Equestria's Ray of Hope

by The_Darker_Fonts

Ample Crosswires

During the year of training Ray had received under Skalos, he had learned a wide variety of skills that had kept him alive. He had learned how to use the kharamh, the knife and sword, and had been guided to learn the bow. Other Fallen like Adant and Garish had helped teach him these skills, and many more had given him useful suggestions or tips. Twilight and the others had taught him about Equestria and its beauties, peoples, and various intricacies. He had learned each of these things and ingrained them into his mind, ensuring that these teachings would be lasting learning experiences in the hopes that he would never face a situation he was unprepared for. Unfortunately, today was the day his knowledge met its match thanks to a ridiculously hard question to answer.

What were the best conversation starters to use when talking to a deity?

He sat on the top of the hill warily, the consistent slow warm wind that had been brushing through the camp through the past few days. The sun beat down as hard as ever in spite of how the seasons were undoubtedly changing in Equestria. If he had a good guess, the Running of the Leaves was occurring sometime during this week, about a week out from his third return to Equestria. It was almost a given that nothing had occurred, the eroded patience laid bare as all of the camp consistently buzzed with the wishful wonderings of Fallen hoping- hoping! - that they would catch sight of the minotaurs sometime soon.

Ray had lost count of how many times he’d simply stared over the hills, wishing himself that he at least knew what the continent had in store for them. Was this war really chalked down to those singular battles? Was this it? Sink their pitiful boats at sea and kill their small army and force of miners? That was the ultimate threat to Equestria?

No, Ray knew otherwise. The Spectre had been shockingly silent these past few weeks, and while its presence still remained somewhere in the darkest recesses of Ray’s mind, its effect had faded tremendously. While certainly a temperamental relief, especially combined with the lack of action he and his soldiers had now faced for almost three months, it also didn’t bode well for the future. While he wouldn’t complain about being rid of the Spectre while the threat of boredom was getting to him, he wasn’t sure the drawback of it returning in the midst of battle would be worth it. There was something threatening in the lack of that cursed voice remaining silent for so long.

He needed counsel and consolation at once, lest the worry he felt right now lead to some terrible mistake or tragic blunder. So, that left him with two options: call out for the Spectre and face it now or turn to the Matriarch for guidance.

While he certainly would prefer a nice, reassuring conversation with the seemingly endless well of information and guidance the Matriarch was, she was definitely a slyly biased creature. The conversation he had held with the Elements three weeks ago had been one of his riskiest maneuvers as it had the potential to draw the attention of those Ray was attempting to ignore. Twilight’s explanation to him of the Aspects and their potential to be things the world needed but didn’t want failed to provide much comfort.

There was also the fact that Twilight had confirmed a theory he had formed when she had first informed him on the existence of Aspects. She had called herself an avatar of Friendship’s glory, and while he had suspected that had a deeper meaning to it, he didn’t know the extent to which the reach went. Now he knew full and well that Twilight indeed was influenced by an Aspect, drawn to the wills and wishes of Friendship. It wasn’t inherently bad, of course, it just meant that when it came to the matter of the Spectre, he truly had no unbiased information to use when regarding it and its twisted offers.

The others were Elements of Harmony, a drawback and tool of Friendship’s, ensuring that its purposes were not disturbed by either of Celestia and Luna’s ambitions. Discord, of course, had to be at least an embodiment of another Aspect. Ray would have to spark a conversation with the draconequus to tease out if he did serve an Aspect. Celestia and Luna themselves had proven to be somewhat unreliable with how they coaxed Ray into serving Equestria, and with them being alicorns, there was no doubt they each served their own Aspects. Even the Fallen had a preference to Luna when it came to judging their decisions, most of them following a religion around the Princess of the Night. That left him with one option.

Outright, the Matriarch was unconcerned with the matters of mortals. She blatantly stated that the only reason she interrupted her millenia of watching the world was to assist in Ray’s quests, hoping to speed up the pieces of the “plan”. He had almost dismissed her right away because of that, but then it came into clear perspective that the Matriarch wasn’t opposed to nor favored certain Aspects, or at least not as far as he knew. That made her perhaps the only thing in the world that wasn’t somehow biased to one Aspect or another. It also helped that she had vast wells of knowledge when it came to such things, in spite of how humbly she explained her knowledge was limited when it didn’t concern the physical world. He had to be careful, though, because she was a blatantly opposed to Ray being distracted. Not the Spectre outright, but…

Sighing in frustration, the warm wind somehow sneaking its way into his nose to dry it, he stood up and began walking down the hill, back towards the camp. He was atop the very first hill beyond where the camp lay, which was about a mile out, meaning a short fifteen minute walk back. Fifteen minutes to think of a natural conversation starter for a giant spider to coax which side of an apocalyptic, universal struggle she leaned towards, if any. In the off chance that she didn’t have a specific Aspect she followed, then he would have to somehow change the conversation to ask her thoughts on the Spectre.

He already knew, actually. She was very protective of Ray and would likely see the Spectre as a more dangerous and evil distraction to him. However, what he concerned himself most with would be how she acknowledged the Spectre and how she spoke of it. Depending on how aggressively she tarnished the Spectre’s ambitions and how vehement her reasoning would be, he might be able to understand for himself the threat he had to somehow face. It was daunting to even think of a way to resist the Spectre’s influence without using his life as blackmail, let alone somehow stop whatever plan it had.

Ray sighed in frustration once again, this one more like a primal growl of anger though. He was halfway between the hills by now, and glancing around, he noted how uniquely empty the space was. While the entire continent seemed empty, the spaces between hills seemed especially barren. The grass grew shorter here, maybe only an inch tall in some places, which made the land look drier and more barren than usual. It also wasn’t uncommon for divisions to take retreats to the spaces between hills around the camp for training or other exercises. Even individuals would often come on their free time, whether to think, talk, or simply keep from getting too restless. However, there was nobody in sight.

A random thought entered his head, partly from wanting to procrastinate the conversation he would have to carry out with the Matriarch, and partly to give himself some more of increasingly limited privacy. Pausing, he reached instinctively behind him, pulling his kharamh out slowly. In the three months since the invasion had begun, there hadn’t been a single moment of training alone. While he certainly didn’t need to rely on it to remain at peak performance, missing out on it for so long felt… wrong. He had figured that intense planning and grueling battles would grind away his time to practice, but obviously things had taken a slow turn. With a slight smile, he suddenly ripped his kharamh through the air, the sound of it slicing through the warm breeze singing to him.

He didn’t have a particular pattern in mind for training, but he had come to realize that the vast majority of those had been to simply familiarize him with his weapons. Besides, after experiencing the fighting style of minotaurs firsthand, he figured he could adjust to be more accurate in his fighting style. The minotaurs focused on sheer brute force, seven feet tall behemoths that used their axes and swords like clubs, attempting to make their first strike the last one. The trick to combating such raw force was as simple as skill-less swinging. He simply had to move faster, think quicker, and cut thinner. The minotaurs would be looking for strong hits and heavy commitments, but if he kept them at the tip of his spearhead and hook, they would fall as easily as in the first battle.

Though he had no visual aids to assist him in practicing this tough-and-go fighting, he used other references to imagine where the enemy was. He visualized ten of them to start, all grouped in a front like he had faced before. This line, however, hadn’t been broken by the first wave, which meant he was their sole focus. He ducked under the warm breeze, a minotaurs blunt axe, and whirled to his left, catching the stomach of the first enemy on his sharpened spear butt. He spun through the action, pulling his kharamh against himself defensively as he began but slicing outward with the hook as he pulled through.

This action beheaded an aggressive minotaur but allowed the other eight to begin to encircle him. That was a problem he couldn’t allow. Wheeling backwards, he faced one to his extreme right, hoping to cause an imbalance by focusing down one flank first. This one held a sword, long and sharp, but very lofty thanks to its size. The minotaur would swing down heavily, requiring Ray to block the strike and…

No, no that was wrong. If Ray blocked the strike, it would slow him down too much and one of the four minotaurs behind him would be able to strike. Pausing briefly, he retraced his steps to where he had beheaded the minotaur. Turning to the right was probably the best option still, as having rolled out to his left had put him closer to that flank than the other one. He needed to constantly attack sporadically, ensuring that there was no way a minotaur could predict which one would be next. That being said, he needed to be smarter and riskier in order to outpace them. With a flash of inspiration, he unpaused the moment and wheeled right again.

This time, however, he ducked left of the sword, into another minotaur. Caught off-guard by the overly aggressive movement, Ray was allowed to ram into its shoulder and sink the butt end of his kharamh into its side. Jerking the weapon so it pulled horizontally to him, the hook rammed into the sword-wielding one’s chest, a slight upward angle allowing for it to pierce its right lung. Instead of pushing back and away from the remaining six, he continued to over-rotate his weapon, throwing the one on the butt of his kharamh into the path of the other right flank minotaurs and discarding of the one pierced by his hook.

He leaped to the left once again, though this time targeting the farthest out. Thrusting his spear out, he barely missed the minotaur’s axe, as intended. Ray sent himself right, planting his foot heavily in the coarse dirt as his spear severed both the minotaur’s hands. He had to roll across the rough ground to avoid a devastating hit from a right-side minotaur but managed to plant his hook in its calf. He ripped it off as he stood, sending it to the golden grasses. Effectively neutralized, that left him with four left, three with axes and the last with a sword.

These ones still attacked him heedlessly, a foolhardy and uncoordinated strike from one of the axes leaving it with its chest gaping as Ray spun the kharamh to allow his spearhead to cut deep. Kicking the wounded one away from him to give himself a bit more space, he saw a unique opportunity presented to him. The other two axes stood slightly apart, with the sword attempting to flank his right. These three seemed to be a little more patient, though they certainly were jumping to get at him. An idea as foolhardy and intelligent as any popped into his mind for a brief moment. Though he didn’t know if it would taunt a real minotaur, he whirled his kharamh slightly and slammed the butt through the side of the fallen minotaur.

This enraged the others, all three collapsing in at the same time. Keeping one hand on the grip of his kharamh, Ray ducked and kicked outward, landing a solid blow into the knee of the sword. While on a human this would throw a man off balance and cause some pain, the minotaurs had a unique leg that ended in a hoof, meaning that a minotaur could collapse if its knee was knocked inward. Precisely this happened to the sword, the kick causing its leg to invert and sending it to the ground. Letting go of his kharamh as he no longer needed it as balance, he kept clear of the two axes by falling back a few feet.

The pair was hyper-aggressive, though continuing to pursue him now that he had no weapon in hand. That was a serious underestimation, though, as he removed a knife on his belt with his right hand as he dodged to the side of the left axe. Reaching out his left hand, he grasped its arm and pulled it in, sliding the knife between its two forearm bones, severing major muscles. The minotaur’s axe dropped from its hand as its muscles failed, and without the strength to resist, Ray shoved the arm back into the minotaur’s chest, the two-foot-long blade digging in between ribs.

He held onto the minotaur as it weakly struggled to remove the blade, keeping a hand on the hilt to ensure the knife was pinned there. He used the dying minotaur as a shield against the last axe, though not for long as it mercilessly swung its hefty weapon at Ray. The human shoved his captive forward, allowing it to suffer the crushing blow, split almost in half by the force of the blow. Spinning slightly, Ray grabbed his kharamh, wrenching it from the corpse of the third axe. He brought it perfectly into form right in time to block a heavy downward strike, buckling slightly at the temperamental strength of the strike. Seeing its opponent down on one knee, it pressed forward diligently.

Grunting as he recognized how precarious his situation was, Ray saw only two options for this fight. One, try to outlast a heavier, stronger opponent in this contest of raw strength, or somehow disengage and reset to fight it. Of course, the minotaur, even being as dull as they all seemed to be, would be able to recognize these two options as well. That left him scrambling for a secret option, one he hadn’t trained for or had searched for. Glancing down at where the axe was pressing on the grip of his kharamh, the only path to victory was revealed.

The axe was curves in a reverse crescent shape, the fattest part of the curve pressed precariously against his kharamh. A quick look at his hook told him it was pointed more towards him than the minotaur, though in this situation that was perfect. With a slight smile, Ray suddenly rolled his kharamh, the cylindrical metal guiding the curve ever so slightly down. The force of the minotaur was suddenly rolled along the body of the metal as well, and within a few breathtaking moments, the axe was plunged into the ground, rolling off the spear. All the while, the human pushed forward with his left hand, arcing the hook right into the minotaur’s head, the body of it thunking against its skull as the tip of the hook stuck out the other side of its head.

Getting up from the ground, he let the body slide off of the hook, carefully stepping around the freshly dead. The last sword was still crawling along the sungrass, dragging its twisted leg hopeless on the brittlestone. Without much thought, he planted the spearhead of his kharamh into its back, stilling its struggles once and for all.

Letting out a slow exhale, he let the illusions fade, the exercise over. He wiped the sweat and dust from his forehead as he turned to find where he dropped his knife. He had almost forgotten it was all in his head until the knife had thudded dully against the ground while he still fantasized. With a sheepish smile, he picked it out of the sungrass, quickly sheathing it as it already burned slightly from being exposed to the harsh sunlight. He had to wipe some more sweat from his eyes as he blinked, staring at the ground. He didn’t feel tired, only sweating this much thanks to how intensely hot it was in the sun.

Shrugging off the familiar, oppressive heat, he turned to the hill and was greeted by an audience.

The entire hillcrest was covered in Fallen, many seated as they stared down at him. He didn’t know how long they had been watching or which group had begun, but there were at least two divisions worth of Fallen on the hills with a small trickle still joining in. It was slightly intimidating to look at, a sea of ghostly figures sitting atop the hill and staring him down. Their milky eyes seemed like small ovals of light from where he stood, a thousand pairs of them trained on his movements. He didn’t know exactly how well they could see the smile he gave them as he strapped the kharamh across his back again, but he hoped they did.

It was strange how, once, he had struggled to talk to the whole of them and was embarrassed to blunder before them. Now, however, he didn’t feel that same fear as he once had. Each of them was a unique individual to the next one with different thoughts, feelings, and strengths. Some of them had probably been impressed by his training, others might have had trouble seeing the purpose of it, and still some probably had worthwhile input for him. It was… alleviating. They weren’t at all like him individually, but they were alike in their differences. All soldiers by name and deed, individuals by action and agency.

He began walking uphill towards them, noting how some of them looked slightly flustered by being “caught” watching their general. Others smiled, waved, or nodded respectfully as he approached. He wanted to talk to them, but the rush he had received from finally having some individual training- even with an audience- needed to be used wisely. Likewise, these Fallen needed to take whatever they had felt by watching him and use it to fuel their determination in whatever their next task would be. He knew that many of the Fallen would take his admittedly flagrant exercise as a morale boost, seeing him maintaining peak performance for when they needed to fight again.

It was strange, actually, to think about the impact he had left on the Fallen. Every action of his was being watched and gossiped about in the army, spreading legends about him to all seventeen thousand soldiers. Even his private moments, he was realizing now, were being watched and measured by the Fallen for guidance and morale. The Fallen had raised him onto a pedestal as high as Luna’s, and Linium even claimed that there was a small denomination of a few hundred that worshiped him as their next god. It was as humbling as it was ridiculous. He certainly didn’t feel like a god, much too vulnerable to things far beyond his understanding to ever equate to such power and knowledge. Still, the meaning of their worship wasn’t lost on him…

Trudging through the crowd, allowing them to gawk and whisper as they pleased, he caught sight of Yarem in their midst and made his way over to the general. There were a few dozen Fallen in the way, but seeing him approach, they parted, some making jokes for his benefit as he passed, others staring. He returned the jokes in kind, though his mind wasn’t with it, simply repeating what had already made others laugh. The effect was enough, though, inspiring some to finally stop staring and go about their day. After a minute, he had reached the general, who had waited expectantly for his arrival.

“I’m going over to the spiderlings’ nest to talk with the Matriarch,” he informed the general. “I don’t think I have anything on my agenda for the day, but if I do, tell Skalos where I am. I may simply spend the night there since I have no clue how long it will take.”

“Very well then, lordling,” the stallion nodded but leaned in to whisper, “One note, however. There is a marriage tonight and it would be recommended that you show up to support it. It would be the first one in the new continent and our first marriage since the landing. Your open support of this may encourage other soldiers not to give up their love even when the war and toll of this land starts getting to them.”

“Of course,” the human replied, crouched down so they could talk. “I’ll be there, if possible, but if I’m not, would you give a statement in my stead? As important as this marriage is, the matter I have to discuss with the Matriarch could prove to be our saving grace in this conflict and future ones. I’ll see you shortly otherwise.”

The general nodded once again, standing up and leaving as Ray stepped past him. There was an air of caution from the other Fallen, as if spying on their lordling while he had trained was some sort of taboo action. He could have cared less for if they had invaded his private time, as he knew thanks to that subtle nagging in the back of his head that he was never alone. Honestly, he thought he might have hoped that his training would be viewed in one way or another. It seemed like these days especially everything was an action to show, tell, or demonstrate. Even this careful walk was one calculated move to demonstrate his comfort with the Fallen, attempting to show them he wasn’t some sort of deity like the common misconception had become.

After a few minutes of walking, the sun on his skin and the warm breeze tussling his long hair the only company he had. Well, not truly.

“What are you waiting for,” he asked in a raspy whisper. His mouth was surprisingly dry, his throat tight as he asked a question that had gone unanswered for far too long. Grabbing the waterskin on his belt, he took a long sip from it, the warm liquid within doing little to wet his lips. Sighing, he waited a second to see if there would be an answer this time. Nothing.

Placing the waterskin back where it belonged, he continued down the hill and towards the flat expanse that led to the minotaur’s mine. The spiderlings had taken it over, the cooler, dark depths providing many holes and crevices for them to spawn and thrive within. The only problem was that it was just over five miles away from the main camp. This meant that, in order to talk to the Matriarch, he would have to walk at least halfway there in order to be noticed, or more accurately, for her to realize he needed to talk. This was part of the reason it had been so long since the human had discussed anything with the giant arachnid.

The separation of armies had been less for the soldiers’ sake and more with the fact that the spiderlings enjoyed the cold, dank mines while the soldiers wanted to remain by the coast, if only for the occasional trip to the beach. Many of the Fallen had frequented the depths in the past few months, but the carcasses and deep blackness put many on edge. The Harkening had been a brightened world underneath the stone, bullwater and exotic plants providing weak, but comforting, light for all within the expansive cave. The mines were cramped, craggy shafts with very little breathing space even for the smaller Fallen. Many, including Ray, had found the place to be hauntingly claustrophobic, the smell of death lingering in every sharp shaft.

When the Matriarch had told Ray about the handy work of the spiderlings, eliminating every minotaur in a matter of an hour, he had figured they had consumed the bodies and stashed the bones. Like their much smaller cousins, however, they had stored the dead in cocoons, some of them containing as many as a hundred minotaurs wrapped tightly in ethereal silk. There were also the ones that had been consumed, their skeletons thinly wrapped in a blanket of flesh with their internal everythings sucked out. The spiderlings were certainly efficient in their killings and preservation of food, which although technically unnecessary, provided them the ability to spawn more of themselves faster.

The broodmothers, a collection of a dozen humongous spiderling females, were constantly laying another generation of eggs to be raised to assist in the fight. Their value in the coming months of war would only be matched by the Matriarch herself, who had informed Ray that her breeding years were long over. Much too large and much too dominant a being to stoop to reproduction, the Matriarch instead would direct her spiderlings like a queen. While there were integrated spiderling-Fallen forces, that only accounted for a measly thirty percent of the spiderlings, leaving hundreds of thousands left for the Matriarch to instruct.

The mind-boggling number of spiderlings was something Ray still was attempting to wrap his head around, a force of great numbers that would effectively serve as a retreat guard or distraction between waves. The Matriarch herself couldn’t number all of her children, estimating maybe four hundred thousand. The number was large but deceiving, of course. Maybe a fourth of those were able to fight effectively, the rest being small by comparison. Most were about the size of Ray’s palm, meaning one fell swing of a minotaur axe could end fifty of them. They also didn’t have venom, which certainly surprised the human. They had their digestive fluids to turn the innards of their victims into soup, but otherwise they relied on their bite force to kill their victims. All of this had been discovered by Ray after their first battle, which proved that, indeed, the Matriarch’s children were much more vulnerable and fragile than the Fallen.

Still, they were invaluable and individual creatures, with a limited agency granted by the Matriarch. She had given her spiderlings room to live, and some of those more cognizant individuals had even begun to take likings to the Fallen and vice versa. There were maybe two hundred of them that regularly visited with the Fallen to curiously watch or engage with them. A few had even stuck with certain individuals, prompting a strange relationship to grow. Many Fallen saw the spiderlings in a kinder light than on the day of invasion, especially thanks to their demonstration of loyalty, and the spiderlings who did think for themselves partially saw them as… friends. It was hard to discern with the arachnids, as they didn’t have the same emotional inclinations as mammalian creatures. Still, there was some type of trusting care and dedication to the Fallen that the spiderlings held to.

Ray’s thoughts were interrupted as the ground shook mightily. Sometimes he noticed that the earth trembled with every step the Matriarch took, other times he simply didn’t think about it. Regardless, it occurred every time one of the giant spider’s eight legs connected to the ground. He looked up, watching in silent, stoic awe as the Matriarch pulled herself out of the hole in the plains, eight legs straining to stand up her enormous frame. It didn’t matter that he had now lived with the giant spider as his neighbor for almost three months now; the Matriarch was so massive even the Princesses had paused to stare in awe. That size was her great advantage, paired perfectly with an acute knowledge of the past and present. The only problem was her conception of the future. Regardless of her goals, though, he needed that knowledge.

Her head turned to him inquisitively, eye large eyes visible even from perhaps four miles away. Another striking contrast with a creature so large and indomitable. Scale itself lost meaning when faced with understanding the epic proportions of the World Weaver.

She scuttled relatively quickly once she had freed herself, though that meant at least a few minutes of waiting for each large, lethargic step to bring her several hundred feet closer. Ray didn’t stop walking towards her even knowing it would do nothing to speed up closing the distance between them. The Matriarch would appreciate the gesture though and understand the urgency at Ray’s approach. Indeed, he noticed her lethargic steps slicing through the air at a slightly quicker pace, though not entirely hasty thanks to her size. Yes, they had important things to discuss, things the Matriarch would be keen to know and give her vast knowledge on.

After a few more minutes of the two walking towards each other, the Matriarch was close enough for Ray to actually talk to. Sure, he technically would have been close enough for her to hear from any distance, but he didn’t possess the means to hear her response. Thus, the need for a little bit of awkwardly staring each other down.

“Ray,” the Matriarch greeted with a cheerful gait. It was strange that a spider could be expressive, but there was friendliness in her movements as she paused in front of him. “What matter brings you out to our camp?”

“Nothing formal,” Ray admitted, crossing his arms. In spite of how warm the day was, he had to resist a chill passing through him as the Matriarch’s massive head leaned down towards him. “Mostly, I need to talk to you about something more… private.”

“Matters of the Spectre, I presume,” the World Weaver guessed, shocking Ray.

“Um, yeah, how did you know,” Ray asked, suddenly feeling very exposed. How did she know?

“Mmm, the years have given me an intuition, and having the opportunity to know the mortal being you are allows me to guess accurately,” the Matriarch replied pleasantly. She didn’t seem to think that his concerns about the Spectre were a danger, if her demeanor was any hint, but Ray still had a little apprehension about approaching the topic now. “Please, you needn’t stand around uncomfortably on this hard soil. Allow me to lend one of my limbs for you to make yourself comfortable.”

As said, one of her large feelers reached out and settled right in front of Ray’s feet, an organic ramp onto the Matriarch. He accepted the gesture, carefully climbing up the limb and onto her head. It was a bit strange to him that the Matriarch consisted of only her head and abdomen, but to each species their own, he figured. As he sat himself down on her smooth carapace, he caught a glance of the hill he had just come from. There was a small congregation of Fallen on the slopes, undoubtedly watching in awe and horror as their general seated himself upon a massive spider.

Frowning, Ray asked, “Oh, was this just an act?”

“Of course not, lordling,” the Matriarch answered with subtle earnesty. It wasn’t as prominent as before, but there was still a certain wistfulness to her powerful voice. “I am of the opinion that we need not act like allies for the sake of our soldiers. It would be much easier if we simply were aligned. I would hope that you consider me as much an ally as I consider you a friend.”

Ray expected there to be an emotional hitch to such a statement, but there was that wistful roll of her words, telling him that she was earnest in her statements. Nodding, the human relaxed slightly, allowing himself to lean back a little on the carapace as she began to move.

“We are friends, more than just out of necessity,” Ray said, finally voicing his thoughts. “I just have become a bit paranoid, I think. These past few months have become very tense between every Fallen, the lack of action and apocalyptic landscape doing very little to relieve their pent-up energy. I feel like I have to constantly put on a brave front in solidarity with my generals that everything- while not going according to plan- is fine. It’s begun to take a toll, I think. I’m back on that sleeping powder I put in my tea in order to ensure I get some rest at night.”

“And you can’t discuss these troubles with anyone but me,” the Matriarch questioned curiously, evaluating.

“No,” Ray sighed, staring up at a dirty blue sky. “I mean, every month I get to return to Equestria for a few hours and talk, but mostly I want to hear good news and share my own good news. I don’t want the few hours I have with my friends on the other side of the world to be sour or negative. This last one was almost completely ruined by that damned timberwolf.”

He paused, remembering the events for a brief second and the party afterwards. Sixteen years old…

“Regardless, I shouldn’t discuss such things with my Fallen,” he continued. “They may be my friends, but they are also my soldiers. I can show them everything but my weakness.”

“Yes, I do understand the sentiment, I believe,” the Matriarch muttered. “But why share your worries and troubles with me, Orphan of the Cosmos? It would seem like one would want to hide their weaknesses from their allies most of all.”

“Well, you see no need to lie to me,” Ray pointed out. In spite of how hard the carapace was, the spiny hairs that protrude from the keratin folded nicely to cushion Ray’s head. He was sure the Matriarch felt him laying down acutely, but there was a casual demeanor about allowing him onto her.

“I do not like lying,” the Matriarch admitted. “In my years of watching and collecting knowledge, I’ve noticed an unbroken pattern. Lying or concealing the truth always hurts the cause for good and assists the cause for evil. It is much easier to tell the truth and convince someone through honesty and earnest endeavors than it is to trick them with lies and deceit.”

“So you would call yourself a cause for good,” Ray probed, watching a thin cloud moving swiftly across the sky.

“Of course,” the Matriarch stated with almost a relieved tone. “I will be the first to admit that I often do not fight for it, rather idealize and theorize the cause to garner a more lasting support. My appearance and being one of Darkness’ creations does not support my case, but I try to act on a principle of right and wrong.”

“Why do you care so much about the system of good and bad established by mortals, though,” Ray asked. He hadn’t intended for the conversation to go down this way… but if he were to be honest, this was much better to hear than whatever questioning he had planned on carrying out. “I mean, couldn’t you make a much more effective code of right and wrong with your eternal perspective and longevity?”

“Of course,” the Matriarch answered. “It would be simple, even easy, to force my knowledge upon mortals to establish a permanent code of law. That isn’t the nature of my will, though. I follow the dictates and great plan of the Aspects. Being one of their first creations, they implemented a piece of themselves directly into me. On accident, of course, not knowing how to create something that wasn’t a replication of their own strength and purpose. Nonetheless, I am heavily invested in ensuring the Aspects’ will be done and seeing their great plan come to fruition. My agency allows me to act as I will, but my tendencies lean me towards the Aspects.”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with us mortals,” the human inquired, genuinely intrigued.

“Well, the Aspects see the mortals as brief, beautiful creatures. Creatures capable of innumerable creations, philosophies, and personalities. The Aspects see each life of a mortal as a flash of spectacular contradictions and magnificently insignificant actions. Such simple things as a choice to eat something different from another creature fascinate the Aspects, the individuality of each creature no matter how sentient an elusive trait to them. Each Aspect represents one element of the world, an identifying social trait dictated between individuals, present in every existence. Thus, the melting pot of ideas, actions, and consequences is a truly spectacular and invigorating spectacle.

“I see mortals a little differently, being one myself. Sometimes even I forget that I am not quite absolute in my ideology. You came along and proved to me that. I tend to see mortal lives as the flash of a shooting star. Some shine spectacularly in the darkness, providing a grand show and great joy to those who observe before burning out. They are discussed in the days that follow them, a beautiful event that causes one to imagine and admire, missed but remembered. Then there are the terrible ones that shine just as bright, but rip through the sky and tear up the earth. They cause terror and leave behind a wake of destruction that others fear could befall them one day. Their legacy is one that leaves others fearful of the next brilliant flash across the darkness, as darkness might be better than the fearful flash of light that interrupts it.”

“That’s the difference between you and the Spectre, then,” Ray surmised. “The Spectre is disgusted by mortality, the briefness of life and the absolution of death. I think it has to be mortal in some way, attempting to avoid the finality it fears. For some reason, though, it seems more disgusted that I accepted my mortality than that I am mortal. It’s almost as if it feels I should be more than what I am right now. Immortal, even.”

“Hm, yes, the Spectre is something that I have neither heard nor seen of before,” the Matriarch explained. “There is good reason to be suspicious of such a powerful, hateful thing such as it. Something has gone wrong above, I think, to create the ostensibly potent being that is the Spectre.”

The Matriarch spat the name with a spite that seemed far more personalized. He smiled slightly. There was something charming about hearing such a similar mortal tone to her voice, familiar even if angry. This was a creature not too unlike him, though certainly different.

He let the topic slide though, asking, “Where are we going anyways?”

“I don’t know, truly,” the Matriarch responded. “I felt it would be nice to walk a little ways since I have been crammed into the mines for the day. We’re perhaps five or six miles from the mines.”

“Huh, I forgot how far you could move so quickly,” Ray mentioned. The sky was darkening though, so it meant a couple hours had passed since he had begun walking towards the mines. “See anything?”

“No, but I believe that’s for the best, tonight,” the Matriarch informed. “After all, I heard word of a marriage among the Fallen tonight. I would hate for the newlyweds to have their happiest day ruined by battle.”

“True, true,” Ray agreed softly. Then, feeling much more lighthearted than usual, he patted a hand against the Matriarch’s exoskeleton and said, “I don’t know how often you receive compliments, but I think you should get more of them. You’re a spectacular person to talk to, really.”

“Thank you… lordling,” the World Weaver answered after a moment of pause. She sounded… flustered?

No, not that different at all, Ray thought to himself.

Author's Note:

Yeah, my spider baby is happy! As always, questions, comments, and concerns welcome and wanted!

Comments

[Bronyshot2020]

Ooo who's getting married heh

[Dashie69]

Tbh the story is very flawed you should have made the character a soldier before he went to another world cause the main character is basically supposed to be the hero of a world and was picked cause he’s supposed to be strong but yet there’s thousands of soldiers from earth and she picks a person that has absolutely no experience in war and has to be taught that’s straight up dumb

[The_Darker_Fonts]

11532002
Um, have you not noticed the three or four chapters ahead of this one? The one's all about how Ray is unlike anything in his world or Equestria? The ones that outline the very gods want Ray to be theirs because of his immense internal power and capabilities? This opinion was validated during the first half of the book, but once we get past the chapter Full House, it should show you that in spite of him being young and not a soldier by labor, he was more than a soldier by birth. And, as with most the book, Ray's journey as a soldier to the hero of Equestria isn't finished yet either. I'd love to hear your critique once the story is finished and you've reread these past few chapters.

[Dashie69]

11535647
I didn’t cause it was a little too much for me not my type of read I guess but my point still stands twi said he was picked because of his background which is literally little to nothing needed to fight a war lmao the whole thing don’t work in my mind

[The_Darker_Fonts]

11535713
Okay, but if you're going to criticize something, shouldn't you read it first? The whole point of Equestria's Ray of Hope is to show Ray, Twilight, Fluttershy, and the Fallen growing out of their flaws and becoming the best people they can be. If you judge a character (and story) by how it starts, you'll look the fool because you never will understand the story and underlying messages. Therefore, it would have been far better of you to simply ask why things the way they are than criticize them because you never even read the whole story and understood the growth of the characters and theme.

[Dashie69]

11535722
Lmao I read 44% and couldn’t do anymore sorry I dislike the idea of a little pony having to teach a apex predator how to win a war

[jasha3558021]

Me pareció o la araña es una sundere 🙃