• Published 26th Sep 2018
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Queen of Storms - Via



An endling drakoness finds her world taken from her. An ancient force as old as Life enacts his vengeance on the world - and the bells begin to ring, as the Queen of Storms begins to stir.

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[19] Fragments

Fragments


Who am I?


Before Tempest, 800


Far in the west, in lands so far from civilization that they're barely considered to be a part of the world itself - lay the Wandering Woods. The Wandering Woods is a place much like the Everfree - but instead of being contaminated by tainted and chaotic magic, it's home to its own kind of magic - distorted order. Not chaos, but something else - more of a bastard, hybridized son of Order and Chaos. With all the stability of chaos and yet all the rigidity of order.

It's possible to get truly lost in these woods. Those who wander deep into the Everfree might never find their way out for years and years. But, on the other hand, those who venture into the Wandering Woods find that the mercurial lands are dislodged through time itself - and sometimes, those who haven't been born exit from the timbers in a murky stupor - before they yield to a grand mal seizure that comes with fracturing time to that degree, that is.

At the very corner of these woods, there is growth. It is a twisted spire of moss and chitin, decorated with black nullstone and dozens of holes - much like the people who inhabit them. The Changelings. Creatures of myth - bad omens, baby snatchers, parasitic creatures that feed on the highs and lows of emotion itself. At the peak of this growth lays their Queen - once, the last Acolyte of Order, and now the last Scholar of Mind. Her name is Chrysalis, and she is cruel.

Her oppressive mind runs through her wicked half-species like slime. It inches and trails through a web of moving, pulsing arteries and veins that take the shape of living creatures. The origins of the changelings are disputed - but it is known that they are an old species, and Chrysalis has always been their queen.

But this is not her story, though. This is the story of a changeling with no name - a drone, designated by their Queen as E842. They are beyond gender, beyond personality - there is no thought, there is simply the loyalty to the hive, and its queen.

The Cruel Queen looks at E842. She communicates without words - her will is absolute; it is not to be challenged because it can not be challenged. The Hive acts as one because it is one, and Chrysalis is that one.

A single instruction is seared into 842's skull. Hunt. And so they do.

---

Chrysalis' will is absolute. Her power, however, is not. So as 842 manages its way past the edges of the wandering woods - its mind snaps. The drone slumps to the ground and lays there immobile as it struggles with the crippling sense of loneliness that it has never felt in its life without its queen.

Hunt. It rattles around in their skull. They close their eyes and pound their hooves against their skull - but the word pounds louder and louder. Hunt. A compulsion, a command, a control - 842 must hunt, for that is its purpose and its only purpose. Hunt.

842 screams. There is nothing to listen to; there is no reprieve from the pounding command that the Cruel Queen burned into its head. It must hunt, and it must do it now, now, now-

842 is washed away in green fire. A white coat, a grey mane with equally grey eyes speckled with dots of gold. She is beautiful, and she is fair. She is imperfect, and that makes her perfect. Storm Breeze lets out a soft sigh - as she begins her Hunt.

---

Her name is Storm Breeze, and she is a pegasus that is not a pegasus. Her wings never need preening. She has no talent for the weather, despite what her mark and name would suggest. There is something otherworldly about her - she moves with the grace of a predator, yet in conversation, she is as clumsy as a raging boar with all the tact of a dragon in a china shop. She is ethereal, she is grace - and it is all these things and more that Lila Love finds herself infatuated with.

They had met in the flower shop that Lila owned. It was storming, thundering - and desperate for relief; Breeze entered into the shop. Their eyes had met - just for a moment, and Lila found herself absorbed in their depths. She saw pain, she saw confusion - but most of all, she saw fear and longing.

"I haven't seen you before, miss..." The unicorn mare trailed off.
"Storm Breeze." She was a deer in headlights. Frozen, paralyzed by a single word.
Lila couldn't help but smile. "I'm Lila. It's lovely to meet you."

---

Storm Breeze fidgeted.
"Hold still."
"Sorry."
"You don't have to be, dear." Her head rubbed against her neck in an affectionate nuzzle. "You just have to be still." She prodded at the crest of fluff at the rise of her chest with the tip of her hoof. Storm Breeze let out a soft noise.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Lila gave her a look. Breeze adverted her eyes.

This wasn't the first time the two had gone through this conversation - nearly word for word. Breeze's motor skills were...rather lacking, and Lila felt - that as her bride-to-be, it was only right that she should help dress her. The tightening of straps, pulling of cloth around hooves - and Breeze's fidgeting only made it harder. Annoyingly hard.

But the two were in love, and so it was a small price to pay. Lila's heart soared with every word Breeze spoke.
Breeze's heart sank deeper every time she closed her eyes and saw the words seared into her skull. Hunt.

Eventually, she would have to return. Storm Breeze would die, and E842 would return to the hive - bringing back with her the love that Lila had felt and the desolation at her "death."

"Cmon." Her wife-to-be tugged lightly at her wing. "It's time for work."

Thoughts for the future. For now, Breeze was content.

---

The Queen is cruel. In four years, Breeze had never forgotten that. No amount of sweet nothings murmured in her ears - tender touches and soft nuzzles could remove those memories. Instead, Breeze remembered that every time she closed her eyes - and as she slept, she died, and E842 lived.

But her will is absolute - and its absence left a void. Its return can't be unnoticed. She freezes as it runs through her mind like slime. It inches and trails through veins and arteries that had gone long unused. Her eyes wet. She tries to scream. She can't.

Hunt. The command comes. It pounds in their skull. It burns in their eyes all over again. 842 lets out a whimper - as Breeze pulled all of herself into one word. One word - brought against the queen's Will Absolute.
no.
Hunt. Spoken with the force of the Hive now - a thousand million voices warbling about in an all-consuming buzz that grew ever louder and louder. Hunt, it demanded.

There was a difference between the changeling named E842 and the not-a-pegasus named Storm Breeze.
Storm Breeze was loyal to her family.

So be it.
Silver blood, like slime, ran down from Breeze's nose. Her eyes went wide as her mind began to crack.
"I love you." She whispered to Lila.

Her corpse cracked against the floor.


Before Tempest, 1200


As Windplume clawed her way out of her egg - she did not cry. Instead, this was seen as a mark of strength - to her parents, showing that Windplume would grow up to be a strong warrior. Her parents could not be more proud. But, unfortunately, her parents could not be more wrong.

Gryphons are an omnivorous species with a lean towards the carnivorous. They can subsist off fruits and vegetables for a time - but they need some meat in their diet. It's simply a fact of biology. Some of the more squeamish gryphons exclusively eat fish - as they're considered to be particularly non-sentient. But the majority of gryphons eat meat, and enjoy it. Butcheries and farms that run off of livestock aren't just common, but standard.

Gryphons hunted animals - and their first kill was a passing rite. Windplume's first kill was by accident. Her talons were particularly sharp, jagged and hadn't been filed. As a result, she didn't see the mouse - even as she bumped into it, and her razor-sharp claw split its stomach and let its innards spill.

She cried for hours. Her mother comforted her. Her father couldn't look her in the eye.

---

The children mocked her.

During their schooling, other gryphons hunted. They took the fields - flying through the air as they hunted rat, mice, and even the occasional deer that had stumbled into these depths of the woods. Windplume did not do any of that, no - she was content to lay in the sun or rest on a cloud.

She had no friends. Well - except Penny.

Penny slipped out past the rocks. She squeaked and chittered as she pressed up into Windplume's feathers, the small mouse worming close into her fur and resting in her crest of fluff.

She liked Penny. She didn't like Gaius - as he dove from the sky and plucked Penny straight from her chest.

Windplume stood up suddenly. "Hey! Give her back!"
Gaius landed down and grinned at her - as much as a bird could grin. "Hah! You snooze you lose. Dad always told me you gotta eat fast." He held Penny up by her tail - the small mouse wriggling around in fear.
"I-I'm not gonna eat her! She's my friend!" Windplume frowned. Gaius did a takeback.
"...Dude. It's a rat." He said flatly.
"She's a mouse, and she's my friend." She insisted.
"Whatever." Gaius rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth up -

It was within her right to attack him. Slash at his eyes for stealing her property - not that she considered Penny her property, but she could lie and say that she was her food which would make the mouse her property. Regardless - Windplume didn't have the stomach for violence. But - maybe - if it was necessary.

Windplume tackled Penny out of mid-air, catching her in her mouth. Gaius stared at her.
"I thought you said you weren't gonna eat her! Ugh. Whatever. Weirdo." Gaius huffed and took off quite promptly - diving towards the fields.

When he was out of sight, Windplume immediately spat out a traumatised Penny into her hand.
No, Windplume thought. There's always another option.

---

Penny had lived a very long time. But as she died - it changed Windplume.

From eighteen, every gryphon was mandated to have at least one month of military service. King Gryphus and the kings and queens before that had dictated as such. The entire nation was a force to be reckoned with as such.

Her parents had expected Windplume to hate it. Instead, they were shocked that she had enjoyed it. She hated the idea that she would ever have to hurt someone - but she enjoyed the feeling of security that knowing how to defend herself and whatever was dear to her brought. She wasn't the idealistic young chick she had been - she recognized that sometimes, violence was necessary.

But if Windplume could avoid it - then she would.

It was ironic, almost. She was an excellent fighter - she moved with grace and speed yet struck with precision and strength. But she was meek and reserved by nature - and found herself isolated from society, living in a cottage at the edge of the forest.

The animals came to her. Every time they visited, she remembered Penny, her first friend - and she gave them scraps of her food. Some of the braver animals even began to take residence in her house - until many years later, as Windplume's heart began to grow weaker and weaker, it was a veritable zoo.

Windplume died in her house at the age of seventy-three, surrounded by her friends. She died happy - for all her life, she had been kind, and there was no better fate.


After Discord, 60


In the pits of Saddle Arabia - down in Istanbull, lay a proud race - they are the minotaur. They are a race that stands on two legs and live with little magic. The desert is their home - and from their home, they forge great sculptures of gold, sand, and stone along with everything in-between. The minotaur is a race of fighters, a race that stays connected with the ground beneath their hooves and shapes their world with their hooves.

The 'taur are fighters second. First - they are smiths. And there is no greater smith than the she-bull, Temper.

You might be wondering how ponies names end up being so accurate to them. The short answer is that it's complicated. The long answer is that no one actually knows. But whatever the cause of it is - it does not quite stretch to the 'taur. The 'taur earn their names so that their names may be a truer reflection of who they are. For example, Temper earned her name at the age of twelve - when, in a burst of rage during an argument, she smashed her bedroom wall into pieces.

It was made of stone.

Eventually, she grew out of her rage - as she focused her destructive energies into creation. But, she found that shaping the world, shaping metal with her efforts felt...good. Satisfying. So, at the age of sixteen - Temper became a smith.

In her heyday, she had been great. It was her designs that had lit the fires of industry in Istanbull - it was her designs that had allowed them to rebuild after Discord's havoc had been rebuilt. Her mind, her hands were the spark that had lit the future.

It was not her heyday, and Temper had - well. She had been tempered by the passage of time. She was not the idealistic young 'taur she had been in her youth. No - she was content now with her simple life.

---

Eyes landed on her as she entered the marketplace, and she hated it. She pretended to ignore it as she made her way to her usual stop.
"Good afternoon, Lady Temper."
"Hm? I'm sorry, Selworth? Did you say something?"
"Ah - forgive me. Good afternoon, Temper." Selworth blushed lightly. The sandwich vendor was rather aptly named, Temper mused to herself. The young bull's prices had always been well worth their price - much like his father. "Will it be the usual?"
"Hmph. Am I truly so predictable that I am to have a usual?"
"You've been coming here since my father ran this stall, m'l-" He paused. "Miss Temper," he corrected. "In all that time - I don't think you've ever changed your order."
Temper snorted. "There's a first time for everything."
"Does that mean you don't want your usual, Miss Temper?"
"Call me miss again, and you'll see why they call me Temper." Her eyes narrowed. Selworth's eyes widened - before he realized she was joking, and let out a soft sigh followed by a chuckle. "S-sorry. It's just - strange, yknow? We - learn about you in school. But...here you are. And you're..."
"Old and washed up." She shrugged.
"I wouldn't say that-"
"That makes one of us. I've long accepted it, boy. No need to sugarcoat it. I'm not the strapping young mind I once was. That's the difference between me and my craft. Metal is eternal. Flesh and mind - it changes, warps. I think it's called wisdom. I've always thought of it more as experience. Details." She shrugged. "I won't take up more of your time, Selworth. You're a good lad. My usual, please." She flicked two Istanbull mints towards him - twice the price of her usual.

Selworth blinked. "Temper, you've uh - overpaid."
"You listened to my old ramblings. It's only kind." Shrug. "Keep it. Something extra." She waved her hand.
"Miss, I don't-"
Yet, Temper had already picked up her sandwich and left.

As she walked - she felt something. Minotaurs did not have much in the way of magic, true - but they did have a...connection to the ground. They could sometimes ask, and the ground would give. So Temper asked for the ground to confirm her suspicions - and she felt him. A minotaur bull, a few heads shorter than her - couldn't be much older than a teenager, following her.

She pretended not to notice him as she walked. But, eventually - as she stood on the path that right up to her rather humble yet comfortable home - she turned around and looked the boy in the eye.

The bull met eyes with her. His muscles tensed as he drew his dagger - no, a jagged shard of glass taped to wood - with fumbling hands, holding it up towards the 'taur woman.
"Everything you have. I - don't want to hurt you. But I will."
Temper tilted her head to the side. She considered the bull for a moment. He was a few heads shorter than her - but much less fit, lacking quite a bit of muscle. He looked gaunt, haggard - exhausted.

"H-hurry it!" The bull hissed and stepped forward. His stance was wide, his grip sloppy and his determination - lacking. Temper was no fighter, but there was no threat here.
"Hungry?" She tilted her head to the side. "Here." She held the half-eaten sandwich out towards him.
The bull stared at it for a few seconds. "I meant - your money."
"Of course you did." She shrugged. "That can come after you eat. You need your nutrition. Gotta keep your strength up."
"I - do you - I'm mugging you. I'm going to hurt you, unless you give me your money."
"Is that so?"
"Yes?" The bull asked it like a question.
"Hm." Temper said dryly. She tossed the sandwich towards him as she turned around and began walking slowly towards her home. She fiddled with the keys she kept in her pocket before opening the door and glancing at the bull.

He had caught the food and nearly dropped the dagger. Yet he regarded Temper with a strange look - his eyes narrow, untrusting, cautious.

"Clean your hooves off, and come in boy. Close the door behind you." Temper didn't wait for him - briskly walking into her house.

The door shut moments later.

---

"Sit down." Temper gestured. It was a request, but it was phrased as a statement. So the bull - recently fed, bathed, clothed - in that order, did as such. He hadn't trusted her at first - but as the 'taur's insistence that he do as she asked had worn on him to the point where he had reluctantly agreed. Yet - as he rested, given warmth and kindness - colour was restored to him.
"Who was it for?" Temper sat down across from him. The bull opened his mouth, but Temper clarified in advance. "The money that you wanted to take from me. Sibling? Parents? Child?"

"...sibling. Parents aren't - they aren't-" He thought for a second. "They..."
Temper nodded solemnly. "Your name?"
"I don't have one, miss."
Temper blanched.
"That young, huh?" She whispered. "It's been hard, hasn't it? Oh, you poor babe." Temper's heart wept for the child. Her eyes felt wet. "And the sibling?"
"Sister. Little one. We don't got much, miss. We live in the outskirts - in the slums."
"And do you usually rob people who could snap you in half like a twig?" Temper tilted her head to the side.
"I - I don't got a choice, ma'am. I borrowed - I took some money. I got - I gotta repay it back. They got my sister. Bad people."
"Bad people?" Temper arched an eyebrow.
"The Will." He said in a soft voice. Temper wasn't too surprised. The Will was one of the few groups willing to go as far as to kidnap a child.
"No Judicators?" Another nod.
Temper let out a soft sigh. "You'll get your money tomorrow, boy. Promise. You need your sleep though." She prodded his chest. "Not taking no for an answer. Use one of the beds. I have some work to do."

---

Temper valued Justice. Most of the 'taur did. Temper valued it particularly highly, though.

It had been a long, long time since she had worn this armour. It chafed, it hung uncomfortably - it was built for someone much younger than her.

It was the original armour, though. The design that all Judicators had based their armour on. It wasn't quite as advanced, or ornate - no magic cores. The thing weighed like a ton of bricks. It would stop a spear, though - and that's all that counted.

"This is the place?" Temper grunted as she dropped her hammer down into the ground with a thunk.
"Mhm." The Arabian stallion nodded. "Yes ma'am."
"None of that ma'am nonsense. You've done a good deed. I'll make sure you get your payment."
"The honor was mine, ma'am."

Temper didn't respond to that. Instead, she opened up the warehouse doors and walked inside. No - she would not attempt stealth. She was a walking tank, her armour clinking and clanking as the massive, studded hammer dragged behind her. It was seconds before she could feel the ground rumbling as someone charged towards her.

She sighed. She knew that non-violence wouldn't be an option when dealing with the will. It didn't make it easier, nonetheless.

The hammer went sailing. She spilt the first drop of blood.

---

The bull didn't waste a moment wrapping Temper in a hug.
"Ribs - ribs!" She groaned.
The bull lightened his hug and pulled away. His eyes were teary. "I can't - I can't- your generosity - it...I can't possibly repay you. I can't thank you enough. You saved my life. My sister's life."
Temper held up a hand. "You can repay it. Just a little thing, every day. Do something nice. Promise me that. I don't want a spear to the chest to have been for nothing, yknow?" She winked.
"I will," he whispered. "I promise."

---

Temper died three years after that day. Her heart had been getting weaker - and after her injury, it got worse and worse. But, it didn't stop her from giving something to someone every day - until she had nothing left to give.

She died with nothing to her name.

Yet for her funeral - for the city that she had been instrumental in forging, for the world that she had built - for the people she had touched...

The streets filled. And Istanbull was silent, for a night.


After Banishment, 30


East of Equestria, past the Gryphons and the Himallamas - below the ruins of their once city, live the Lupines. The Lupines are masters of Spatial magic. They live in the Banyan Timbers, hid off from the rest of the world with their magic.

The Lupine Lords and Ladies warp space as easily as Starswirl the Bearded might lift a quill. They are safe, isolated - but isolation did not entirely spare them from Discord's damages to the world. His chaos echoed through their magic - killing hundreds of their already scarce population.

The Lords and Ladies weren't quite sure what had happened to those that came before them. Their population had once been great - the ruins of Castle Graymourne and Cobblerock suggested that. But no living creature had found themselves able to step foot into either of those locations. Those that did - simply fell to the ground, dead. And with that, their history had been lost - degrading into verbal storytelling that got diluted over time.

Eventually, it had diluted to the point where they didn't know where they came from. It was Tundra who sought to change this.

---

"Which of you broke it," their father said softly. His voice was barely above a whisper. He seemed furious.

Tundra - she hadn't meant to. She had just bumped into it. Her sister, Liara, pointed at her. "T-Tundra did."
"Tundra. Is this true?" Their father turned to her.
"...No. Liara broke it. She's lying," Tundra lied.

That night, neither of them ate.
She never told a lie again.

---

Tundra hated mansions. At least she was invited, this time.

"I'm going to need a progress report, detective."
Tundra would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of him. Lupine Lord Rex, a hulking black hound - one nearly thrice her size. He could snap her head off with a single motion. She'd still be lying if she said that this hadn't been the worst agreement of her life.

Tundra didn't lie. "It's not detective, anymore." She said softly. She swallowed the saliva in her mouth as the hound savoured a piece of rich steak in his mouth - chewing on it slowly, painfully slow, as he cut his next bite.
"Hm. What do I call you, then?"
"Investigator, I believe is what the court ordered." She tugged at her vest with a sharp thumb.
"Mhm. I don't especially care, you see. I'm going to ask you again for that progress report." He waved his hand to the side.
"...I don't know where the Asptral Ring is." No, that wasn't a lie - she knew who owned it, but she didn't know where the Lady had put it. Tundra was rather good at those things - lies of omission. You sort of had to, being an investigator in today's world.

Rex thought for a few moments. He swallowed. His next words made her blood run cold. "Do you know who owns it?"

Shit. Clever dog. "...yes." Tundra said reluctantly. She shifted around in her spot.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd feel as if you were trying to protect them." Lord Rex held his knife up - tilting it towards her. "Would that be true, Tundra? Or would that simply be my paranoia?"
"I'm not trying to protect them." No, she was not. She had no love for the Lords or Ladies. She was more interested in taking them all down - and that required her to protect the Asptral Ring.
"Good. I would hope not, Tundra." He shut his eyes. "You know the rest of the deal, investigator. Get me the ring- or I will kill your sister." He smiled toothily at her. It was not a warm smile.

Tundra swallowed.

"Yes, sir."

---

Once, the Lords and Ladies had been aligned. Discord had unified them towards a common goal - the perseverance of the Lupine race. Yet as time passed, and the mantle shifted from father to son, mother to daughter, so did allegiances. Thus, the Lords and Ladies were more a pact of warring factions, seeking to tear the Timbers apart in their foolish conflict.

Tundra couldn't forget the smell of her mother and father burning. The guards had obviously, done nothing. It was a spat between the Lords and Ladies - one that resulted in the deaths of innocents. But their hands were tied. Well, more accurately - their hands were weighed down by the metric ton of gold that the Lords and Ladies had dumped on them.

Lord Rex was responsible for it. He had all but admitted it - and the fact that he had kidnapped her sister further supported it. So if he wasn't flat out responsible for it, he had to be at least involved in it.

Regardless - circumstances since then had dipped for Tundra. She didn't have much of a choice - considering her sister's predicament and the princely sum Lord Rex was paying her. For all Tundra cared - he could stuff that cash where the sun doesn't shine.

Tundra hated the Lords and Ladies. She hated them with all her heart - and maybe, with the Asptral Ring, the world would see the truth. They were lied to. All their life - the Lords and Ladies told them that ponies sought to kill Lupines. But Tundra - she was an arctic wolf. A hunting wolf. And a pony had wandered too deep into the Timbers - and all but radicalized the young wolf.

She just needed the ring. She could break the barriers. Let the world see the Lupines, and the Lupines see the world. Let them overthrow their space-warping rulers. She just - needed the ring.

---

Her fur was burnt. Her mind - fragmented. There was a mare there - her eyes, they were black as void - and Lord Rex stood, laughing.

"Liara?" She whispered.
The mare's skin began to slough off as it kneeled in front of her. It spoke, but its voice was wrong. An abomination - something that didn't belong in this world. It grated against her ears; it spoke into her very soul. "Ash. The rest of your people will follow, soon."
Rex blinked. "Asides-" He didn't finish the thought as his skull burst from the inside out.

"Thank you, Tundra. Your soul is...necessary, to do what I cannot. Know that you will not die in vain - like the rest of your Kin." The mare reached a skeletal hoof down - but then stopped.

No. The word reverberated from the space-beyond that rested within the mare. It was filled with hatred, it was filled with disgust.
NO! The word was howled. Bones began to crack. Sludge-like mist began to ooze from them.

The mare stood up as her bones continued to crack. She shut her eyes. "I will see you soon - drakon.."

And the world blurred in pink, red, and yellow-

-