was of no danger to him. Down in the depths—whilst he stared at the shaped bones that held the cursed glass—his mind worked to make sense of what he'd learned here. This creature, this spirit trapped in the mirror, was from a forgotten time, what some might call the pre-dawn hours before Equestria's rise to become a bright and shining light, the radiant dawn that restored light and hope to a world almost lost to darkness.

"I'm already having second thoughts, Sundance."

"About what?"

"About exposing my grubs to this. I mean, it seemed like a great idea at the time… but what if they fail? What if failing the test means death? What if I had died? What sort of mom would I be if I send my own offspring to their doom?"

"What if they survive?"

"But what if they don't? Or worse, what if they give in to temptation? What if they bargain with the thing in the mirror? Perhaps testing is bad. A mistake."

"We strive towards greatness," he said to her in a voice of reassuring calm. "The consequences for failure must match our aspirations. Princess Celestia is the greatest good because she has resisted the temptation of the greatest evil and—"

"But not all of us are Princess Celestia," Hornet said with a shake of her head. "Some of us are bound to fail. And there is such danger in failure."

In response, Sundance had this to say: "Such is the way of things."

"But… failure—"

"Makes our accomplishments great and our successes sweeter."

"But maybe this is better left forgotten."

"Perhaps, but nothing is forgotten forever. We found it, after all. And we walk away from it better creatures."

"Look, all I am trying to say is that some caution might be wise."

Sundance did not respond, but turned his attention to the wooden door. It was arched on top, straight along the sides, and had a phoenix carved into the wood. The brass hinges still gleamed, still shone, as if they had just been polished. As for the wood itself, it was something that he did not recognise, though he knew nothing about wood. But this wood was strange, however. It was dark and light, like a marbled pound cake, with beautiful depths.

"Come, faithful friend. Let us see what awaits us beyond the door…"

Author's Note:

This was not edited for brevity. Whoops.

So... how are things? I'm moved in and my creative space is slowly being established. It's strange. Quiet. Different. Pleasant.

PreviousChapters Next