Chapter 4: Volunteer
Iris Vale waited nervously in a distant corner of the dark sanctum, ears poised for motion down the hall. The sisterhood's healing salves had done their work, for her and the other members who survived the impact.
But there were nearly a dozen of their number who had not survived. It didn't matter how powerful the healing magic they summoned—a corpse was a corpse. You could make it move again if you wanted, but that didn't make it alive.
"They're children," said a sister beside Iris, her voice conspiratorial. "The old gods themselves might be terrible and mighty—they might have ended our sisterhood without even meaning to. Perhaps this is not a failure, but a blessing."
Most of these ponies were the oldest, slowest, and weakest of their number—those who had been too old to meaningfully contribute to the ritual. Those in back, spared the worst of the blast.
Willowbrook will notice so many deaths all at the same time. Will anyone put together what we all had in common? If SMILE is still looking for us… But Iris needed to have a little more faith. She did the will of those who came before. The old ones would watch after those who obeyed. She had no need to fear. Just like my brothers and sisters had no fear, and are now taken up into the embrace of the true gods.
That kind of thing was so much easier to believe in theory, when she didn’t actually have to wonder how many of her friends would never be seen again.
“They may be testing us,” said a brother, older than the first by far. But not as old as the Watcher, not even close. “The old gods were masters of all magic, with powers that lesser creatures as ourselves cannot even comprehend. It would be easy for them to appear in flesh as something feeble, to see if we will give them honors.”
“But shouldn’t they be alicorns?” whispered someone else. That was Blue Ridge—so at least one of her friends was still here. He came from the same modern school of magic that Iris herself did. For him, this was less about religious faith, and far more about facts and simple reality. Of course the old ones were worthy of worship, that was eminently clear from any who studied the past. Their youngest siblings, modern tyrants—those were what was new.
“We don’t know they aren’t,” said the first sister, reproving. “I heard from Watcher that they glowed with power beyond any mortal pony. They’re like embers from a flame, even if they’ve chosen simple forms for themselves.”
A low mutter of acknowledgement passed through the room, as the various brothers and sisters all tried to reconcile what they’d been through together. This task was no easier for Iris—they had all lost friends. The culmination of years of preparation, for what? Would they spend another century in darkness, hiding in their rotting mansions and old castles? Equestria was waxing, as its conquerors finally overcame the curses placed upon them.
Something moved in the hall outside, loud enough that Iris turned towards it. The entire sisterhood was on edge—a few even tumbled from their seats, or hurried to stand awkwardly in case the one arriving was worthy of respect. As it turned out, they were, and the Watcher glided into the room, filling the doorway with a faintly green light. One by one, all bowed before him, including Iris.
“All rise,” he said, after an uncomfortably long time. “As some of you know, I have spoken now with those of old, who are now resting in the chamber we set aside for them.”
That was it. Iris waited for him to continue, but Watcher seemed content to say nothing else. He almost turned, but somepony braver than herself finally spoke up. “What do they command? Which of the ancient ones have returned from banishment? Whose kingdom will we bring?”
Watcher didn’t answer at first. There was a time when he was beyond question, when even casual inquiry from lesser members of their sisterhood might have brought rebuke, or worse. But tension was strong tonight, like a predatory cat preparing to spring. His power might be vast, but it did have limits.
“The process of travel into this realm has caused them great duress,” he eventually said. “Sisters, brothers, do not despair. We knew this would be difficult. When the true gods were banished so long ago, their conquerors took whatever steps they could to secure their false rule. The most important parts of the process had already been accomplished. The star and stone is shattered, and two have returned from the other side. In time, we will recover others.”
“At what cost in lives?” Blue asked. It might just be the bravest thing Iris had ever seen from him. “We don’t even know what went wrong yet, do we? We should’ve been able to contain the old ones, until we knew that they were loyal to us. We could not even contain two of their fillies for the length of the ritual. What if we call an army next time? Or one of the noble and great ones?”
Watcher smacked something against the ground, silencing him at last. Maybe it was the looks of sympathy from the other members of the group—or maybe he just didn’t have the patience to deal with dissent in the ranks. “We will not go tomorrow, young witness. We have waited for many lifetimes. The old ones are patient, yet unyielding. They will wait for us to be certain. Quell your objections until then, and you may yet be rewarded.”
He did, nodding nervously and settling back into his chair. Yet his courage gave Iris confidence. “What of those who arrived? Will the old ones remain with us? Will they return the way they came?”
“Would you?” someone asked from a distant corner of the room, mocking. “Even in shame, they’re still in Equestria. Would you want to go back?”
“We could destroy the bodies that imprison them, and send them back,” said another. “We may have trapped great generals and kings in the bodies of children. They would be outraged if they could be.”
There was some agreement at that. The old ones were supposed to be so mighty they were almost impossible to imagine. It was hard to reconcile that truth with the feeble creatures that Iris had seen shivering under hospital blankets.
“Release the souls of those we have trapped,” another sister agreed. “It would be wise. Otherwise, what would we do with them? Are their powers controlled, Watcher?”
He nodded. “Well hidden now, wrapped in many layers of spell. Other steps have been taken, to cloud the memories of their bodies. They were only awake for a few minutes, so the magic should be simple.”
“Spells upon the old ones,” someone muttered. “Are we so mighty?”
“No,” Watcher said. “But we did not have to oppose the old ones, only the imperfect bodies they found here. That is not so great an effort, even in my weakened state. Thus we preserve our options.” There was a faint flash, and suddenly he was in the center of the room, with brothers and sisters of their order surrounding him on all sides. Despite their recent disasters, he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by this. He stood tall in ceremonial robes, thin horn protruding from within like something dead and rotting.
“I see two paths for us—the path of respect and caution, or the path of daring and achievement. We who live will judge between them. All of rank to witness will cast their will before us now.”
At these ceremonial words, every creature settled onto their haunches, surrounding the Watcher in an imperfect circle. There were too many missing ponies, too many empty places.
“To take the path of respect, we will return to the perpendicularity, and destroy the bodies that have formed here. The essence of the old ones, as immortal now as ever, will return to join with the others in renewed banishment. Perhaps they will give word of our imminent success, stripped away in the final moments. Perhaps they will remember nothing, and the old ones will continue to watch without knowing.”
“Yet they may be angered to be returned below,” said one ancient voice near the center of the circle. “Would they see us like the tyrants and pretenders who banished them once, in times ancient and forgotten?”
The room filled with muttering, though not all of it was in the affirmative.
Watcher waited for it to fall silent before speaking again. “The other option before us is one of greater daring. We take upon ourselves some risk to allow these bodies to survive—yet if they live, growing to maturity again in Equestria, they may recover their strength. Even paupers from among the old gods may speak volumes to us of what came before. They might share magic that Equestria has forbidden, and rewrite what the pretenders sought to erase.”
“But if they were discovered in the meantime…” said one older voice. “They would be connected to us, in time. We brought them here—the sympathy cannot be erased. Celestia would send her armies, and destroy us just as the brotherhood of the north was destroyed.”
“It’s too risky,” said another voice. “The gods will be forgiving. They will know our work is a process, and our loyalty is to them. We could send them with this message when we returned them to Below.”
Watcher cleared his throat loudly, suddenly enough that all stopped to stare at him again. “This is the decision before us. We must decide soon—we cannot obscure their memories for long, or know what pain they might inflict in their wrath if they should return to their power suddenly. Likewise, we cannot know the reward they might bestow if we are patient with them, risking ourselves in the name of this sacred charge.
“So I ask that all creatures who wish to return them, be counted. We have no time to delay.”
Ponies all through the room shuffled and moved. One by one, many stood. Their number might be daring, risking discovery and murder at the hooves of Equestria. But they had not survived so long by an abundance of willingness to risk for nothing. These ponies were brave, but careful.
Iris saw the sleeping ponies in her mind again, covered in threadbare sheets. She saw helpless foals—older than River, but not by much. Were the old ones less deserving of continuing the lives they had come to live? Would they really want to go back to being banished? What did growing up one more time even matter to an immortal?
She couldn’t leave this to chance, not again. “It’s wrong,” she said. “Spilling more blood, when so many of our brothers and sisters died to make this happen. They risked everything, gave their lives for this chance. We owe them taking this gamble in return. Otherwise, it was for nothing.”
A few ponies looked at her. Some of those sat down, bringing the total clearly beneath the majority. Watcher turned towards her, though she sensed nothing of hostility from him this time. She wasn’t contradicting his authority, as Blue had dared. This was a far safer gamble. “You realize what you suggest, witness,” he said. “We are not simply sparing the lives of these and setting them loose. They must be observed, and guided if possible. Leaving them alive may be opening an opportunity to our sisterhood—if raised properly, we could coax them into membership, raise them with an attitude of loyalty. When they finally grow into their powers, they might share their secrets willingly, despite the differences in our station.”
Iris knew what he meant without him having to say it. It was as good as an order. She could either put her own flank on the line, or back down. All around her, ponies slid slightly away from her, so that the cavern was totally clear on either side. No one else would be volunteering themselves beside her.
“I know of someone friendly to our sisterhood,” said Blue, voice shaking. “He has wanted to adopt for some time, but always refused. A pegasus, so he would be able to train the young member of that tribe.”
“That still leaves another,” Watcher said, a little more forcefully. “What say you, sister? Are you willing to invest yourself in this? Do you believe so strongly we should take this chance, that you are willing to suffer if it goes poorly? Surely the old ones would also see you as most worthy of rewards, if you are successful. You would rise far among us, steward of the old ones as they recover their kingdom at last.
She could back down, say something appropriately groveling, and let the Watcher lord it over her a bit. He’d reaffirm his authority to the sisterhood, and all would know he spoke for the will of those who had been dishonored. But then she’d have to be there while they cut those little throats—maybe he’d even make her do it.
“I will care for the other,” she said firmly. “If the others grant me this privilege. True kings and queens of this realm grant their mercy."
There were a few scattered objections after that, but nothing with any chance of holding water. She was a witness in her own right, and her covenant was her bond. Within minutes, the motion was carried.
Now all they had to do was make Willowbrook believe whatever lie they invented for the origin of these creatures.
Gods of the past? Or helpless foals. She would soon find out.
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So we have one 'mother' and one to-be-met father. But how will the 'fillies' react?
They going to be split up?
I think they will try to kill them and she will rescue them
It certainly makes me wonder who exactly they wanted to summon and how much myth and truth was butchered to create their beliefs. Everything so far points to them being utterly misinformed.
I guess we'll see how far Celestia is willing to go to suppress this cult.
If the cult is wrong about 1% there's nothing good that'll come about "returning" the children.
No doubt about that.
Ah. So we do have some contemporary alicorns. This is getting more concerning.
A lot more concerning, depending on what precisely was destroyed. And then there's the matter of clouding the outsiders' mind and binding their power... Lots of setup for trouble down the line.
... and that's putting aside the narrowly averted ritual foal sacrifice.
Because obviously any news the Crystal Empire returning is nothing more than the usurpers' propaganda, obviously.
Yeah, this is going to be fun to watch. We'll see how the situation develops. Two very interesting childhoods are about to unfold.
Reaaaally interesting one here from you this time. Love your work, and this is an excellent premise—can’t wait to see how you play it.
So their intent is to mentally befuddle their own gods, to indoctrinate them to want to be crippled and unable to think or act for themselves. And this is somehow a GOOD thing?
I really hope those two don't go cooperating with them at all. Let them stew in the fact that they just ruined their gods lives and enslaved them for something they don't believe in.
It's at least worth considering that the cult might not be entirely wrong. The specifics about these two in particular sure, but their Old Ones might well have been banished to Earth (wouldn't be the only example of that after all...). And from there became/integrated with humanity.
It remains to be seen if those souls are the only ones ported through...