Equestria's Ray of Hope

by The_Darker_Fonts

Death's Cycle

Ray had never been in Skalos’ little house before. The door was small, even for the stallion, and Ray had to bend over, nearly crawling, to get through. Nevertheless, the inside of the earthen house was larger than the entrance, and Ray was able to stand at full height, amazingly. The doorway was crammed with dummies about waist high, presumably there for easy access when he needed to drag them out for Ray’s practice. Likewise, the walls had an assortment of wooden poles and false spears, all for practice, though why he needed them when Ray was already using the actual weapon, he didn’t know.

Skalos silently led him to a room past the main one, through a well kept kitchen that seemed unused. There, in a doorless entryway, was a strange little room with an open roof, sunlight streaming through it and lighting a strange marking on the floor. Yellow lines swirled around an intricate circle, a symbol looking like wind blowing past an open eye. There were several different oblong, pony-looking figures surrounding the sun symbol, seeming to run around the edge of the circle. Surrounding those was some writing that definitely wasn’t English, and from his understanding of the ponies’ own language, not Ponish either.

“So, wait, what is this,” Ray asked. “Some sort of teleportation pad?”

“In a way, yes,” Skalos confirmed. “However, it is more like a waypoint between lights. We go from standing in bright light, and by taking the light around us, it allows us to go to a place where there is almost no light. The process, however, burns out the source, such as this marking, and will leave a rather nasty burn mark in my floor, and on anyone who tries to reuse it incorrectly. As such, lordling, you and I will be taking a train back. Now, step into the center of the symbol, right on the eye, and I will join you in the center as well.”

Ray complied, and stepped directly on the eye, staring at the strange symbols that surrounded the entirety of the circle. Skalos began chanting in a strange language, a flowing, intricate tongue that seemed to dance out of his mouth. Indeed, the Fallen seemed to dance himself, swaying around the circle as he traced the symbols with his hoof. Each seemed to lightly glow when his touch was lost from the pattern, a welcoming white glow. When he was finished, he continued to whisper the chant under his breath, staring at a particularly intricate circular symbol at the head of the circle.

Abruptly, the chanting became a yell of a singular word, “Rafsa!”

Instantly, the glowing symbols seemed to explode with light, great beams of it shooting up into the air in pillars. Glowing particles of light began to float around, when Skalos called, “Jahez!” The light particles snapped into the beams, which intensified and rose, completely surrounding the two in blinding light. Skalos gave a final command -“Haleck!”- caused the light to suddenly close in on them.

For a moment, Ray was completely overwhelmed, the light blinding him, but quickly, he found that he could actually see. It wasn’t much help, as everything was still white, save Skalos, like standing in a blank white room. The light warmed him comfortably, like warmth was flowing through him in his veins, pulsing through his heart, yet also warming him from outside. It was both a comforting and strange experience that left him a bit squeamish. There was a subtle sense of crawling that remained in his skin as the light suddenly snapped into the ground, cracking loud enough to pop Ray’s ears.

Wincing, he found himself surrounded by near darkness, saved for the remaining glow of burnt ground in the pattern that had formed the Sunport. There were remaining floating light spots as well, that gave off a fraction of the light that had created them. Otherwise, it was pitch black. Only Skalos’ slightly luminescent body stood out in the dimness. With a slight squint, he could make out the low-hanging ceiling and see the pathway they were to follow.

With a curt gesture, Skalos led him away from the charred ground, and towards a void of black. It was much like the first time Ray was down in the depths of Tartarus, slightly moist and cool, with the open feeling even in this enclosed corridor, as if a thousand eyes were watching him. He shuddered at the thought of nameless ponies staring at him, and moved swiftly behind his Fallen commander. They headed further down the dark corridor of stone and warped darkness, until, at last, he saw a distant sign of light.

There was a slight blue glow at the end of the tunnel, and it was one that he easily recognized as the color used to light the Fallen homeland. With a slightly relieved smile, he felt more confident about moving towards the end of the tunnel, until he realized exactly why he was here.

A potential civil war.

All at once, the little comfort he had betrayed him, and he found himself swallowing hard. How had this civil war come to pass? Was it a conflict between the three factions of Fallen, or was it something to do more directly with him? Maybe it was a group resisting the call to arms to fight the oncoming minotaur horde. Or perhaps it was even a group who wished to propose a new leader of the army, one they thought would do better than him.

All these conflicts tumbled over each other, becoming more real and more threatening by the minute, and making him wish he’d never even come in the first place. It may have been better to let the Fallen do their business amongst themselves.

No! The voice was sharp, almost painfully loud in his head. It was him, but a different him, a him reflected in a braver mirror, a mirror without faults. It was an unrealistic depiction of himself he felt, like a shiny gold statue of himself come to life. Cold yet pretty.

The self projection in his head had instantly pushed thoughts of leaving and letting the Fallen go about their own business out of his head. He felt shocked at the clearness of the voice, half thinking that it may have been Skalos, but he quickly realized that it was indeed himself, and his own thoughts. And this embodied thought had a valid point.

Whether or not there was a civil war, at least a fraction of these Fallen would follow him to war against the minotaurs and uphold their oath. He was one of them now, their leader. He needed to be among them, to know them and their thoughts, problems, and solutions. He needed to lead as one, so he must be one first.

This determination drove him forward, and into the main chamber of the Fallen’s homeland. As usual, it took a moment for his eyes to fully adjust and see the houses lining the far wall of their enclosure. There was a large gathering of several different Fallen groups, the largest being the closest to Ray and the exit of the main hall. They stood clustered around or in the amphitheater, though not as neatly as when he first arrived. His arrival didn’t go without notice, as one of the keen-eyed Fallen from just a few dozen feet away spotted him and Skalos entering.

“There he is, the leader and general of the Fallen,” the purple tinted stallion called, causing a ripple effect of Fallen looking and seeing Ray and calling out his arrival. He watched nervously as this ripple slowly moved from group to group, and within a few minutes, he knew the entire nation of the Fallen had heard of his arrival. And they all came to see as well. With a deep breath, Ray prepared himself.

“The group here,” Skalos muttered quietly to him, “is a combination of Moderates and Grims that are guarding the exit from those that might attempt an escape from the chamber. The second largest group you see, near the back, is another group, mostly Foals, protecting the weapons from these other smaller groups. In my absence, and since your arrival here among the Fallen, a fourth group has developed. The Secessionists.

“These ponies absolutely hate you, and view you as a usurper. They claim that you will simply lead us to our deaths and that our oaths were to protect Equestria, not some foreign child. They feel that they shouldn’t need to fight either, that by being cursed to live in eternal suffering life is enough punishment. They propose that we refuse our oaths and collect our forces, fight back against the Princesses and gain true freedom, not conscription into a war that isn’t of our concern. And they threaten to take to arms against any who stand in their way.”

“And if we let them go,” Ray asked out of curiosity.

“We will lose some three thousand soldiers, along with their weapons, and quite possibly more, if others see this as an option out.” Then, looking up at Ray questioningly, he asked, “Is it?”

“No,” Ray confirmed harshly. For some reason, he felt less nervous, and more angry. These ponies had betrayed their own kind, had turned and killed man, women, and children. He had seen it himself thanks to Skalos. They deserved punishment, especially living themselves to wishing death. It was a sentence that befit the crime. And now, some had the audacity to refuse?

“I need to talk to their leader,” Ray stated.

“Of course,” the Fallen besides him agreed.

They began to descend, which caused cheering to come from both ends of the cavern. Ray noted, with some smugness, that while this conflict was bringing the Fallen to a clash, the old parties and divisions were forgotten. It seemed that, while they disagreed exactly on what their true punishment, and the restrictions of their damnation were, they all agreed to protect a population they had failed once. It was comforting to know that, when the time came, every different kind of Fallen would come to fight besides Ray. all except for these, he bitterly thought.

“Lordling, it is good to see you again,” a stallion called, splitting through the crowd of Fallen. He was a light brown tinted Fallen, and Ray was able to recall that he was called Rohan. “We were wondering when you would visit our low abode once again!” He said this with jest, reaching out for a hand and hoof shake, to which Ray obliged. With a sigh of dissatisfaction, he glanced toward where the group of Secessionists stood, mumbling, “I only wish it were in better conditions.”

“Yeah, me too, Rohan,” he replied.

“Ah, so you remember an old captain’s name,” he shouted with delighted surprise. “Well, hopefully we can all leave without any spears jabbed or arrows shot.”

“Yes, that’s the goal,” Skalos cut in with a pointed look, continuing to lead on. “If you’ll excuse us captain, we have to deal with these opposers while they can still be dealt with.”

“Of course. Best of words and luck, lordling,” the captain called behind them, which one again made a good deal of the Fallen in the group to cheer loudly. Smiling, he waved at them, and turned as they broke the wall of bodies. The smile broke into a grim frown as he began walking the few dozen yards between the groups of Fallen. Many of the Fallen in the frontline of this group glared at him intensely, holding true to Skalos’ description of their love for him.

He slowed his approach until he halted just a few feet from the nearest Secessionist. “I’ve been told there’s a problem here, and that the Fallen may need assistance dealing with it,” Ray said coolly. “I was wondering if you could tell me what the problem is and if I could do anything to solve it. Might I discuss it with your most trustworthy leader?”

“That would be me,” a sharp lapis lazuli tinted Fallen called. Unlike the others, he wasn’t glaring, instead merely looking over Ray. “The problem we have, unfortunately, is that we are locked away down here for eternity, until the day we die in battle, or the day we put ourselves out of our misery. Many of our brothers have taken that path, and I’m hoping that we can finally be granted freedom beyond fighting yet another war.”

“Ah, I see,” Ray commented, attempting to sound wise. Despite facing so many potential enemies, he felt surprisingly calm, almost as if he were debating sports with a group of friends. “You wish to be freed from a sentence you received for your betrayal of thousands, your slaughter of thousands, and your destruction of trust. You wish to be freed of a more then justly earned damnation that you brought upon yourself. You wish that, seeing as how your first attempt at guaranteeing you own lives meant sacrificing the lives of others, you can do it without consequence this time. You bargain for freedom after murder. Neither I, nor the Princesses, nor your peers, will condone it.”

“So we’ve been told,” the stallion replied without missing a beat. “It is true that we betrayed our own kin. However, is it truly betrayal if these were the same ponies who sent us to fight in the first place, who dragged us from our homes and families to fight a bloody war that only the Princesses cared for? Is it our fault that we wished to be freed from the bonds of the Princesses and their oppressive rule, that we might live a life we wished we had, and was taken from us by a monarch’s war?”

“It is not, but it is your fault for killing those who were not fighting, who were simply living to help their country,” Ray retorted sharply, glaring to meet the stallion’s slowly growing angered eyes. “It is your fault for accepting the deal of one who would go on to kill thousands more. It is your fault for following through and destroying the lives of all those civilians. It is your fault you’re down here now. You were the ones that enacted the crime, not the Princesses. I may not agree with them, but they are used in their punishment. Know this. If it were me, you wouldn’t be alive to complain to me now.”

At that, the crowd laughed, including the leader. “Of course you would. You’re the legendary human, here to save ponykind by leading us to the slaughter. You don’t know anything about this world, yet you are supposed to save it? Please, you are merely half of what we Fallen can provide ourselves. You were chosen to be an ironic symbol of a Princess who wasn’t willing to defend the country she led herself. Now you are here to instruct us, to boss us around like the common bully. Well, we will not allow ourselves to be bullied into submission yet again. We’ve drank from that bitter cup, and now we shall pass it along, to those who are willing to be sheep to a monarchistic government willing to sacrifice the kicked children to keep their own coats clean.”

There were mumbled agreements and cries for justice from the crowd, who had slowly formed a wall facing him and Skalos. The general stood stoically, looking around at the encircling Secessionists with an almost diminishing glare, to which some of the crowd shrank. Ray himself tried to look as confident as he was beginning to feel. Behind him, he could hear the mumbling of those Fallen that supported him, and felt their confident gaze. With all of this combined, he felt a fire of both rage and determination growing in him which he harnessed into the words that he used next.

“You know that they weren’t clean of blood either. They fought and killed as well, more so than you did, defending their civilians and innocents. On the other hand, you joined their forces, and then turned when you realized that the stories you were told of war being an adventurous, brave event were false. Instead of defending innocents, your kin, you turned on them, and killed thousands with your actions. You cannot claim the Princesses tyrannical when you yourselves were the ones killing the civilians and inhabitants of your own nation. You cannot point out their muddied hooves, when you have blood on yours.”

This seemed to cause a diverse range of reactions from the Secessionists. Several yelled terrible things, all drowned out by one another, while others merely glared and spat in his direction. But Ray noticed that about a third of the ponies he could see wore guilty expressions, and even looked on the brink of tears from the harsh memory of their treachery. Suddenly, one stepped away from the crowd, staring down at the ground, followed by a couple others. When the doubtful Secessionists saw their comrades leaving, it gave a few of them heart to leave as well. Soon, a group of a couple hundred ponies had left the main body silently, while the remaining majority shouted to them of their treachery and their cowardice for bending to Ray’s words.

“Do not listen to the imposter,” the stallion yelled over to the remaining Secessionists. Looking back to Ray with a heated glare, he shouted, “You have no authority here! You are merely a child who has never been to war, and has never seen the terrors of death, felt the stab of a spear. You have no knowledge of what you attempt to control, no knowledge of the trial and tribulations that come from leading an army, or the destruction of the soul war brings. You cannot bully and belittle our actions without having experienced them yourself. You speak and walk as a soldier, but you have never been one. You are merely a shadow of what you should be!

“You come from a world that is not ours, to do the dirty work of yet another corrupted Princess, one who has manipulated you into attempting to lead us to war. The Princess has seen to it that you will only lead us to death quicker, that you will be the true death of the Fallen and ponies. She would have us initiate an unprecedented war, leading us to a loss of the entirety of the Fallen! And you are proposed to be the head of our defeat, and the destruction to be wrought on this world. You are nothing but a boy with a voice, one that says words without meaning. You have no grounds to stand on, and no support but those who have been brainwashed to the concept of freedom by hundreds of years in our prison.”

Ray took a moment to calm himself, offended by the words that had been shouted at him. Slowly, he yelled back, for all to hear, “I am an imposter among you Fallen, and while I have never tasted war, I have killed, and nearly been killed.” Without hesitation, he pulled his shirt off and pointed to the scar on his stomach, shouting, “This was a wound that nearly killed me. I lived with barely any strength, yet now here I stand, in front of all of you. I haven’t felt the stab of a spear, but of a knife instead! Does this not prove my physical and mental strength? Doesn’t this disprove your theories of my weakness and my naivety to death?”

The questions hung in the air as the Fallen stared openly at his wound, and he knew that they were scanning his body’s build as well. The blue toned leader seemed to be at a loss for several seconds as the time between Ray’s questions and the answer to come came longer. He had put them in a corner with their philosophy of his weakness by pressing that he had not killed or felt near death. Now that this had been disproven, they would have to find something else to say flawed him. There was a lot, but nothing concrete, and anything they thought they might have on him was now unreliable.

With a contemptuous sniff, the stallion at the head yelled, “This only proves you to have some slight knowledge of death. You still have no knowledge of war and the workings of an entire army. How do you plan, pray tell, to lead us into battle? Have us charge gloriously to the enemies face and run them over, while you sit in the back lines giving orders, or leading us into the fray? How do you plan to keep us supplied? How do you plan to even march us from place to place? Or will this all be fed to you from the great, noble, perfect Princess that brought you here?’

“I may not have fought war yet, but you hadn’t either when you went off to fight,” Ray retorted. “I have a full year to prepare to lead and fight. A year to train and get to know every one of you, and to help us all unify against the enemy, the minotaurs. There is no reason to be so hostile towards me, and towards those that you shared your imprisonment with. You are merely venting your anger like screaming toddlers. Well, don’t worry, little ones, daddy’s here! He’ll make sure that all your nightmares of death and ruin are proven to be a false worry, and he’ll be with you the entire time!”

The stallion looked genuinely shocked and insulted by Ray’s sharp chiding. While he had belittled them in a playful, childish voice, he had also been keenly glaring at the stallion and the group he represented. Many of the others were now looking flustered or shameful, not daring to meet his gaze, but there were still those that met his eyes with an equal glare. Yet again, a group of Fallen, this time larger than before, began to step away from the Secessionists, heads bowed in humility as they walked away, towards the town on the walls. The stallion’s eyes began to bug out as he stared at the leaving Fallen.

“See this, see those that leave,” Ray called to the remaining group. He couldn’t quite tell how many had left by now, but he figured almost a thousand had rejoined the main body of the Fallen. “They know the truth. They can see that they are in the wrong. You are traitors of traitors, those of you that remain.” Quieting his voice, he softened his tone, saying, “I extend an invitation to those of you still unconvinced that the only path to redemption is through this war, and defending the helpless. Please, we need every one of you for this fight, and every one of you matters. We don’t wish for this conflict, this infighting. All we wish for, us other Fallen, is for the chance to be redeemed, to forget our past mistakes and troubles. Now is the time that we must prepare for war, and for us to see eye to eye on the fact that we are the only line of defense this nation and these ponies have. Join us once again, and this incident of near war can be forgotten peacefully, without lives lost.”

“No,” the stallion shouted briskly. “We will not bend to you like those sheep that left the right cause. You mean to inspire us to become something we don’t need to be. It makes no sense for us to once again militarize to defend ponies that aren’t our own. They rejected us a millennia ago, and won’t be allowed to use us whenever they feel like it. We have no loyalties to the Equestrian throne or people, only to ourselves and our own strength.”

“You say you want no war,” Skalos interrupted, speaking for the first time, “but call upon your own strength and threaten to fight for the ability not to fight? What strength is this? The strength of ignorance? The strength of rebellion against true freedom? This is the strength of cowards!” The two stallions glared at each other with twice the intensity Ray had with the Secessionist leader. “We fought together once, before the betrayal. We won the battle, yet when we saw the cost and the horrors it took to win, we chose the path of cowards and betrayed ponies that we were supposed to defend. There is no justification for the blood spilt, and if you refuse to fight, then it will be your blood being spilt! Do not choose the path of cowards again, for this time it will come with guaranteed lethality!”

“So you threaten us with death since we will not follow your bloodthirsty and destructive will,” the stallion shouted angrily. “You violate the rights granted upon all living ponies in-”

“Rights,” Ray questioned furiously. “Rights? You honestly have the guts to talk about your own rights, when you didn’t give other ponies, ponies who had no conflict with you, those same rights to life. You do realize that is why you’re down here, right? Because you killed so many of your own people because you hoped to live longer. Well guess what, if your plan is to live yourselves to misery, I won’t impede that until after this war. You must repay the lives you took in cowardice for lives you will take in courage. This war isn’t a death sentence, or proclamation of extinction to all lives here and above. No, it’s actually a chance to prevent it.

“You don’t have the rights to live the way you wish to, but you will receive them if you fight in this war. I’ve already made a deal with Twilight that, if you all fulfill your oath of damnation, you will be granted the chance to live as a real pony once again, not these husks of flesh and glowing blood. You’ll be free to live wherever you wish, do whatever you legally want, and all of those other rights you speak so passionately about. In order to have the right granted to Equestrians, you must first prove that you are truly an Equestrian, and not some advantageous leech, here to suck the blood from the nation.”

“Oh yes, and what of you, lordling,” the stallion asked, spitting the last word out with enough poison to kill. “Are you a proud, upstanding Equestrian,” he sarcastically omitted. “Are you the paragon of virtue that the rest of us lower beings are to look to from out our muddy holes and barren caves? Or are we simply your tools, here to provide a body shield against these minotaurs while you valiantly lead us to war from a tent? I will say, I’m impressed that you have courage enough to appear before us, when you so obviously had none in life. Tell me, are you scared of death coming? Are you scared of facing these minotaurs?”

“Only a fool isn’t scared of death,” Ray said sharply. “A fool or an idiot. I’m neither. Are you?”

The stallion seemed to turn a shade of purple in the face as he glared sharply at Ray. Suddenly, he yelled hysterically, “Well, if you do fear death still, why don’t you embrace it. Maybe it will teach you to be less of a cowering foal!”

The stallion reached to a pony behind him, and before Ray knew it, he was lunging at him with a spear in his grasp. It was directed straight for his heart, so he sidestepped it, pushing it away by the wooden shaft. It still caught his shoulder, cutting through the fabric and his skin, brushing against the bone. Before the stallion could retract the weapon, he grasped the shaft, pulling and spinning around at the same time, wrenching it from the weaker stallion’s grasp. Using the momentum of the motion, he swung through and around, allowing the spear to slide down until his hands hit a leather grip, to which he tightened his grasp.

He jabbed forward, looking the shocked stallion dead in the eyes as he did so. The spear pierced his skull right in the middle of his forehead, and because of the downward angle, protruded from the bottom of his neck. Blood from the initial stab had spurted upwards onto his hand, glowing luminescent blue in a horrid, gruesome fashion. He felt his own blood dripping down his shoulder, the cloth of his shirt sticking firmly to the wound as it was soaked in blood. The cut was deep, though maybe not too bad. He couldn’t tell. All he could do was stare at the head of his former enemy, the enemy he’d just killed.

His ears were filled with a silent roaring, the rushing of blood that he knew so well, and the adrenaline of near death. He shivered, shuddered, and trembled as he stared at the body, the brutality of his spear sticking out of the back of its neck. The body slumped, the head only being held up by the spear that Ray was still holding. He dropped it, looking down at his hands in confusion and strange, corrupted satisfaction. His left hand, the one that had been closest to the spearhead, was covered in blue, luminescent blood, with his own dark red blood from his shoulder rolling down his arm and onto his hand, mixing with the blue to create a surreal deep blue, near violet color.

The roaring in his ears subsided as he looked up, into the crowd, over the spear that protruded from their deceased leader’s head. There were mixed reactions from all of them, from shocked expressions to angry yelling, but they all stayed back, as if fearful of getting too close to Ray. No, they were too afraid to approach him. They all had varying degrees of fear in their eyes. It was obvious, wasn’t it? He’d killed their leader, but only because he had tried to kill him.

“Rule one a’ all fightin’,” Kaleb told him. “If he tries t’ kill ya, kill ‘im back. It’s only fair.”

“It’s only fair,” he yelled to the shocked crowd, clenching his fists to his side, “that this stallion should die that none of you will either. You have seen his true face, the face of rage and violence that he so condemned, which is his true nature. I reacted as he would’ve wanted. With strength, quick thinking, and sharp retribution. In his death, your leader proved exactly why I’m the right leader for-”

“His name was Cohin,” a distressed feminine voice yelled from the crowd. A moment later, the figure came running from the crowd. The mare was a slight gray, tears streaking down her face as she wailed, “And I loved him. He opposed you for this reason! Because he thought you would kill ponies like us for wanting to live again! And you did kill him! You did kill him for that, and even if it means dying, I’ll never join you for it,” the mare shouted in distress, her voice breaking.

She collapsed to the ground as the grief overwhelmed her, crying loudly as she stared helplessly at Cohin’s body. Ray felt sick as he stared at the mare. Skalos moved beside him, removing the spear from the Fallen’s head with a jerk, before snapping it under his hoof. Suddenly, the entire body of the Fallen who had been behind him appeared right besides him, spears ready for an attack. Ray looked all around him in shock and yelled, “What the hell are you all doing?”

“Preparing for an attack, lordling,” one of the Fallen beside him replied, glaring down the other Fallen. “They brought weapons, so they surely must’ve expected it to come to this.”

The group cowered in fear, and before anyone could make an irrational decision, Skalos cried, “Spears down, you fools! Can’t you see there is no need for any more bloodshed. They see now the fault of their leader, and why they must have full respect and faith in Ray, our general!”

“Stand down and leave,” Ray yelled to the faithful Fallen who had gathered. Without hesitation, he walked past the body, to the still wailing mare. She looked up at him when his shadow covered her, defiance, pain, and sorrow burning visible in her eyes. Ray had never seen a Fallen so emotional before, their feelings laid bare in their hazy eyes. Swallowing, he crouched down and held out a hand to her. “I never intended to kill a Fallen, let alone him. I can see his point. With somepony to love and want to live with, the prospect of death is something nobody wants in their lives. I forgive him for attempting to live past the pain. Please, help me live past my pain now.”

The mare looked up sharply at him, glaring through the pain in her eyes. “This is what you do, isn’t it? Demand us to die, and if we don’t listen, you kill us! I loved him, and you’ve taken him from me! You’ve taken him from us!” She paused, lurching into a sob, before tearfully looking back up and shouting, “You’re a monster!”

Ray’s jaw slowly fell as he began to retreat from the mare. What had he done? He began to stumble backwards, staring at the mare as she continued to grieve. This isn’t what he’d come to do. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to stop the killing among the Fallen, not incite it. He turned, blood staining his torn shirt and running down his arm.

It was only when Skalos approached, his form extra fuzzy, that he realized he was losing a great deal of blood. His Fallen companion helped him to his feet, yelling to the others things that were lost to Ray’s ears as he led him back the way they’d come. Slowly, Ray’s eyes closed, his mind locking on the bloody image of himself with an axe splitting his head, Fluttershy crying as the mare had, as a minotaur continued death’s cycle.

Comments

[sykko]

At that, the crowd laughed, including the leader. “Of course you would. You’re the legendary human, here to save ponykind by leading us to the slaughter. You don’t know anything about this world, yet you are supposed to save it? Please, you are merely half of what we Fallen can provide ourselves. You were chosen to be an ironic symbol of a Princess who wasn’t willing to defend the country she led herself. Now you are here to instruct us, to boss us around like the common bully. Well, we will not allow ourselves to be bullied into submission yet again. We’ve drank from that bitter cup, and now we shall pass it along, to those who are willing to be sheep to a monarchistic government willing to sacrifice the kicked children to keep their own coats clean.”

Ray: Ponies merely adopted atrocity and war. Humans were born to them, shaped by them, mastered them. Has your kind created weapons that can turn the very air into a poisonous vapour that can strangle thousands, or in a single blinding flash can turn tens of thousands into ash and cities into smoldering ruins?

The stallion reached to a pony behind him, and before Ray knew it, he was lunging at him with a spear in his grasp. It was directed straight for his heart, so he sidestepped it, pushing it away by the wooden shaft. It still caught his shoulder, cutting through the fabric and his skin, brushing against the bone. Before the stallion could retract the weapon, he grasped the shaft, pulling and spinning around at the same time, wrenching it from the weaker stallion’s grasp. Using the momentum of the motion, he swung through and around, allowing the spear to slide down until his hands hit a leather grip, to which he tightened his grasp.

You done messed up launching an unprovoked attack at the only apex predator who is not only your greatest ally, but also your greatest advocate.

“His name was Cohin,” a distressed feminine voice yelled from the crowd. A moment later, the figure came running from the crowd. The mare was a slight gray, tears streaking down her face as she wailed, “And I loved him. He opposed you for this reason! Because he thought you would kill ponies like us for wanting to live again! And you did kill him! You did kill him for that, and even if it means dying, I’ll never join you for it,” the mare shouted in distress, her voice breaking.

Crush your enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentation of their women.

[The_Darker_Fonts]

10851754

Crush your enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentation of their women.

And that's where things become more complicated.