Agate's Vigil

by Wingnut

The Call

Other ponies noticed the distant lights as well, ending their quiet conversations. As the torchbearers approached, everyone in the gathered crowd got into sitting positions, huddled close together in small groups. As Agate idly watched the steam rise and instantly dissipate from their breaths, she wondered just how cold it was right then.

Scanning the crowd, she tried to see if any of the ponies were showing any signs of being cold. However, despite the fact that the Sun didn't show up at all that day, which surely had to mean that it was beyond freezing, no one seemed to be bothered much. Shaking her head, she turned back to the center of the ceremonial grounds.

The torchbearers were quite close now, making their way through a small gap the ponies left for them. As expected, they were shamares, a good dozen of them carrying torches in their mouths. There didn't seem to be any particular hierarchy to it this time, as Agate could see both elders and some of the younger ones carrying the flames. Filtering into the clearing, the line split in two, encircling the crystal-ringed firepit. After a moment of silence, the ones with the torches shared a glance, nodding to each other. Twisting their necks, they loosed the flaming branches towards the stacked lumber in the center of the firepit one by one.

Almost immediately, the kindling began to crackle and pop loudly, the flames quickly consuming the thin sticks and bundles of dried pine needles. As the fire spread, the shamares sat down around the edges of the firepit, though their seating arrangements were a little more methodical than the rest of the crowd. As she observed them lining up, Agate was reminded of the ritual they performed while planting her totem. One circle was formed on the edge of the firepit, glowing crystals lying in the gaps between the mares. A second circle was right behind them, the shamares sitting where the gaps in the first circle were.

Both the observers and the shamares remained silent, watching the bonfire. Though it was burning well, the flames jumping upwards from the kindling and licking bigger and bigger branches merrily, it was clearly going to take more time for the biggest logs to catch fire. Agate kept watching as well, idly admiring the way the flames lit up the darkness of the northern winter day.

As the flames kept creeping upwards, though, something strange happened. Agate blinked as the fire steadily got brighter and brighter, making her squint. Putting it mildly, that was highly unusual. Normally, spirits had to struggle to see anything at all, but now, the fire was leaving dancing spots in her vision - and it wasn't even fully lit up yet.

Biting her lip, she focused inwards and tried to sharpen her spirit sight, but it only made things worse. Slack-jawed, she watched the fiery tendrils dance in the air, leaving disorienting trails and after-images in the air, making it appear as if there were two or even three bonfires in the same place, glowing with strange colors. Gradually, the flames gained a blue tint on the edges, which slowly started turning green afterwards. The smoke curling into the sky was glowing orange, as if it was still carrying the bonfire's heat, while the center of the bonfire was a deep purple instead of the bright red one would expect from glowing coals.

Shaking her head and firmly screwing her eyes shut, Agate tried to clear her vision from the dancing spots the bonfire was causing. Opening her eyes again, she found the world tilted sideways in a strange manner. It took her a minute to realize that she fell over on her side, without even realizing it. Squinting, she pulled her legs under herself, attempting to regain her balance. After another minute of trying to focus, she slowly sat up again, with the help of Glacier Glider.

"Are you... All right, Agate?" The mare asked quietly, with no small amount of confusion. "I never saw a spirit just... Fall over before."

"It's the bonfire. It's... I can't really describe it. I guess the shamares did something to it. The dancing colors and the brightness are making me dizzy."

"Colors?"

Glacier Glider turned back towards the bonfire, tilting her head a little and studying the flames. They had spread almost all the way to the top now, the heaviest logs beginning to burn properly, lighting up the ceremonial grounds and melting all the snow in a large radius. Judging from where she looked, though, Agate could only guess that the mare couldn't see the odd ethereal tongues of flame leaping from the lumber, or the strange colors of the fire.

"It's probably a spirit thing," Agate concluded.

"Most likely. I can sort of see some colors from the corners of my eyes, but if I look directly at them, they disappear. I suppose it's not too surprising. This magic is not meant for me, but to guide our lost kin to us."

"It's quite a beacon, alright. I can barely look at it."

"Mm. And it'll only get brighter, I imagine. We haven't even begun the Song yet. Speaking of..."

Glacier Glider trailed off, turning towards the double ring of shamares. All of them were motionless, save for breathing in a rhythmic pattern, which Agate recognized as one of the focusing exercises they did before performing their rituals. Once the bonfire was finally burning at a level that they deemed sufficient, glances were exchanged, followed by several silent nods. All at once, they started slowly raising their forelegs, taking in a deep breath in unison. Once they could hold no more, they pointed their forelegs towards the bonfire, letting out all the air they were holding in one big exhale.

Although the shamares were sitting a fair distance from the bonfire itself - it was quite hot, after all - the flames jumped up, as if they were blowing right into the heart of the fire. The effect on the ethereal part of the blaze was even greater, however. A great pillar of light erupted from the heart of the firepit, the aura spilling over the ceremonial grounds and rising high into the sky. While the regular bonfire continued burning normally, the green-hued tendrils of the spirit fire appeared more like a strange underwater plant or tentacled creature, lazily waving in the air far slower than it's mundane counterpart.

Meanwhile, the ritual continued on. Agate's attention was pulled away from the strangeness of the shamaric spirit fire back to the shamares as they took in another deep breath, letting it out in a long growl/rumble/chant that shook the air, emanating deep from their throats and chests. Agate asked Earthsong to explain it once, and she called it "throat singing". It was some kind of special way of singing the snowponies came up with, apparently, because the filly never heard anything like it before. It was very strange and exotic, but also really mesmerizing to listen to.

The synchronization fell apart after the first chant, each individual shamare continuing the song at her own pace, seemingly putting in more effort into making sure that there was always at least one pony singing instead of making one big, concerted effort, like they did in the beginning. A few pulled out small instruments as well - drums, whistles, and other things Agate couldn't quite recognize. One by one, the ponies that were closest to the shamare-ringed firepit began to sing as well, adding their voices to the growing choir. The wave of singing ponies slowly spread further out, approaching Agate and Glacier's family.

The filly glanced around nervously, trying to see whether every single pony was singing. She didn't want to be rude by staying silent if it was customary for everyone to sing, but she didn't want to ruin it even worse with her lackluster skill. To her relief, she saw that a number of them remained quiet, swaying to the rhythm with lidded eyes or tapping on the ground rhythmically. Relaxing a bit, Agate did what she always did in such situations - be as unobtrusive as possible, and observe as much as she could.

Even though Agate heard stories about the Calling already, they were mostly about the history and context of the event, but only a few general details about the actual execution, which was what she was doing her best to learn about now. From what she saw, there were no obvious signals save for the arrival of the shamares and the start of their song, which would begin a cascade of singing, gradually increasing the sound and the ritual's power. The already massive spirit fire kept getting stronger with each pony that joined in, the ethereal tendrils reminding Agate a little bit of the aurora the Crystal Heart would cast into the sky when it was overcharged.

Glacier Glider and her husband began singing as well, their voices harmoniously melding together with the rest of the singers. Moments later, more voices joined in behind them, which were soon followed by ponies sitting further back. It took a little while for the singing to cover the entirety of the ceremonial grounds, but when it happened, the effect was noticeable almost immediately.

Overall, it was only a slight rise in pitch and volume, but with so many participants, it still affected the ritual greatly. The spirit fire overlaid over the regular bonfire kept rising, the pillar reaching so high into the sky that Agate couldn't even see the top from the spot she was sitting in. Between the size and the fierce glow, she could certainly understand how it could be used to guide lost spirits, even from very far away. If she could see one of the crystal paths across the mountains, then the pillar of magical spirit flame must have been visible from... She didn't even know how far. Farther than she ever travelled, certainly.

Meanwhile, the song continued, neither rising nor falling as the singers reached an equilibrium, small groups of ponies taking short breaks while others kept it going. As was typical for such ritualistic songs, although there were few or no words in it, it was heavily laden with emotions. There was obvious grief, pain, and other sorrowful feelings one would be expected to have when trying to summon your fallen kin. But there was also a sense of fierce resolve, the certainty that the brave ponies that fell in the wilderness will not be left to wander the dark, lost and alone.

Slowly glancing around, Agate assumed that this was the extent of the ritual. The snowponies would keep the signal fire burning, likely through the night or even longer, and the spirits of the northerner explorers would come to Snowpitt, guided by the light. However, her assumptions were proven incorrect when the shamares quieted down momentarily, taking in deep breaths before upping the ante, their voices taking on an otherworldly quality.

"To the unseeing and the blind -
Follow the light, and a warm embrace you will find.

To the lost and confused, the cold and alone.
We light you a fire, and we beseech you - come home.

So far in the wilds, far away from your tribe and kin.
Think of your family, feel the pull within.

Your journeys are over, no longer will you roam.
And so we say, and we sing, and we call - come home.

It is time for your final song, your final test.
Come to us and share your farewells, and you can finally rest.

Come home.
Come home.
COME HOME."

The words were sung with intent, with willpower and magic, echoing across the entire village. The crowd picked the chant up immediately after, their combined cries almost deafening.

"COME HOME."

The fierce outpouring of emotion caused the spirit fire to flare up to blinding levels again, forcing Agate to close her eyes and cover her face with her hooves, attempting to block it out. It was only partially successful, the glow of the bewitched beacon forcing itself into Agate's very being.

"COME HOME."

She felt something shake, wondering if it was herself or the world. Turning away from the bonfire, she managed to make out a few vaguely pony-shaped figures slowly raising their hooves, bringing them down on the ground in fierce, rhythmic stomps.

"COME HOME."

She heard, no, felt the sound reverberate through her very core. It was like standing next to a large drum during a festival, feeling the drumbeats resonate in your chest, only amplified tenfold. Echoes bounced around all around her, likely coming from as far as the mountains themselves, with how powerful the song was.

Even though that seemed to be the last time they were going to repeat their chant, the effects of getting hit with a village-sized spirit summoning spell/ritual point blank left Agate rattled. Dazed and stunned (both literally and figuratively), Agate stuck her head into the snow (or possibly even the ground, she still couldn't see much), trying to recover her senses. She didn't know how much time she spent like that, but by the time she was confident enough to rejoin the world of the living (figuratively speaking, of course), things seemed to have calmed down a little.

"Oooooof...."

The bonfire was still burning merrily, the magical flames swaying in an unseen wind. The singers didn't stop, but they did return to their previous volume, keeping the song going instead of seemingly trying to shake the very foundations of the earth with their voices. Sighing, Agate shook her head, taking up her sitting position again. Feeling the faint touch of a hoof on her back, she turned to Glacier Glider. The mare wasn't singing at the moment, looking at her with faint concern and curiosity.

"Is everything alright, Agate? For a while there, you looked almost... Sick," She asked, keeping her voice down

"I'm fine. It was just a bit too much for me. If I was a spirit - uh, I mean, if I was a spirit lost far away from here, I would have definitely heard and seen that. Yeesh. My eyes. And my ears," Agate explained, sticking her hooves into her ears and digging around. Not that it really achieved anything, besides making Glacier Glider chuckle.

"Well, since the Song is meant to reach across great distances, I can only assume that it must be overwhelming when you're sitting in the middle of it. Perhaps you should stay away until it's finished next time."

"Probably. Hearing about "raising our voices to reach across the entirety of the North" and actually experiencing it is something else. What's next? Is anything else going to happen?"

"Not as such, no. We shall continue singing through the night, until the fire burns out and only embers remain. Most are going to leave then, though a few will stay on regardless, gazing into the smoke and whispering stories about the ancient spirits of our kin to each other, until they fall asleep right there in the snow. This night tends to put a great many ponies into a contemplative and melancholy mood."

"But then... When do the spirits show up? The lost ones?"

"Oh? Oh, I see. With the song's power, you probably expected them to come right away, right? The north is vast, Agate, and though I'm sure that they saw the bonfire and heard the Song, it will still take them at least several days to make their way to us, if not over a week. It is one of the reasons ponies put down the spirit stone paths for them, in case they lose their direction after the calling. The distances between our tribes have grown far too large for this to be a single-day affair any more."

Agate nodded, turning back to the bonfire as Glacier Glider began to sing again. She had more questions, such as the "any more" part of Glacier's statement, but this wasn't the time nor the place for more snowpony history lessons. Pressing herself firmly against the ground, she lidded her eyes and let the song carry her away, drinking everything in without focusing on any particular details.

With the Sun gone and darkness being permanent for the coming months, the bonfire was the only indicator of the passage of time. The flames crackled away, slowly consuming the thick logs stacked up in the firepit. Whether by coincidence or intentionally, as the fire slowly died down, the song followed suit. With every new round of singing, fewer and fewer ponies joined in, and those that did couldn't quite summon their full strength any more. Thousands of voices slowly turned into hundreds, then dozens, until the song that previously shook the very mountains with its strength ended in barely audible sighs and whispers, carried away on the wind.

Everything went still. While the crowd wasn't moving much before, now they were quiet as well, not even making a sound. For a long, seemingly endless moment, the ponies looked more like statues, or even a bunch of lost spirits themselves, staring into the fading fire with emotionless expressions.

Still, they were alive, and eventually, the silent vigil was broken. A stallion got up and stretched, his joints cracking from sitting still too long. Multiple other ponies got up too, walking off in every direction. At first, Agate thought that they were leaving, but they soon came back, laden with various items. One group was carrying more firewood on their backs, making their way towards the firepit. Others were equipped with a number of large, oblong clay flasks hanging from their sides on lengths of rope, steam coming out of the open tops. The flask-carriers went around the entire clearing, sharing warm tea with the tired singers.

Glacier Glider nodded gratefully at the stallion once one reached their group, lifting the last flask that still had some tea left in it. Taking a few deep gulps, she shared the rest with her husband and foals. Returning the empty flask to the stallion, she sighed in pleasure, rubbing her neck.

"I needed that," She muttered, her voice noticeably hoarse.

The amount of light in the clearing rose again as more fuel was added to the bonfire. Although the fire was quite low by that point, the large amount of red-hot coals was evidently giving off immense amounts of heat, as the ponies carefully tossed the thick chunks of wood into the firepit from a safe distance. A few shamares whispered quietly and gestured towards the flames, but that was the extent of their contribution. No new rituals or songs began, and soon, the firewood carriers dispersed again, going back to their families.

The formal part of the ritual seemed to be well and truly over by then. The shamares broke up their tidy formations, clumping together in small groups to chat or slowly ambling away, clearly tired. A small number of whispered conversations started up between the gathered ponies, the low volume likely a byproduct of their tired vocal chords rather than a need to remain quiet. Some went away again to acquire more tea for their sore throats, or to bring food to their families.

Agate remained where she was, contemplating the bonfire. The spirit fire was still present, not quite as powerful as when the ponies were singing, but nevertheless quite impressive. The crystals ringing the firepit were glowing brightly, clearly overcharged from all the magic in the air. By the looks of it, the glowing after-images of the flames would remain for quite a while, even if the actual fire burned out completely.

❅ ❆ ❅

Many hours passed, most of them in silence. Glacier Glider and her husband would whisper a few sentences about their ancestors to their foals now and then, but they were clearly not up for a real conversation. Agate listened in with one ear turned in their direction, idly scanning the grounds now and then. Some ponies eventually got up and left, mostly the really old and the ones with younger foals. As Glacier Glider predicted, the rest remained, quiet and contemplative, gazing into the firepit with their minds clearly somewhere far, far away. Some moved closer to the fire to get warm, but most of them didn't seem to care about the cold at all, frost slowly forming on their thick, fluffy coats.

Eventually, though, the silence was broken by a slowly rising murmur that swept through the clearing. Agate assumed that it was simply a large number of ponies having more conversations now that their vocal chords had rested, but the noise kept growing louder, followed by loud gasps and exclamations. Looking around in confusion, she tried to find what the source of the excitement was, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary amongst all the ponies. Feeling a tap on her back, she turned towards Glacier Glider with a questioning expression.

"Up there, Agate. Look towards the north," The mare explained with a large smile, pointing with a hoof.

Raising her eyes upwards, Agate blinked, trying to understand just what she was seeing. It looked like some sort of strange glowing ribbon, moving through the sky. Its appearance reminded her of the rays of the Sun shining through a thin gap in the clouds during a dark, rainy day, only the color was green. And, of course, the Sun's rays didn't follow such weirdly defined lines, or undulate across the sky like a snake.

Just like with the spirit fire, the first comparison that she could think of was the Crystal Heart's aurora. The glowing "sky ribbons", as the Equestrians called them, was what lured them to the Empire back in the day. But while they looked remarkably similar in shape and behavior, the color was completely different. The aurora cast by the Heart was colored yellow, pink and blue, not green. It was also somehow... Smaller, weaker than this one. Squinting at the sky, Agate tried to understand why she felt that way.

It took her a few minutes to figure it out, but she cracked the feeling eventually. The Heart's aurora was cast from the top of the Spire, which, while a truly tall building, wasn't all that high up, compared to clouds or mountains. If you were right under it, the ribbons looked huge and majestic, but if you looked off into the distance, you could see that they quickly lost their majesty, becoming no more than thin lines.

This aurora, however, hung high, high up in the sky, far above any clouds, mountains, or anything else nature had to offer. It wasn't just the different color - the scale of it was totally different, covering the entire edge of the northern sky, completely dwarfing anything the Heart ever put out, even during the most joyous celebrations. It was incomparable, really.

As Agate watched, the wiggling ribbons kept speeding up, twisting and undulating faster and faster, while getting brighter all the while. Moments later, the entire sky was awash with green flames, the ribbons exploding into a massive wave of green light, rushing across the heavens and racing southwards, towards Snowpitt. It was so bright that it almost looked like midday for a short moment, everything getting lit up by the celestial phenomenon. A few blinks later, the green mist started reforming into ribbons, still doing their wild dance across the skies.

Slack-jawed, Agate watched, wondering what could possibly cause such a phenomenon. This wasn't the side effect of overcharging a love-powered magical artefact. There was no way this could be pony-made. It was massive. Awe-inspiring. Wild.

Primal.

Meanwhile, the gathered snowponies cheered and whooped loudly, elated at the wild aurora's appearance. Everyone in the ceremonial grounds had wide smiles on their faces, admiring the green hue bathing the village and babbling happily. Sticking her ears up and turning them in various directions, Agate tried to figure out what the significance of this event was, but couldn't pick out any details in the excited crowd. Glancing towards Glacier Glider, she gently brushed a hoof against the skyward-looking mare's side.

"Hmm? What is it, Agate? Oh, I see," Glacier Glider understood the situation immediately, noticing the confused look on Agate's face. "It is a rare occurrence to see the great Sky's fire burn so brightly this far south. Since you used to live even further south, I'm guessing that you haven't seen it before?"

"Not... Not really. Not quite like it. What is it?"

The mare rubbed her chin, considering her answer. "Many things, I suppose. A guiding light in the Long Dark, especially useful for us in the far north. A bridge for the spirits of the fallen, to ease their passage and carry them on their way to their final rest. Overall, though, the great Sky's presence is always seen as a good omen."

It wasn't quite the question that Agate was asking, but she nodded anyway. She supposed that no one would really have an answer as to just what the primal aurora was, seeing as it was almost definitely a wild phenomenon of great magic, not explainable any more than what the Sun or the stars or the sky were. It just was.

Relaxing once more, she tried to go back to pony-watching, though she couldn't last more than a minute before her eyes were drawn towards the sky again. The dance of the aurora was hypnotic, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from it. Giving in, the filly laid down on her back, observing the mesmerizing spins and turns of the green-hued tendrils. The aurora took over the sky, effortlessly outshining the stars with its glow. Even the sliver of the moon that was visible looked pale and barely noticeable in comparison.

❅ ❆ ❅

Agate twitched, blinking in surprise.

"What just happened?"

Blinking a few more times, she scanned her surroundings. Somehow, in the minuscule amount of time that it took her to blink, everything around her changed. The fire was low again, a few tiny tongues of flame dancing across the large pile of glowing coals. Most of the ponies were gone, with only a few sleepers remaining. Their bodies were covered in a light dusting of snow and frost, but they were clearly sleeping peacefully. Glacier Glider's family was gone as well, but the mare herself was still there, curled up right next to Agate, the steam from her slow, steady breaths dissipating in the gloom.

"Did I fall asleep?"

Agate did recall a few times when something like this happened. Usually, she'd slowly fall asleep and remember it the next morning, stretching and slowly waking up. But a few times, she could have sworn that she just closed her eyes for a second and opened them again, not slept the night away. And yet, the Sun would be up, and the night clearly over. It weirded her out every time.

Reflexively looking towards the sky, she tried to determine the time of day (night?), but it was for naught. While much fainter, the aurora was still up there, blotting out most of the stars. Shrugging, she went back to observing the heavens. Seeing as she didn't really have any urgent obligations at the moment, she wasn't too concerned whether it was midday or midnight, and she didn't want to leave Glacier Glider when the mare (seemingly) stayed behind in the ceremonial grounds just to keep Agate company.

Time passed by, punctuated by the occasional pony stirring in their sleep, twitching and mumbling from some dream or other. After a few more hours, even the most persistent ponies started waking up, yawning and stretching, their expressions bleary and tired. Shaking off most of the accumulated snow and frost, they finally started to leave the ceremonial grounds, though not without approaching the remains of the bonfire one last time. They seemed to be whispering something, and a few threw some small objects into the embers. It seemed highly personal, so Agate didn't try to listen in. Shooting a few last looks towards the firepit, they went on their way.

Moments later, Agate heard a long yawn right next to her. Glacier Glider woke up as well, standing up and shaking fiercely, sending snowflakes flying in every direction. Wiping some frost from her face, she smacked her lips, swallowing a few snowflakes. Her belly rumbled loudly, making her smile faintly. Looking around, she found Agate, silently looking at the filly with the same faint, slightly sad smile. Agate kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt the moment. Eventually, Glacier Glider chuckled, reaching out and mussing up Agate's mane.

"Did you sleep well, Agate?"

"I think so? I didn't even notice falling asleep. Did you stay with me just to keep me company? You didn't have to. Even with your coat, I can't imagine the snow being very pleasant to sleep in."

That got a full laugh from the mare. "Oh, you poor thing. Save for a full-on blizzard or the cold of the deep winter, sleeping in the snow is perfectly fine, especially next to a bonfire this large. Granted, it's not comfortable nor very pleasant, but it's not as terrible as you're making it out to be," She explained, brushing more snow from her thick coat and making Agate feel jealous. After a stretch, she continued. "Besides, I didn't stay entirely for you. My daughter..."

Agate nodded, recognizing the wistful expression on the mare's face. She often wore the same look when thinking about her own family. "You still miss her."

"I do," Glacier Glider confirmed, looking skywards. "We said our goodbyes, and life continued on, but the sudden hole in your life doesn't disappear that fast. Time heals all wounds, though. This night brought back some memories, but they didn't hurt nearly as much. Now, I just feel... Hope. Hope that she's doing well, wherever she went."

Agate nodded, electing to remain silent. Glacier Glider kept gazing at the sky for a minute, but was soon interrupted by another rumble from her stomach. Chuckling, she shook her head, turning her gaze back towards the earth. "Well, it seems that the needs of the living are calling me away, Agate. It's been a delight to meet you again. Feel free to drop by any time. You're part of the family now as well, after all. I'm staying in the same longhouse I was in last year."

"You too. You know where my totem is, I think."

The two said their goodbyes, and went their separate ways. While Glacier Glider clearly needed a hefty breakfast after sleeping in the snow, Agate didn't really have any particular goals. After weighing her options for a minute, she eventually decided to find Gnarled Root and Spear Throw. While they still talked from time to time, between Agate's various expeditions and the fact that they mostly depleted their repertoires of stories and teachings, their meetings were far less frequent.

It wasn't hard to find the two guardians. Given that it was winter and no one was going outside, they spent a lot of time sleeping in their totems, occasionally giving some lessons to the younger generations. After getting the ghostly group together, they decided to go on a trot around the village, having a casual chat about this and that. As Agate entirely expected, Gnarled Root was particularly amused by the filly's experience in the Calling. Even Spear Throw seemed like he was holding back a smile.

"Hahahaha! Hit you in the face like a river, didn't it? Or perhaps a mountainside. Between the shamares and the three tribes pooling their strength together, it's quite the sensation, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Agate confirmed, not sure what to say. "It was something, alright."

Still chuckling, the mare shook her head. "While attending the Calling is fine, the Song Of Snowpitt itself is a bit much for a spirit. We tend to spend the night in our totems. They block out the worst of it. Still, fully sitting through one is a sort of rite of passage for guardian spirits. Welcome to the club, Agate," She laughed, smacking Agate on her back.

The filly snorted, figuring out why they never gave her any kind of warning to keep her distance from the overly loud ritual. Rolling her eyes at their antics, she continued trotting. As they kept discussing the Calling and it's intricacies and effects on spirits, Agate remembered Glacier Glider's words.

"So that northerner mare that I told you about, Glacier Glider, told me that the Calling used to be a single-day affair some time before. Is there a story behind that?"

"Certainly," Gnarled Root replied easily. "Nothing too special, though. Just the passage of time, and the changes that come with it. It is said that before we spread out so much, a few hundred years ago... Actually, instead of going backwards in time bit by bit, I think I should start from the very beginning. Let's see... The story of the Calling actually starts with the story of the first shamare.

In the earliest days of our history, there were no shamares. When our ancestors were wandering these lands like clueless yearlings, with their eyes wide with wonder and fear, they did not know how to do a great many things, including how to deal with spirits. It is said that they simply buried their fallen, digging holes in the ground and stacking cairns of stones on top of the graves. They paid respect to the bodies, completely heedless of the lost spirits of their kin wandering the tundra.

Now, there are some conflicting stories about when it happened, but it took a while for the first shamare to be born and start figuring out just what to do with all the lost spirits. A few generations of snowponies had passed already, and although most of the spirits would eventually move on without the aid of the shamare, a part of them remained, scattered all around. There were spirits haunting the woods and the plains, often in the places where they fell, unable to find solace and peace. The old graveyard was particularly bad, the wind full of the painful wails and moans of the lost spirits, crying and calling out to their families while they blindly wandered between the cairns.

That caused the ponies of the time no small amount of trouble, as they were too terrified to go out and forage in many places. While the spirits meant them no harm, they had no idea about that fact. A regular pony can have trouble even seeing a spirit on occasion, let alone understanding or helping one. On the other hoof, the shamare, barely a filly at the time, began hearing and seeing things at an early age, which let the parents to believe that she was not well in the head. They kept dismissing her and telling her to ignore her "fancies and imaginings", which she did her best to do. The voices would not go away, though.

She didn't hear just spirits of the fallen, but the spirits of the world, as well. The Sky whispered, the Earth rumbled ever so slowly, and a myriad other spirits moved through the world, going about their way, invisible and silent to all but the filly. Eventually, she had enough of her parent's attitude, and for the first time, tried talking to the spirits instead of just listening. Most of them ignored her completely, but a small few actually conversed with her, giving her aid and advice. She called them the tuurngait, the helping spirits.

While she was ecstatic about her discovery and her new friends, she knew that her parents wouldn't approve, so she kept her budding abilities hidden the best she could. However, one winter's day, she had to make a hard choice. A teenaged colt disappeared when out foraging with a group in the woods, and the adults didn't know what to do. Apparently, the colt's friends got scared by a lost spirit, and scattered. It was getting dark already, and it was nearly impossible to find any kind of tracks in the shadowy forest at night. And the thought of searching blindly in the dark did not enthuse them, either. While the haunting scared off most of the predators as well, the ones that remained were the most dangerous.

She had never done anything like it before, but the filly knew she had to act. Calling out to the tuurngait, she slipped away from the frantic adults, listening with all her being to the faintest whispers of the wind and the lightest tugs on her mane. Following their guidance, she galloped through the woods without so much as a glance sideways, putting her trust in the helper spirits. The spirits rewarded her trust by leading her straight to the colt, avoiding anything and everything that might have caused her danger. The colt was stunned that a young filly was the one that came to the rescue, but didn't question the spiritual providence. Galloping back the way the filly came from, they made their way back to Snowpitt, safe and sound.

Meanwhile, the rest of the village was still arguing. Some were equipped with torches, ready to go into the forest regardless of the perils, while others were trying to talk them into at least waiting for morning, so that they wouldn't get lost and end up needing to get rescued themselves. Needless to say, the adults were stunned when the colt sheepishly trotted into the village. There was much relief, though that didn't stop the irate adults from admonishing the teen for running off and causing so much trouble.

While they were busy with that, the filly tried to slip away. Unfortunately for her, there were far too many ponies out and about. Almost the entire village had been roused, and several ponies saw her coming out of the forest with the colt. Naturally, questions were asked, along with more admonishments and threats of keeping her locked up at home if she was too daft not to go wandering into the woods blindly at night.

The young shamare had had enough, though. Furious at their ignorance, she shouted angrily at the villagers, calling them blind and deaf fools, telling them that if they were too self-absorbed with their stupidity to hear the spirits, it didn't mean that something was wrong with her. The colt backed her up, telling everyone that the filly came right to him and led him straight out of the forest, without stopping for even a moment to check her way, as if she was following a guide that he couldn't see.

Still, the adults weren't overly impressed by the two younglings acting out, assuming that they were just trying to save face. One stallion even started openly insulting the filly and her parents, saying that they should just tie her down like a wild animal, if they were too air-headed to keep an eye on their delusional foal. Needless to say, that was a step too far. It did not go over well with the filly's parents, nor many of the other adults.

An angry silence descended upon the crowd, but before anyone could make a move, the filly trotted right up to the arrogant stallion, and spat right at his hooves. When he started screaming at her, she quickly turned around and galloped away, going right for the stallion's house. He gave chase, threatening to beat her, which made her parents and the other ponies chase after him. They barely managed to catch them both right next to the entrance, asking the filly just what the hay she was doing, to which she simply replied: "I'm going to retrieve this fool's favorite chisel."

You see, the mean stallion was a craftspony, and a really good one, at that. However, that made him very conceited, and he looked down on the other villagers, always treating them very snidely. Recently, he had lost his favorite chisel, and he had been accusing everyone and anyone that even came near his house of stealing it. All of Snowpitt must have heard about his chisel by that point. So when the stallion heard her claim that the chisel was in his house all along, he flew into a rage, accusing her of lying and slandering his "good" name.

While very confused, the crowd was curious now, and let the filly enter the stallion's house, a number of them following her inside to see what she would do. After forcing the stallion to promise not to touch the filly, they let him enter as well. They watched the youngling go into the workshop, her eyes lidded, her ears turning left and right, as if she was listening to some faraway conversation. While the stallion was grumbling angrily, she calmly trotted around, tapping the floorboards. Stopping at one, she jammed her hoof into a gap, trying to lift it. Ignoring the stallion's protests, a couple other ponies helped her out, revealing what was lying underneath - the stallion's chisel. It must have fallen off a table and rolled in through the gap.

This time, everyone was stunned. The filly had never been inside the stallion's home or workshop before. While he started babbling and weakly trying to accuse her of sneaking in and hiding the chisel, no one was taking him seriously. When her parents asked her how she knew where the chisel was, she replied bitterly.

"The tuurngait told me, just like they told me where to find the lost colt. Not that you care."

No one knew just what to make of that. The filly clearly had some kind of strange abilities - it wasn't just her foalish imagination acting out. Not a single pony understood what she was even trying to say, though. They started pelting her with questions and requests to find other things, but she just frowned and turned away, saying that she was tired from that gallop through the woods and wanted to go home.

The parents obliged, pushing through the confused crowd. The filly didn't say a word as they were going home, going to bed without so much as a "goodnight". Feeling ashamed for unknowingly mistreating their daughter for the longest time, they vowed to do better. The next morning, they made the filly a hearty breakfast, gently pleading with her to explain to them just what was it that she was able to do, promising to believe her this time. Reluctantly, she agreed, doing her best to put the things she felt into words.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity, with questions, inquiries, prodding, interrogations, queries, examinations, investigations, probes, research, and other kinds of studying of her abilities by the rest of the village. Even though she was just a filly, once they saw that her skills were very much real, a portion of the population became fearful of her. Despite her attempt to explain that she wasn't actually doing much and simply had "friends on the other side" guiding her, it didn't seem to assuage the pony's fears at all, even making them worse for some reason.

Though she tried to fit in at first, the young shamare gave up soon after, choosing to focus on more important matters, such as exploring her abilities and figuring out what to do with all the lost pony spirits. Once she managed to talk to the first pony spirit, she started venturing out of the village, bringing the spirits with her to help them deal with whatever was keeping them weighed down to the Earth.

Day by day, she kept going out, helping the spirits find peace. Some only wanted to know that their families were alive, while others wanted to say goodbye in person. Some didn't even know that they were dead, thinking that they were stuck in some kind of nightmarish fever dream, lost and confused. Others didn't know themselves, and it often took some time for them to figure it out, following after the shamare obediently and talking to her about their experiences. And even though casually trotting around surrounded by a cadre of their ghostly, long-dead kin made some ponies even more scared of the shamare, the families that got to say their goodbyes to ponies that they thought were lost forever were immensely grateful.

However, the more time she spent on her trips, the more spirits she found, in all kinds of inhospitable and hard to reach locations. And no matter how many spirits she brought back, there were always more. Eventually, she thought... If she couldn't go to the spirits, then why not make the spirits come to her?

She was no longer a filly at that point, but a young mare. It was hard, growing up while trying to figure out her abilities without a master to teach her, but she did have help. The spirits, both pony and otherwise, told her all kinds of things, and though their words weren't always easy to understand, she did her best to figure things out.

One day, she heard a mare sing to her sick foal, the mother's voice heavy with worry and pain, but also with love and caring. Without even realizing it, the shamare began to cry, the mother's song touching something deep in her very soul. As she watched her sparkling tears fall into the snow, she understood the awesome power of a song truly sung from the heart, clear and pure. She now knew what to do, or at least had a solid idea of where to begin.

As is usual for these stories, we don't really know much of her failures, only her successes, though they do say that it still took her some time to develop the ritual that would become the Calling. Once she was ready, she lit a great fire to keep her warm and to light up the night. The rest of the village showed up too, some in fear that she would call something terrible upon them, others in curiosity to see what other strange things she would do next, or a sincere wish to help both her and their lost kin.

Taking a deep breath and steeling her will, the mare began to sing. She sang of the things the spirits told her, to show that she understood. The grief, the confusion, the loneliness and the dark. Then, she sang of warmth, of light, of kinship, calling out to the lost spirits with the things that they craved most. But one voice, even that of a shamare, was not enough to reach across the land. She rose it higher and higher, hoping that the spirits would hear her pleas and come to her.

It was not meant to be, however. Even though it was a far smaller task than the Calling we have nowadays, no single pony is that capable. But, just when her voice was about to fail, another joined in. And another. A family. A group. A village. One by one, the ponies that the shamare helped joined in, her song having reminded them of the lost kin that she brought to them, allowing them to properly say goodbye. Even those that were scared of the shamare were shamed into helping, joining their voices with the rest when they felt the pain and hurt in the mare's voice.

And it worked. As they kept singing, one by one, befuddled spirits began pouring into the village, spooking many ponies and causing a large hubbub. There were many tearful reunions and confused questions, though when asked, the living ponies just shrugged helplessly and pointed towards the hoarse shamare. Wide-eyed and jittery with excitement at the ritual's success, the shamare giddily started explaining things to the spirits. It took the whole night, especially since more spirits kept arriving from distant locations, but eventually, the exhausted mare managed to deal with most of them.

The majority said their goodbyes and went on their way to the great Sky, to the cold and quiet of the resting grounds beyond the Moon. Some elected to stay on for a while longer, however, becoming the first guardian spirits. It was a confusing time for everyone, full of great changes, as times tend to be when new things get discovered. Still, things settled down eventually, and life went on. The ponies continued on with their lives, and the shamare was already thinking up various ways to improve the ritual mere days after.

The first and most important change was the fact that everyone had to participate in the Calling, of course. A small minority were still reticent, but no one dared to openly deny the shamare's request, in fear of rightfully shaming themselves by refusing to aid their lost kin. Many discussions were had, and they eventually decided to make it a yearly ritual. The beginning of the Long Night was chosen as the most convenient time, since all ponies would flock back to Snowpitt to spend the winter there.

And those, Agate, were the times when the Calling was a simpler, one-day affair: Back when we were still young and our tribe small. Over time, changes were made, bit by bit. As our tribe grew, so did the strength of the Song. At some point, some shamare figured out how to whisper to the flames and add magic herbs and other ingredients to the bonfire, bringing light as well as the sound of the Song to the spirits. It was a much-needed addition, since the western tribe had recently split off and made their home in the forests. With the added distance, it was harder to call the lost spirits to us, and many praised the shamare for her cleverness. I believe that was the time when the spirits started taking more than a day to show up after the Calling.

And then came the northerners, travelling even further away from Snowpitt. Seeing as there were three whole tribe's worth of ponies to participate in the Calling, they were still able to muster enough strength to reach the lost spirits, but those that would return sometimes took weeks. They'd tell the shamares about hearing the Song and seeing the magnificent bonfire from immense distances, but after the fire burned out and the singing stopped, they'd lose their way, only galloping in the general direction of Snowpitt, sometimes getting turned around in the vast expanse of the tundra.

Ponies built more guiding stones out in the plains in hopes that it would help the spirits, but the solution to that problem only truly came about with the discovery of the spirit stones, which, to a spirit, shone brighter than any beacon. Once the three tribes started laying out the glowing trails, the spirits always managed to find their way back to Snowpitt, no matter the distance, even if it did take them a whole week or longer."

Agate nodded, taking a few minutes to fully appreciate the story and quickly run through it in her head, doing her best to memorize it. She was always interested in learning more about how the whole "being a spirit" thing worked, and the story about the first shamare and her discoveries and experiences with the spirit world was very interesting.

"So, you called her a shamare when she was still a filly. Can a filly be a shamare? Do you need to be an adult?"

Gnarled Root chuckled, shaking her head. "No, actually. In fact, you don't even need to be a mare! Though they are rather rare, there have been stallion shamares popping up in our history here and there. I don't actually know how the word came to be, but it doesn't strictly mean "adult mare". As you pointed out, the very first one already showed the signs when she was quite young. Heck, there have been some very young foals that were extremely sensitive to the spirits that surround us, perhaps even too much so. Still, most of the time, it's more of a question of wisdom rather than power or skill. No matter how capable, foals aren't usually qualified to give out advice to the tribe, especially on serious matters that shamares often have to deal with."

"Right, that makes sense."

"It works the same in a lot of things, really," Spear Throw added. "A young hunter or a warrior, no matter how capable, does not necessarily make a good leader. Doesn't mean that they'd definitely be bad, but it often takes time to gain wisdom."

The conversation slowly turned towards other things, the three spirits casually discussing the small details of their un-lives. Gnarled Root talked about a few promising herbalists that she was tutoring, giggling about a few close calls where some of the less attentive students almost ate some plants that would make everything taste bitter for days. Spear Throw proudly shared a story about one of his sons chasing away a pack of wolves with his band of hunters, galloping after them for a whole day and stabbing at their heels with their spears to really teach them that coming anywhere near Snowpitt was a monumentally bad idea.

They spent quite some time just trotting around and chatting, passing by the ceremonial grounds where the fire was still tended to by some ponies. Spear Throw explained that even though they couldn't keep singing throughout the entire time, it was tradition to at least keep the flames going until the last spirit showed up. Even if they didn't bother keeping up the whole bonfire, at least a small pile of glowing coals would be kept, to be reignited when it was time to finish the ritual.

Eventually, their wanderings brought them to the northern village outskirts. A number of ponies stood by the ice wall, looking out towards the tundra from short platforms made of packed snow. Agate noticed that they were well equipped, dressed in thick coats and each one sporting at least two spears on their backs, with more spears resting against the wall. Though they didn't look remotely worried or scared, their gazes were still sharp and alert. While they looked quite different from the guards in the Empire, the filly could easily see the resemblance in their behavior. Spear Throw exchanged silent nods with a couple of stallions as the group passed them by. Idly looking around, Agate saw a few familiar figures further on. Approaching them, the filly nodded to them in greeting.

"Hello, Earthsong. Hello, True Sight."

"Greetings, young Agate," Earthsong nodded back, while True Sight nodded silently, keeping her gaze fixed on something in the tundra. "And hello to you too, Gnarled Root, Spear Throw. What brings all three of our guardian spirits here?"

"Conversation and wandering. No particular goal," Gnarled Root shrugged, to which Spear Throw nodded. "Just passing the time with Agate, sharing stories, the usual. She had some questions about the Calling, after experiencing it herself."

"Ah yes... I have heard that it gets a bit loud for the spirits that are actually already here. Must be unusual."

"Gets loud for everyone," True Sight grunted, finally joining the conversation, but still looking outwards. "Loud enough to bring both wanted and unwanted guests."

Earthsong turned back towards the tundra, scanning the horizon. "Do you see something out there, elder?"

"Something, yes. Too far to make it out, but something big. Nothing that big lives in the plains."

Her curiosity aroused, Agate climbed the icy wall, looking towards the same direction True Sight was. Unfortunately, her sight was not nearly as sharp as the supernatural gaze of the elderly shamare, and she wasn't able to see anything but vague shadows. Scanning a wider area, her eye idly caught a single cloud somewhere in the sky, moving westwards, something like a pair of forelegs sticking out the front of it.

Doing a double-take, she quickly refocused on the cloud, squinting at it. It did look like the cloud had forelegs, and looking closer, she could swear that she saw a head, too. It didn't move like any normal cloud did, either, going at a rather low altitude, even moving against the wind, from what she was able to tell. Could it be...?

"Is... Is that...?"

Earthsong raised an eyebrow at the filly's apprehensive tone. "What is it, Agate?"

Wordlessly, Agate pointed towards the cloud, the entire group turning their eyes toward it. True Sight was the first one to see it, cackling after examining it for barely a second. "Well now, I actually expected them to show up earlier. With how they're able to fly, at least one of them usually shows up after just one day, not two."

"What do you mean? Is that a...?" Agate still couldn't finish the question, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Aye, youngling. That is a wendigo, one of the great spirits of winter and hatred that so terrified our ancestors."

As if hearing its name being mentioned, the creature let out an unearthly neigh, its call echoing all across the plains, making everyone that heard it feel chilly for a brief moment. Flurries of glittering snowflakes fell from the windigo's form, trailing behind it like the tail of a comet. It kept moving west, though, ignoring the village.

"Where's it going?"

True Sight scratched her chin, tracking its trajectory. "Hmm. Likely after something in the plains, maybe even whatever it was that I saw earlier."

"Why? Do they... Hunt animals? Eat them?"

"Hunt, yes. Eat, not really. As you know, they are attracted to hate like flies to a dungheap. And, well, this is only a guess, but I think that some of the creatures that are prowling the tundra right now are mighty angry. The Call must have woken them up from their winter slumber, or they took it as some kind of challenge, like a roar from a mighty opponent mocking them or somesuch, and they're mighty ticked off because of it. It's the only reason I can think of that the Wendigos would go after them, anyway. Wendigos really don't just attack indiscriminately, and as long as you keep love and warmth in your heart, they will leave you well enough alone. They do circle the village sometimes, but always at a great distance, and they're quick to leave."

"And the... Animals? The angry monsters?"

"We have wards and sentries for a reason, Agate, we told you about this already. While the sounds and sights coming from the tundra can be scary, none of the monsters even got close to Snowpitt in centuries. Everyone's perfectly safe, as long as they stay inside the walls."

Agate nodded, still tracking the windigo. The call was made, and the guests began arriving. She could only wonder what other kinds of creatures she'd see before it was all over.

Comments

[Wingnut]

"Actual update, this time for real" edition.
Well, that was a supremely unproductive month.

[Spacemarine64]

The only story I've been looking out for an update and I somehow miss that it updated for 3 weeks.big yikes

[Wingnut]

11417259
Not really your fault, there were some screwups with me accidentally publishing an unfinished chapter and then hiding it. Apparently, that prevents people from getting notifications when I actually publish it.

[new55]

That was a good chapter.

[midnight arrow]

great chapter finally able to read it

[sploopy slooder]

cool lore dump i guess.....but this was just another nothing chapter. im sorry but i really dont think this story is for me. its very well written but there is literally zero plot. Its an entire STORY of filler. its impossible to actually care about any of this, because its all pointless.