Five
You would take from them pain? Steal away their suffering, their pride, their strength and will? You would hoard all that makes this world beautiful.
Chapter Five
THE RIVER RARELY FELT THE PANG OF REMORSE. Taking the pegasus in, it experienced a depth of rage no identity had ever offered before. Yet the Harmony the river brought could not be denied. It was inevitable, and as the river swept on, it slowly doused the fires lit in it.
The river collected experience, knowledge, identity. It scrambled them, scattering them on rocks and rubble, before condensing them into One. It was a group consciousness; it existed, and believed in the purity of its existence. Why should it feel remorse for bringing that Harmony to others?
***
Twilight awoke in the dark, to a chorus of music; a million voices crying out to her in perfect harmony.
She was unaware of movement, could not see, smell, or taste. In some vague, clouded area of her mind, she knew what happened around her, but she could only just barely distinguish it from the noise; that wonderful cacophony, throbbing and humming in pulse with the tides of the world. It soothed her, reassured her, and gave her a place to call her own. She was a part of it, her own notes falling into place without rhythm or reason. She belonged here.
Thought rushed through her. Twilight had always been a pony of science—a believer in her own ability to understand and influence the world. That contradiction; the key paradox between the physical and the mental, lay at the heart of her character. Here, it came to the forefront.
Was she the summation of her life; memory and conscious thought deriving together to form a consciousness? Could she be the creation of her environment; a biological creature with no true free will, but merely a chemical reaction with the illusion of thought? Did she fall outside the physical; existing only as a magical or mental construct of another? Was her mind and body separate, or did they exist as a union, the hormones in her brain and her mental state reflections of a singular entity.
Was she thinking? Thoughts swirled around her in a haze, indiscriminate and endless. She could reach out and hold one, take it as her own. She turned it over, living its short life, experiencing its pain and its joy; truths that felt right, no matter how awful. She drew conclusions, ordered logical arguments, discovered new answers. But each time, they dissolved back into the tempest, rapidly dissolving away their coherence, and their assertions. Twilight could perceive only chaos, a veritable storm of indifference.
“Does it matter?” they whispered to her. “We are.”
Twilight struggled to hold onto herself. They challenged her individuality, unravelled her mind, joining her thoughts with their own. She felt herself begin to lose herself in their flow, strands of her being torn free from her grasp to join the indomitable chorus.
She struggled feebly, until she felt another. Joining her, the other caught her, held her, and drew her back from the completeness offered. Twilight slowed her own frantic motions, sighing in relief as the chorus receded. It was not life they held there, but a blissful celebration of nihilism.
“Don’t go there, Twi’. I was lucky to get out of it at all.”
“Dash,” Twilight said. She had no voice, here, her words seeming to form out of the void, forged from nothingness. Rainbow’s answers came to her swiftly; appearing in her mind as if her friend had been there for all her life.
“Yeah, it’s me. About time somepony found me”
“You were in here the whole time. Wait, where are we?”
“We’re in Lethe,” Rainbow said, and Twilight stilled, thinking, putting the pieces together.
”How do you know that name? You were here before we even knew of his existence!” Twilight said, curiosity driving her more than indignance. It mattered little how Rainbow knew. It was obvious that this was the trap the Drac had warned them about.
“You told me. You’re bleeding all over the place, Twilight. Aren’t you supposed to be the controlled one?”
Twilight couldn’t really distinguish her voice from her friend’s, the two blurring together without sight or sound to distinguish them. Yet somehow, as she struggled to keep her scrambled mind together and whole, she could feel Rainbow’s presence. She sensed Rainbow’s essence, a stream of memory, trailing her as she flowed endlessly forward. Tentatively, Twilight reached out to it, felt it.
It was coiled, memory packed together as tightly as the pegasus could manage. Twilight was dimly aware of her own coil, more of a tangled ball of string, really, half unravelled and fraying at the ends. She began struggling again, reaching blindly for the strength to hold herself in.
“How did you end up here, Dash?”
Rainbow reached out to Twilight, a strand of her being held before her. It was a specific memory, though Twilight did not know where that conclusion had come from, or how she felt Rainbow offer it at all. Grasping it in her mind, Twilight felt its contours, its texture and flavour. She knew it completely, as if she’d lived it alongside her friend. She thought she felt Rainbow quiver slightly at her touch.
Then Twilight plunged forward, dipping her awareness down into the murky depths of memory.
***
I hovered above the clouds, eyes alert, ready to dive forward at the slightest sign of a problem. We’d scheduled a much-needed rainstorm over Ponyville late tonight—some festival or other had bumped it from the schedule I received at the start of the month, and the ground was actually beginning to crack in a few places. That meant a long day, spent corralling stray clouds for later use, and helping to clear and prepare everything on the ground. One of these days, I’d like to just throw up a thunderstorm without telling anypony in advance. It’d probably be hilarious, and totally worth the inevitable scolding.
Not tonight, though. I sighed, not looking forward to the long hours I had ahead of me. It wasn’t just the preparation that made thunderstorms so much work. While everypony else hid inside, I had to stay out here, in the wings, in case anything went wrong. Somepony needed to maintain the storm, and keep it where we wanted it, or all that work would go to waste.
Every pegasus learns the dangers of lightning before they can even walk. Most of us actually have some small phobia toward the stuff; not only does getting hit hurt like nothing else in Equestria, it can put a pegasus on the ground, permanently. I shivered. That was not cool.
Still, somepony needs to be able to control the storm, and as Captain of the Weather Team, I have the most experience. I’ve never been hit, myself, unlike others I could name, and I’m one of the few fast enough to avoid them mid-flight. It’s challenging, and dangerous, but I wouldn’t want anypony else up there. They’re my responsibility, and I’d take the hit before I let them take my place up there.
We only really need the one pegasus up there. Maintenance isn’t nearly as difficult as creation, and when it comes to these things, I’m a master.
So when evening finally rolled around, I was alone in the sky. Fortunately, from up here, the storm seemed relatively tame for all the fury it was unleashing below. I could hear the thunder, rolling through the clouds with huge cracks and booms. I could see the lightning flashing around; specks and trails of blindingly pure white against the dark. The storm had a peculiar smell, of fresh air, sodden and new, of sudden ozone and sullen anger. For all that, I was happy with its progression. From the tone of the clouds, I judged it to be perhaps half-empty, the deluge dropping the water we’d spent two weeks gathering—from the nearby clouds, and from Cloudsdale itself—in just a few hours.
Everything was awesome. I’d be home soon enough, to warm myself up under searing water and then thick blankets, and tomorrow, full of clearing the skies of the leftover clouds, and repairing any damage we’d caused on the ground, would be far, far away. I grinned hugely, taking a moment to appreciate the colossal creation beneath me. It was totally awesome.
That was when the wind came. It wasn’t anything I’d expected—there wasn’t any wind forecast in the area, apart from those the storm was generating. But those were beneath me, beneath the clouds, and this wind was up here, joining me under the stars, and beginning to press apart the storm, splitting chunks of cloud apart, and scattering them through the sky. I frowned, turning to see where the wind was coming from.
From the stars above, I was facing east. I swallowed. East was never good when it came to these things. East meant the wind was coming from the Everfree Forest. That explained its appearance—the weather over there was unregulated. If another weather team nearby had created windy conditions, they’d have informed me.
Still, the wind was breaking apart my storm, and that was totally not cool. I dived down, coming alongside the western side of my storm-wall and facing the wind head-on. I beat my wings, trying to generate enough of an air-tunnel to drive the wind away, redirect its effects elsewhere. It wouldn’t matter much if it was just a couple dozen metres higher or lower. It wouldn’t be able to affect the clouds from there.
But the wind didn’t budge, instead pressing against me. The unexpected resistance meant that my own wing-beats drove me backwards, right into the rain and thunder. I let out a short, panicked gasp, heart suddenly racing in my chest. With a swift movement, I plunged downwards and to the side, frantically racing towards the edge of the storm.
I broke through in under a second. Behind me, lightning flashed, reaching the ground before its strike registered. I took a deep breath. That had been close.
But the wind was still pressing against my storm. There weren’t many options a pegasus had when it came to redirecting wind-flow; after all, the air had to go somewhere. I flew east, directly into its path. The wind was strong, nearly gale-force, and easily twenty feet wide.
I grinned. This was something new, something different. It would make a great story, tomorrow—how Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Weather Team, had single-hoofedly saved the storm. Even better than that, though, it was a challenge. Many thought me lazy, and though I did nothing to disabuse the notion, I had found it to be something else: boredom. There wasn’t anything difficult in weather control, really—it was dangerous, certainly, but not often difficult. It just couldn’t compare with something like the Wonderbolts.
I tore along, heading up the wind-stream. It only took ten minutes to reach the edge of the Forest. It wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be for long; not only because my storm was without attention while I was all the way out here. There was something about the Forest that sent shivers down my spine.
But the wind was definitely coming from here. Hanging over the Forest, blanketing it in darkness and water, was another storm. Grey-black clouds, woven into a patchwork quilt, poured torrential rain down from the sky, lightning flickered, and thunder boomed. I flew around, getting a feel for it. The wind was definitely coming from here; somehow generated in the middle of that chaotic tempest. It flowed out, towards Ponyville; towards my storm.
I circled around, gathering speed, air streaming from my wings. Around, and around, I wrapped the air into a funnel, a column. The tornado rose around me, and, carefully, I moved it into that mass of cloud. If I could disrupt it, I might be able to alter where it was dumping all that air, even if I couldn’t halt it completely.
In seconds, the tornado had sunk into the clouds, beginning to stir them up. I held onto it for as long as I could, helping shape it, helping force it up, until it took on a life of its own, spinning out of control, supported by the inertia provided by the thick clouds surrounding it.
I flew back and up a few paces, panting but proud. A tornado like that wasn’t easy to pull off, and to maintain it for as long as I had inside that bubble—cloud so heavy, it was like flying through custard—was a feat in and of itself. Unfortunately, though it seemed to be having the desired effect, it was nowhere near enough to disrupt the storm entire. The clouds near me, near my cyclone, were wrapped up and dispersed, creating a pocket of clear air within the cloud-mass, but the wind continued uninterrupted.
The tornado collapsed, the last of its inertia used up. I hovered where I was, watching. Slowly, the clouds began to drift back together, repairing whatever damage I had been able to cause.
I shook my head. If a tornado wasn’t going to cut it, I’d have to take this thing out the hard way. I rose a few feet in the air before diving straight down, holding my wings out to the side. At the last second, just as I reached the cloud-mass, I pulled up, executing a near ninety-degree turn, and blasting through the clouds with sudden speed.
They shattered, puffs of water exploding outwards. I continued, pumping my wings through the heavy air. I was quickly out of breath, panting, with my heart racing in my chest. Sweat rose, lathering my coat, and insulating it from the icy water surrounding me. But I cut through the clouds, tore them apart, and sent them drifting away from each other. There would be no recovering from this.
I completed several laps of the storm, flying back and forth, before I pulled out. Just as I made to dart upwards, though, judging my work sufficient, lightning flickered around me, accompanied by a tremendous crash. The air itself seemed to vibrate.
I reacted instantly, throwing my wings down and shooting upwards. The lightning danced over my body, coursing through me with a flash of intense heart. My heart stopped, and then resumed its frantic motion. I was thrown up, propelled by my own knee-jerk reaction, and as the world spun around me, began to fall back towards the dissipating storm.
I plunged through the clouds. Below, the rain continued, though it seemed sporadic; only appearing here and there. The wind was nearly entirely gone. I gathered my bearings as I fell, and stretched my wings out, ignoring the deep ache. I caught the air under them, and glided out, back towards Ponyville. Thank Celestia; the lightning didn’t seem to have done any permanent damage, though I’d be sore for a few hours.
My storm was just a dark patch on the horizon. I sighed, beginning to move back towards it, but I’d only made it to the edge of the Forest when I realised how thirsty I was. I cast my gaze around. As luck would have it, there was a river right below me. Happily, I dived down towards the ground, landing softly on its bank, and lowered my head, taking a deep drink.
Refreshed, I prepared to take back to the skies, but was struck with a strange weariness—as if something was sucking the life out of me. I decided I must have been more tired than I thought. After all, it had been a long day, and that brief stint had been intense. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to take a nap, just for a few minutes . . .
***
“And then, I woke here.” Rainbow withdrew back into that tight ball.
Twilight put it together. Rainbow hadn’t met the Drac at any point; the only common link between their stories was the river they’d drunk from. Twilight could barely believe it; it seemed too fantastical to be true. Still, there was that old maxim; eliminate the impossible. There was simply no other explanation.
“Here: in Lethe. In the river. Oh, Celestia, what a marvel.”
“I know. I know everything you do, everything you think . . . or thought.” Rainbow’s voice was unmistakably bitter.
“What?”
“Weren’t exactly looking out for me back there, were you, Twilight?”
“I—Rainbow . . .”
“Save it. How do we get out?”
“I . . . don’t know. I only just got here. Give me some time to explore.”
“Oh? Explore, meaning figure out how to get out of here? Or are you just buying time so you can have a look around first?”
“Dash! Of course I want to get you out!”
“Do you, Twilight? Because when I first got here, I sure didn’t.“
Twilight recoiled from Rainbow’s voice, so accusing in its fear. Shrinking from further contact, and seeking comfort and shelter in the choir behind her, Twilight lost herself amidst the voices. There, she felt safe, included and protected in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.
They called to her, joined with her and flowed through her, piecing her apart and allowing the unicorn to forget, to become one with the world around her and simply exist. It was euphoric, a peace she hadn’t felt before. It was the peace of not caring.
“Oh, no. You aren’t falling for that, Twilight. I won’t let you.”
Rainbow pulled her back. Twilight didn’t know how, but the choir faded to the very edges of her hearing, Rainbow’s essence filling Twilight’s consciousness.
“I’m not really mad, you know. It’s okay to be curious, Twilight.”
“But I could’ve fought harder. I didn’t have to abandon you.”
“You couldn’t have beaten him anyway, Twi’. Besides, we’d be no closer to getting out of here. Don’t sweat it.”
Twilight couldn’t quite bring herself to believe her.
“Try and figure out some way to get us out. Just stay out my mind while you do it.”
***
“It’s a stream of consciousness, Dash. As if every memory Lethe ever absorbed is contained within the one group identity; the river. That’s those voices, a choir of a million, in perfect harmony because it’s really just one,” Twilight said, excitedly. She’d spent some time examining the currents around her, trying to find something she knew, something that could be their ticket out of here.
“Mmm.”
“It reminds me of the Elements. The stream feels like their power. Did you ever hear the voices?”
“What, from the Elements?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Oh. I did, when we channelled their power. A voice from each fragment, crying out, all at the same time.”
“The Elements are a part of this?”
Yes. I think this might be related to their magic. From my studies, it uses the internal harmony of us; the Bearers, to fuel it. It’s some kind of fundamental magic in the structure of the world; like the links between atoms, almost.”
“And how does what that monster showed you help?”
“The Drac is not a monster, Dash! He is my friend, and he knows Spike.”
“What he did was seriously not cool.”
“Ugh. In any case, he acknowledged me when I threw emotion at him. I could never have matched him within the context of Celestia’s lessons—he was trying to force me to lose control. When I felt anger, I hurled it at him, and . . . well, you know.”
“Anger isn’t harmony.”
“No, but it operated along the same lines. A physical manifestation of an emotional response, almost like, say, your Sonic Rainboom. I’ll bet you were pretty worked up the first few times you did it.”
“Of course I was. Rarity, Spitfire, Soarin’ … they were all going to die; as if I’d let that happen.”
“I should think that's the point. That's exactly his point.“
A sudden spike of alarm from Rainbow washed over Twilight, interrupting her musings.
“Are you ready?” Rainbow asked. She’d mentioned it earlier, but Twilight had become so wrapped up in her theories and explanations, the novelty of the experience absorbing her wholly, that she’d nearly forgotten it was coming.
The problem was, at the moment, they were floating within a relatively calm river. But Rainbow had been in here for far longer than Twilight, and apparently, that was about to end.
“I think so.”
“As fun as it would have been to prank you, I think you’d better be ready. It was extremely difficult to find myself afterward.”
“You didn’t have an anchor before, Dash. If we hold together, to each other, maybe we won’t lose ourselves,” Twilight said. She could only hope that that was true.
Twilight could feel the river picking up speed, its currents beginning to tear at her, pulling threads out of her control. With Rainbow’s help, she took back each strand, entwining it into her consciousness, trying to hold every moment of her life all at once, rendered in exquisite detail in the forefront of her mind. It wouldn’t be long now.
They continued to flow, faster and faster, as if drawn forward by something. Gravity. We’re not flowing, we’re falling. Endlessly falling forward, Twilight realised. The river was growing steeper, water ahead dropping away, and pulling them behind it.
It doesn’t matter, Rainbow said. Focus, Twi’.
Twilight shook the thought from her mind, hastily returning to the defences she’d erected. she could feel herself beginning to unwind, streaming away into the current like grains of sand, slipping through tiny cracks. And then the river reached the castle proper, and with a warning cry from Rainbow, they plunged over the edge and out into open space.
Twilight exploded. Bits and pieces, fragments of her being, shot out in every direction. She struggled to hold on, drawing in the threads of memory and grasping them firmly. She could feel Rainbow doing the same. The rocks and the air tore at them, ripping them apart and throwing them together, trying to scatter them to the wind through every split drop sent flying. Twilight felt herself shredded, felt precious experiences abruptly stolen from her with every passing moment. In the gale, she held tight to herself and despaired at what she lost.
Yet through all the torment, the merciless flow of water through air, over rock and rubble, Rainbow held fast. Catching not only herself but also those parts of her friend that slipped Twilight’s grasp, she wrapped herself into a single, encompassing desire to survive and waited for the eye of the storm.
Twilight knew what such protection cost her friend. Each time Rainbow reached out, Twilight saw another piece of her, lived it as Rainbow had. The intrusion, unintentional, unavoidable, frightened the pegasus, as much as she tried to hide it.
It came suddenly, a peace enveloping them as the current slowed, their being expelled from the chaos, yet still wrapped around each other. In the silence, the chorus sang an unending requiem, united.
Thank you.
Don’t mention it.
Twilight could no longer tell who spoke, so tightly was she bound to Rainbow. Thoughts passed between them soundlessly. A foreboding warned her, yet Twilight already knew, knew completely all Rainbow had experienced in this hell. As they approached oneness, a unity in nothingness, she knew, with a wonder that surpassed all experience.
Twilight’s moment had come during a Summer Sun Celebration in her foal-hood. Abruptly, she was there again, gazing up at the sun goddess spread before her. She beheld radiance, warm and completing. It enthralled her, enticed her. She had spent her life looking up to it, wondering. Her fascination had spread, encompassing the entire world, yet for her, it was an intellectual admiration. The spark had awakened in her curiosity, burning with all the fire of Celestia’s sun.
One day, yesterday, a birthday years ago, Rainbow’s parents had taken her to a Wonderbolts show. The images swam forward in Twilight’s mind, merging with her own to become part of her life. It had been a wondrous event for the filly, awed with their precision, power and speed. Rainbow had been star-struck immediately. She became obsessed with replicating that performance, each stunt, each trick leading her towards an ever-growing summit. She sank herself into training, focusing on developing wing-power, agility and endurance. As a result, she eventually dropped out of school; having no interest in education beyond flight mechanics.
The Wonderbolts became her life. Twilight followed as every moment not spent working was devoted to her idols, and, as she grew better and better, they became faster, moving ever more out of reach. They represented the pinnacle of achievement, a height she could never quite reach. She wouldn’t know what to do if she did.
Rainbow had never worshipped her mind as Twilight had. Her body was her temple, an organism built and honed for one purpose, speed. Her talent, her Cutie Mark, her special trick; the Sonic Rainboom, it all revolved around speed. If she were to ever reach that pedestal, it would be by being the fastest flier in Equestria. Others were strong, or agile, or graceful, or smart. Rainbow was fast.
Yet here, she moved at the same pace as Twilight, carried by the current. Denied not speed, but her freedom to move, to fly, to set her own pace, Rainbow was trapped. A cage far worse than Twilight had found it to be, a mental realm. Taken from her body, she was taken from her life. From that pain came rage, an unspeakable anger that Twilight felt alongside her. It seeped into her, informed her, inspired her.
Rage had kept her together, thrown into the chaotic storm unprepared and alone. Rage had lent her the strength to deny the comfort of oblivion. Rage had wrapped Twilight into her to hold her safe, believing her to be Rainbow’s only way out, even if it cost her her privacy.
Emotional magic. Subconsciously holding herself together with the emotional magic the river is founded in. That’s the key, Twilight thought. She was here, in the stream, and she was there, in the stands, and in the sky with Rainbow, experiencing again all the time spent learning in the libraries, all the time spent training.
Somewhere in the midst of Rainbow’s mind, she recognised the necessity before them. There was no avoiding this joining, not any more. Rainbow slowly, tentatively, relaxed, no longer holding herself apart. The bits and pieces Twilight had gathered through their experience suddenly seemed inadequate; memories no longer sufficient. She felt Rainbow, all that the pegasus was, and felt Rainbow experience her life as if it was her own.
You do forgive me.
They inexorably drew together, the water picking up pace as it carried them down towards unity. They could no longer separate mental dialogue from communication. They no longer remembered two beings.
Then all was One. Time halted, the universe stopping in its tracks to watch the glorious burst of light pass underground, streaking through the fabric of space. The world barely noticed its passage, a faint rumbling heard by the Forest alone to herald their death, and a tremor in Canterlot their rebirth.
They emerged from the mountain over Canterlot, erupting into millions of particles. Droplets of their being, sparkling in the sunlight, were scattered in the mountain winds as they rained down onto the rocks. For a short time, there was no thought, only a frantic gasp before they returned to that Unity. Droplets, raining down, rejoining the stream and each other; they flowed together, thought together. Each knew the other as completely as they knew themselves, and existed, blissfully secure.
They followed the voices, a siren song in the dark. It seemed natural, succumbing to the call of the choir, chasing after its elusive notes. They no longer felt the need to hold back. They poured their self into the communal spirit as easily as water, rejoining the stream with simple satisfaction. It was simpler to follow, simpler to exist. They were.
There was no truth anymore. They felt no pain, no loss or even joy. Existence inspired in them nothing but warmth, a contentedness that stemmed not from emotion but from life. It was enough for them, for now. They slept. They were.
Yet they were also restless. The stream was endlessly fascinating to them, it held their attention completely. They studied the flow, grasped new aspects of their imprisonment. They managed a small shock at that realization. Their perception of their environment did not bother them. They were.
They couldn’t wait to break free. Imprisonment was their worst nightmare. It tugged at their heart, demanding retribution. It confined them, restricted them, and forced itself on their every moment. They could not rest so contained. They could not exist. They were.
There had never been a difference, really. They had wanted to stay and study, learn from experience, and they had wanted to escape, to reclaim their life and form and dreams. They had struggled to distinguish, to remember. There was no longer any need. The voices experienced for them. They watched, listened as they sang, and they knew all that had passed between them.
They sang to the voices, and the voices sang back. There was no discord between them, no animosity. They existed in tandem with the choir and it with them. They tolerated each other.
Something slipped through their grasp. They snatched it back, trembling with sudden fear; a shock that brought their thoughts to the forefront of their mind. It was a memory, a scene from some past life; two ponies, bickering over a trivial matter. They agreed with both sides, identified with both individuals. They were the same. They moved through time, absorbing consciously what they’d already known. They found two lives, two identities. They were the same.
Except that they were different. They felt conflicted, suddenly desiring to run and to stay, to escape, hidden beneath a mask, and to stand upright, face their fears in an acknowledgment of self. They thought to hide, burying themselves in the other. The choir sang to them, more urgent now, demanding. They did not listen, preoccupied with their self; with the self that they recognised as foreign.
They both hated being alone. In that, they were the same. They’d spent their lives building reputations, relationships; methods and channels for social interaction, discovering how to relate with others. They both came from neglectful backgrounds.
One of them had been left, very young. She had learned to fend for herself, to be better, stronger and faster than those around her. She was above them, didn’t need them. She was herself, and she was replete, and yet horribly alone. The sky was too large for a single pony to rule.
One of them had left, of her own volition. She had been nurtured, cared for and loved. Yet somehow she had created isolation for herself, hiding away from those around her. She had neglected them from fear of neglecting one, and in doing so had centred her world on the one thing she could never attain.
They were different, and they were the same. Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash recognised that contradiction, and, fighting the siren song that danced around them all the while, slowly pulled away from each other.
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So we come to the end. I certainly hope that everyone reading enjoyed Lethe as much as I did writing it.
I'm well aware that there are quite a few plot points left unresolved. This is intentional, all I'll say is keep an eye out for a follow-up. Lethe was intended, and written, to serve as a prologue. Teehee.
That said, I'm not done with it yet. At some point, presumably a ways off yet, I'm planning on coming back and rewriting large sections. There are issues to be fixed, such as the pacing - something I always end up struggling with.
I'd greatly appreciate all feedback - good, bad, whatever, I don't care. Seriously. Everything helps. The one thing I'd ask, is to constrain spoilers to PM's; while not exactly surprising, there is a certain satisfaction to be found in reading it for yourself, no matter what the story.
That's all from me for now. I'm planning on using my blog to post author's notes, or anything related. But don't hold your breath.
-Preservation
you're a bad person
1427689
This might just be my favourite comment ever.
Great story, I enjoyed too much. You deserve more thumbs up, but I can only give one and a fav.
dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Octavia_cake.png
Oh holy crap Brandon Sanderson.
I am reading this as soon as I finish The Tears of Gaia.
2104163
Brandon Sanderson is just ... incredibly good. Like, really, really, really amazing.
The crossover/AU that involves his work is subtle, but anyone familiar with the Cosmere, and especially the Mistborn trilogy should be able to pick the links up. I hope you enjoy it!
2591869
I am aware of this, though I wasn't at the time. It's one of the issues I'm fixing in the rewrite, which I hope will be ready within a couple of months
awesome story!
2601531
Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it!
Edit: The rewrite is now live. The original is accessible through the G-Docs link in the story description, but really, why would you want to read that? This version is all shiny, and new, and better . . . :)
Okay, this has been bugging me - "pegasi" is the plural, and "pegasus" the singular form. Stuff like "We only really need the one pegasi up there" is inconsistent and jarring.
In other news, I am now reasonably sure that the Cognitive Realm in the vicinity of Equestria is a bucking terrifying place. If this chapter is any indication, I for one would prefer to wade near Sel (specifically noted as hazardous) than here.
6075429
It's pegai, not pegasi.
6259681
Try again. Looking at that, I believe pegai is the plural of pege. The Pegasus itself, in Greek mythology, was a singular creature and therefore had no natural plural, any more than we'd talk (without crossing generations) about Tireks or Smoozes.
But all of that is irrelevant before one fact: as of Sonic Rainboom, pegasi is an official MLP pluralization of pegasus (alongside "pegasus ponies").
And even that is irrelevant before the fact that, no matter what else it is or isn't, pegasi is not a singular form of anything.
Who mentioned? What? Coromancy is not a word I have seen in this story, and it sounded like she was saying the Drac said it.
Also there is a period missing at the end of this line.
Aside from that
Shallows of Self? Puddles of Self?
When they were going over the waterfall I actually kinda felt my stomach drop out from under me. I hate roller-coasters, but good job on that.
Still not feeling a whole lotta linkage to Mistborn, but I guess I haven't actually finished it yet, and it has been over a year since I last read the original trilogy.
Very intense. I like it.