Arcadian Tempest

by Absentialucci

Chapter 1

The true purpose of fairytales, many argue, is to teach us, especially children, a lesson.

She couldn’t feel anything at first. Then her head smacked smartly against a root, or a rock or something. It didn’t really matter. What did matter was finding out why she was being dragged, and who was dragging her. She bit back a cry of pain as she felt thorns stabbing into her. Pulling off her coat. The first thing she knew she needed to do was figure out how she’d even gotten into this position.

I was… in a forest. I had… one? No… two? Two. Two companions. They’re my… friends. I feel like they’re my friends but… what were their names? Sweetie and… Bloom and…
She couldn’t remember anything else. She felt she should but she couldn’t.

Forest, friends… and now I’m here?
Her head was pounding. That would explain the abrupt shift from exploring a shack they’d never seen before, and to now. She couldn't see the sky, all around her were hedgerows. Another thorn pierced her coat, she couldn’t hold back the cry of pain this time. She heard some kind of a grunt, before she felt something hit her on the head. But that was hardly a concern for her. In the short instance before her brain winked into unconsciousness, she realized two very important things.

Her name. She couldn’t remember her name. And instead of two ponies she was friends with, she now could only remember the face of one, and the names of neither.

***

When she opened her eyes next, she was no longer being dragged. She checked herself over. Wings, small. Fur… a reddish yellow? Orange. That was the color. Her mane was purple, she could remember that at least, and she could see streaks of missing fur where her skin was exposed in strips.

As if I had been dragged through thorns.

The next thing she noticed was that it was eerily quiet, and she was alone. Her wounds stung, but they seemed to be healing. She couldn’t put her hoof on it, but she seemed to recall being able to heal quickly from scrapes and cuts while adventuring. How she knew this was beyond her, because she couldn’t remember the adventures, just that she’d gone on them.

Well… if nothing’s happening, do something and make something happen.

She opened her mouth to call out a simple ‘hello?’ but no sound came out. She paused for a second. She tried again. Her mouth was definitely moving, and she could hear the words in her head… but no sound was coming out. She tapped on her throat, confused, nothing seemed off… but she was far from a medical pony.

She was in a courtyard, the sky looked like broken glass. She wasn’t sure, but she was fairly certain the sky wasn’t supposed to look like broken glass. Shapes spun slowly in the air, distorting light as it shined from everywhere and nowhere. Despite that, she couldn’t see anything more than that. She couldn’t even see that she was in a courtyard she just… knew. It was too dark to make out any shapes, despite the light shining overhead.

She heard a clicking noise, like one of the old clocks in antique stores, and suddenly she could see with the light that was shining. The courtyard was plain. No fountain, no bridge across a small river, but it was still a courtyard. She heard more of the ticking and clicking sounds behind her, and she felt a creeping sense of dread slowly crawl across her body, moving from her spine through her wings, and to her head. She shivered, but still could not utter a sound. In fact, she found that she couldn’t move, not to even see whatever was moving around behind her. A set of armor was placed in front of her, but she couldn’t see any limbs or magical aura around it, yet it was intentionally placed within eyesight of her by something she couldn’t see.

She knew she would fit in the armor; she didn’t know how she knew, but she knew it was hers. The armor was ornate, an engraving of a willow tree taking the centermost position, where her chest would be. The armor had slots that her wings could fit through, vine engravings circling down and away from the wing slots, curling around the willow tree’s trunk and largest branches. The pattern was strangely beautiful. There was no helm, but a scabbard was laying in front of the armor, the hilt of a weapon was just visible. A crucifix was engraved upon the scabbard, and it was fastened to a belt of leather.

And then she was moving. Moving towards the armor. The uneasy, creeping feeling never leaving her.

Like waking up at three in the morning, and finding your front door swinging gently open in the breeze, even though you knew you closed it the night before.

It was then that she realized she was fastening the armor on herself. Securing straps, putting segments together. It was heavy, heavier than she felt she should have been able to lift, yet she continued securing the segmented armor in place. Piece by piece. The scabbard fell neatly to her side, not touching the ground, and not getting in the way of movement. The last pieces she secured to her body were the chest pieces. Once the willow tree was made whole, she could hear it creaking as she moved in the armor. She didn’t feel its weight, it was almost as if it was a second layer of skin over her patchy fur. Once she’d secured the segments of armor upon herself, she then knew she was free to move. The creeping feeling receded– slightly though, not fully. The first thing she did was turn around to see what was behind her.

But she saw nothing. Nothing but… smoke, and mists. The smoke and mists slowly faded, but not entirely, revealing a double doorway. The same willow tree that adorned her armor was engraved in the oak, almost as if burned into it. Half the tree on one door, half the tree on the other. The doors slowly swung inwards in eerie attunement.

She knew she had to move through the doors. There was no reasoning, just an innate knowledge that she had to move through. She started to march towards the looming doors before. As she approached, the doors warped, and bulged over and around her, stretching until they were her entire world. And then she was through them.

A hallway she couldn’t see before was suddenly there. And she kept marching. Mirrors lined both sides, and she could see herself marching tenfold. Smoke curled around and over the mirrors, distorting some of the reflections.

Smoke and mirrors.

Music sprung up around her, reed pipes, whistles and accordions could be heard harmonizing with each other. She was joined by one, then two, then four and onwards until a whole company of armored creatures flanked her on all sides, with her at the head. Each had similar armor to her own, but her armor was the only one made of gold.

She didn’t know her armor was gold until she walked through the doors. And she saw the others in silver.
Subordinates.

The word drifted through her mind. She moved to the position she knew she was assigned to, and stamped her left hoof once, then turned about. Her subordinates all stamped in sync, but did not turn about. She silently stared over them, not focusing on any creature, looking towards the hallway she had marched through which now didn’t exist. In its place were three double doors.

One, made of oak, had the willow tree. To its left was a door made of spruce. Vines crawled across it like they would the ground. And to the center door’s right was one of mahogany. A crucifix was engraved on this one. She silently waited. For what? She wasn’t certain. She just knew it would be made known to her when it was time. And in the background, weaving through the notes of the pipes, whistles and accordions, that ticking sound from earlier was always present. Always watching. The cold, eerie feeling started to slowly crawl across her body once more. But she stood rigid, expecting her subordinates to do the same no matter what.

She stamped her left hoof twice, and the company stamped their right hooves, then turned about as one unit, just as the doors opened in perfect sync. Through the Willow Tree door, smoke and mist poured through, moving in a lifelike fashion. Through the door of Vines, emerged a great beast. Four meters in height, and impossibly large for the door it had just moved through, it walked beside the lifelike smoke. The door of the Crucifix revealed a clockwork being, ticking to a different tune than what she was already hearing. The three figures glided, lumbered and clattered across the floor. Her company parted as one to make three rows within their ranks. Three thrones, decorated according to their corresponding doors, shimmered into existence behind her, but she did not move, nor acknowledge them.

She would later wonder how she knew what to do, and why she was front and center of the company.

Once the three figures had set upon their respective thrones, the music swelled and became more intense. Simple single doors started materializing throughout the room, bringing in creatures of all shapes and sizes, before disappearing from reality as easily as they had appeared. There were bipedal creatures, quadrupedal creatures, apes, wolves, ape-like wolves, sentient birds, serpents of all sizes and anything in between.

Guests.

Again, the word drifted through her mind like smoke. She stamped her right hoof once, and her company sank into the crowd, murmuring and speaking amongst the guests. She lifted her hoof to join them, then froze.

Stay. Guard. Observe.

She planted her hoof down, and stood up straight. Her eyes drifted over the crowd, and she knew she could speak once more.

Silence.

She clamped her mouth shut. Even if she could now speak, she was not permitted to. She was to be used as the room’s sole surveyor. Her keen eyes were to not miss a single thing. And she would act only if it were in defense of the three behind her.

And all around her, that ticking continued. A timer, a clock perhaps. She didn’t know. She didn’t need to know. It wasn’t her place to know.