Original Sin, Part V
Chapter 5 ~ Original Sin
“Reality.
“Such a delicate thing, held together by that adhesive constant, time; completely ignorant of the nothing that produced it. From the disorder of a singular void came a veritable spectrum of realities, whispered into existence, perhaps unwillingly in some cases, by a mysterious voice no one can truly name.
“The truth is, there is no one ‘main’ reality. They are all equal, but different: maybe in forms dramatic and overt, or perhaps in ways infinitesimal and minute. One reality is that humans rule the world. Another, like yours, is ruled by ponies. Still more could be altered simply by deciding what you will have for breakfast. Millions of circumstances—billions of people—trillions of decisions. It is all so maddeningly intricate.
“But the threads of time are what hold all realities together. As such, a Traveler—one such as myself—should know better than to alter the fragile. A Traveler is allowed, of course, to look, but never touch.
“So why did I reach? Why did I extend my hand, cupping the world within my eager fist, kneading it curiously with each black-gloved finger? Shaking it just to watch the ensuing chaos, the way a child is mystified by a snowglobe?
“I am by nature, and by my own admission, a curious creature. When I find I do not know something, I yearn for knowledge. I hunger for understanding. I love mysteries, and at the same time despise them for eluding me—for thinking they could elude me in the first place.
“That curiosity, that want for knowledge, was married to the arrogance of a rebel youth—a child who, once upon acknowledging the flaws and shortcomings of his parents, believes he can discover life’s truths for himself. I should have realized the dangerous chemistry of these two sides of me, and I should have divorced them the moment I was able. If only, if only.
“I could blame someone else. To place him on the stand before those whose lives he ended. Charge him with misleading me and charging him with the murder of countless worlds. But in the end, none of this would have happened had I the good sense to doubt his beautiful lies.”
The soft sound of pages being turned is the only noise that alerts Charlotte to a second presence in the room. She turns her head suddenly as she stands up. Years of fighting Dracula’s forces had instilled in her—and in her comrades—a sense of paranoia, complete with each member of their team always having a weapon ready; and as such, her right hand clenches around hers (the book Don Quixote), ready to impale the intruder with its ethereal contents.
She recognizes Aeon only a second before she attacks. He looks at her, then to the book in her hand. Slowly, Charlotte sets it aside on her desk. She looks back up to Aeon, sporting an embarrassed blush. “Uh, s-sorry,” she says. “Didn’t mean to.”
“That is quite all right,” Aeon returns with a wry smile. “I have made a terrible habit of dropping in unannounced.” He looks about the Royal Library. The only lights are by candle, illuminating several ransacked bookshelves and tables stacked with towers of books. Any books that couldn’t fit on the tables are stacked neatly by the desk Charlotte had been seated at, its top covered in yet more books. Aeon’s smile doubles—there was only one other person he could think of who would think to live in a library.
“Have we kept busy?” he asks.
Charlotte nods as she sits back down. “This world… there’s just so much to learn.” She laughs a little. “So many cultures, with so many spells. And so much magic! So much more than is present and ever-ready in our world.”
Aeon nods. “Indeed. And it is magic I have come for.”
Charlotte looks around awkwardly, then spreads her arms as if presenting Aeon with the entire library around her. “Take your pick,” she giggles. She holds up the book she’d been reading and waves it. “I’m still learning these time-manipulation spells.”
“Time-manipulation?”
Charlotte thumbs through the book. “Well… to a degree. This Starswirl the Bearded guy was really on top of his game. I’m curious as to why his studies in time magic were never followed up on…” Her voice trails off before she looks to Aeon, then clears her throat and puts the book away, once again blushing in embarrassment. Time magic? The altering of what should by all definition be left a constant? The question had just answered itself.
“A-Anyway,” she says hastily.
“Anyway,” Aeon says in a tone he hopes does not suggest he was offended, “the kind of magic I need is for someone else to use. A magic she cannot learn from any unicorn.”
Charlotte leans back in her chair and clasps her hands in front of her face. In the dim light of the desk’s candles, Charlotte resembles a scheming pulp fiction villain. “Go on,” she purrs.
“She needs her expertise.”
“Enter Galamoth. An ancient devil time forsook, perhaps out of misplaced divine pity. I cannot count how many times he has died, or how many times he has been born—never reborn, mind you; just born. He has probably died more often than he has been born, and perhaps born more often than he has lived, only adding to the frustration of ridding all continuity of his rancid presence.
“He came to me. To my mentor, St. Germaine. To Janine. Innocent, trusting, intelligent, wickedly witty little Janine. He came to us, not in his terrifying true form, but in the shape of a beautiful dove. He warned us of a great cataclysm.
“You see, in the year 1999, Dracula was meant to perish at the hands of a Belmont. 1999 was the year the Belmonts’ generations-long crusade against Dracula finally would come to a conclusion, in which the Belmonts finally ended the Count. But something had gone terribly wrong.
“He showed us a future in which Dracula had won. As you have witnessed yourselves, such a world would be brutal and hopeless.
“The three of us, though Travelers we might be, knew not of Galamoth, nor of any reality besides the one we commonly stalked. As Galamoth showed us this reality—unbeknownst to us, an alternate reality—we planned to fix this perceived mistake. We could not let this beautiful world whose time-stream we traveled be delivered into such a warped and ugly fate.
“We knew the rules. To look, but not touch; to watch, but not act; to observe, but never partake. We decided, at Galamoth’s insistence, that this rule—our Golden Rule—must be broken to preserve the future of the only reality we knew. So break it, we did.
“We split up. St. Germaine went back to the year 1479, to confront one of Dracula’s former allies, who we believed to be an unintentional instigator of events leading up to this chaos. Janine knew of the unfortunate fate of one of the sons of Belmont, and took flight to the year 1698 to offer him a chance to undo the cruel spell placed upon him—and in doing so, offer the Belmonts a better chance of defeating Dracula more than 300 years later.
“But these are stories for another time.
“My role was simple. And I admit it, that I should have told you as much when we first met. But I was so certain you would come to distrust me if you knew; and so clutched was I by the kind of fear only a child would know, that I kept it secret.
“I am the one who cast Dracula’s remains to the winds of the universe.”
There’s a long pause as Charlotte’s grin slowly spreads. She nods, getting up from her chair. She walks around the desk, to a red trunk she’d left in front of it. Getting down on one knee, Charlotte flicks back some of her long brown hair before looking at the lock. Curiously, the lock has no keyhole. She traces an intricate shape upon it, then brings her fingers up and—snap!—the trunk opens all by itself.
“Well,” she says as she rummages through the trunk, “I’m sure she’d appreciate the company.”
Aeon waits patiently as Charlotte thumbs through all the books she’d collected on their journeys. It actually feels rather morbid of her, at least on some level, to keep these books from dead realities, like collecting fossils from generations long-gone. But her collection has served Charlotte well so far. It’s a real shame that Aeon can’t just introduce her to Twilight…
And just like that, Aeon sighs. Not loud enough to be heard by Charlotte as she rummages, but loud enough to voice disappointment in himself. He takes off his monocle and cleans it in an attempt at looking preoccupied.
“Found it,” Charlotte says as she grabs a blue book. She stands up, and once again snaps her fingers, commanding her trunk to close. She turns around, holding the Blank Book in her arms as if she’s a shy new student at a high school.
She and Aeon look at each other a moment. Aeon hadn’t thought so before—merely thinking Charlotte had taken her time in finding the book because of the vast “hyperspace pocket” her trunk is—but looking at her now…
…she knows. She knows, but is merely afraid to ask.
“With St. Germaine confronting one of Dracula’s former warriors, and with Janine guiding one of the Belmonts, Galamoth finally found me, the most arrogant of the three Travelers, alone and vulnerable. He spoke to me in his sweet voice, telling me what my heart warned me was a lie. But again, I was foolish, arrogant, and overconfident in my heroism enough to believe him—to believe the fate of an entire timeline, the fate of an entire reality, rested squarely upon my shoulders.
“There came many times in which Dracula’s body was torn to its basic components, and were preserved in the walls of his castle… no doubt part of the Castle’s own inability to let its master die.
“One such time was during Richter Belmont’s breakdown. Richter’s fall would eventually call forth a second Castle—a twin to the one on your Princess’ mountain—to emerge. This was one of the ‘three cataclysms’ that Galamoth claimed would lead to the outcome of the alternate 1999, along with the previous two quests I mentioned.
“Anyway, I’d gone to the Castle during this time and looted it for its master’s pieces, undetected by the others wandering the halls. Once I had found all the pieces, Galamoth opened the Heavenly Doorway, the chaotic nothing out of which all realities were born.
“Without a second thought, I cast Dracula’s parts to that nothingness, finally glad I was doing something that could save my world. But… well, let us not be pretentious. Everything went to hell.
“Galamoth revealed to us his true form—a towering, saurian creature dressed in gold, bearing the distorted face of dead things. In many ways, he was not unlike Dracula… and such was his design: to replace the Count.
“He had used us. St. Germaine’s quest—Janine’s quest—all diversions to what he was truly up to. His desired control of the Castle, thereby taking the title of Demon King.
“But what he did not count on was that the Castle could still feel the presence of its old master. While others had also sought to control the Castle, the Castle is still a thinking creature. It can agree to follow, or it can reject.
“And in Galamoth’s case, the Castle rejected him. Violently.
“Much more unfortunately however was the serendipity in favor of Dracula’s minions. After the Castle had picked Galamoth’s remains from its jagged teeth, it left the reality of Dracula’s world behind in search of its master. Of course, the Castle is guided by the likes of Death and Actrise—and many, many others of their ilk—and with Galamoth’s ability to open the Heavenly Doorway now in the employ of Dracula’s servants, the Castle was free to chase its master’s pieces, wherever they had gone.
“There seemed little hope for us, then. No Dracula, meant no Castle, meant no way to resolve the fate of our reality. With Dracula and the Castle both gone, the whole timeline would collapse in on itself, essentially an act of self-cannibalism. Our reality would end at the Year of Our Lord, 1798, shortly after I cast away Dracula’s pieces.
“We decided to gather a small army. We could not call anyone from time periods previous to our reality’s collapse, since that would only destroy the timeline further. So instead, we decided to take heroes from further points in time as the timeline began to fall backward. Three heroes from 2038, just before the timeline folded upon it. Two heroes from 1946. A hero from 1869.
“But to enter the Heavenly Doorway would be a difficult task. To open it, we Travelers all had to eat a piece of Galamoth’s remains. Disgusting, yes, but I like to think this a bold act on our part—for Galamoth was revolting in taste, no matter how much salt was used.
“…Yes, Pinkie, we did try using sugar instead. We were met by the same result.
“Moving along.
“With Galamoth’s magic now a part of us, we were able to travel the Heavenly Doorway and chase the Castle…”
Charlotte looks down at the book in her arms. “You know, this book…” She struggles for the right words. “I mean, you know… Sometimes I talk to her.”
“…Go on.”
“Yeah, I do. I talk to her. I promised to visit her more often…” She looks away sadly. “I wish I could say I’ve always kept that promise, but I’d be lying.”
“No one holds it against you,” Aeon says. “With everything else going on, you are bound to forget.”
“We’re talking about my teacher,” Charlotte argues. “And now she’ll be teaching someone else. One of these ponies.” She looks to Aeon. “Which pony is going to learn from her?”
“Twilight Sparkle,” Aeon replies with a nod. “I am sure the Princess speaks of her often?”
Charlotte suddenly beams and presses the book harder to herself. “Princess Celestia’s personal protégé? Seriously?!” Her smile fades. “You know, Aeon, I… kinda wanna meet her myself.” Aeon opens his mouth to say something, but Charlotte silences him with a wave of her hand. “I-I know why I can’t, but…”
More silence. Charlotte was always more of a conversationalist than most of her group, second maybe only to Janine. That she seems to have a hard time in reaching her point worries Aeon. “Is there something else I can do, perhaps?” he offers. “Maybe a letter?”
Charlotte smiles. “A letter?” She laughs. “Why didn’t I think of that? Dunno what I’d say, though…” She shrugs, putting the book down on the desk. She clears some space, tearing a piece of paper from a notebook and grabbing a pen.
“I hope you do not intend to write her a novel,” Aeon kids.
Charlotte snorts. “No, I’m gonna make it brief. Mostly just instructions on what to expect when… well, you know how she can be sometimes.” Some silence, broken only by the muttering of pen against paper.
Aeon looks around himself again, waiting for Charlotte to finish her letter. When he hears the pen go quiet, he looks back to find Charlotte eyeing him curiously. “Yes?” he asks.
Charlotte’s face becomes solemn. “You know… Aeon… um…” She sighs. “Aeon, can I just say it’s been a real treat to work with you?”
Her statement draws a smile from Aeon. “Well, it is a rare opportunity for this one to find the company of someone as unique as yourself,” he returns half-awkwardly.
Charlotte picks up her letter and folds it neatly, scribbling something on the back. “There you go again!” she giggles. “You always find the longest way to say something as simple as ‘Thank You!’” She takes the letter, folds it, opens the book, and puts the letter in, pressing the book shut. Getting up, Charlotte hands the book to Aeon.
She looks at him a little longer. “But I guess that’s one of the things I like about you,” she says as Aeon wraps his hand about the book. “You’re clever and smart—to the point where you can’t tell when it’s okay to just be simple. Kinda like Alucard, actually.”
Aeon puts the book in his jacket. “Alucard is a… colder sort of fellow.”
“But he’s smart,” Charlotte replies. “Or—no!—I’m using the wrong word. He’s wise. He’s wise, you’re smart, and…” She sighs. “…And I’m not making any sense.”
Aeon chuckles and rests a black-gloved hand on her shoulder. “Do not trouble yourself, Charlotte, I understand what you mean.”
As he turns to leave, he hears Charlotte call to him. “Hey, Aeon?”
He stops. “Yes?”
“…I just want you to know. We’ve, uh… We’ve all lost loved ones at some point in all this.”
Ah. There it is.
Aeon stands there. Hoping she can get as much out as she thinks he needs to hear. Finally, Charlotte continues. “You know? We’ve all made friends from all this. Friends we’re never going to see again—friends we’d never see again even if we won, if only because we don’t belong in their world. We’ve… well, we’ve all lost a lot.”
Aeon doesn’t turn around, but he can still see the tears in Charlotte’s eyes. He hears her voice crack at some points in her exposition. He steels his jaw as she continues. “So… don’t go thinking you’re all alone in this, OK? Because none of us really are.”
“…‘Let go.’”
Charlotte cocks her head. “Huh?”
“‘Let go’,” Aeon repeats. He does not turn around, instead keeping his eyes forward—if only to not let Charlotte see the way his ancient eyes ache. “Those were Janine’s last words to me. Just before the lights in her eyes went out. Before the stars in her universe all faded away.”
Aeon feels his hand clench around something small and hard. He looks down, greeted by the little red orb at the end of the necklace he wears.
“‘Aeon…’”
He balls his black-gloved fist around it, hiding both the jewel and the pain it means to him.
“‘… let go.’”
The silence that follows this sudden admission is weighted, made damp with the sorrow that permeates Aeon’s monotone. Charlotte finds herself at a loss for words. She bites her bottom lip to keep it from trembling as she once again feels her eyes grow hot and moist. “Aeon,” she says. “…I’m so sorry.”
“…Charlotte.”
“Yes?”
“The next time you speak to the Princess… can you tell her something for me?”
“Sure. Anything. What do you want me to tell her?”
Aeon looks at his watch. Not much time left. Make this brief. He snaps it shut and looks at Charlotte, who wipes a tear from her eyes.
“All right. Tell her…”
Aeon sits on his four legs, atop what might pass for a nest of books. The air inside the library is a damp and syrupy musk that clings to everything, coloring all with the grey of complete silence. He looks at his listening audience as his story finally closes, cleaning his monocle with a small towel produced from his jacket pocket. “My tale is told,” he says.
“That can’t be everything!” Rarity says. “Whatever happened to those other two people?”
“St. Germaine elected to stay behind,” says Aeon as he puts his monocle back on. “He had this idea that someone needed to keep our reality from collapsing completely. He was correct, of course. Thanks to his tireless efforts, we will at least have a home to return to.”
Rarity purses her lips. There’s something about that name—St. Germaine—that feels so oddly familiar. Before she can ask anything further, Pinkie asks a question of her own. “What about Janine?”
Aeon finds himself uncertain as to how to phrase it. Applejack detects his discomfort, and remembering his story from much earlier that morning, she looks Aeon in the eye. “Hey,” she whispers. “’Sall right, sugarcube. You told me, you ’kin tell them. They’ll understand.”
Hesitantly, he draws a breath and addresses the others. “Janine… is a casualty of this ongoing war.” The words coming out of his mouth are like the tines of a fork being sunk and drawn into his flesh: painful and tearing. He deflates. “She wasn’t the first to die, of course. But she was the first of my core group to die.”
Silence. Pinkie gets up, walks over to Aeon, and nuzzles him.“…I’m sorry, Eenie,” she says softly.
“That’s… that is all right,” Aeon says. “But… the only thing I can say about her death is that under no condition should you ever trust any of Dracula’s minions.”
“That sounds more like common sense to me,” Rainbow Dash shrugs.
Aeon gets up from his nest of books and walks about the library. “It might to you. But in this world, have there not been situations in which grace was bestowed upon your enemies?”
Fluttershy nods. “Like with Discord.”
“And with Trixie,” Twilight agrees. “They both got better.”
“In spite of your successes here in your own world,” Aeon says, “you must all remember that these creatures are not anything like you are familiar with. They cannot be reasoned with. They cannot be bought off. They cannot be intimidated. They cannot be trusted, or given the benefit of the doubt, no matter how friendly or charming they can be sometimes.
“Even if they claim to be seeking refuge from Dracula. Even without his direction, his influence upon them—powered by their flaws and their miseries—is great. Though there are cases in which some of his minions manage to flee from his control, they are incredibly rare. One in a million.”
He looks back to his team, the gravity in his voice and eyes now apparent. “I suppose my point is, do not set your hopes too high. It could be the death of you. So absolutely do not trust anyone who has ever been affiliated with Dracula.”
They watch Aeon as he walks up the stairs of the Library. “In fact,” he calls down as he ascends, “do not trust anyone outside this room at all.”
Julius cannot attach any color to the dimension outside the widows of Castle Canterlot. No scents. No sights. No sounds. It’s like a liquid dimension: too amorphous to have any real shape. The unfortunate aftermath of an unfortunate battle.
He hears some hoofsteps. Julius’ grip on his trusted whip, the Vampire Killer, tightens as he turns. His battle instincts prove incorrect, as he is met by Princess Celestia. She stops next to him and joins him in looking out at the odd world outside quietly for a moment or so. “When Aeon told me where we are,” she says, “I could not believe what I was hearing. I have lived for millennia, and never have I seen anything like this.”
Julius nods, returning his gaze to the windows. “But it’s true,” he says. “This really is a lost world.”
Silence. Celestia looks to Julius, her face grim. “Aeon and Alucard keep calling it that, too. I assume that by ‘lost world’, you mean…”
Julius looks aside to Celestia and with a somber nod confirms her suspicion. “Yes,” he confirms, “this is the end result of Dracula’s forces succeeding in destroying an entire dimension.”
The silence returns, this time accompanied by subtle unease. Celestia swallows. “To be cast away from my subjects, into a dead world…”
“I’m confident that we’ll be able to return you and your castle,” Julius says, smiling suddenly. “We just have to have faith in those who are currently in a position to oppose Dracula. We must stay positive.”
Celestia almost laughs. “Listen to me, being moody! I sounded more like my sister just now! Always worrying.” She shakes her head, amused. Suddenly, she turns to Julius. “You’ve been through such a merciless quest, Julius. Tell me, how do you stay so upbeat?”
Julius observes Celestia. She notices he isn’t looking at her—he is observing her. Drinking her in. Weighing what she is, in his mind. His smile fades, and Celestia realizes, the moment it goes away, that it was never a smile to begin with. Without even the fake smile, Julius looks… ancient. Bedraggled. Like a tired and beat-up old man. “Truth be told,” he says, “I’m… not.”
He looks back outside, unable to keep comfortable eye contact with Celestia. “We’ve all seen so much death. So much senseless destruction these past three years.” He sniffs. “Aeon tells me it only feels like three years to us, but it’s really been more like fifty. Or something. I dunno, time travel’s confusing.”
Celestia chortles. “Starswirl used to say the same thing.”
“Starswirl? One of your subjects, I presume?”
“When he was alive, yes,” Celestia nods. “He tried studying the flow of time, and other ethereal, intangible qualities of the universe. If he only kept at it, he could have figured out how to properly travel through dimensions like you or your friends—of this, I have no doubt.”
“What happened?”
Celestia shrugs. “He was always lazy, but… then he got too old. It was so hard for me to watch him age.” Julius finds some vulnerability in Celestia’s voice as she says that last sentence. Nostalgia, loss, and regret, all at once.
She looks at him more closely. “But we’re getting off-track. Julius, I just wanted to thank you for being so positive in the face of what we’re all going through right now. Even if your upbeat attitude is false, I can tell that your heart, and your courage, are genuine.”
There is pause. Julius nods, his smile coming back slowly. “It… Well, it isn’t every day I get thanked by a god.”
Celestia rolls her eyes. For a second, her body language reminds Julius of a teenage girl, and his smile doubles as he stifles a laugh. “Oh, don’t—that’s—oh,” Celestia stammers. “There’s no need to admonish me with such a title. I am hardly a god.”
“Well, you possess an angelic presence that gives your subjects hope, you have a talent for impressive magic, existed for millenia, and your subjects revere you as more than just their princess,” Julius says, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’d say if you aren’t a god, then you’re the next best thing.”
Then Celestia does something Julius doesn’t expect. She blushes. Full up, straight on blushes. And it’s cute. She turns her head, coughs, and remains silent. Finally, she does something else Julius doesn’t expect. She says, “Gods don’t make mistakes.”
“Come again?”
“Gods don’t make mistakes,” Celestia repeats, a little more forcefully than she intended. She is no less graceful for her outburst, but Julius can feel the sadness in her voice. “Gods don’t get cast out of their world, or find themselves helpless when against real threats, or let their subjects be devoured by sick animals.”
Julius lets Celestia’s comments hang for a moment. Before she can turn to leave, he says, “This isn’t your fault, you know.”
Celestia scrutinizes Julius. He can see stars sparkling within her pupils, shimmering wetly like diamonds at the bottom of a mine. “…I try to accept that. I really do.” She turns away. “…But I can’t. My subjects are getting hurt. They are being tormented. And while all that happens, here I am, bound up, safe in my castle where I can do nothing to stop it.”
Celestia walks away. Julius hears two words whisper from her mouth as she exits, recoiling from how bitter they sound. “…Like always.”
Before Celestia can leave the room, she feels a strong, weathered hand fall on her withers. She looks aside to Julius. His eyes are earnest, his smile friendly and no longer forced. “But you’ll return,” he says. “You wrote in your letter that you have faith in your student and her friends. You must hold onto that faith. Hold onto it… and never let go.”
Silence. Celestia smiles. Faith. Of course. How could she forget? The only link between the destitute and their salvation. The reason Julius battles his pessimism. The reason he and his friends keep on fighting. The reason Twilight and her friends will keep on fighting.
“…I think I am beginning to understand your way of thinking, Julius,” she says. She hopes he doesn’t notice how much she likes the sound of his name. “Please forgive me if I sounded… frustrated.”
“Anyone in your position would be,” Julius shrugs.
“Am… I interrupting anything?” comes a small voice from their right.
Julius and Celestia are pulled from their scene to Charlotte, who stands there with a sheepish grin and a slight blush. Julius puts two and two together, rolling his eyes. Come on, Charlotte, he thinks, don’t be ridiculous.
“Not at all, Charlotte,” Celestia insists. “What brings you here?”
Charlotte walks over to Celestia. “Aeon dropped by again. He’s introducing your student to my teacher…”
Celestia smiles. “Is that supposed to make me jealous?” She laughs a little. “I certainly hope she doesn’t run out of things to teach Twilight!”
Charlotte giggles and shakes her head. “Well, I just thought I’d let you know, that’s all. By the way, Your Highness, Aeon wanted me to tell you something…”
With that, the meeting is adjourned. Everypony had their assigned tasks, and set about them as soon as Twilight gave the word. Aeon promises Twilight something special that he should have remembered beforehand, but being what St. Germaine would call a “sightless dunce”, he had completely forgotten.
“Really?” Twilight asks curiously. “What is it?”
“First I must go retrieve it,” he replies, and with a quiet movement, Aeon turns and walks away, entering another room before fading like a dream.
Twilight feels a slight tug on her tail. She turns to be met by Spike, a look of concern on his face. “Spike? What is it?”
“It’s the Elements of Harmony,” he whispers hurriedly. “They’re not where you hid them downstairs…”
A pause. Twilight takes a deep breath. “Spike,” she says quietly, “please don’t tell anypony else about this.”
“But why not?” he asks. “Aren’t you supposed to, y’know, use them against Dracula?”
“We will,” she says. “Just be patient.”
Spike grows more and more confused with Twilight’s nonchalant reaction to the possibility that Actrise may have stolen the only objects they possess capable of defeating Dracula. She stands there, waiting for Aeon to return, her face lacking any kind of concern for what she’d just been told.
Then, she gives Spike an aside glance and tosses him a knowing wink.
Of course. Spike purses his lips and quietly nods. He’d forgotten that Twilight is something of a schemer. No doubt she had something planned—but what it is, he is without a clue. It looks like he’s just going to have to have faith.
“There we go,” Aeon says from behind them, causing them both to jump.
“Aeon!” Twilight barks. “If you’re going to disappear like that, the least you could do is reappear where we can see you!”
Aeon observes them blankly for a moment. “I apologize,” he says. His horn shines and from his jacket pocket comes a book: hardcover, bluebacked, with silver edgings and an equally silver sculpted lion’s head gracing the front cover. He gives it to Twilight, whose eyes widen with anticipation. Could it be a collection of magical knowledge from another dimension? A journal of a powerful wizard? A…
…completely…
…blank… book?
“Aeon?” Twilight asks as she flips the empty pages. “Is… this some kind of joke?”
Aeon shakes his head. “Not at all. This book was written by a great witch who did not want her knowledge to fall into the wrong hands.”
Spike waves a claw. “Whoa, wait a second,” he says, “a great witch? Like Actrise?”
Aeon raises an eyebrow. “Similar, yes,” he says. “But before you say what I know you are going to say, Spike, you must know that she is in fact a good witch. She fought the forces of Dracula long before you were born. She has taught many a mighty witch to continue her legacy against the Count, and I trust she will be more than willing to pass her knowledge to Twilight.”
Twilight looks over the book again. “This is to prepare me for Actrise… isn’t it?”
“In the event Actrise decides to confront you directly,” Aeon confirms. “You yourself said that you would not stand a chance if such a situation were to occur. Consider this my giving you a fighting chance against Actrise’s powerful magic.”
Twilight comes across a small, folded piece of paper. At first, she thinks it’s a bookmark of some kind, but upon closer inspection, she finds that it’s a letter. On its front is written, in beautiful script, the words, “From Charlotte.”
It glows magenta as Twilight pulls it out and unfolds it.
Greetings and salutations!
My name is Charlotte Aulin. I’m one of Aeon’s friends, and the owner of the book you hold in your hands hooves. I hope this letter finds you in good health.
Your mentor, Princess Celestia, has told me much about you and your friends. I wish I could meet you in person! You all sound like such nice people ponies. I like to think we both have much in common. Ha, ha!
But onto matters of more important business: The book you hold right now contains its own world. Entering it will allow you to meet my own mentor. (I think she’ll like you, but just in case, I should warn you that she’s centuries old, and rather cranky. So watch out for her mood swings!!)
When you’re ready to enter this book, hold your ha hoof over the lion’s mouth and speak to it the words, Tenebrae horrendae devicerit aurorae sol . (It’s Latin. Not sure if they speak it in your world.)
And when you meet my mentor, just give her this letter. She’ll trust you more easily if she knows you have my recommendation. (Won’t you, Boss?)
Well, it looks like I’m about to run out of room on this paper, so I’ll wrap this up. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet in person, or under better circumstances. Either way, I’m honored to help you out!
~Charlotte
Twilight smiles. “Looks like I have a fan,” she says. She looks the letter over again, and raises an eyebrow. “But it says we can’t meet. Is there a reason for that?”
Aeon looks reluctant. “Aeon,” Twilight implores, “if there’s something you need to tell me, you should tell me.”
Said the pony who’s keeping secrets, Spike thinks.
“Twilight…” Aeon looks this way and that. “Twilight, my powers have been fading gradually. I don’t know if it is that I have been away from my reality for too long, or for some other reason, but… but I am dying.”
(“By the way, Your Highness, Aeon wanted me to tell you something…”)
Twilight’s eyes widen, but she says nothing. Aeon continues.
“Yes,” he admits, for the second time today. “My powers are fading, and the only recorded instances of this happening to any Traveler is when they are soon to die.” A pause. Aeon gulps. “Please, do not tell the others. I do not need anyone to worry for me.”
Twilight shakes her head. “Aeon, you’re one of us now. We all worry about you, because you’re our friend.”
Aeon sighs through his nostrils, hanging his head. “…I’m flattered you would… that you would consider me, er…” His fumbling tongue silences him. Finally, he just smiles and says simply, “Thank you. For worrying about me.”
(“Yes? What did he have to say?”)
Twilight weighs this news in her mind. Aeon is the sole driving force in this conflict: without him and his ability to hop dimensions, there’s no way for anyone else to do so. Janine is dead. St. Germaine keeps their original reality from collapsing completely. There aren’t any other Travelers to help them besides him.
Death. It’s an inevitable outcome of life, no matter what; and with things the way they are now, death’s inescapability is blatantly apparent. But what does one do when they know they are not long for this world…?
Her eyes descend once again to the Blank Book. To Charlotte’s letter. Finally, she gets an idea. “Aeon,” she says. “Have you ever thought about training someone to take over for you?”
(“He wanted me to tell you that for as long as he’ll live, he’ll fight for your right to exist.”)
A surprised pause. Aeon purses his lips in thought. “…You know, I… I never thought about that before…”
Twilight continues. “Well, I mean, St. Germaine trained you. You said so yourself that he was your mentor. So why not pass on the knowledge and responsibilities of a Traveler to someone else?”
Aeon thinks it over some more. “Well… it would be difficult. I would have to find someone who has no ‘home time’—a rare feature to possess, indeed.” He smiles reassuringly. “But I am sure there must be other ways. There might be clues. I will have to investigate.” He nods to Twilight. “Thank you, Twilight.”
With that, Aeon turns and once again walks away, leaving Twilight to her devices.
(“That he’ll fight for as long as he can. And that he’ll never let go.”)
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Didn't you say you were gonna space these all out?
This needs music.
Boomdone.
5467531
Stabbing them in the heart doesn't "kill" a vampire, per se. It might render them powerless, certainly, but to make sure they remain dead, they must be decapitated, with their necks stuffed with garlic flowers. This decapitation method is actually a key gameplay mechanic in the Castlevania series, as Dracula is only vulnerable if you strike his head. Hence why Julius makes this claim.
Nice try, though.
5467352
Was, but I remember hating the shit out of this particular arc, so I just wanted to get it out of the way. I'll definitely be uploading the rest one day at a time.
You know, I have the oddest, sinking feeling. I've read all of this before.
Though what saddens me more is the fact that the other arch of the story was removed, it was so good...and I never had a chance to read the final chapter you had up >.<
5472147
"TMI" = "Too Much Information"
5479594
This is the entirety of "Equestrylvania Adventure," which I included here since it held no importance by itself. Frankly, it's something I should have done right from the start.
But don't worry about The Wolf Revealed, it's going up here too sometime next week. One chapter at a time, over a set period of days, ending with a brand-new, never-before-seen chapter. So stay tuned!
5469104 I know weeks old, but want to confirm for anyone else reading later on. Indeed in the older Vampire Lores, a Stake to the Heart wouldn't 'Kill' a Vampire. It would mainly disable them. They would go limp, unable to move, and look like they were dead. However, if the Stake were removed, they would be 'alive' again and up and moving.
You were meant to Stake a Vampire so it's no longer a threat, THEN remove it's head to kill it. After all, a Vampire is meant to be much faster, stronger, and tougher than you. Are you really going to be able to chop off it's head while it knows it's the only way to kill it and will actively be attacking you and protecting that spot?