Chapter 19: Asbestos
An explosion of heat blasted over Derek, enough that she tensed reflexively, rolling away from it as best she could. She hardly even felt the weight of Risk on her, though his body was shaking and there was terror in his voice.
"We shouldn't be here! We need to... get out..."
She grunted, and something quite close to genuine profanity escaped her lips. Maybe the curse on her brain could only bind her in the face of so much. She managed to get her hooves under her with difficulty, shoving the little creature off, and rising to a standing position.
She was beside the circle now, chalk smeared and ruined. Each of the objects trapped inside was a melted black blob now, a few actually burning on the stone floor. She felt a little scorched herself, though nothing permanent. Her fur had singed on the edges, but that was it.
"Good!" rumbled the strange voice. It formed in the air above her, no longer resembling any familiar shape. She thought she could make out a mouth of jagged, sharp teeth, and those same black eyes. But it didn't look like a human anymore, or even a pony. "No oath was sworn between us. No bindings anchor me here. I am unshackled!"
A roar shook the building, echoing all around her. But it did more than that. It pressed against her mind, screaming against her thoughts with a voice so loud it demanded to be heard. But Derek had been dealing with magical pressure against her thoughts since waking up in this place—she shut it out, eyes watering from the pain.
Her companion collapsed to the ground beside her like someone had just snapped his spine. He fell limp, eyes wide and staring. His limbs didn't even twitch.
Derek retreated, dragging the pony along behind her by one hoof. She didn't need to understand magic or the world she'd found herself in to know that she wanted to get away now. "So you're... grateful, right?" she said, voice quavering. "That I released you? Now you'll go somewhere and leave us alone?"
Flames roared up in the room around her, heat that made her crouch low, cowering from it. Heat so intense it could scorch her body to nothing in seconds, if it wanted to. "If I could," it said. "Yet I have been trapped so long, slave to the mistress of this house. I require power, fuel for the flames. I see only one source."
It came roaring down on her in a rush, so quickly she barely had time to react. In the second she had, Derek threw herself over the helpless pony, shielding him with her body as best she could.
She felt the heat as a single, sourceless flame, like sticking her head into an oven. She screamed in pain, but the heat of it soon drove the breath from her lungs.
But that pain was only the beginning of the terror she experienced. Just as her body was burned, the pressure against her mind got far stronger. It screamed in the same voice that had shaken the building.
"SUBMIT," it demanded. "GIVE WHAT YOU ARE. FEED THE FLAME." It demanded obedience, a roar without beginning or end. Its words overlapped into an unintelligible mess, yet the thoughts behind it were absolute. The flames would get brighter, burning her until there was nothing left. "LET GO. I WILL TAKE AWAY THE PAIN."
It would be so simple. Stop resisting, and the pain could go away. That wouldn't be so hard.
Derek hadn't made it to another world only to die now. She screamed, ignoring the flames as they leapt at her back. "No!" she yelled. As she did, the heat retreated from her, backing away from the pony underneath.
The poor stallion had hunched into a ball under her, and she could see why. Where his mane poked out, there was only fine black ash. Parts of his body were scorched too.
"Get away!" She screamed into the flames, defiant. The heat scorched at her sides, made it hard to breathe, hard to think. Yet these weren't real flames, she realized that now. This entity was a spirit—it fed on life, not wood or coal. She would give it nothing. "You can't have anything!"
She screamed louder, and the heat retreated. What had once seemed to fill the whole tower backed higher and higher, closer to the ceiling. None of the nearby paintings scorched, the curtains weren't singed. It couldn't burn them.
What had her spellbook said about summoning? They need something to anchor them here. The circle is broken. "You can't have him! You can't have me! Get out!"
The flames came roaring back one last time, a wave of green surging towards her like a match to a pool of gasoline.
Derek didn't budge. She didn't look away, didn't blink despite the terrible heat. If it can't burn cloth, it can't burn me. "I don't belong here either!" she screamed. "I don't care what you want! You can't have it!"
It came down on her, and this time the pressure was unrelenting. Flames lashed out at her body, searing where they touched. She held firm, standing protectively over the fallen body of Risk. For whatever reason, the child seemed far less able to endure these conditions. If she didn't protect him, he would be swept away.
She'd felt this pain before—it was the same agony she had experienced briefly when she was ripped up into the air after her little spell on Earth. It was the pain of something trying to destroy her...
There was a brilliant flash of blue light, and the pain stopped. It took her eyes a second to adjust, long enough to turn to the side and see a creature standing there. Iris Vale and another pony, both standing in the stairwell. Smoke rose from Iris's horn like the barrel of a gun that had just fired some devastating shot.
Just like that, the flaming monster was gone. Derek took a single, wobbling step forward, so she could look back at Risk. He was still there, sheltered underneath her. He seemed to be recovering—he sat up anyway, looking around with confusion. He hadn't been consumed.
"I..." she began. But the weight of what had just happened struck against her. The strength of adrenaline began to fade from her, and suddenly she couldn't keep her legs up anymore. She wobbled on her hooves, then collapsed. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.
Derek wasn't sure when she woke. When she finally did, she wasn't in a stone tower. She found soft cloth wrapped around her body, sheets that embraced her from all sides. The room beyond was pleasantly cool, and she felt no desire to fight her way out of bed.
Any hope that she might've woken up back on Earth was dashed quickly, unfortunately. She twitched and shifted in bed, and felt a familiar pony body underneath her, with all the requisite embarrassments. That made her want to get up even less. So she lay there, eyes closed, pretending she was still unconscious.
Voices spoke around her, getting closer. The longer she was awake, the harder it was to remain down and still—there was an itch on her back, compelling her to sit up and scratch it. But she resisted, at least for a little while longer.
"Stood up to the monster, she did. Mistress found her protecting him like the specter of the true gods herself."
The voices stopped just a few feet from her, and something settled on a nearby cabinet. This bed was familiar to her, now that she had moved around in it a little. This was her bedroom in House Vale.
"Will she wake up, you reckon?" asked another voice. As thickly accented as the first. "Stood before a demon, they say. True gods protect her."
"We remember them," the first voice echoed.
They remained nearby for a few minutes, before shuffling back the way they'd come. Derek held still a little while longer, counting the seconds until she was sure that the ponies wouldn't return. Only when no further sound came did she chance opening one eye.
She was right in her guess, this was her bedroom. Only it had been transformed—the windows were open, and the bedside table was filled with... flowers? She recognized the species, though how it had found its way into Equestria she couldn't say for sure. Little flowers clustered in bunches of a dozen or more, each one no larger than a thumb. They were named after the soft purple color they grew in, or maybe the other way around. Lilacs. They covered both nightstands, and were scattered on the floor all around the bed. Some had withered and browned, particularly on the edges of the flowers. Others were in cups and jars, remaining bright.
At the front of the table was a ceramic bowl with a candle in the center, and a thin residue of ash inside. Like creatures had been burning incense or offerings here.
The door into the rest of the manor was closed, thankfully. She dared sitting up, straining her neck to get a good look into the bedroom mirror.
Inside it, she saw a pony in decently good shape, despite what she had suffered. There were patches of coat shaved down almost to her skin, which was as pale as many animals not meant to have their skin visible. The only real damage was around her back, which was covered in a tight wrap of bandages. That was where the itching came from. She leaned back, rubbing her neck against the headboard. She sighed contentedly as the itching eased a little.
Then the door opened. Iris Vale walked in, trailed by a servant with a tray of honey and a natural sponge. They both stopped in the doorway, staring at her.
Derek lifted one leg, waving weakly to her. "H-hi," she rasped, throat raw.
The tray dropped from the servant's grip. Iris caught it in her magic, settling it safely on a nearby table. "Fetch the healer," she whispered, gesturing out the way they'd come. The servant galloped off without another word.
Iris shut the door behind her, then crossed to Derek's bedside. She looked down, expression pained. She was silent for a long time, long enough that Derek began to feel incredibly awkward. But what could she say without admitting to just how badly she'd screwed up?
She didn't have to say anything, as it happened. The bed glowed, and her blankets adjusted themselves. Iris settled them back in place over Derek, nodding in satisfaction. "How long have you been awake?"
She winced, eyes focused down on the bed beneath her. "Not long." Then her face wrinkled in embarrassment. "Long enough that I need to pee like a racehorse. Can you help me out?"
Iris smiled. It wasn't much, but Derek would take what she could get.
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well we know she's special......took on a demon and survived.... wow
can't wait for more
Well, green-flamed entity is a demon, who would've guessed? And Derek is still a human in a pony body. But what does a human in Equestria really mean?
Oldest trick but it still works.
One source... Did it try to feed on her or the boy? I don't think Derek would have thrown herself as a shield if it was solely aiming at her.
If humans were feared, we now know who is the greater wolf.
So it's likely this demon came from the dimension between dimensions. Very likely Risk would've made an easier target. Though it does make me wonder if Derek's durability is because she is legitimately an Equestrian Great One, her human origins naturally has her having less magic to feed on, or it's just plain old Earth pony tanking.
Who knows what the Watcher thinks of this.
Punishment or not, she certainly nudged the Cult in a positive direction for the sisters.
11024402
So who is playing spy and for what reasons?
Lilacs, huh...? Well, that works better than Purple, that's for sure.
Congrats on reinforcing everyponies view that you’re a deific being strained into a foals body. I’m sure Iris will recognise the knowledge of summoning used to choke the demon of anchors.
Destiny chooses from the tools at hand, not the tools one sees.
That's a Mark-making deed, Circle Breaker.
(edited side note: Lilacs are a protective flower against evil spirits, who cannot abide the scent. The wood is often used by exorcists, and the flowering bushes (or just living blooms) are used as a hedge to keep fell things at bay.)
And then later we find out she grew wings from this. :P
11024423
It seems pretty likely that Dust Storm is a changeling. He's very obviously not a pony.
11025951
We likely have the who. It won't be long until we have the why.
Part of me wonders if Derek could’ve fed the demon the geas. The rest points out that that’s like trying to free a hogtied person by burning the ropes off of them without harming them. All while the fire is yelling in your third ear. Also, that “pee like a racehorse” comment seems like the sort of thing she shouldn’t be able to say (unless the Wonderbolts take the same sort of “stop and start” cocktails as actual fighter pilots.)
In any case, that’s certainly one way to start spreading a legend. I have to wonder if Derek got a mark out of this, to say nothing of what Celestia may have thought.
Hopefully next time Risk wants to save someone from something he won't tackle them directly into it, through the most delicate thing in the room. Granted he's just a kid, but even as dumb kid ideas go that's on the eating paint chips and glue end of things...
11029051
I'd say it's about as dumb idea as handcuffing your hand to your brothers foot
Curious, contract magic is definitely a thing here then...