> Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum
>  by DarkZonker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Canterlot Castle. The dim lamps gave the hallways a soft orange glow as Princess Luna trotted to the library. Night court was over and all of the sniveling nobles who thought that she would give into their demands easier than her sister had long since left in disappointment. The night guards had been dismissed, there was practically no reason why she needed them, Luna could protect herself, but she did her best to placate her sister. 

        The library neared, its large oak doors nearly triple Luna’s height. There was an inscription above it, reading Knowledge is Power. Two guards stood vigilant on either side of the doors. One saw her approach and unlocked the doors with a large brass key. Why her sister had decided that the library needed to be locked up at night Luna would never understand. With a thought, the doors were enveloped in an indigo hue and swung open. Following her through, the doors closed with a clink, the locks falling back into place.

        The fact that the stacks had not changed in the thousand years Luna had been gone was a small consolation. The towering bookcases could probably reach her heavens if somepony were to stack them on top of each other. The thousands of books filled the air with the smell of aging paper, parchment, and ink. Luna sucked in a lungful of the air through her nose and held the smell in for as long as she could. Letting it out with a sigh, Luna vowed that she should spend her free time in the library. 

        She passed tower after tower of aging wood until she saw the locked door of the Starswirl the Bearded wing. The iron barred door was extremely similar to a jail door, the likeness usually scaring away the skittish ponies that prowled the library. Luna opened the door with a key levitated from her flowing starry mane. A giant hourglass sat in the center of the wing, sand granules slowly counting away the hours. Bookcases split up the wing into five different alleys, each filled with knowledge too dangerous for the public or too advanced for the normal ponies who came from the School for Gifted Unicorns. Only a select group was even allowed in this part of the library, mostly composed of the princesses, archmages, and a hooful of ponies that Luna and her sister trusted. 

        Luna took the path that went the same direction from the door, directly behind the hourglass. This was the battle section of the wing, filled with scrolls and aging, decrepit books that detailed the finer points of battle magic. How to make constructs, powerful magic beams, and golems were scrawled in old equestrian, remnants of the Great War, the war to end all wars.

        Hidden behind a bookcase, Luna found a sealed, steel, circular vault. The hinges slightly rusted and the pronged wheel jutting out from the front was covered in cobwebs. Above the vault was scrawled an ancient language that, most likely, only she and her sister even knew anymore.The font flowed and connected to the other symbols, so much so that to an untrained eye they didn’t even look like separate letters. It took Luna a second to dredge up the memories of millenniums past. The letters suddenly made sense as she peered at them. They said “Si vis pacem, para bellum,” if you want peace, prepare for war.

        How fitting, Luna thought, that Celestia would inscribe that. The vault was built after Luna had been banished. Before, all of the vaults contents would have just been a normal part of the Starswirl wing, but now Celestia had deemed them too dangerous for pony eyes and hid them. Luna spun the wheel with her magic making several large thunks behind the door, the cobwebs shattering and left to float helplessly in the air.

She pulled on the vault door with her magic. The door didn’t budge, it just merely creaked and groaned. Luna strained against the door, her horn glowing brighter and a vein popping out in her neck. The door groaned in protest as it was pulled inch by hard fought inch away from the wall. Rust fell off of the hinges into a dirty red pile on the hardwood floor. Air whooshed into the vault past her as soon as the two chambers were unseparated. In return, a hurricane of dust erupted from the vault chamber, sending Luna into a sneezing fit and covering the immediate area with a thin layer of the grey particles.

Luna peered into the vault, her head sticking slightly through the door, it was pitch black. Luna concentrated and sent multiple balls of magic fire flinging down the vault and sticking to the ceiling. She sent another burst of concentration and the magic flames grew larger and brighter. She wrapped her hoof around the closest one; no heat, perfect. 

The vault was a long corridor lined on both sides with bookshelves no taller than herself. A few had broken down the middle, their contents of scrolls and books sitting on top of each other covered in the rotted remains of the shelves. Above each shelf was the silhouette of a creature. They would stay the same all on one side then change to another and another as they wrapped around the end of the corridor and back around to the entrance.

Looking to her left, Luna saw the shadow of a pony above the shelves about fifteen down, where it changed into a gryphon. Her eyes passed over many silhouettes as she walked down the corridor, some she hadn’t even seen in thousands of years. At the end of the hallway sat another shelf, the only different thing about this one was that it was the only shelf in the whole vault that had one silhouette. It was in the shape of a bipedal creature, which she knew to be slightly smaller and slimmer than a minotaur, but still larger than Celestia or herself. It was holding a large circular shield and a spear much taller than itself.

There was a multitude of scrolls and books but what drew her eye was a large, thick leather bound book that sat cover-up on the bottom of the shelf. She didn’t recognize the words in the title, but they looked older than even her. With a flash from her horn, a large pillow appeared on the floor in front of the bookshelf with a popping discharge of magic. Luna laid down on it and levitated the book towards her and sat it down in front of the pillow. The book had another layer of dust on it at least a horseshoe thick. With a thought, her magic brushed away the dust cleanly, depositing it in the corner next to a corner-spanning cobweb.

When she opened it, she found that the words were ones she could understand. She knew what was in this book and hoped to find the answers she needed from it. War was looming once more. Nations were gearing their armies for another great battle and if Equestria didn’t intervene soon, the whole world would soon be ravaged by the savagery of new technology wielded by prideful rulers. There were always answers in the past, history that was being repeated, and if a pony looked hard enough they might find a way to stop it.

What Luna held in her hooves was the key to the lockbox of troubles that was emerging in the world. If needed, she would read every single document in the vaults to find what she needed, but it started with this shelf, the shelf of humans. The large bipedal creatures started the Great War with the dragons, and by the end of the conflict nearly extinct. Maybe by studying the records of the humans, Luna hoped she could find the same patterns that were occurring now.

She turned the pages, losing herself to the narrative of the poet who wrote the epic...

> Discovery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Luna slammed the book shut with a poof of dust. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, even with all of the information that was contained in the book none of it helped her mission. She swept the book aside with her hooves, her throat clenching as she tried and failed to keep her teeth from grinding together. With a scream of rage, Luna levitated the book with a rapid shuffle of papers and other noises and shot it at the human’s shelf.

The shelf exploded in a shower of wood, parchment and books. Luna covered herself with a blue feathered wing, she could feel her feathers being peppered with chunks of the destroyed shelf. When the barrage died down all she could see was grey. She made the mistake of breathing, sucking in a lungful of unbreathable particles. Luna started coughing, the deep hacks turning into dry heaves as she desperately tried to evacuate her lungs. With each cough she had to draw in more air, which brought more dust. She couldn’t breathe. It was a neverending cycle of suffocating torture, barely able to receive much needed oxygen.

Luna’s cyan aura surrounded her long, sharp horn and proceeded to flow like water over the rest of her body. The magic film had entirely covered her, filtering the dust out of the delicious, clean air. When the coughing fit had finally passed, Luna expanded the magic field, pushing away the unsettled dust, the clouds flowing with the magic and finally settling on the adjacent bookshelves.

She looked to the human shelves and sighed. The shelf was in shambles, the leaves sagging to the left from the book sized hole in the supports. The leather bound journals and scrolls were scattered all over the floor. Luna felt disappointment come crashing down. She couldn’t let those emotions out anymore, they could only lead to ruin. Just like that poor shelf, she thought.

She sifted through the rubble with her magic, salvaging anything of use and stacking it in a neat pile. A levitating book brushed the unstable edge of the shelf causing it to fully collapse. This time Luna was ready, she contained the falling debris with a sphere of magic and levitated it to the other detritus. As she hoofed through the stacked documents next to her, a metallic glint caught her eye. She looked up to where the bookshelf used to be and saw a small silver keyhole glinting in the magical light.

Luna raised an eyebrow as her head tilted slightly to the side. She rubbed a hoof over it, it was seamless, except for the keyhole. Luna couldn’t even tell what it unlocked or if it even opened. Luna concentrated and imagined a key, as soon as she thought it the light blue magic from her horn broke off and swirled in front of her. Ribbons of light twisting into the shape of an old iron key, like the ones the guards used to open the dungeon cells. Her key was light blue, however, and twinkled with the essence of her magic.

She levitated her magic key to the keyhole. Luna inserted the key and started to turn it when her concentration started to slip. She thought harder, but it only made things worse. The key disappeared in a pop, and the magic shot back into her horn, knocking her head back. It felt like an ice lance had pierced Luna’s skull. Kind of like when she had eaten the royal kitchen’s whole store of ice cream after her return. What had Celestia called it? she pondered as the pain receded. Ah yes, a brain freeze I think.

She laid a detection spell over the keyhole and gently probed it for magic. She felt a strand of something old, and foreign. It felt greasy in her magical grip, this was not a magic used by ponies. Pony magic felt warm and comforting from all but the most black hearted villains. She pushed on the magic a little harder, feeling it bend to her will. Luna kept pushing, the spell felt like it was going to break. Luna’s grip on the foreign spell started to slip, her heart started racing. Suddenly, the spell snapped out of her grip and into it’s original position like a rubberband. She felt the brain freeze again, less so than the first time but still painful.

Luna groaned and flopped backwards onto her pillow, her wings splayed out to the sides. She dragged a hoof down her muzzle, pulling the skin with it. Her mind started racing as she thought of ways to unlock… whatever it was she wanted to unlock. Her eyes scoured the area for any sign of a key, to no avail. A memory floated to the forefront of her mind, of the large book she had earlier. The spine of the book had rattled slightly when she threw it. 

She found the remains of the book in the pile of materials only slightly destroyed by its flight. The ornate front cover of the book had been torn off, and various pages were bent and crumpled. She shook it with her magic, making the pages rustle and the sound of something bouncing inside of it reaching her ears. She tore the spine off of the book, the pages spread out as they floated gently to the ground. A brass key the same size as the keyhole hit the ground with a clink. 

Luna grinned as she levitated the key. It had a simple design, very traditional. The teeth were two rectangles; one small, the other large. Its brass plating shined in the magical light overhead. She levitated the key to it’s rightful place and turned it, the internal locks noisily unlocking. A small square popped out of the wall seamlessly. Luna giggled uncontrollably as she practically ripped open the door. The hole it revealed was deep and pitch black, a cool breeze blew out and further tousled Luna’s already flowing mane. 

With a thought, Luna shot a magical flame into the pit. It turned out that the hole wasn’t as deep as Luna thought. It only went about a foreleg deep, and at the end was a small stack of ribbon tied journals. Her light blue aura enveloped them as she floated them out to her pillow. The ribbon was the color of blood and tied in a small bow around the stack. The end of the ribbon glowed blue, making the ribbon appear a deep purple. Luna tugged on the end and the bow fell apart. She pulled the ribbon away from the journals and draped it over her neck. It was soft, unbelievably soft, like pure refined silk. Luna let out a sigh of bliss and tucked away the ribbon into her chestpiece.

She took a look at the journals; two were unmarked and the other had the words Veni, Vidi, Vici,  scrawled across the front in gold lettering. Another human book, she thought, maybe this one will have what I need.

Opening the journal, Luna hungrily read the handwritten words that flowed across the page. This was written in a slightly different dialect than the books from earlier. Luna took a moment to get used to the changes, mentally fixing the grammar to fit what she knew. Already, the journal was being more helpful than the whole bookshelf from before. This one appeared to be from before the war, and Luna hoped that the other two were similar in usefulness.

Luna flipped back to the beginning and her eyes flicked from word to word, the journal finally making sense as she immersed herself into the entries.



	

Spring equinox. Year of the Huntress.

Tomorrow, I become a man. I feel so happy that I could just explode, I’ve been waiting for this day since as long as I could remember. Laina says that the ceremony is stupid and that I don’t need it to be a man, that she can already see it. She’s wrong. This is the only way I’ll ever prove myself to her father. Soon, I’ll be marching with my brothers and return home a hero. Maybe then her father will accept me and then we can finally be together. But first, I have to pass my test. I know it won’t be easy, killing a feral whelp, but it’s the only way to pass my ceremony and become the man that Laina needs.


-Marcus













        A sea breeze blew through the temple, the cool air making Marcus shiver in his tunic, the fact that he was kneeling completely still not helping his warmth. He bowed his head again, whispering a few words then plunging his knife into the lamb. It cried out, kicking and jerking around a little, making the knife cut even more. Hot blood poured out of the wound and into the waiting wooden bowl below it. The lamb’s cries got weaker until it stopped and went slack in his hands, blood still flowing freely. When the blood had finally finished, Marcus gently put the lamb aside. He would take it back home later and cook it, he decided.





	The blood had turned a dark red in the bowl, staining the wood. He dipped his index finger into the ruby liquid and raised it to the giant marble statue of a warrior woman wielding a drawn bow. Her face was carved focused, her eyes molded into intense orbs. Marcus muttered a few phrases in prayer and touched the bloody finger to his forehead. It was still warm as he drew a line from the middle of his brow to the tip of his nose. Dipping his finger in the bowl once again, he followed the curve of his chin, making a little arc just below his lower lip. The wind blew through again, the still wet lines on his face colder than the rest of him. He could feel the blood drying and constricting on his face. He drew another line across the middle of his forehead, then bowed. 


	


	Finishing his prayer, Marcus rose and grabbed the bowl as well as the lamb, which he slung over his shoulder. A little blood seeped out and stained his tunic. He walked out of the marble temple and down the rough hewn stairs that were carved into the cliff face. His city was just below the cliff, situated on both sides of the large river that fed into the sea. He could see the lantern light below him that reminded him of the warm bed that awaited him.


	


        Marcus approached the outskirts and walked to the wooden house nestled into the cliff face. He stopped at the large, gnarled tree in front of the house. He said a prayer and carefully dumped the blood out of the bowl. He watched as the dark liquid soaked into the soil around the tree. Satisfied, he continued towards the house.





        The moon rose high in the sky as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared below the horizon of the sea. It was curved like a pale grey sickle as it cut through the star-speckled sky. Marcus opened the door and was greeted by the warmth and light of a fire. He had stoked it before he left for the temple hours ago and it was still extremely hot. He walked into the kitchen and skinned the lamb, dicing it’s meat and throwing it into the black iron pot. He placed the pot above the fire and watched it boil, stirring it occasionally. This was the last meal he was going to eat before the ceremony tomorrow. Marcus smiled at the thought, his dreams were finally starting to come true.





        As he ate the stew, Marcus thought about the ceremony tomorrow. First, they were going to bless him and his journey. Then, they would present him with a dagger, enchanted to be able to pierce dragon scales. Finally, he would be sent off to return with the dragon whelp on his back or die trying. He really hoped it was the first option. 





        Laina would be there for the blessing. He grinned at the thought of seeing her, with her long raven hair and delicate-but intense when she needed to-features. Hazel eyes that could switch from soul piercing to loving in the blink of an eye. Excitement threatened to burst from his chest, but he beat the feeling down. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, he had to stay focused. Marcus shoveled the last of the stew down his throat and walked to his bedroom. He removed his sandals and laid down on the hay mattress. His mind racing with thoughts of the future as he slowly drifted off to sleep. 


> Ceremonies
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        A shaft of light pierced the darkness of Marcus’ room, illuminating his closed eyes like a bandanna. His eyes cracked open slowly, squinting through the light. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, trying to knock the sleep out of his system. He sat up with a stretch, popping his neck and spine with a twist. His legs swung over the edge of the bed as he finished releasing his built up tension.

        He brushed the straw that was stuck to his tunic off and straightened it out. Marcus looked at his apparel deeming it clean for the trials ahead. Slipping on the discarded sandals from yesterday, Marcus walked outside to the nearby well. The bucket fell into the cool, dark hole ending with an echoing splash. He pulled on the rope hand-over-hand, the jerking bucket spilling a little water back into the well. Bucket in hand, Marcus walked back inside to the water basin that was in a small closet near his room. 

He opened the door and saw the stone basin at the far end of the closet. Above the basin was a small mirror, really only big enough to fit his face. The room itself was barely big enough to stand in, his shoulders had maybe half a foot of clearance from either wall. Marcus poured the water into the basin and dipped his hands in. The ice cold water numbed his hands as he cupped it and splashed his face. The shock from the cold washing away any remnants of sleep. He continued to wash his face, scraping the long dried blood from his forehead, chin, and nose. 

He wiped the freezing water off of his face with a hand. A breeze had swept through the closet making his slightly damp face even colder. He placed his hands on both sides of the basin and leaned. Marcus looked at the mirror and was greeted by his own face. His green eyes stared right back as he looked over his face. There was a slight bloody tinge to his skin making him look a little sunburnt. His messy brown hair hung down to bushy eyebrows in a curly mop. There was long stubble, at least three days worth, that covered the lower half of his face and met up with the rest of his hair at his sideburns. 

He grabbed the bronze razor that hung on a wooden peg underneath the mirror. The long straight razor shone in the closet’s low light. Marcus snatched the bar of soap that sat in the rim of the basin and started lathering his face and neck. He grabbed the razor close to the blade and brought it to his cheekbones, thankful that his sharp facial features didn’t get in the way of shaving. Marcus pulled the blade down, cutting away the soapy, black veil. He managed to not cut himself shaving the rest of his face and neck, leaving the short sideburns that hung down from his hair.

Splashing the rest of the lather off Marcus ran a hand along his cheek and chin, reveling in the smoothe tingling sensation. The elders had told him that being clean shaven was an important part of the pre-ritual. He didn’t understand why but he would follow their directions, they were the elders for a reason.

Marcus, content with his appearance, grabbed the long, worn, green travelling cloak and left his house. As he closed the front door, He looked at its wind battered facade and thought about how long it would be until he saw it again.He threw the cloak around his shoulders, clasping it at his collarbone. Sighing, Marcus started the walk down the dirt road into the city. He quickly fell into a rhythm of the sound of his sandals crunching the rocks. He allowed his mind to drift as he continued down the road. Trees and rocks passed by as a brown and green blur. A pastel colored blotch broke out from the mould. 

What? He thought. That color really didn’t fit in his scenery. Marcus stopped and found the foreign colors. What he first saw was a bright red wooden wagon, followed by several colorful ponies. Marcus didn’t much like the ponies, they looked disproportionate and acted silly all of the time. How a society could just burst out into song and dance for no reason baffled him. As much as he didn’t like them, their transportation was wrecked. Marcus could see that both left wheels were busted. It was the polite thing to do, to help them, and he was honor bound to help.

With a sigh, Marcus approached the ponies. One of the ponies was standing on a box, pointing a foreleg at the others and barking orders. He was white with a grey mane and a marionette “cutie mark” or whatever they called it. His underlings were scrambling around comically searching for the tools to fix their wagon.

“Hello,” Marcus called out, startling the boss pony. The pony jumped nearly a foot in the air, his hair spiking out like a rolled up porcupine. Marcus really didn’t like ponies.

The pony turned around, a look of fear flashing across his face as he saw the tall, well-built, cloaked human. It passed quickly as he recognized that the human was not acting threatening. He was what they called an earth pony, if Marcus remembered correctly. A face splitting smile burst out on his face.

 “Ah, hello,” Marcus could tell that the pony was struggling with his words. “My name is Marionette, and this is my Traveling Show,” he ended with an elaborate bow, then gestured to his employees. The others caught on to their leader after a second of dumbly staring and started doing backflips and juggling random balls that were practically pulled out of nowhere. Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“It seems like you’re having some wagon troubles,” Marionette suddenly looked sheepish, a drastic change from his showboating attitude from before. “I can help you if you’d like.”

“That would, um, be very much appreciated… uh…” Marionette stumbled a little on his words, but clearly digging for Marcus’ name.

“Marcus,” he said curtly, walking over to the pony troupe.

“Marcus,” Marionette said slowly, getting used to the name in his mouth.

“Mhm,” Marcus hummed. He knelt down next to the back left wheel. A chunk of it was missing and it’s axle was broken. He turned his head to the other broken wheel; it had broken in half, the top axle was the only thing supporting the wagon.

“We were on the way to Atlantis down the road there to perform but hit a particularly nasty pothole and drove off the road,” Marionette explained as he saw Marcus inspect the damage. “We’ve been trying to fix it for the last hour, but nothing worked.”

“Yeah, I can help,” Marcus said with a nod. “You’ll be out of here in five minutes, tops.”

        “Oh thank you, Marcus,” Marionette breathed out a sigh of relief.

        Marcus nodded and closed his eyes. He pressed his hands together, hard enough to hurt his wrists. Focusing, he imagined the curve of the wheel. Marionette saw his hands glow with a forest green aura, his jaw dropped fast enough to break the sound barrier. Marcus began to slowly pull apart his hands, his fingers curling into a cradle. Matter started swirling between his palms, delicately spinning into the form that he held within his minds eye. 

        The wheel piece finished materializing with a magical pop. Marcus opened his eyes and quickly grabbed the floating piece of wood, fitting it into the wheel. He held his hands over the separated wheel pieces and concentrated on forming them back together. The wheel glowed the same forest green, then dissipated. Marcus removed his hands, finding that the wheel was completely fixed.

“Hey, can someone lift the wagon for a bit please,” Marcus asked Marionette from over his shoulder.

“Yeah, just one second,” Marionette said. He turned to the other ponies and yelled at them loudly in their own language, a nickering and whinnying language with some words tinged with roots of many other languages.

 Two large ones, that just rippled with muscle and looked like they could squish Marcus with a single stomp, stumbled and their eyes flashed with fear. Another bark from Marionette and they ran as fast as they could to the wagon and slipped in and lifted the massive wooden box. The axle exposed, Marcus held his hands out covering the axle in his aura. It flashed green and popped, slightly blinding Marcus.

He did the same with the other wheel, hastily fixing the wagon. The wheels and axles looked as good as new, one even sparkled a little, which made absolutely no sense to Marcus considering that it was wood. Marcus stepped back and admired his work with a grin.

“There you go, all fixed,” said Marcus.

“That was incredible, I didn’t even know humans could use magic,” Marionette said breathlessly.

“Yeah, well,” Marcus said, his eyes drooping, “this one can.”

Marionette saw Marcus’ face fall, his good cheer from earlier disappearing, Marionette folded his ears. 

        “Uh… Oh!” His ears perked back up. “Thank you for repairing my wagon. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

        Marcus smiled and turned to the pony. “Now that you mention it, you said you were headed to Atlantis, right?”

        “Yeah, we have a show there tomorrow.”

        “I could… use a ride?”

        Marionette smiled broadly and stood up on his hind legs, spreading his forelegs wide. “Of course, my boy!” His bluster erupting once more.
        



        The ride into the city was uneventful. After much yelling on Marionette’s part at the other ponies, the two large ones were hitched up in the front pulling the wagon along the road. Marcus sat quietly in the back, bouncing lightly with the texture of the road. The other ponies sat around the wagon tinkering with the gimmicks that they used in their boss’ show. Marionette sat out on top occasionally yelling at the hitched ponies the directions of where to go.

        The ponies snuck looks at him when they thought he wasn’t looking sometimes, and when he caught them, they quickly looked away as if Marcus hadn’t seen. He ignored them for the most part, their herd instincts always got in the way of trade. He could see that their muscles were tense, he was sure that if he moved too quickly they would all run away. 

Marcus looked out of the front of the wagon to the sprawling walled metropolis that hugged the deep bay. Atlantis was the largest of the human city-states that dotted the Lost Islands. The islands were near the Holy Griffin Empire. Atlantis was on the largest of the islands and closest to the griffin mainland. The island was big enough to fit all of the others into it and then some.

Its aged wooden houses were mixed with much taller marble temples and buildings. He could see columns of smoke rising out of various sections of the city. Seagulls screeched and flew overhead, although there was a large cloud of them circling over the ocean; someone must have had a good haul. 

He saw two city soldiers standing guard outside the gates. They had bronze helmets that his their faces in shadows, two dark eye shaped columns separated by a nose strip that ran to their jawline and even a little farther. They carried large, circular, polished bronze shields inscribed with a large A, and tall spears topped with what looked like a serrated harpoon head. A thin bronze chestplate that was carved to look like muscles covered their chests and golden greaves shined in the afternoon sun. 

Marionette showed them his papers and the guards let him inside. There was a hastily constructed marketplace inside the gate, a great group of people practically blocking off the road. Marcus pulled his torso out through the front of the wagon and looked to the white pony above him.

“Hey, this is where I get off,” Marcus said, straining slightly from the angle he had to look up in.

        Marionette looked down to the cloaked human, taking a split second to register the change in language. “Oh, okay. Safe journeys, Marcus,” he said cheerfully.

        “You too, Marionette. And good luck with your show, humans can be a pretty tough crowd,” Marcus said as he pulled himself out from the wagon. 

Marionette chuckled and gave a little shake of his head. “Don’t I know it. This isn’t my first time to Atlantis or any of your other cities, I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“Take care,” Marcus smiled as he hopped off the wagon. The steady pace set by Marionette swiftly taking them out of sight as they rounded a corner just before the market.

Marcus smirked and gave a short cough of a laugh while shaking his head. Those ponies were silly, he thought. Very comical, but friendly. I hope we can meet again soon.

He turned up the hood of his cloak over his head, the shadow it casted fell over everything but his mouth and chin. The mass of people twisted and turned with each moving person, looking impenetrable. Marcus slowly penetrated the mass, lightly bumping his way through to the other side. Once outside the market area, the rest of the city was practically empty. He made his way to the eastern gate, which exited to the wild lands. 

Marcus’ journey was uneventful, mostly because everyone was at market, the rest because he was fairly intimidating in his cloak. He saw his destination, a two story wooden building with elaborate wood carvings set into its front support columns. A large golden knocker hung on the hand carved front door. Marcus raised it, slightly surprised with its weight, and hit the door three times. The door creaked open; the inside was dark and the air that flowed out was cool.

Marcus pushed the door open all of the way and stepped inside, closing it behind him. He saw a hallway lined with rooms that ended with a spiral staircase leading to the next floor. Marcus stepped up the stairs into a large candlelit chamber. Surrounded by candles was a small pillow, and in front of that was a statuette of the Huntress.

 Marcus walked over to the pillow and stood before the candle circle. He unclasped his cloak and folded it, placing it on the ground outside the circle. He also untied the rope belt that cinched his tunic to his waist and coiled it next to the cloak. He took off his tunic and felt the mix of cool and hot air barrage his naked chest, then placed his tunic next to the rest of his clothes. Completely naked, Marcus kneeled down on the pillow with his back straight, closed his eyes and bowed his head.

He sat like that for a while until he heard footsteps on the stairs. Three people surrounded him in a triangle, one directly in front of him, the others placed equilaterally behind him. The one in front of him started chanting in a language he did not know, the two behind falling in with the first. The first one’s voice was higher pitched than the other two, and fairly gravelly, making her sound very aged. 

She touched Marcus’ forehead with a finger soaked in warm oil and started drawing shapes and patterns. She continued drawing all the way to his pectoral muscles, covering his face, neck, and arms. The other two began their own work on his back as the first placed her palm on his hair and started chanting louder. Then, all at once, they stopped. Dead silence quickly fell in while the first’s hand was still placed firmly on his head. 

The creak of wood broke the quiet as the sound of footsteps once again made their way up the staircase. The fourth person stopped behind the two behind him, making another equilateral triangle. The hand on his head quickly closed shut, grabbing a handful of hair, long nails digging into his head. She pulled up. Marcus’ scalp felt like it was going to be torn off, he could feel practically every single follicle and they felt like they were on fire. He rose with it, and once he stood out of practical reach of the first, she let go. 

Marcus opened his eyes and saw the first, a small, wrinkled old lady adorned in white robes with a gold filigreed hem. He turned around to face the other elders, who were two equally aged men that were both slightly shorter than Marcus. The last one was a young woman whose face was hidden by the same hooded robe as the others and the golden hair that spilt out and fell about her bumped chest. Her arms were held at right angles with her palms straight out. A serrated dagger with a curved hilt laid in her hands. She slowly walked forward until she was directly between the two male elders. 

Marcus grabbed the hilt of the blade, his fingertips lightly brushing her palms, electricity coursed through him. He took the blade and lightly cut a long thin line on his left palm. Blood welled up from the cut and gathered in his palm. When he was sure there was enough, Marcus smeared the blood all over the knife. When he was finished the knife was covered in a thin dark-red sheen. Then, briefly, it glowed in a white aura, which quickly turned to his own green color. The aura disappeared with a pop and when Marcus saw it again, all of the blood had disappeared. The woman pulled out a small leather sheath, which he took and stuck the knife into.

        The elders and the woman walked back down the stairs leaving Marcus alone. he knelt back down in front of the statuette and murmured a short prayer then went to his stacked clothes. He put on the clothes without any real hurry, though he did feel warmer with them on. He continued to the stairs and made his way back down to the main floor. 

At the end of the hallway was the woman. Her hood was pulled back revealing delicate,  finely shaped features and large hazel eyes. A smirk graced her face making it look a little devious. She started a long, languid walk towards Marcus, who in return, walked forward as well. As the distance closed both sped up, walking quickly, very nearly a jog, into each others arms. Marcus gripped her tightly and inhaled, the thick scent of the sacred oils still embedded in both of them. 

They briefly broke apart long enough to share a deep kiss that felt electric to Marcus. She broke the kiss and Marcus rested his forehead on hers. She sighed and worry creased her face.

“What’s wrong, Laina?” Marcus asked, her worry starting to spread to him as if by contact.

“Nothing,” she said as she took a step back, Marcus’ hands sliding into hers. “It’s just that I’m afraid,” her eyebrows creased as she looked at him with her big eyes.

“Afraid? For what?” He teased, lightly squeezing her hands.

“For you, you big idiot,” she teased back, punching him in the chest. Her eyes suddenly turned hard and it felt like she was staring into his soul. “I need you to come back in one piece. If you don’t, I… I just…”

Marcus shushed her before she could get herself worked up. “Hey, hey!” He implored, maneuvering his head to meet up with her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I can handle myself, Laina.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that this is so dangerously stupid,” her eyes softened, filling with worry once again. “My father be damned!” She squeezed hard enough to hurt his knuckles. “Why does he hate you so much that he’s making you do this?”

“Because I’m different,” Marcus said, his eyes drooping. “Because I’m not good enough to marry his daughter. Because he doesn’t think that I can do it.”

“I like different,” Laina pulled Marcus a little closer. “Now, I need to stop worrying and let you prove him wrong. Okay?”

“Alright,” He grinned. Laina smiled back, her eyes twinkled.

“Now go get ‘em,” she pulled him in for a quick kiss and started pushing him out of the door.

Marcus marched out of the door and down to the east gate, the sheathed knife firmly attached to his belt and hood drawn. The guards at the gate let him pass as they laboriously pushed open the large doors leading to the wild lands. Marcus was greeted with the sight of a large golden plain and past that, a dense forest. It was there he would find the feral dragon he would kill to pass this trial. For now though, he had to make the long trek to find it.

> Battle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Marcus was deeply grateful for the cloak once the sun had started to set. What had once been a blistering summer day was now a rapidly cooling dusk. He walked silently through the plains of the wild lands, already nearly to the jungle. Looking up, Marcus saw the burning orange sun that was currently painting the sky various hues of red and yellow. 

The gods had really put out for a beautiful sunset tonight. A full moon had started rising, giving off a silver light in contrast with the sun, the sky split in two by the twin celestial powers. On one side, a menagerie of colors mixed together, the other, silvery pinpricks of light that told our stories. The battle of the heavens slowly turned to the favor of the night as darkness finally fell, a great belt of swirling light appearing in the sky as the sun faded and Marcus was cast in utter darkness. 

His eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, after minutes settling on casting a muted silver hue over everything he saw. The plains were no longer golden, only grey, and the jungle ahead was a dull, dark green, making it look even more ominous. Marcus marched on to his mission, imagining the future for Laina and himself.



	

The jungle was even darker than Marcus could have thought possible. The thick upper canopy blocked nearly all light except for the small strands of moonlight that wavered in the dusty, pollen infused air. Dense underbrush created a veritable wall of foliage that Marcus had to use the incredibly sharp knife to cut through.

Whisking the knife through the underbrush like a baker would batter, Marcus cut a small tunnel that he had to duck under to make it through. He littered the ground underfoot with freshly cut clippings. Thorns pulled at his cloak and pricked his skin, covering him in itchy scratches that occasionally bled.

He swung the knife again, clearing more brush out of the way and revealing a clearing. It was large, and further past it, Marcus couldn’t see any more underbrush, just large trees. The clearing was sunken into the ground, a small grotto at the bottom echoing with the tinkling bells of laughter. The whole area was illuminated by an eerie blue glow emanating from the grotto hole.

What? Marcus carefully scaled down the grotto wall in the low light of the blue glow until he found a sturdy ledge with a large bush growing on it. He swung his legs over the side of the ledge and peered down at the bottom. There were a dozen girls frolicking in the water, some were green or brown skinned, but the majority were blue skinned. The earth toned girls were clad in tight fitting fresh leaves that did not leaf a lot to be desired, while the water colored girls were covered in opaque water togas. The pool of water seemed to be the cause of the glow, shining magically as the girls played.

They ran around in the knee deep water, splashing each other, their peals of laughter ringing out of the grotto. Marcus heard a throaty chuckle escape from the bush next to him as he watched the girls. He brought his legs up from over the ledge and carefully inched over to the bush. Silently pulling apart the branches to see inside, another chuckle floating out. He saw a satyr crouched in the bush, staring intently at the girls.
  
Marcus smiled devilishly and leaned in as close as he could without making any sound. “Hello,” he spoke, the satyr letting out a short bark of surprise and falling forward into the bush, breaking a lot of branches loudly.

The sounds of the girls playing stopped, instead replaced by questioning dialogue. The satyr turned his head slowly, his face twisted in a snarl and eyes burning with fire. He brought up a finger and pointed it at Marcus then quickly brought it to his lips with a shush. The girls stopped talking and one by one went back to playing, their laughter once again filling the grotto. The satyr untensed and slumped.

“Whew,” he said, letting out a sigh, “that was close.”

“Why are you spying on those girls?” Marcus asked, amused by the man-goat hybrid.

“Girls?” The satyr said, genuinely taken aback. “Those are no girls,” he chuckled. “Those are dryads and naiads. The most beautiful creatures in existence.” 

The satyr crawled out of the bush and onto the ledge with Marcus. He finally got a good look at the goatman. The satyr had chestnut fur on his lower half that had backwards facing ankles and black cloven hooves. His torso was bare but tan, some black chest hair springing up around the middle of his chest and flowing into his goat lower part. 

He looked shorter than Marcus and definitely less muscular but very lean. He had a teardrop shaped face adorned with bushy black eyebrows and a little soul patch. His hair was a tousled mop of black with maybe a stick or two poking out randomly. Two little goat horns poked out of his hair and curled slightly back, making them look like little crescent moons.

“I’ll forgive your ignorance, for now,” the satyr glared briefly. “Anyways, my name is Aiga, and I am a satyr, as you can tell.”

“I’m Marcus,” he held out his hand for a shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Aiga grasped his hand firmly and did a quick shake up and down.

“So why are you spying on these dryads and naiads anyways?” Marcus asked.

Aiga looked off in the distance and let out a blissful sigh. “It has been my life’s dream to be with one of those goddesses just once. Or more than once if you catch my drift,” he waggled his eyebrows while elbowing Marcus’ arm.

“My turn. So,” He looked Marcus up and down, “what’s a human doing out here?”

“I have have complete an ancient ceremony that hasn’t been invoked for centuries. The father of the woman I love is making me do it to prove my worth,” Marcus replied solemnly.

“Ah, the old, Complete my quest to marry my daughter, schtick. So what’s he making you do? Chop down a sacred tree? Capture a chimera?” Aiga rolled a little with laughter at his own imaginations.

“Kill a feral dragon,” Marcus said bluntly, shrugging.

“A what?” Aiga’s eyes bugged a little out of his head as he hissed the last word. Unfortunately, Aiga said it a little too loud as his voice echoed about the walls. The nymphs stopped again, their sweet voices lilting up to the two males.

“Who’s there?” One asked, fear staining her voice.

“Show yourself,” another called out.

Aiga shut his eyes and hissed an expletive. He balled a fist and slammed it on his knees. 

“We know you’re there,” the first one said.

Aiga sucked in a deep breath then let it out, steeling himself. He leaned over the ledge and slapped a huge, friendly smile on his face.

“Ladies!” His voice coming out smooth. “Please don’t be alarmed, I was just drawn here by your beauty!” 

One of the nymphs screamed, it was a naiad who dived into the water molding seamlessly into the liquid. With the departure of the first, the rest scattered. The rest of the naiads jumped into the water, same as the first, while the dryads leaped out of the grotto and into the trees surrounding the clearing, disappearing into the bark seamlessly.

Aiga slumped in defeat. “I can never even get close to them without them screaming and running away.”

Marcus lightly squeezed his shoulder and patted it, muttering a small “there, there” every couple of seconds. The water’s glow slowly started to fade away to barely a glimmer, leaving the two of them in the light of the moon. Aiga repeatedly bashed a fist into his forehead while muttering, “stupid stupid stupid,” punctuating each word with a strike. Marcus sat in silence continuing to comfort the satyr. Aiga took a deep breath and stopped bashing his own head in, still letting his shoulder to be patted. After a minute he shook his shoulders stopping Marcus while holding his palms vertically flat in the air.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said, straightening out his back and turning back to Marcus. “Now that that’s over, why does this guy want you to kill a dragon?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a way for him to excuse it as a matter of ‘unworthiness’ if I don’t come back.”

“Well, yeah. It’s clearly a suicide quest!” Aiga said, pushing his point by trying to stare some sense into the human. “There is no reason to risk your life so stupidly.”

“My reason is for love,” Marcus replied, his tone becoming defensive.

Aiga grabbed Marcus by his chin and started turning his head side to side. “Man, Cupid really got you good.”

“Feh,” Marcus pushed the goatman off of him.

“Well if you’re really dead set, and I do mean dead, you’re going to die, on finding a dragon to kill then follow me,” Aiga said exasperatedly as he dug around in the bush. He pulled out an object but in the low light Marcus couldn’t tell what it was.The satyr climbed down the rest of the way to the grotto, waiting at the waters edge. Marcus’ eyebrows knitted together in confusion but did as he was told.

The water still had the low glow, not nearly as luminescent as before but still there. Marcus looked into the pool, the gentle waves mesmerizing him the longer he looked. The water was clear, clearer than anything Marcus had ever seen. He couldn’t see any particles in the water, no bugs, nothing. If he looked directly down, it would look like there was only a thin film of water on the rocky bottom instead of a knee deep pool.

Marcus looked at Aiga, who had pulled out what he had grabbed from his peeping bush. He was holding a large wooden canteen with a cork stuck in the top. Aiga uncorked the canteen and tentatively dipped the opening in the water, making sure that he didn’t touch the pool. Marcus watched as water flowed into the canteen. It was hard to make out the actual liquid, he could only tell because the neck of the canteen warped a little as it filled.

Once the canteen was completely full, Aiga recorked it, making sure that none could leak out with a heavy smack on the cork. He tested the seal by flipping it upside-down. With a smile, Aiga handed Marcus the canteen.

Marcus accepted the canteen with a chuckle. “Uh, thanks, but I’m not thirsty.” 

“It’s not just water, you idiot,” Aiga said playfully. “This is sacred water, blessed by nymphs and the Gods themselves. It can do so much more than mere water. I’ve seen it heal wounds, and provide minor foresight into the future. I’ve also heard of someone living on only it for two weeks without feeling hungry.”

“Wow, and you’re trusting me with this why?” Marcus said, not completely believing the thin satyr before him.

“Because I don’t think that you should die because some fool’s errand,” Aiga prodded Marcus’ chest with a finger. “That and because you seem like the kind of human who won’t abuse it. One word of advice, try not to touch it with your hands, if you do it could spoil the whole canteen and turn poisonous.”

“Why only my hands?” Marcus asked while slinging the canteen over his shoulder.

“Human hands are dirty and impure, if they touch something so pure, so perfect, such as this water, they taint it and turns all of it’s benefits upside down.”

“Okay, so don’t touch the sacred purity water with my hands. Got it,” Marcus patted the canteen and turned towards the rock wall. Aiga grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face back to him.

“Now I have another bit of information for you. I have heard that a dragon has been rampaging in the northern part of the forest. You’ll know that you’re there when you find charred trees, burned corpses, and flaming grass,” Aiga’s eyes bored intensely into Marcus’, his fingers squeezing tightly into the humans flesh. 

Aiga let go of Marcus’ shoulder as his own arm dropped to his side. The satyr’s face stayed as still as a stone as he watched Marcus nod and scale the sunken walls. Aiga watched as the human disappeared and shook his head.

“Dead man walking,” he muttered as he turned around looking for where those pesky nymphs went.



	

Marcus looked up at the night sky, the thousands of white pinpricks covering it’s canvas. He found the brightest star in the sky as it twinkled in the shape of a curved edge kite, it’s light overpowering all of the other stars near it. He followed it through the jungle, which wasn’t nearly as bad thanks to the absence of brambles and underbrush. The large trees often obscured his sight of the star but every so often a patch in the leaves would show him the way.

His stomach growled and pulled at his focus. It was then that Marcus realized that he hadn’t eaten since the night before with the lamb stew. He reached into a small pouch and pulled out a small piece of jerky and popped it in his mouth. His stomach ceased rumbling, leaving Marcus able to concentrate on the task at hand.

The scent of something burning wafted into his nose and he saw the smoke a second later. There was a long trail of burnt trees and underbrush headed off to into the east. In the distance he saw a faint light flickering, growing brighter and larger every so often then shrinking back down. He unsheathed his knife with a small ring and held it in a reverse grip away from his body. He looked at his knife and saw its short, serrated blade, only as long as three quarters of his forearm. If he was close enough to hit the dragon with this he was close enough to get ripped to shreds. In the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, thick sapling half a foot taller than him. Perfect, he thought.

Marcus walked over to the sapling and held his hand out in front of him towards the baby tree, palm facing it. He closed his eyes and focused on the tree, holding the image of a tall staff with a fist-sized gnarled end at the top, like a club. He opened his eyes and saw his outstretched hand glowing in his green aura while the sapling was slowly being turned into what he wanted by a glowing dark green circlet rising from its bottom. As the aura rose the sapling turned into the staff, the only break was the aura making it seem like two separate entities, the top one being slowly eaten by the bottom.

When the circlet reached the top of the staff it hovered above it for a moment, the staff cast in its green glow. The circlet popped sharply, leaving Marcus’ ears ringing. The aura from the circlet cascading down the staff. Like a sheet, it billowed in a nonexistent wind. The aura sheet suddenly constricted the staff, coalescing into flowing curves and lines. The lines glowed brightly for a moment, making Marcus shield his eyes with his free hand. Marcus lowered his arm once the staff stopped glowing. He walked up right next to the staff, which was still, funnily enough, planted in the ground. Marcus yanked the staff out of the earth, releasing a dirty puff of air and leaving a small divot in the ground.

He could feel the power radiating from the staff as soon as he touched it. It was smooth but not enough that it would slip out of his hands. It almost felt like it was sticking magically to his palm.

“Well,” he said, “that’s new.”

Marcus hefted the staff testing its weight. Expecting it to be much heavier, he almost tossed it into the air. The staff actually turned out to be pretty light, and when he bent it, testing its flexibility, it gave a little. Rapping his knuckles against the shaft revealed the wood to be fairly dense and sturdy. Marcus smiled at his new possession.

“But I like it,” His smile nearly reaching his ears.



	

The sun had finally started to rise by the time Marcus found more fresh destruction. Smoldering mounds of organic material was scattered all around the charred black scar that tore apart the greenery. An animalistic roar cut through the air, sending a chill down his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Marcus gripped his staff and knife a little tighter, his knuckles white against the wood.

A small gout of flame appeared in the distance originating at a small blue speck. Marcus stopped, narrowed his eyes and shielded them from the morning light with an outstretched hand. The speck resolved slightly, forming into the shape of a tall, sinuous, royal blue dragon that was currently spewing fire at some unseen thing.

Marcus ran from tree to tree making sure that the majority of his body couldn’t be seen from the dragon’s position. It wasn’t moving much, just rampaging and destroying the jungle’s trees and creatures.  

The jungle floor slowly curved down into a riverbed that was springing out of a rocky cliff that hung over it. Marcus slowly walked up a small trail that led to the top of the cliff while the dragon went down to the cliff spring, oblivious to the human creeping above him. At the top, Marcus peeked over the cliff to study the dragon briefly.

It was tall and thin, but with thick, ropy muscles that rippled under its scales. The leathery wings that were draped across its back like a cloak were folded up, a much darker shade of blue than its scales.There were two curling horns coming out of the crown of it’s head, making it look devilish. It had a long snout, the teeth of It’s top jaw poking over It’s lower jaw. It huffed occasionally, sending out little tongues of blue-tinted flames from it’s nostrils. It’s limbs were well proportioned with the rest of it’s tall body, nothing seeming too long or out of place. 

Marcus could see the razor sharp claws that could rip him to shreds with one swipe scratch a little bit of rock off of the cliff face. The dragon swung at the cliff, ripping out a head sized chunk of rock and pulled out a handful of glittering gems. There were sapphires, rubies, diamonds, and topaz’s clutched in his claw. The dragon popped them all into its mouth in one go and crunched them contentedly, humming its happiness.  

The dragon bent down to drink from the fresh water spouting from the cliff, slurping it as it came out. Marcus’ heartbeat pounded in his ears deafening every other sound around him. His hand that was holding the knife felt slick with sweat. He leaned the staff against his shoulder while grabbing the knife and wiping his sweaty hand on his tunic. Holding the knife again in his right hand, Marcus could feel his heart beat quicken, and hear it’s deafening boom each time in his ears. 

The dragon’s royal blue scales made little blue spots all around him as direct sunlight from the morning sun pounded down on him. It was still sucking water from the cliff hungrily. Marcus figured that anything that spewed that much fire would get thirsty quickly. He muttered a quick prayer while tensing all of his muscles. His staff’s runes glowed green as in response to his prayer and stayed lit. Marcus looked up to the sky and nodded.

With a savage battle cry Marcus leaped off the cliff down onto the dragon. It’s head jerked up and Marcus could see the startled fear in it’s ocean blue eyes as he fell down to the beast. As soon as it recognized what he was, the dragon puffed itself up. Right before Marcus could hit it, it’s entire back turned into pointy spines like a porcupine. Marcus quickly jabbed the flat bottom of his staff at the dragon’s back, breaking through a handful of spines and vaulting him away from his pointy death.

The fall turned into a tumbling roll which Marcus got up from. The strike from the staff had knocked the dragon flat on it’s belly. It groaned and flattened it’s back while it got up. Marcus crouched and and readied his two weapons, circling the recovering dragon. It eyed him and growled, it’s lips rising in a snarl revealing a jaw full of pearly white daggers. It unfurled its wings, the span of them reaching nearly quadruple the dragon’s height. It drew them back, and with a single flap, shot forward with it’s claws outstretched, ready to bathe in blood. 

Marcus sidestepped to the right of the claws and brought the staff down on the wing. The hollow bone of the appendage folded around the hard, glowing wood. The dragon screeched in pain, making Marcus’ ears feel like they were about to explode. He covered them with his fists, still holding his weapons, and stumbled away drunkenly. It’s screams died down to whimpers as it inspected the damage to it’s wing while Marcus’ head pounded and ears rang. The dragon gently folded it’s damaged wing back onto it’s back and held it in place with it’s other wing.

A low growl rumbled through the ground and up Marcus’ feet, knocking him out of his stupor. With the fog in his mind partially cleared, he turned around to find an angry blue dragon staring him down. It charged, barreling down on Marcus at a breakneck pace. It’s claws ready to tear him apart and a ball of fire prepared in it’s mouth. Marcus dived out of the way of the claws and brought up his staff in a defensive position across his chest. He quickly sheathed his knife so he could hold on to the staff with both hands. 

The lines and curves on his staff glowed brighter as he pointed the gnarled top at the dragon. It sucked in a deep breath, enough to puff it’s chest all the way out. The dark throat of the beast lit up from a fire bubbling from deep inside. It puffed it all out in a massive ball of fire that swirled and and charred everything within a foot of it. It’s contrail had barely dissipated from the dragons mouth before the fireball was halfway to Marcus. He could already feel the heat on his face. It was a quarter of the distance away from him now, billowing slightly from a little breeze but not moving off course.

Marcus pulled his staff away from the flame, and from behind his shoulder, swung with every muscle he could. The staff connected and the runes on the staff flared blindingly green for a second. The fireball caught on the staff and bounced away into a large tree, exploding on impact. Smoke, fire and splinters flew everywhere, making Marcus shield his face with an arm. He could feel hundreds of tiny impacts on his skin. It stung.

Smoke and dust covered the entire impromptu battleground, obscuring all vision. The dragon was breathing heavily, in long gasping draws, Marcus could hear it. The tree that was hit by the fireball had a large blast crater that had taken out a large chunk of the tree. It groaned in protest to be still standing but remained tall as flames slowly licked up it’s sides.

The dust was starting to settle, thinning out for the white smoke of the tree that was spreading everywhere. Marcus tore a large strip of fabric from the bottom of his tunic and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. Before the dust could settle entirely he ran through it knocking a tunnel through the particle wall. When he came out on the other side, there was no smoke or dust, it was all clear air. 

The dragon’s scales had lost some of their luster and It looked tired. Surprise registered on It’s face as Marcus burst out of the smoke and dust like a madman. The second it took was just enough time for Marcus to club it in the side of it’s head. It whipped around, the body following. The thick long tail spun with the body like a whip, catching Marcus’ ankles and sending him on his back. 

On the fall Marcus hit his head on a rock in the ground making him see red. He grunted and opened his eyes, desperately trying to see through the fog of his own mind. Everything was spinning. It made his stomach churn. Marcus stumbled as he tried to get up, falling twice. His stomach threatened to empty itself all over the ground and he could taste the acid and feel it burn his throat and mouth.

Marcus found his staff lying on the ground and picked it up. Leaning on it helped the spinning. The dragon had taken the blow to it’s head just as poorly as he had. Around where it fell Marcus could see half digested remnants of various crushed gems littering the ground. The dragon got up staggeringly and faced him. It stumbled as it blinked and scrunched its face when it tried to walk forward. There was a dent on its head where Marcus hit it. The scales were broken and bent, sticking out haphazardly. 

It sucked in a breath, the glow in the back of it’s throat lighting up again. What came out was a small tongue of flame that barely made it six inches out of it’s mouth. The fire flickered out quickly, leaving the dragon with a small cough. It tried to take an actual breath but it hitched, like the air was caught on something. It started coughing, a disgusting hacking cough that wouldn’t allow it to breathe. It fell to it’s knees and rolled over, it’s chest rising in short, quick breaths as the dragon looked to the sky of burning leaves. 

Marcus hobbled over on his staff, the world starting to slow down. He pulled the knife out of it’s sheath and held it in his off hand. The dragon’s head didn’t turn but it’s eyes did, watching him approach with knife in hand. It’s breathing grew faster with each step closer. Marcus stood over the fallen dragon and looked into it’s eyes. The blue pools looked back into his green ones, fear and surprise evident as he looked. Marcus might have even recognized a spark of intelligence in them but it must have been his imagination.

The knife glinted angrily in the firelight. Marcus fell to his knees and outstretched his arms, the knife aimed at it’s heart. He brought the knife down hard onto it’s barrel. The blade cut through the dragon’s hard scales like butter. It grunted and made a wet gurgling sound, shook, then fell silent. 

Fiery-red blood welled up from the wound and covered Marcus’ left hand. The blood was hot, almost scalding his skin. Marcus left it alone, the blood wasn’t harmful. He yanked the knife out of the dragon’s chest, sending out a tall gout of blood that coated the dragon’s body and the rest of Marcus’ left arm, as well as most of his tunic. He moved the knife to one of the dragon’s horns and started sawing with it’s serrated edge. Within moments, Marcus cut through and sheathed the knife. He grabbed his staff and the horn and stood up leaving the dragons body in the middle of the forest fire. 

        As he walked away using the staff for support, the tree that had been hit by the fireball started creaking. Marcus turned his head while still walking to see the flaming inferno that used to be a towering giant start to crumble at the weakened base. The tree groaned and creaked as it fell right on top of the dragon, bouncing a little. The fall sent up a massive cloud of smoke and ash which obscured Marcus’ vision. 

        He hobbled as fast as he could out of the ash cloud. Even with the impromptu mask, it was hard to breathe and everything that was exposed started to burn. When he got out of the ash cloud, Marcus ripped off the fabric and took a deep breath of still smokey but much cleaner air. He continued to run until his lungs burned like they were still in the ash cloud. He saw a large field not to far out from the trees. With only a slight change in direction, he broke out of the forest and into the field. Smoke rose in a great column that got wider and wider. Marcus could see the tips of flames peeking over the canopy.

        A large boulder sat alone in the field surrounded by ankle high brown grass. Marcus went over to the boulder and sat down in the shadow it produced. His head ached. Each pound of his heartbeat bringing fresh pain now that the adrenaline was gone. He felt the back of his head and touched something very warm and wet. He looked and saw his hand was covered in blood. A warm droplet trickled warmly down the nape of his neck. Every part of him felt burnt. Ash and soot were caked on every possible area of him. His left arm burnt the worst. A searing pain that Marcus was only now beginning to feel. He coughed, desperately trying to eject the smoke from his lungs.

        Using his tunic, Marcus scraped the soot off of his arm to see an angry inflamed red covering it. The dragon’s blood from earlier was gone and it felt like his arm had just been on fire but was just put out. Blood red lines pushed up from underneath his skin. Marcus could only watch in horror as his arm was scarred in jagged angular runes. They were nothing like the one’s on his staff. The runes on his staff flowed like a river and bloomed like flowers, while these looked like they were carved with something sharp and barbaric.

        His arm suddenly felt like it was on fire all over again. White hot agony fired every nerve. He heard screaming but he knew no one else was around. His right hand gripped the wrist of his left, shaking in intense pain. The screaming rose in pitch, becoming slightly more animal, as if one was burning to death. At some point Marcus couldn’t remember anything other than the pain, then he saw only black.





        Darkness. An inky black abyss everywhere he looked. It felt like he was floating because he couldn’t even see what he was standing on. Marcus raised his arms as if to swim through the nothingness but stopped once he saw them. His left arm was made entirely out of fire and flames, but it didn’t burn. His right arm was a mass of roots, tendrils, ivy, and leaves, all in the general shape of an arm and hand. He looked at the rest of his body and it was normal. He sighed in relief. 

        Something appeared in the distance, a speck of white that broke the monotony of darkness. Marcus tried to swim towards it fruitlessly, only succeeding in flailing around. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see it better, then he felt himself moving faster, wind tearing at his eyes. And then, as abruptly as he started, he stopped. The towering white walls of Atlantis were before him as he stood on the cobblestone steps outside the main gate. The walls seemed bigger and something else was wrong that he couldn’t put his finger on. There was a wooden door that looked like it could be just big enough to fit through. Of course, from this distance anything looked small.

The walk towards the door took a long time, longer than he would have thought. It was like every step forward he took the ground grew two more steps. Even though he knew that he was actually getting closer, the door stayed the same size while the wall got bigger and more imposing. Now that Marcus was closer it looked like the walls had some sort of grime covering them. When he finally reached the door, it was still the same size as earlier. He wiped his new foliage index finger on the wall and inspected the grey grime that came off. The smell that wafted from the grime was smokey. He dabbed it on his tongue. It was ash, he had tasted enough of it earlier. He spit it out on the ground, and tried to get the taste out of his mouth. The whole wall was covered in it, the ash.

Marcus went to grab the door’s handle but his hand phased right through it. 

“What the-” he said, confusion twisting his face. He moved his hand through the door, up to his wrist. A strange tingling sensation shot up his arm and into his brain. Marcus’ knees felt weak and wobbly. His eyes rolled back in his head for a moment and he yanked his hand out. The feeling passed and his eyes rolled back down, a little blurry but otherwise fine. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

Determined to get through, Marcus made an X with his arms in front of his face and charged through the incorporeal door. A shock of ice pulled at his mind as he passed through. Breaking out on the other side, Marcus collapsed. A massive migraine tore at his consciousness. He shakily got up and saw Atlantis, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Every house and building were smouldering piles of charcoal and rubble. Stones were baked and shattered, wood was charred, and there were thousands of blackened skeletons strewn about everywhere. He saw the bones of an adult sized person holding a child sized pile of bones even in death’s embrace. Off to his right was a pile of charred, split bones that laid in a puddle of melted bronze, an Atlantean spear resting next to it. It’s jaw was hung open as if it could still feel the pain of it’s death.

 A single building remained in the distance, the temple to the Sea God, still white and gleaming. Rushing wind made him close his eyes and when he opened them, he was standing in front of the temple right in the middle of the debate square. The temple was huge; massive marble pillars supported the triangular roof with designs and carvings inlaid on them. Walking inside, Marcus noticed that not a single thing had been touched unlike everything outside. Murals on the walls detailed heroic fights, stories, and histories. A massive bronze and marble statue of the Sea God stood in the back. One foot on solid ground, a fissure erupting from it, the other on a dolphin cresting from marble water. In one hand was a tall bronze trident, the tines barbed and hooked. His beard flowing behind him like it was caught in a strong ocean breeze.

“You… You,” a shrill, creaky voice pulled at Marcus’ attention and grated at his ears. He turned to see a cloaked, hunched old crone, blind in both eyes and long, thin, greasy white hair. She was covered in soot and ash and hobbled along on a gnarled wooden cane. The cane tip-tap-ed on the marble floor as she hobbled closer. 

“You bring about the coming of destruction, Young One,” she creaked, pointing her cane at his heart.

“What has been seen may come to pass if you choose poorly, for many choices you will have to make in the future,” her voice warbled slightly as she talked, giving it a musical cadence.

The destroyed city filled Marcus’ thoughts.

“No. NO!” He screamed, a little dust from the ceiling fell down. He was not going to let his city be destroyed.

“I am not going to let this happen,” He clenched his fists, one hissing the other rustling. “There has to be some way to avoid all of that,” he motioned outside.

“Only one clear path avoids this fate,” she said slowly, “all others lead to destruction.”

“Tell me which path to take then.”

“No,” the crone said bluntly.

“You must-” he started.

“You must use your wisdom and intuition to figure it out for yourself,” She finished, tapping his chest with her cane.

Marcus sighed in defeat. “I don’t know which way to go. Everything had seemed so simple before and now I have to stop… This?” He fell down to the ground and buried his head in his knees.

The crone’s voice took on a motherly tone. “You have set in place a series of events that cannot be stopped, only directed. The spilling of royal blood by your hand may have doomed your entire nation,” she place a hand on Marcus’ back and a feeling of warmth spread through him. He felt tears drip down his cheeks.

He looked up at the crone. “What royal blood? I haven’t killed anyone-” he stopped, realization of what happened clicked into place.

“The dragon? He was a royal?” He asked wiping the tears away.

“Yes. The son of their chieftain. Sent away to gain full dragonhood.”

“How can I fix it?” Marcus rose slowly to his feet.

The crone gave a small smile. “That is for you to figure out.”

Marcus watched as the bottom of her cloak caught on fire and spread quickly all over her. He didn’t hear a single sound from her as he watched in horror as the old crone was engulfed in flames. She crumbled into a pile of smouldering ashes that got swept away by a breeze he couldn’t feel. He watched as the ashes flew out the entrance and into the world. Marcus ran out to follow them and smelled the salty scent of the sea. A distant continuous crashing sound tore through the air. He looked to the ocean and saw a massive tidal wave bearing down on Atlantis. 

The wave swallowed everything that it touched. With each ashy pile it ate it grew darker, until it was a black, dirty wave of death. Marcus watched as it towered over him and the temple and closed his eyes, bracing himself before it swallowed him too.



	

“HAH!” Marcus screamed as he bolted away from the boulder. He fell forward onto his hands and knees with deep heaving breaths. Once he calmed down, he leaned back on the boulder. The sun still had nearly a quarter left to go until sunset, which meant that he had been out for nearly six hours.

Marcus took a good look at both of his arms. They were completely normal, a little soot stained sure, but normal. His left arm had even stopped burning. The red skin and runes that had been there earlier were gone. Must have just been my imagination, that bump on my head really did a number on me, he thought. Grabbing his nearby staff, Marcus stood up, using his new weapon for support. He started walking towards Atlantis, using the staff as a walking stick. Every step felt like agony, but he had to finish what he started.
	
	

> Journal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Luna put the journal down. She looked at how much she had already read and it was barely a few pages out of at least two hundred. Her eyes felt dry, she guessed that she hadn’t been blinking as often as she should have. 

        A ray of morning light cut through Luna’s artificial ones. Celestia must have lowered her moon then raised the sun. Normally, that would send Luna over the edge, the moon was her responsibility, but there was something more important to take care of. She got up from her pillow and and magically tethered the journal to her flank like a saddlebag.

        Luna did not close the door to the vault, she knew she would be back soon. On the way out of the library, she noticed that there were more guards keeping an eye on the Starswirl wing. They eyed her curiously, as if they weren’t told that she was there. Probably Celestia’s doing. 

The castle itself was much busier in the day than at night. Servants rushed from room to room and dusted everything they could see. Butlers carrying platters perched on their backs walked quickly, but carefully, to the dining room. Nobles walked in packs, gossiping like the vermin they were. As Luna walked past, they all raised their chins and harumphed, avoiding her like the plague. Luna clenched her jaw and rustled her wings angrily. Now she remembered why she didn’t like to walk around in the day.

Ever since her return the nobility has been nothing but hostile. Usually ponies were just afraid whenever they were in her presence, like the servants, every time Luna walked by one they would freeze up in absolute fear. Now, they were mostly indifferent, even a few of her personal servants were warming up to her and all of her night guard adored her. Strangely though, the nobles never feared her, or at least not publicly. Their rumors always made their way to her through her favorite servant, Tranquility. The rumors hurt, worse than any physical fight. Wounds could hurt but they would always heal. The lies that got spread did more than that, they undermined her confidence, punched holes through her self-esteem, and damaged any chance for re-assimilation into society. Thankfully, Tranquility was always there for Luna to talk to.

Luna walked quickly to Celestia’s quarters, eager to be out of the bustling hallways. Celestia would have been done eating long before everyone else. Luna knew that her sister always ate before raising the sun, it gave her the extra energy to give it that beautiful sunrise she always wanted. Celestia’s room could have easily been mistaken for any other if there wasn’t a head sized emblem of her cutie mark above it. She always was the humble one. A curt knock on her door was answered by a muffled, “Come in.”

Luna pushed the door in and closed it behind her quickly. Celestia’s room was fairly large, but really only enough to accommodate for her size and all of the desks and papers that cluttered it. Her bed was on a raised platform and writing desks lined the edges of her walls. In the corner, Luna saw the form of brilliant white fur and three toned, spring colored hair. Celestia was wearing her half-moon reading glasses and hunched over a mountain of documents piled on the desk. She was sitting on a blocky cushion big enough to fit her larger alicorn size and was finishing up stamping her royal seal on a manilla document. Her head cocked back to see who came in. Upon seeing Luna, Celestia’s face spread in a smile and swiveled around on the cushion to face her.

“Luna! What are you doing here? Is it about the moon? If it is, I’m sorry but you weren’t lowering it on time and we have to keep a schedule,” She rattled off, almost as if she had been practicing it for the last couple minutes.

Luna dismissed it with a wave of her hoof. “No, no. It isn’t about that. I don’t really mind that you had to do it,” she could practically see Celestia straighten with relief, like a weight had been lifted off her withers.  “No, it’s about-”

“Is the nobility giving you trouble again?” Celestia said, the interruption tweaking Luna’s patience. 

“No. Well yes, but that’s not what I wanted to talk-”

“Do I need to call congress and speak to them again on how to treat a princess?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much good it will do but we need to-”

“Because I can. It would be no troub-” Celestia said, getting up from her sitting position.

“Celly! Please stop interrupting me,” Luna said forcefully, making Celestia’s jaw click shut and sit back down.

“Sorry,” Celestia said sheepishly, blushing a little. Her horn lit up in a golden aura, which proceeded to engulf her reading glasses. She magically lifted and folded the glasses, then placed them on the papers in front of her. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, it’s about the recent events that Tranquility has been telling me about,” Luna said, walking over to Celestia while pulling a chair over with her magic to sit on. 

“And what is that?” She asked sweetly.

Luna thought about trying to sugarcoat what she was going to say next. 

“I’ve heard that there might be another conflict brewing that could embroil the planet in war,” Celestia’s eyes went wide in shock.

“What!” She sputtered. “Where would Tranquility have heard a thing like that?” Celestia’s voice got a little higher pitched and she put on a broad smile. Luna could tell it was fake.

“Please, Celly, I would prefer to know information without having to learn it through the castle grapevine. I am not a child that you must protect all the time,” Luna said, shattering Celestia’s visage. Her smile melted into a small frown.

“I know. It’s just… You’re my little sister, and even though you’ve been back for a couple years now, I still want to protect you. I know it’s still been tough, with the nobles and ponies being afraid, I only wanted to shield you from more strife,” the frown shifted to a sad smile, Celestia’s eyebrows heavy with a little bit of guilt.

“It’s alright, dear sister,” Luna said pulling Celestia into a hug, grinning when she felt her sister’s hooves rub her back in little circles. Luna pulled back from the hug, though her forelegs were still hooked together with Celestia’s. “Now will you tell me what’s going on? This is a diarchy after all,” Luna giggled.

Celestia laughed in response. “Yes, I suppose it is.” 

She turned back to the desk and started leafing through manilla folders in her outgoing box. She stopped on an especially thick one right in the middle of the tall stack. Using her magic, she lifted off all of the folders and pulled out the one she wanted with her mouth, then let the let stack float gently back into it’s place. 

Luna grabbed the folder with her magic and pulled it out of Celestia’s mouth. She opened it up and started leafing through the papers. The bolded headline at the top of the first page stood out to her.

“Rising Tensions?” Luna’s voice filled with confusion.

“Yes. All around the world, every country has been gearing up for war,” Celestia explained.

“That’s what I heard from Tranquility but I didn’t realize it was this bad,” Luna said as she flipped through more documents.

“For the past month I have been trying to defuse the situations that have been emerging but I’m afraid the outcome of total war might be inevitable.”

“As you probably know, I went to the vault in the Starswirl wing last night-”

“Yes, I sent some extra guards to stop anyone from bothering you.”

“And I found this journal that has what I believe are the beginnings of the War,” Luna craned her neck and pulled the journal off her flank. When she saw it covered in Celestia’s aura, she let go and inspected her sister’s face. Celestia’s features went through a couple different phases. First confusion, then surprise as she briefly flipped through the book, and finally resignation. 

Celestia sighed. “Where did you find this, Luna?”

“It was in a small little safe behind the human shelf. Why does it matter where I found it, what matters is that maybe this can help us now.”

“Luna this was hidden for a reason. This journal contains very dangerous information, I’d like for you to put it back where you found it,” Celestia’s face fell into a mask. It was even better than the faces she put on at poker night, It was more like the face she used to shut down indignant ponies when they wouldn’t accept her judgement. It was all focused eyes, pinched eyebrows, and a tight jaw with thin lips. Luna felt her heart flutter a lttle in fear.

Luna narrowed her eyes. “No,” she stated, careful to keep her wavering voice solid.

Celestia’s mask cracked, flinching a little. “Wh-what?”

A spike of adrenaline shot through Luna’s system, electrifying every thought. “No, I won’t, Celestia,” this time Celestia actually flinched as if she had been slapped. This was the first time in a long time that Luna went against her sister’s wishes, and it was exhilarating. As much as she liked the feeling, Luna pushed it down. She knew where that path led, and it wasn’t pretty. She gingerly took hold of the journal with her own magic and placed it back on her flank.

Luna leaned in closer, peering into Celestia’s shocked eyes. “I’m on to something here, Celly, I can feel it. This journal holds the answers to peace for the world. I’m going to find out why it happened before. If I can do that, then I can figure out why it is happening now.”

Celestia broke out of her stupor with a shake of her head, her face twisting in confusion. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? That book is dangerous and you want to keep digging into it? This is an entirely different problem than from what happened in the past.”

Luna spread her forelegs wide. “History repeats itself all the time, Celly,” she raised her hooves to the sky and laughed in exasperation. “My prophecy, Discord’s breaking out, Sombra’s return, Tirek’s escape,” she counted out on her hoof, tapping it with each point. “History is always repeating itself. It just seems like it hasn’t been because the world has been in stagnation for so long. I didn’t experience time on the moon like normal. After the Elements cleansed me, it felt like a second had passed since I let the darkness take me the thousand years ago. All of the strife that happened then was fresh and new, and let me tell you, it’s all the same things that are happening now.”
“History repeats itself, Sister,” Luna let her forelegs fall to her sides. “ And no matter how long you wait, it always does.”

Luna hopped down from the cushion and walked out of the room. The hallways were decidedly empty, it was that time in between breakfast and lunch where no pony had much to do. Servants and butlers were busy preparing for lunch and nobles were off schmoozing their way into greater riches and corruption. It made Luna sick thinking about how bad the political situation had gotten since she came back.

She decided to not return to the vault immediately, and instead headed to her own bedroom. It was on the opposite side of the castle. The general decor of the other side being more night related. Paintings like Starry Night, by Van Trough, adorned the walls and the wallpaper was a dark blue speckled with white spots. She found her room at the end of the hallway, her cutie mark of a waning crescent hung above her door.

Her room was an almost an exact carbon copy of her sister’s, but with a slight change in color. She made her way to the raised bed and plopped herself down on it. The plush mattress and comforter made for a great place to sit and read whenever she found time. She pulled the journal in front of her and flipped it open to where she last left off.



	

Celestia watched as Luna left her chambers, her jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water. She hadn’t been talked to like that in centuries. She almost couldn’t think straight, just replaying the confrontation over and over again in her mind. Maybe Luna was right about the journal. Celestia had first read it when the castle historians came into possession of it, and immediately after finishing it, she locked it away. She never thought she would see it again because of the hidden safe, coupled with the fact that nopony entered the vault almost guaranteed that it would never see the light of her day again.

It was possible that some kind of answers were hidden in the journal. Celestia hadn’t been looking for them when she read it and Luna was always much better at studying. An idea popped into her head and it felt like a lightbulb just turned on. Her horn lit up in a golden aura and she levitated over a piece of parchment and a quill. She dipped the quill in ink and started scratching words into the parchment. Her note came together and with a contented smile she rolled it up, sealed it with a ribbon, and set fire to the bottom. Flames quickly swallowed the scroll and with a pop, disappeared. With that done, Celestia went back to the important folders waiting on her desk.



	

Spike was, in fact, a sleepy dragon. It wasn’t enough that his home had been destroyed, now he had to sleep on a old, holey pillow on the crystal floor that was Twilight’s new room. What made things worse was being awoken by gurgling in his belly signaling what he knew was a letter coming though. He rolled over onto his back and heard the tearing of fabric. He didn’t really mind that his back spines tore through the pillow, it sucked anyways, and maybe this way Twilight would get him his old basket back. His stomach erupted into a gout of green fire that coalesced into a scroll that fell back onto his chest. With a groan, Spike got up from the pillow and jogged down the crystal hallways. He turned into the library room and saw the sparsely populated bookshelves and Twilight’s form hunched over her study desk, a stack of books from the princesses old castle next to her.

“Hey, Twilight!” She turned around to face Spike. There were deep bags under her eyes and her mane was a rats nest. She gave a tired smile and beckoned him over with a little nod. She yawned, her mouth stretching as wide as it could.

“Pull another all nighter?” Spike smirked. Twilight responded with a tired nod, when she blinked her eyes, they stayed closed and it took an effort of sheer will to open them again.

“Well, Princess Celestia sent a letter for you,” he put the scroll down next to her.

“Thanks, Spike,” she croaked. Her wings felt uncomfortable and she ruffled them, just trying to move the muscles. Twilight lit up her horn and tried to grab the scroll. Her aura covered about half of it before stopping. She sighed, too tired to be angry. Maybe I’ll read it after a quick nap, Twilight thought. 

She blinked, but this time her eyelids couldn’t open up again. Distantly, she heard a thud, then she felt a headache, then she stopped caring.