Gods

by TheTimeSword

Hawkeye - Taboo I

To find the ruins was a blessing. To find the ruins so close to nightfall was chance. To find an unseen within would be tragic.

For the mare named Hawkeye, who was the last of the remnants, she had received a blessing. The night was hours away, and no unseen had encountered the burdened mare. The dwellings of the autochthon, the stones that they had built in the days of ancient life, they would provide suitable cover to the single soul.

Pylons of cracked rock were spouted from the ground like stalks of corn, rows upon rows of undisturbed architecture, only subject to the elements. No pony of the kin dared entered. The stories told by elders sought that end, retelling a tale where a foal did gamble. The mare remembered it well, even in her adult age, the adolescent who ventured into the taboo land. Whether the foal was male or female, it did not matter, as the story always ended the same way. The unseen would come and claim the foal's kin while he or she was away, and when they returned, they would find nothing but blood and bones.

Forbidden lands no longer mattered for the mare who was the last of the kin. She pushed forward, passing the crumbling relics that time wore down and the dilapidated huts that had once been marvelous two-story cottages. Stories that passed from elder to elder had told of a grassy yard for every pony and a home with hay roofing above their heads. Of course, the stories always came with a warning: pleasant living and a frivolous nature will lead to an early demise.

But the mare was not living a life of worth, there was no levity to her mourning. She would live within the ruins of the most stable of dwellings, the ghosts of the past all around her, and she would hear their cries. She would add her own to theirs, creating an orchestra of grieving.

Though most of the dwellings had been caved in, leaving a bowl of what used to be a home, the mare had seen something more long ago. It still stood, the highlight of what had been referred to as a town. Hearing the word spoken always sent a shiver down her spine, though no elder that lived during her foalhood dared describe what it meant. Seeing the ruins she walked through, she knew it had been just that. A town.

It had boggled her mind when she had first seen it. Why had the ancient kin built such displays of mockery? To steal and create from the earth and make their own protrusions, that was an abomination. For their insolence, the gods came from above and struck them down for their arrogance.

Of course, her innocence gone, the mare now knew that the gods had not always been among the land. The ancient kin hadn't thought it taboo, they hadn't known any better. They had formed their civilization in a time that had no fear. To have such a frivolous feeling, the mare had pined for it as a filly, but that had died within her long ago.

Yet even with all the knowledge blessed upon her by the elders, the mare could not understand why such a large structure was needed. A home to fifty would be the only reasoning she could think, but even then, that would've housed the entirety of the remnants of kin. To have thought there could be another reason for its monstrous size, the mare would be called crazed.

No one would be able to call her anything now, especially not crazed.

So, she entered the enormous creation. Its rock was as white as the snow that coated it, little black specs spread within the carved stone like ants. From above, the ceiling had collapsed inward, much like every other dwelling the mare had stumbled across. But this relic was far too large to cave entirely under pressure, its thick walls barely an inch cracked. Time had been spent creating such a beastly abomination, and as such, time was forced to work harder to decay such a home.