• Published 26th Apr 2020
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Equestria's Ray of Hope - The_Darker_Fonts

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Purity

It was a struggle to stay awake while walking down the strange tunnels. Ray’s arm hurt sharply now, but had a bruise feel to it as well, the blood still flowing out. He wasn’t sure if a specific vein or something had been cut, though he guessed so seeing as how the blood still flowed. He didn’t know how much blood he’d lost by now. All he knew was that an entire half of his shirt was ruined by blood stains, from both him and Cohin.

Skalos kept encouraging him to move forward. The task was harder than Ray even realized, his legs shaking with each step, threatening to fail with every footfall. Finally, they entered the chamber from where they had come, huffing slowly and almost falling to the floor. However, Skalos led him to another set of runes on the floor, their lines blurred over and disproportionate. There was no way that he could tell where to stand, but luckily his Fallen friend set him firmly in place, sitting him down so he wouldn’t fall. Then, the rhythmic hum of his chanting filled the air as Skalos circled around the two of them, his form blurred.

When he was done, the darkness in the room seemed to meld with the dim lighting, creating a gray circle of smooth light around the pair, much like the way a Sunport’s light did. The light felt more gentle, more subtle in its movement, like a calmly flowing spring, cool and soft. The two merging feelings were enough to lull him to sleep, until the sudden, brisk snap awoke him.

They were in some sort of jungle or swamp now, twisted trees hanging their branches over them like some sort of lurking predator. There was a foul smell all around them, as if something had died in the outhouse, that caused him to scrunch his nose. The soft ground they were on was sharply cold, and when he tried to brace himself to stand, he felt the grass snap and crumble. Squinting, trying to see through the haze, he saw that the grass was frozen solid, completely white with frost. There was a sort of fog in the air, as if the cold of the light had become steam from the swamp’s warm air. With a confused noise, he slumped down, yelping as his shoulder ached sharply. Stupid thing.

There was frantic knocking to his right, to which he turned in confusion, trying to understand what exactly was making that sound and if it was a danger to him. It was only Skalos, his blurred image beating loudly against one of the thicker looking trees. He tried to mumble a complaint, but it came out more as a croak, his throat dry and his longue dumb. Skalos noticed the noise from him, however, and turned, reassuring him of something. He didn’t hear quite what, but he knew from the genuine concern in the stallion’s voice that he was getting some sort of help.

The tree suddenly opened, soft light pouring from the entrance. A figure ried out in surprise at the sight of the bloodied human kneeling in front of them, and swiftly rushed to help him up, Skalos speaking quickly to the figure. She was a she, he could tell, based on a deep, feminine melody she had to her speech that penetrated his mind. She was making solemn propositions and eagerly attempted to push Ray under the door to her house. For some reason, Ray stood up straight while walking under the doorway, thinking he’d cleared it, only to hit his head sharply against the wood above him.

He thought he yelled a curse, but the word didn’t quite escape his mouth, instead falling flat on his tongue. The wood was rather soft, almost as if it had become a firm foam, but the quick contact with it still hurt a bit. He was ushered onto a bed of some sorts, and told to lay flat. At least, those were the words that came through the thick haze of his delirium. He winced and cursed again when one of the two pushed onto his shoulder, spreading the skin around the wound he yelled at them to stop, but quickly found his mouth stuffed with something wet and flavored like mud. Before he was able to even appropriately react, he felt his mind’s fuzz thicken as his eyesight dimmed to nothing once again.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out when he woke up, but he remembered everything that had happened leading up to his awakening, which he took as a good sign. For one, he hadn’t been drugged for some motley reason, and secondly, whatever had been used had worked pretty well, seeing as how his wound was no longer hurting sharply, just aching dully. He didn’t have his shirt on, the blood cleaned from his skin neatly, his wound wrapped in a thick layer of gauze. He winced at it, looking around the room for a moment, trying to take it all in, but Skalos had already noticed he’d woken up. The Fallen closed in before he was able to see more than a few shelves full of strange potions and substances.

“I’m glad you’re awake so soon,” Skalos told him formally. “It means that these cures do work for humans as well, and also that your wound was not as bad as the zebra had thought.”

“Zebra,” Ray questioned, recalling the word from a past life. There were zebras here, that much his family had told him, but the subject had been mentioned when they were talking about all of the nations, so he figured he would only see one if he had to sail east.

“Ah yes, my friend, that would be me,” a voice suddenly called. Sure enough, a zebra emerged from behind a bubbling cauldron that he spotted as Skalos moved out of the way. “I am the zebra that lives in this tree. I’m glad to see that you are no longer ill. It is truly a testament to your body’s strong will! My name is Zecora, the potion maker. Tell me, human, what is your own moniker?

“Uh, I’m Ray,” he introduced unsurely. This was definitely the voice from before, as he could tell from the rhythmacy of her voice and her tendency to rhyme when speaking with him. He wouldn’t have figured the zebras to be so… linguistic in their conservations, but here was one that was so. “I guess you already knew that though.”

“Yes, indeed I did,” Zecora agreed. “There is nothing from me that Twilight hid. I know all about you. Please, let me do the work I must do.”

At first, Ray was confused by the wording, but then he realized he’d had his shoulder protectively turned away from the zebra. Begrudgingly, he let her examine his wound, which was covered in a red stained medical wrap. She gently pulled it off while Ray watched, staring as the red stain grew bigger and bigger. It seemed that the entire face of the cloth was red by the last layer, when she finally pulled it away, revealing the wound, still open and gaping. He stared into his own arm with slight horror, the pink-red inner skin looking like a surreal cut of meat. Technically, he thought, it was.

Despite the wound being as open as it had been before, it wasn’t bleeding, but he attributed that to the weird sheen it had to it. He guessed it was some sort of balm that was supposed to stop bleeding in general and reduce pain, and as he could see, it worked perfectly. Zecora hummed to herself as she examined the wound and, without a second thought, produced a vial from under her bed, along with a string and needle.

“Now, my human friend, you must be brave so your skin I can mend,” Zecora instructed softly, looking him in the eyes with her own big green ones. There was a protective intensity to it that both comforted Ray and scared him out of even the notion of resisting. With his nod, she turned to the work ahead of her. Skalos suddenly appeared besides him, a cup of something steaming in his hooves. He passed it over to him, silently encouraging him to drink the beverage, which he did without question. It tasted a bit like peppermint, but a more nutty version of the plant, and was almost cold, despite its steam.

Meanwhile, Zecora had begun to administer the contents of the vial on his wound’s edges, the skin surrounding the large cut. Almost instantly, he felt the skin grow very hot, then suddenly it felt like there was nothing there at all. The numbing medicine was a bit like Vaseline in its look, although there was a subtle blue to it. By now, the pain and dull aching had faded, though whether it was the medicine he’d consumed or had applied, he didn’t know. He stared with interest as the zebra raised her hooves, threading the needle through his skin.

Zecora worked quickly in mending his shoulder, sewing it with great care and attention. The further he worked up his shoulder wound, the quicker she got to sewing, and the more Skalos seemed to be lost in staring at the zebra’s work. He was frowning, his brows clenched as he stared at the needle threading in and out of his skin. Ray counted twenty three in total, before she went back the other way, administering another twenty one to ensure the little flaps were pinned down. By the time she was done, the medicine had begun to wear off enough that he felt the slight pricking of the needle. Finally, she cut the string off with her teeth, tying it neatly with her hooves somehow.

She sat up and looked at her work proudly. “Now your wound will heal well,” Zecora told him. “You only need to rest for a spell. Soon you can be on your way, but I will not allow you to leave today.” Turning to Skalos, she said, “You are also welcome to stay, but you’ll have to sleep on a pile of hay.”

“That will do,” Skalos confirmed sharply. “I don’t need to sleep. I can just watch over Ray in the night and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like trying to go home.”

“In fairness,” Ray defended, having considered the possibility, “my shoulder is what’s injured, not my legs or feet. I’ll be fine walking!”

“Indeed if only that were true,” Zecora chimed in. “but there is not much blood left within you. Your mind will be a fuzzy haze, and it is unwise to walk home in a daze. Stay here and rest, and we will see the best!”

“Alrighty then,” Ray agreed. He hadn’t considered the fact that he’d lost so much blood yet, only the fact that his shoulder was what needed to heal, not his leg. He didn’t feel very tired or worn anymore, just hurting slightly in his shoulder, but now that he thought about it, that was probably thanks to the medicine. Frowning, he didn’t like the prospect that he was relying so heavily on medicine at the moment. It brought back-

“C’mon, stay with us,” a masculine voice instructed. “You gotta stay strong. You’ll live.”

The white wall flew by in blinding blurs, the doors passing by in streaks of sharp gray. He was lying down, on a bed. But the bed was moving so quickly. Footsteps fell beside him, uneven and thunderous, but incredibly quick. Why so fast? Why so painful?

Looking down at himself, he saw his coat was a mess of blood, his hands bloody. Had he done this himself? Why had-

“Ray, wake up,” Skalos yelled sharply. Ray snapped up, instantly cussing in pain as his shoulder gave a sharp ache. He instinctively reached to grasp it, but a hard hoof whacked it away.

Ray panted heavily, turning and looking at the Fallen with a culmination of shame and disorientation. “What was that,” he asked, before realizing that they had no way of knowing what he’d seen, what he’d remembered. The Fallen and zebra gave each other a concerned glance, before nodding. Zecora gently pushed his chest into the bed. He tried to protest, but she simply shushed him.

“There is no need to distress,” she comforted. “I merely need to assess. You are in great inner turmoil, and if not controlled, your blood will boil. I must see what I can do to heal within, and then you will finally mentally win. So please, relax for me, so that I may help thee.”

Ray swallowed down his protests, laying on his back, trying to relax as much as he could. He remembered. Oh no, he remembered so much. Why now? Was it because he could sense the similarity of the situations, or at least, mentally connect this experience with the other. His right hand traveled to his bare stomach, pressing his hand against the uneven scar tissue there. He felt sick remembering it all. The ambulance, the rush through the hospital, preparations for the life saving surgery, knowing subconsciously the entire time that this would only ruin the family more. If only he had died. They wouldn’t have had to worry about the bills, the cost of his life ruining everyone else’s life. Why was he such a mistake?

He couldn’t even live here correctly. All he had to do was what he was told, and help win a war to save the species, but already he had killed one of his own soldiers. He’d taken the spear from his grip and used it to stab him through the head, all because of a disagreement of ideologies. He didn’t deserve to call himself noble when his reaction was to kill, didn’t deserve to lead when he didn’t even know his followers, and didn’t deserve to live when he had killed so many. There was no redemption for him, in this life or the last, to erase the mistakes he’d made. He’d killed somebody’s son, somebody’s brother, somebody’s husband, friend, and family. What else was he other than a killing monster?

He was a predator. He preyed on the love and attention, the care, that those infinitely better than him provided, using their love and turning it to pain. He’d made a new family already, and already had broken half of their hearts, and it was the same with his new “friends”. They were victims as well, victims of his terrible claws. Please, spare them from knowing me. Please, spare them from remembering who I am, what I’ll become to fail to save them. They didn’t deserve it, they deserved better than anything he could ever be. He was never meant to be here, never meant to know and fight for them, never meant to fail them. It was greedy thought to think that he could use this new life as one to enjoy. It was exactly like what the Fallen he’d killed had been tryin to claim. He was a hypocrite as well. A failure, a hypocrite, a predator, a monster, and now, a waste.

But he still fought, a voice told him. He still took the fall for a race that wasn’t his own, willingly giving up a life he could potentially have in exchange for the noble cause of saving lives. He was redeeming himself with every step on his path to war, and every sacrifice he was making was going to be rewarded tenfold when he least expected it. He did have love in his future, and now, true, pure familial and romantic love that would fuel him through the most grueling of war. He was going to kill, kill more than anybody had ever on this continent, but it would be the killing of those who would massacre. A killing not to take pleasure in, but to take pride in. He could fight an enemy a hundred times his strength and come out victorious with assurity, and he would never once feel the sting of death while his mission was incomplete.

There was hope, love, and life in his future. There was more than him fighting this war. He had his Fallen friends, the support that they had shown him, and whatever resources Twilight supplied him with. He merely needed to prepare correctly for the war to win it. A battle can always be won as long as the soldiers and generals stand strong and fight fiercely enough. Right now, he needed to stand firm, show that he could take a stab wound and not become spineless. He needed to display his hidden strength, show them that there was nothing that could bring him down saving hell itself. There was strength that could be harnessed in others’ strength, and by feeding each other the power of the individual, they would create an unstoppable force.

Slowly, Ray did relax, these thoughts rolling over him, and through his very body, loosening the tight muscles and freeing up his limbs. He inhaled deeply, accepting a drink from somewhere, and he heard the gentle chanting of Zecora over him, the words like a nursery song that drew him to a peaceful sleep.

*******************************************************************************************************

Ray awoke to blood. It splattered across his face as he slashed another Fallen down, his blue blood spilling freely and staining the peaceful grass. The sun blazed a deep red through hazy clouds of ash, adding to the confusion of the battle. Ray was slicing through minotaurs and Fallen alike. Some of the Fallen had faces he recognized, while others were a figmentation of his imagination. In spite of knowing it was some sort of twisted nightmare, Ray felt too real as he impaled another minotaur, it’s unnatural red blood spurting from the wound. There was nothing stopping him as he continued to gain strength from each kill.

This isn’t what he’d meant, but it’s what he followed. He felt like he was merely watching himself from his own body kill, emotionless as he beheaded helpless enemy after helpless enemy. Bodies fell, some still gasping for breath, some without limbs or heads, and more often, screaming in pain and calling him monstrous. Their painful yells and their accusations fell on deaf ears. He soullessly sliced through them, until suddenly all that had come his way were corpses, their bodies a horrendous heap surrounding him.

There, hidden by the wall of bodies, was a crowd much larger than the one he’d cut through. They all stared at him silently, before one yelled in a broken voice, “You did this! You killed my husband!”

All at once, the crowd took up a terrible, unanimous cry of pain and sorrow, shouting the names of their fallen loved ones in despair, all crying and glaring at him. They shouted about lost brothers and sisters, of dead friends and families, pointing an accusatory hoof at him. He merely stared in silence at the crowd, taking their insults and curses without care. Suddenly, he stepped closer to them.

They continued to yell as he began to massacre them.

*******************************************************************************************************

Ray slowly opened his eyes, feeling compressed and wet. He was covered in sweat, and his shoulder was sharply stinging. The medicine had worn out by now, and he felt completely weak, and was barely able to keep his eyes open. He raised his head with a great effort, before setting his head back down. It was still dark out, and there was no light source in the house to allow him to see anything. He had seen the light glow of Skalos on the floor, his back to him, but he guessed that the Fallen was still dutifully awake.

He heard the sounds of muffled movement, heading towards him, and he was about to greet Skalos, when Zecora suddenly appeared beside him. She gently shushed his confused question, putting a warm cup against his lips. He drank it thankfully, the strange, cool, nutty flavor filling his mouth, and he felt the relaxants almost instantly. She tapped on his hand, before gesturing discreetly towards the door. Ray gave her an even more confused quirk of the eyebrows, but he complied anyways, standing and following her silhouette past the sleeping form of Skalos.

She led him through the house and to the door, then through it, to the darkened swamp outside. Once the door was closed, she seemed to let out a sigh of relief, telling him, “I wanted to talk to you alone, since I know what made you moan.”

“Moan,” he asked, slightly discomforted. “When did I moan?”

“It was when you dreamt of those you would slay that you made the noise that gave you away,” she explained mystically. “I was the one that put you to sleep, but I knew that peace was not yours to keep. There is still much within you that is in upheaval, and your mind has begun to fear on a whole new level. This panic has nearly overtaken you, and now you’re beginning to lose what is true. I cannot cast spells like a unicorn, but to comfort you, I do not need a horn. You are stronger than you actually believe, and that is something that you must never deceive. If you began to feel yourself fail, remember the base of your own strength and prevail.”

“Thanks, but, um, why are you telling me this,” Ray questioned, not quite sure if or how the zebra knew about his dreams.

“I was able to subdue the storm that rages within, using your own fears to convince you that you will win,” Zecora told him, guiding him along like he was a lost child. Surprisingly, the thought didn’t bother Ray. The mystical zebra seemed to work through a loop of magic within this own world, the kind that didn’t require a direct knowledge of the matter. In fact, as she had told him, perhaps it wasn’t even magic, just some natural or pure way to connect the minds, or whatever she had done. “You see, I’m able to help all who reside in my tree. Many come seeking cures or remedies, and I provide them with help for their personal fallacies. I rarely ask for a fee, because I have no need for money.

“When somebody enters my house, I hear more than what comes out of their mouth. I see what really ails them. Then, I provide a cure that heals their mental phlegm. From where I come, we are underdeveloped some. The traditions of our fathers is our daily ritual, which means that all healers must also be spiritual. When I perform my task, the ability to help you is all I ask. If I were to ask for payment, it would mean spiritual abandonment. The job of a healer is to make, and not to take. That is why I am your healer for this war. What I must make is a warrior spiritually pure.”

“But how can you purify me,” Ray asked, slightly distressed. He was supposed to have a spiritual purifier too, whatever that meant. “How can you purify something that is only meant to be dirtied? War is brutal, and requires a person to make the choice of killing someone or letting yourself die. Doesn’t the act make me blemished, and unusable as a ‘spiritually pure warrior’? Isn’t it simply a waste to try to clean something that will only be thrown back in the mud?”

After a moment of consideration, she answered, “Perhaps the word is not pure. There is another term I am looking for.” After a couple seconds of silence, she amended, “I believe that I am meant to teach you the ture ethic, and produce a young warrior who kills with respect. You are correct in saying nothing pure kills, but it is incorrect to say all killers are devils.”

Ray nodded in newfound understanding, looking over the forest. It was glowing with the multiple swarms of fireflies and other luminescent bugs, along with the moon’s glow off of the murky waters. “So you’re trying to teach me to kill not for the sake of killing, but killing for the sake of protecting others? I’m pretty sure that I don’t need a teacher to learn those lessons. I mean, I already knew that.”

“Ah, but that is the danger of the self taught,” Zecora warned. “You believe that you know what is and is not fraught, until the danger becomes your every thought. Too many times the heroic warrior goes down the path of slaughtering, ending up as nothing more than a beast with a lust for visceral killing. Do not even think for a second you are best alone, or else it will be you who won’t be coming home. There is no use in singular pride; only with the strength and others will your victory not be denied.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed you’ve been putting a heavy emphasis on teamwork and love,” he noted. “Is it because you feel I really will be stronger with those ethics, or do you think that this will keep me from pulling the chain too hard?”

Zecora nodded absently, muttering, “So it is true you are very wise. You will not easily come to your demise. As for your metaphorical chain, there is nothing left but broken links that remain. Twilight wished for a powerful champion to fight for everypony. Well, she got what she wanted, and someone who is strong enough to break free. You surprised her by your rebellious actions, and in her plan there are now many detractions. But I do not have any fear. You have a lovely teacher to protect your rear!”

Ray looked down at the zebra in slight shock. As of yet, Zecora had been rather formal in their conversations, but this sudden tease, that had seemed to come out of the blue, caught him off guard. She gave him a cheerfully mocking smile in the moonlight, saying, “I am not always a rigid teacher. I take some pleasure in being a teaser!”

“I noticed,” Ray commented, suddenly feeling a lot more relaxed. Had the drugs kicked in more firmly, or was it simply because he now knew he had one less strict instructor on his journey. “I enjoy a good tease too.”

They stood together for a moment of silence, before he asked, “So how did you put Skalos asleep? I’m assuming he’s too smart to allow himself to be drugged, so did you convince him that I would be less rebellious against my restrictions, or that you would watch over me.”

For some reason, the zebra blushed, looking away as she answered, “Skalos is a rather strict stallion, but there is something that every mare can do to-”

“Alright then,” Ray cut in. He was almost shocked into complete silence by the broken news. Skalos and Zecora… were a thing? “I, uh, didn’t think that Skalos was the relationship type. I mean, he seemed very much like a Grim…”

To his surprise, she giggled. “Ah yes, my sweet little Fallen is quite Grim, but there he cannot resist me, to his chagrin. In truth, I didn’t ever feel like I would fall in love, but alas, that was not the plan from above. You see, a week after our first greeting, we held our wedding in a secret meeting,”

“Wait, you got married after only a week,” Ray practically shouted, astonished.

Somberly, she explained, “When you have no idea how long until one will end up dead, it is quickly that we wanted to be wed.”

“Oh,” Ray said softly, realizing what she meant. “Well, congratulations. He didn’t tell me he was married. Why do you think so?”

“It may simply be a matter of privacy, but I believe he didn’t want his love for you to see,” Zecora theorized. “If he had told you that your healer was his life, he may have feared it would cause a fright. After all, he is quite strict. As you’ve said, his romantic life would’ve been hard to depict.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Ray agreed, his thoughts turning back to Fluttershy and the Apples. Geez, how would they react over this whole situation. He hadn’t even left the continent, and already he’s been almost stabbed. What did that say not only about who he was fighting besides, but also his own risk in fighting. A singular soldier who’d had the advantage of surprise. What was going to happen if that had been two, five, or even ten? “I’m still just, really shocked that he ever got married, let alone to the only zebra I’ve seen around, no offense.”

“None has been taken,” Zecora assured. “Honestly, this was a long time in the making. He had been alone and solitary for so long, he needed someone else to keep him strong. I’m… not as strong as he sees, but I try my best to please.”

“Oh come on now,” Ray encouraged. “You seem rather strong to me. You didn’t seem to flinch any when you were fixing up my gashed shoulder.”

“Yes, but that is because of all my training,” she attempted to make an excuse. “Otherwise, my courage is rather straining.”

“Well, my training is as a soldier, so when I go to fight in war, is my courage false? Does it mean I don’t have any actual courage, or does it mean my courage is greater when I’m doing what I was trained to do?”

“Well, I guess that is the truth to tell,” Zecora agreed. “Skalos is right that you can teach as well. You are wise, my friendly human. I wonder when this will earn you a woman?”

“Not anytime soon,” Ray said hastily, trying not to be overwhelmed in the thoughts of his own love life. “I still have to save Equestria first.”

“Skalos didn’t,” a third voice interrupted from behind. The zebra and human turned to see Skalos standing in the doorway behind the two of them, a small smile on his face. “You should know that you can’t put me to sleep that easily, Zecora. We Fallen require almost no sleep, and trying to force it is like trying to force a bison to move. It will just become harder to complete the task as the body becomes stiffer in the stubbornness of its mind.” Then, looking at Ray, he almost seemed to grimace. “I guess you know that Zecora and I are, well, partners. I’m not sorry for keeping this from you, but I’m sorry if it causes any mistrust.”

“Well, I guess I just won’t share all the nitty gritty of my love life with you,” Ray sighed with false exasperation.

Skalos played along with the act, nodding solemnly. “Well, I cannot ask you to do something that I myself will not do. You are free to keep your secrets. I’ll just discover them on my own. Just be sure to invite me to the wedding.”

Both Ray and Zecora laughed while Skalos retained his solemn façade, but as the laughter died down, Ray knew that there was truth behind what the Fallen had told him. Their love lives were none of each other’s concern. Right now, their relationship needed to be maintained as professional first, and friendly second. As long as whoever they were dating or married to wasn’t interrupting their work to save Equestria, there was no reason to bring it up.

Slowly, Skalos instructed, “Your little walk has been long enough. I’m assuming by your relative casualness, the medicine has kicked in. Do you feel any pain in your shoulder right now?”

“No, I don't,” Ray answered, regaining a more serious demeanor.

“Alright, good. In that case, I recommend you sleep. War doesn’t stop because you got scratched. We’ll be working on your strategy here tomorrow, so you best get rested up so your brain isn’t muddled.”

With that, Skalos turned sharply, Zecora stepping beside him, as they reentered the house. Looking up at the moon, he realized that perhaps, indeed, it was better that he had begun to fall in love with this land, and its residents with him. The darn zebra had done it.

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