What would you do if you had unlimited power at your fingertips? What would you do if obtaining it meant the end of the world? What would you do if the world didn't like you much anyways?
What would you do if you had unlimited power at your fingertips? What would you do if obtaining it meant the end of the world? What would you do if the world didn't like you much anyways?
A Changeling war hero named Pandora is about to find out the answer, as the clock ticks down to the arrival of a dark force. No matter what happens, one thing is certain.
Pandora's box is opening, and all the evil in the world will soon be released.
Words pounded against the Changelings with all other hive messages. Flashes and bangs pierced the air. Maddening noise was abound. As the carnage of the battlefield raged, a wave of pink energy rushed towards the insects, killing some by impact, and throwing the rest aside like forgotten toys. Words droned against their heads, but the signal was meaningless in the face of death. A few of them braced themselves for the imminent impact. Bodies shattered on the floor. The lucky ones were impaled by spikes. Scattered throughout the land were a precious few living changelings.
Severance
The words were weaker, as many changelings were dead. No sooner had the message struck against their heads, then an agonizing pain had ripped through the changelings. The tumor that was the queen was violently broken away, rending the mind in the process. Shredded pieces floating in the void were all that remained of the hive, but it was still enough for one last, hopeless signal.
The Queen is dead.
What is he?
Misguided faith
Is that his power?
No. His power is sympathy.
Stranded pieces of nowhere floated in an inky infinity. The emptiness had no form, and that was the form that it did not have. Paradoxical musings flitted about. The world was in statis for an immeasurable forever.
And then: thought.
If that empty void was nothing, than thought was everything. He woke. He stretched his mental projection. The hive had recovered. No. He had recovered. He was the hive in all it's entirety. His influence would spread beyond his changelings.
This time, there would be no mistakes.
Rebuild
The sound of blood echoed past marginally maddening neurons. Noise clicked mechanically into place, a system growing from the chaos. The void was burned aside by the light of knowledge. A steady wail throbbed. The hive had a voice. The hive disspeared into the mind of a foal, as he opened his eyes. The foal had a pastel blue coat, with a forest green mane. All the world stretched out before the nameless child.
Far off in Canterlot, a changeling by the name of Pandora stood in the Morphus Rehabilitation Center. Or rather, she limped excitedly in a circle, a lopsided grin plastered across her false face. Her reason for excitement was simple. She was going to be the first changeling integrated into high society, and she was honored. The doctor smiled proudly. For her new life, she had made herself a new body, original from the tip of her tail to the top of her mane. She had a deep violet coat, groomed until glistening, magenta hair that sparkled in the sun, and a brace with which to support her leg.
"Be sure to visit if you are ever too hungry!" The doctor reminded her, nuzzling Pandora's ear, before opening the door for her.
A few had gathered to watch, but the streets were mostly very full of vendors. Noises of bargain and art and beauty punctured the air like a bird's call. Her saddlebags may have been loaded, but most of the objects sparked her curiosity. Auctions in the streets seemed quite tempting, but she passed by them, heading straight for the tailor.
As she entered the surprisingly small shop, a bell dinged politely. A pastel blue unicorn stallion in a deep blue suit teleported behind the desk with an inquisitive glance at the leg brace.
"Greetings." He spoke, the words rolling off his tongue. "I imagine you are here for attire?"
Pandora gulped. She had been in training for this sort of situation before, but that was training. She picked a book from her saddlebags, quickly skimming a lesson in proper manners, before putting it back. Alas, she replaced it too late.
"Why in Equestria would you need a book on pony behaviors?" Light dawned in his eyes "Unless you aren't actually a pony..."
Pandora swallowed her doubt. "You got me. I am in fact, Pandora Rakth, and I am Changeling.".
"Your fear is matched only by the length of your name. Let us fix both those with a simple nickname. Does 'Pandy' Work?"
Pandora burst out laughing, despite her fears. "Fine with me, as long as we actually get something done."
The shopkeeper nodded, taking her measurement. "My name is Suitable Demeanor." He pulled back, teleporting away. Pandora took the opportunity to view the portraits of royal guards adorning the walls. Engraved on the paintings were names such as "Stern Demeanor". A few moments later, Suitable returned with a violet dress. Pandora paid him, and walked out oblivious to the watching foal on the roof.
Sympathy for what?
The devil.
How is that possible?
Because he is just as bad.
Influence
The foal closed his eyes, feeling the minds of others buzzing around him like bees. He reached out with the hive, and grabbed at the strings. He could smell through their noses, see through their eyes. He pulled the minds closer, willing them to him. He could feel the din of resitsance as he subtly brought them ever closer to the demise of their free will.
Pandora wandered through the library, somewhat lost. All around her, ponies spoke with each other, their voices bleeding together in a song of kin. She desperately wished she coud join, but she was just not the same. Pandora stood, shifting her weight from hoof to hoof. As she waited on the edge of the room, a pony turned to look at her.
Her mint coat and blue mane were well groomed, beyond what Pandora would be willing to do. She seemed to have put excessive care into her mane. However, under the beautiful mane, an ugly scar lay slightly visible. Nonetheless, her face was kind as she turned, giving the impression of someone likeable.
Before either of them could speak however, a web of darkness ensnared the room. A somewhat spidery net of shadows drew ever-closer. Pandora limped hurriedly closer to the ponies, smelling fear on them. As they waited, a black presence strolled into the room. He was small, young, and his eyes burned with bloodshed.
Far from the library, far from Equestria, far from everything, was a room. It was a white room, devoid of anything but walls. In the room was an empty space, as if someone had cut a hole in reality. It was whiter than white, blacker than black. The absence spoke no words, and these were the words it did not speak. Yet for all of that, it could be labeled.
Abyss. Oblivion. Absence. Blank. Empty.
It had labels, but none of them were itself. Words defied it, for to give a word is to give a concept, and it had no concept. It was known as the gap.
There was something else there, a door. It was a grey door, the only existent feature of the room. The door opened, colour seeping through. The colour dotted the absence, a twinkling array of minds in an unfathomable abyss. And then the minds woke.
They passed through the gap in a nothingth of forever. They grouped up. They stretched their mental projection. The hive was alive.
She didn't know how long she was running, or if the foal was chasing her. All that Pandora knew was that she was running from those horrible eyes. The eyes of rage and hatred, following her in her mind long after the footsteps had faded behind the Changeling. No matter how hard her hooves pounded against the floor, there was no escape from the eyes. Her lungs pounding, Pandora collapsed, unconscious, by a surprisingly small shop lined with paintings of the royal guard.
Dream, child. I will find you soon.
Far away from the street, far away from the tailor, Pandora was in a room. it was a grey room, devoid of anything but walls. Two doors, one black, one white, rested at the third wall. Aside from these, there seemed to be something lurking just on the edge of her vision. As Pandora stared around the room, she knew what it was. It was noise.
Beautiful noise.
Horrible noise.
All Noise.
The noise blended together into a symphony of voices. The voices spoke of eight chosen ponies, each to fufill an important role in all of the world. They spoke of sixteen colours, embodied by the ideals of life. They spoke of two monarchs, and their eternal dance of control. Sun and Moon. World and Gap. Sympathy and Falsehood.
They spoke of surpremacy.
More specifically, their surpremacy. The walls laughed, beautiful and horrible in all their entirety. Pandora reeled in confusion, fleeing to the black door. She tugged and tugged but it did not open, as all the while the walls laughed scorn and gentle urging.
You cannot escape the greyshift.
Pandora awoke on the tiles as rain trickled down her false coat. Her dress soggy, Pandora sighed. She stood. Tears of rain pelted her relentlessly. As the rainfall countinued, she pondered the dream. Something was obviously wrong here, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
As she stood musing, she noticed the tailor shop. Blood trickled from the roof, dripping down on the tiles below. Alarmed, Pandora entered, the jingle echoing throught the empty room. She looked around, unnerved, at the now desecrated paintings. What had once been stunning artist's renditions were now torn apart, the nameplates smudged and nigh unreadable. Only one painting was not destroyed.
"Suitable Demeanor?"
Pandora's voice only echoed. There was no response. The blood continued to trickle, as Pandora made up her mind. She would go to the top. Slowly she walked up the stairs, noises now apparent. The smash of a window. The slamming of a door. A groan. Wait... what was that last one?
"Hello?"
And then in an instant the door opened. Pandora didn't even have time to look around before a figure rushed forwards. The being crashed into her with tremendous force, knocking her to the floor. Pandora's vision darkened. As her conciousness faded, the last thing she saw was an enourmous Changeling, it's right eye scarred. And then everything went black.
My child, There will come a day, far from now. In that day you will bleed like never before, You will die, Queen Chrsyalis. That doesn't mean it has to be the end.
What will be the end?
You will see, my child. Even if you die, even if you fall, that is the old world. That is the world that you are not a part of. You will fall, yes. However, that will not be you who is falling.
Who will fall?
A different you. A tainted you. This you was made by the gap, after which she was sent into the world not ours. In that world, six bearers of harmony maintain peace. She prefers to be called Queen Sepia. Remember her, for if you do not, you shall fall too. Then our story will end a tragedy.
I will remember her. I promise.
Pandora had been blacking out alot recently. As she pondered this fact, she became aware of the surroundings. She was in a liquid emptiness. The formless nothing twisted bizzarely, and she closed her eyes to shut it out. Yet she could not. She was formless too, part of it. a voice rang out in the gloom, wild and sorrowful.
"YOU PROMISED!"
I know! I'm sorry... I couldn't remember, but I knew there was something! Please Queen Sepia, we were sisters... Does it have to be this way?
Pandora realized she was thinking those words, but she didn't remember thinking them. Oddly enough, she could not seem to think anything but these words.
"You promised Chrysalis... But you didn't keep your promise, and now you are going to fall too. The story is over."
Sister...
Pandora felt a searing strike across where her right eye should be. Somewhere else, she may have been bleeding, but here was only the wild Queen. The pain grew and grew, consuming her, controlling her. It was a nightmare, yet she could not wake up. And then, in an instant, it was gone, and so was she.
"What a tragedy."
Pandora awoke to a moist towel pressed against her forehead by way of magic. Cracking open her eyes, she saw the now rather bedraggled looking Changeling from earlier. Upon closer inspection, she appeared to be female. The Changeling seemed rather calm, almost serene. Pandora opened her mouth to speak, but the other shushed her.
"Be calm now, Pandora. Your queen is here. Your real queen."
Pandora obliged, closing her eyes to the queen. She continued to feel the comforting prescense of the cloth on her back, warm chuckles echoing through her mind. The queen was here now. Queen Chrysalis would take care of her. She was safe. She was fine. She was happy. Contented, she laid down her head, dreaming real dreams, with no rooms to be found.
