A young alicorn seeks information on a world-changing event.
The Void Rift Crisis, the ill-fated bridge between one era to another. A time of great falls and rises within the Eternal Herd. An alicorn colt, curious about the events involving this time, speaks to some prominent figures involved in it.
You wish to hear of the Void Rift Crisis? That is a frequent topic among us, colt, and certainly not because of the fond memories it stirs up. Don't be mistaken; we all have that skirmish to narrate, that one particular planar shadow that was bigger and more dangerous than the rest that we had the honor of vanquishing. I have several, if I may say so myself, but it was not all glory and victory. The crisis was a troubled and strange time for the Herd. Up to now, we discuss its effects frequently while we try to unravel what exactly happened.
But the circumstances before that time? Ah, now there is a topic to silence a conversation. No one delights in discussing how the crisis came to be. That would involve casting blame; a task none of us finds savory, regardless of what Gravitas might tell you.
Do you blame Turbo Pinnae, colt? I wouldn't be surprised. It's a common assumption among the Sixteenth Cycle alicorns. Don't be nervous, I won't denounce you before our King because you've cast the blame on his old friend. Even if I did, His Majesty is not out to punish for such slights.
It's easy to blame Turbo Pinnae when the diminished cannot defend themselves. Do you wish to hear the accusations? Listen while our famed and mighty General Gravitas, who shrinks from no battle and challenges the mightiest foes, levels one after another at a stallion who won't even hear them for several cycles, let alone reply.
This is not to say that I am defending Pinnae. Certainly, we were friends, and I fought alongside him during our earliest ventures in Ida. He was a skilled fighter, and his power of wind commanded respect even among Ida's veterans, but, after a while, he very rarely joined His Majesty and I in the battle plane, and I did not know him well outside our fighting.
It is truly a pity, in both ways. It was a pleasure watching Pinnae fight. He had the swiftness to match His Majesty, the strength to strike down even the toughest among us, and a capricious, deceptive ingenuity to lay out clever plans. I wish he had fought more in Ida, but I suppose the King-to-be felt driven to be involved in more significant things than wandering and fighting. On the opposite end, I now wish that I had taken the time to see more of what he was like outside Ida. He was involved in many things, but I was narrow-minded and dismissive. I had too much "warrior's pride" to appreciate what could have been important. I know this must sound prideful, but, if I had been more informed, I could have lent a stronger voice that might have kept him from his fate.
The reality of it, however, is that His Majesty was the one who knew him best. Outside Ida, they remained frequent companions. I only knew surface things, such as of his relationship with the Sixth's Seekers and his work on the various devices left by the Sixth, including the Agamanthion, but I knew no specific detail of those endeavors. His Majesty may esteem him, but it saddens me to say that, while I do not immediately assume he caused the Void Rift Crisis, I do not put it beyond him either. Still, even if the crisis can be tied to his actions, I truly believe it was a tragic mistake.
What Pinnae was doing with the Agamanthion was dangerous. Believe me, I must have been the very first to voice that concern to His Majesty. But Sanctus Dominus trusted him to be careful. Pinnae was among our brightest, and he had a passion and understanding for the lost Sixth Cycle that impressed even the grimmest of the Sixth's Seekers. He was no fool playing at research. We shake our heads now, and claim that the Agamanthion should have never been touched. We have that privilege now, but none of us expected a disaster of such magnitude, and such potential finality.
The loss of Pinnae, and the horror he may have wrought, should not overshadow one thing. For all the terror brought about by the Void Rift Crisis, it did result in the rise of our present King. Who among us now has a complaint to level at the Sixteenth Ascendant? Well, besides General Gravitas, who will rant and rave if he doesn't like the colors that His Majesty decides to wear for an event.
The Void Rift Crisis tempered His Majesty's already unshakable resolve to protect the Herd like no other, and it settled his restless, wandering spirit. I had always said that he presented the better choice as King, and that the only obstacle in his ascension's way was his own refusal to give up his carefree lifestyle for the weight of a crown. Of course, there was also Pinnae's sonship with the Fifteenth Ascendant, but even that would not have stopped His Majesty if he had sought the Throne. The Void Rift Crisis demanded of Sanctus Dominus, and made a King of the wandering Lord of Sunlight.
I weep for all those untimely diminished by the Void Rift Crisis, but, if there was no way to bring about the glory of our Sixteenth Cycle, then I proudly repeat Her Majesty's favorite words: everything is as it should be.
As for the fools who believe that Pinnae deliberately sought to cause the Void Rift Crisis, I was there when His Majesty risked everything to save Pinnae's diminished essence from the Agamanthion's collapsing rift-heart. Turbo Pinnae did not just face diminishing, he faced complete annihilation. Why would he plan to obliterate himself so thoroughly?
But this is all speculation. A few cycles from now, Turbo Pinnae will be restored. At that time, he will give his side and will be held accountable. I truly wish to be there when that happens. The Void Rift Crisis was an event of many complicated unknowns, colt, as you are sure to find out should you pursue this inquiry. Do you really believe that its roots can be summed up so easily as "it was Turbo Pinnae's fault"?
How did the Void Rift Crisis come about? Only a fool still does not know the answer. Fortunately, the Herd has few fools. Unfortunately, it has many cowards who would rather pretend to be fools out of some ill-placed respect. You have come to the right alicorn to ask that, colt. When you find your mind becoming increasingly clouded because of all the cloying, half-false tales from those more interested in serving themselves, remember my account.
Turbo Pinnae caused the Void Rift Crisis.
There. There is the mysterious answer to your "difficult" question. There is the "sacred" answer so few of us have the nerve to say.
There are no guesses over the matter. Turbo Pinnae bumbled with forces beyond his ken, pushed by delusions of achievement, envy of an alicorn who was simply his better, and a fatal curiosity. Why so shocked? Expecting some simpering apologist answer? Go to Lexarius for one. Watch him spin rethoric and flattery as he hopes our rulers give him some meager honor for his brown-nosing. Why should I dance circles around this simple fact? Is it because Pinnae was a close friend of Sanctus Dominus? Did he consider that friendship as he toyed with the fate of our beloved Herd? Hardly. His Majesty treated Pinnae as a dear friend, hence his warnings over meddling with the Agamanthion. If Pinnae reciprocated even a fraction of that regard, or even had the basic sense to listen to an alicorn his superior in so many ways, he should have listened, and desisted. How can one be warned by both Juste Canite and Sanctus Dominus, and still fail to listen?
Yes, I do dare to say it. He was envious of Sanctus Dominus, and knew that he would never excel in battle as the Lord of Sunlight did. That's why he turned to his studies. So obssessed was he in this goal that he was heedless of all the voices telling him to stop.
He didn't, of course. They never do, these politicians, and scholars. They hide in safety, proposing risks for others until it all comes crashing down. Then, others must pay for their failures. To this moment, we are cleaning up after the crisis he caused while he rests easy in his being diminished.
Should I be respectful because he was going to be King? If there is anything remotely salvageable from the horror that was the Void Rift Crisis, it's that it exposed a weak candidate, and allowed a worthy ruler to shine. I never believed in Pinnae's kingship. He was flighty, easily distracted, and insecure, picking up one cause or another, then moving on if he did not shine the most in it. The Fifteenth Ascendant's kingship was stable, and peaceful, but his fatherhood failed his only son. Pinnae was almost uncontrollable, and the rest of the Herd simply bowed and nodded while he pulled us to our destruction.
I know the heart of this mess. Pinnae was a scholar; a dreamer full of theories and suppositions. Risk to him was a little number near the end of his rambling propositions and guesses. A warrior would have a better respect for risk, but Pinnae was barely a shadow in Ida, and he never showed an interest in our planar boundaries. Where was he when one of the wandering centimanii passed close to our world? I stood shoulder to shoulder with brave Sanctus Dominus, and Animus Arcem. Even Divina Gratia. But our former King-to-be was not the first to rush to the defense of his world. A pity that the centimanus only had the interest in a token exchange of blows. We might have exposed Pinnae earlier otherwise.
Some may say that Pinnae meant well, that he sought to unlock the mysteries involved with the Sixth Ascendant. It was a worthy goal, and fate merely conspired to lead it to a bad end. That is such sentimental, meaningless filth, and I am tired of hearing it. The Sixth's Seekers keep vomiting that up as they dredge one dangerous artifact after another out of the depths of our history. It never occurs to them that the Herd might be better off having obliterated nearly every trace of the Sixth Cycle, that we are tasked with completing whatever this cosmic event began. Of course it never has. Not even our near total annihilation can convince these fools that the Sixth Ascendant should be deliberately lost, not sought.
Every alicorn takes pride in the achievements of the cycle he was born in. The Sixth Cycle alicorns have none. I sympathize with them, truly, until the point where they would unleash horrors upon us just to change their lot. Why should so many be untimely diminished just so a generation can feel good about itself? It is madness. And it is a madness we tolerate. The Seekers continue with their wretched quest unchecked because so many find it sad and romantic. This is no simpering tale of noble, impossible goals. This is reality. And the reality of it is that we should focus on now, not some lost bit of history, and the now is threatened by their quest for knowledge.
I hear rumblings from fools over how frequently I call for events in Ida, that I glorify the war-like side of the Herd too much at the cost of "gentler arts". These same fools will bring about another crisis, which is exactly what I am trying to prepare for. How many of our brethren are like Turbo Pinnae? Are we going to wait until one of them has the hubris and means to destroy us all? I refuse.
So let the scholars and philosophers argue over the semantics of what started the Void Rift Crisis. I have given you all the answer you need. We who fought to resolve it must look to the future; stopping any more disasters that I'm sure one of them will cause.
Colt, does my name provide you no clue? My job is to record events, not to give my take on them. This would be a difficult enough task if I worked in the utter void that the Agamanthion tried to reduce us to, much more so when I have alicorns poking and prying at me in hopes of nudging history to be more favorable for them. There are plenty of alicorns to talk to if you're looking for one to pronounce judgment on Turbo Pinnae. Don't try to push me by saying that my opinion on the matter would have more weight because I am First Cycle. I have heard that far too often.
For the sake of education, however, I do have something to add to your ongoing query. Let it never be said that an alicorn entered the Hall of Records and learned nothing.
First of, the Agamanthion. I know that some alicorns out there are already happily convinced that the Agamanthion was some kind of extra-planar bomb, sent by some hostile, far-off realm to destroy us or some such thing. It's not, and such thoughts are dangerous. The Herd should not look on so belligerently towards other heavenly realms.
The Agamanthion was rediscovered in Elys, during the mid-Seventh Cycle, by the Seekers of the Sixth. The records from the First to the Fifth Cycle made no mention of it, and no one from the Seventh had noticed its construction or arrival into the Herd, an impossibility given the complexity of the Agamanthion's design, and its sheer size. The Seekers also identified several design patterns in the Agamanthion that were identical to that of previously discovered devices such as Facem Subsequentis. The Sixth Ascendant, may she be revealed, was fond of a particular aesthetic. The Seekers use this as a way to identify the things she left behind, and as proof that she did not plan this disappearance. That the Sixth's devices are always laced with necromantic effects of a magnitude not yet matched to the present also helped. So, at the risk of disappointing our more aggressive brethren, I must point out that the Agamanthion came from nowhere but the Herd.
What was the Agamanthion? Many great minds have been wracked trying to answer the question. Even to this moment, when the Agamanthion can barely even be considered rubble, the Seekers continue to analyze. Turbo Pinnae was the closest to that goal, and we all know the price his inquiry cost him.
We do know that it housed smaller artifacts related to the Sixth Ascendant, including a small army of powerful guardians to protect its corridors upon activation. We know what it did; its extensions gated into every layer of the Eternal Herd, destabilizing the very structure of our plane to collapse it on itself. The debate as to whether it was meant to do that or Pinnae's meddling caused it is hotly debated up to the present. But as to what it was...it is unfortunate, but we may never know. When Sanctus Dominus destroyed its core, the Agamanthion all but disintegrated in a great explosion of worldly energies. We have precious few fragments from its extensions to study, and I'm afraid I cannot bring myself to be optimistic that anything short of a lecture from the Sixth Ascendant herself could ever make sense of it all.
Next, the Seekers of the Sixth.
The Seekers declared their motives early into the Seventh Cycle, in a momentous occasion in the empty wing of the Hall of Records. I was there to witness it, and I readily approved of their quest to recover as much knowledge of the Sixth Cycle as possible. That is their goal: knowledge, not the reinstatement of the Sixth Ascendant as some of the ridiculous mumblings I've heard suggest. It's certainly not to obliterate the Eternal Herd as the Sixth Cycle was obliterated. If only more alicorns spent their time in the Hall of Records instead of indulging so much frightened gossip.
Contrary to what you might have heard, they are not led by Sagax Lumen whom they treat as a Queen. The Seekers are officially led, or were unfortunately, by their six High Seekers, all who are equal peers. They organize their searches, and catalogue their findings. Sagax Lumen just happens to be the most well-known among them, partly for her discoveries, and partly because she is the most vocal among them, acting as their de facto face when contact with the Herd as a group is necessary. Sadly, none of the High Seekers survived the Void Rift Crisis. It will be at least three cycles before the group recovers them.
I have heard General Gravitas' denouncement of the Seekers, and his call to punish them for their role in the Void Rift Crisis. He is a brave and strong warrior true, but he does not know how to pick his battles. It is proof enough that he challenged Sanctus Dominus in Ida twice, and lost his head on both occasions. His dismissal of the Seekers' cause is even greater proof.
It is baffling that so few understand the loss that the Herd still faces today. We have lost an entire cycle to obscurity. The wing for the Sixth Cycle lies empty save for a few treatises on the sparse clues the Seekers have recovered. If Gravitas cares as much for the Herd as he says he does, he should be aiding the Seekers, not saying nonsense about how we should be destroying the last traces of the sixth. Their part in the crisis is cannot be overlooked, but to abandon the Sixth Cycle to obscurity is a crime far more unforgivable.
Ah, but I stray from the topic. It is the Void Rift Crisis that interests you. Fortunately we have records for that. Every scholar in the Herd seems to want their take on the crisis published, including you apparently. You may have to track down some copies. It is a subject of great interest for many of us.
I have heard that accusation far too many times, young one. No matter how many times I speak on the matter, it keeps coming up. I would say that it is getting tiring, but it has gotten tiring a long time ago. How long has passed since that incident? The Void Rift Crisis heralded the beginning of the Sixteenth Cycle. We are already discussing who the Seventeenth Ascendant will be, but this topic still keeps coming up.
So, let me make it clear yet again. None of us seek to absolve Turbo Pinnae of what happened with the Agamanthion, not even His Majesty. He is tied to the Void Rift Crisis, no matter how much we wish otherwise. Yet, so many in the Herd, most especially those ignorant of any of the events surrounding the Void Rift Crisis, act and speak as if the true Void Rift Crisis involved Pinnae leading our destruction while cackling madly. He is no villain. He never was. The Void Rift Crisis does not need such a thing to point at. Indeed, this question distracts us from asking far more important questions regarding the Agamanthion.
What had gone wrong, you ask?
Pinnae was reckless. There is no hiding that. I do not believe that he meant to be reckless, or even considered that he might be, but I do suspect that he was during those fateful moments, and a few moments of weakness is all you need when dealing with such powerful forces. Understanding why requires that we look at the circumstances he was in.
I knew Pinnae well; he frequently attended many of Empyrea's councils with me. He was also well-versed in our dealings with the other heavenly realms. Contrary to what Gravitas has been saying, Pinnae was also a skilled fighter. He accounted well for himself in several Ida tournaments, and he was among the first to respond when that centimanus threatened to breach our planar boundaries, even earlier than Gravitas and his retinue. It was because he was the King-to-be that many of us begged him to fall back, hence his absence when the fighting briefly broke out.
Do you know of when Sanctus Dominus' legend in Ida began? No, it wasn't with the first single combat tournament he joined. The first major victory he had was in a trio fighting tournament. Silva Inber "fails" to mention this, most likely because His Majesty at that time served as Pinnae's second. It was when Sanctus Dominus' skill grew more and more acknowledged did Pinnae lessen his trips to Ida. He understood his limitations, and did not want to limit himself in Sanctus Dominus' shadow. He was also a stallion deeply concerned with the inner workings of our Herd, and couldn't be contented with forever proving himself in Ida. I believe that, even if he proved himself stronger than Sanctus Dominus, Turbo Pinnae would have stopped coming at some point.
To simplify it, Pinnae was skilled in everything he set his mind to, and he set his mind to many things in his attempts to find his role in the Herd. But being skilled and excelling are different things. Perhaps, knowing that he was the King-to-be, Pinnae sought more from himself than any of us did. Sanctus Dominus far outshone him as a warrior, and as a leader of warriors. Though, in all honesty, Sanctus Dominus has done that to all of us. In terms of diplomacy, Divina Gratia and I were of more note. It was so in every endeavor, and it must have been frustrating.
The Sixteenth Ascension was approaching, and it was understandable that Pinnae sought one great accomplishment before all his endeavors were tied to the Throne. Perhaps, he still wished to prove himself worthy. He certainly wasn't deaf to the whispers about Sanctus Dominus' own worth. Our beloved Herd had a hoof in pushing him, but will anyone take responsibility? Of course not.
And that is where the Agamanthion entered the picture. Pinnae's scholarly work was where he was peerless. His focus and passion was the lost Sixth Cycle, a topic in desperate need of more answers. Even the Seekers saw him as the one to bring light to a matter that had spent cycles in the dark. It delighted him to find a place in which he was needed so badly, and he was determined not to disappoint. I, for one, think that it was a noble sentiment, an overflowing desire to be of use. It is a pity that it led where it did.
To unlock the mystery of the Agamanthion drove Turbo Pinnae harder than anything else. I feared that it was becoming a dangerous obsession. Sanctus Dominus saw it too, without a doubt. We spoke to him of our concerns, but he didn't listen. There was that moment when he even accused His Majesty of deliberately holding him back out of a desire not to be outshone. Let me tell you, that was probably the only blow ever to land so solidly on His Majesty.
Is that blame in your gaze? Understandable. Looking back now, it's easy to say we should have done more than worry and warn. We didn't. I suppose it was partly because it was not so easy to go up against the future King when even a colt could see how much it meant to him. I think that, deep down, we all held on to the hope that he would succeed. Because it was a cause worth succeeding in, and he was the best among us to do so.
I hold no grudge against Turbo Pinnae. You'll be surprised how many of us don't. He has lost his ascension, he will forever be remembered for this disaster, he was nearly wiped from existence, and he has damaged the Herd he loves with all his heart. Yes, loves. Is that so hard to believe?
So much anguish awaits him upon his restoration. More than enough for any one stallion. I fear that Gravitas' propositions won't even be necessary should that time come. Turbo Pinnae will likely exile himself to the far reaches of Vestibulum in expiation. That is the sort of stallion he is.
Who was the Sixth Ascendant? Are you mocking me, colt? Are you one of General Gravitas' lackeys? My quest keeps me perpetually busy, but I can find the time to take a quick trip to Ida with you. There, I'll show you that we Seekers are not these scholarly weaklings your general thinks we are.
Ah, but you do sound earnest. Your ignorance is saddening, and I would suggest that you spend some time in Empyrea's Hall of Records. I'm sure Magnus will set you straight on the matter. So, why would you ask such a question now? It is hardly a popular topic, though I wish it were. The Herd seems quite content with just forgetting such a massive chunk of our history.
The Void Rift Crisis? Of course. I should have known. Every inquiry into the Sixth Ascendant now stems from that disaster. I fear the Seekers are going to forever rue the decision to trust so much in Turbo Pinnae.
Still your wings, colt, I was too hastily angered, and I apologize. You should get a Seeker's perspective before you talk to others about the Sixth. The Herd is full of misinformation from alicorns too hasty with their judgments, too apathetic to discover the truth, or too foolish to understand its importance.
Let this be the first thing you carry with you; no one truly knows who the Sixth Ascendant is. Those who would come to you claiming to be the one who knows is a liar. The Seekers of the Sixth have been searching for that answer for ten cycles now. We have among us some of the greatest diviners the Herd has ever produced, honed by cycles of searching. We continue to explore the far corners of our Eternal Herd, we scour other planes, the most resolved among us even wander Vestibulum, all for the sake of answering that question you have so casually thrown at me. If there is an alicorn out there who still remembers the Sixth Ascendant, I assure you, we would have found this alicorn.
We know that the Sixth Ascendant was a Queen, and it took a thousand-page treatise from Sagax Lumen for us to come to that consensus. We know that she was a necromancer of unimaginable power, thanks to the scraps of her discarded notes we found in the deepest depths of Bytos. We refer to her as "the Necromancer Queen" for now, but only because we have yet to comprehend the true measure of her abilities. For all we know, Necromancy might even be her weakest skill, and it just happens to be beyond the rest of the Herd. Beyond that, we continue to flounder with guesswork.
The Agamanthion was among our earliest and greatest discoveries. The mystery of it was such that even the name used for it in the scattered scraps of notes we found inside does not make sense. For a long time it had been lazily floating across the fields of Elys, hidden by a combination of illusions so complex that it took hundreds of Seekers to reveal it. And the revelation turned out to be the easy part. Discovering the functions of its mechanisms without disturbing them, destroying them, or activating the guardians took cycles to barely progress to. The best among us were tasked with learning everything about the Agamanthion. We even went so far as to establish a base there for our High Seekers. I was not chosen to be part of this team. It was disheartening, certainly, but now it certainly feels more like good fortune.
We were desperate when Turbo Pinnae showed up. The Fifteenth Cycle was ending without a single new discovery. It would have been the first time since the Seekers of the Sixth was formed for a cycle to pass with nothing to show. Some of us had started to believe that we had exhausted all our leads, and there was nothing more to be gleaned by physically searching. The Agamanthion was our best and last lead. There was even speculation that the Sixth Ascendant lay within the very core of the Agamanthion, which we could not reach.
Understand that we did not allow Pinnae to study the Agamanthion on a whim. He faced rigorous evaluation, he remained an adviser for a long time, and half of us, myself included, believed that he should be kept at that distance. I personally felt that he was too eager to examine the Agamanthion, like a colt with a new toy. Our High Seekers thought otherwise. Sagax Lumen was particularly impressed by his brilliance, and his eagerness. Quite possibly, by his handsomeness as well. Perhaps, she saw it as a bold, political move. After all, if Turbo Pinnae were to become deeply involved with the Seekers, and then ascended, we would gain the Throne's direct support. Turbo Pinnae was a passionate scholar. He might even mobilize all the Herd to the Seekers' cause. Regardless of the actual reason, Sagax Lumen pushed for Pinnae's inclusion into the main team studying the Agamanthion in an unprecedented case of an alicorn born outside of the Sixth Cycle rising so quickly with the Seekers.
I will admit that he was brilliant, and that there was merit in letting him join us. Having one not from the Sixth Cycle joining up improved relations with the rest of the Herd as well. I just wish we had more time. And I wish he had more time. Turbo Pinnae created a time limit in the form of the Sixteenth Ascension; a limit he shouldn't have. If we had that time, we might have tempered that impatience of his. Now, instead of improving how the Herd sees us, this decision led to our horrible, current state.
And we all know what happened as a result of that reckless promotion. Sagax Lumen and the rest of our High Seekers, along with several of our best seekers, were untimely diminished when the Agamanthion became active. We have lost our best lead, our leaders, and some of our best seekers. Many of us are falling into despair. Those of us wandering other planes have started mentioning talk of giving up. It seems now that we will never recover the Sixth Cycle.
Not me, though. I will keep searching, no matter how many cycles pass. Even if I become the last seeker.
Of course I remember where I was and what I was doing when the crisis began. There isn't an alicorn involved in that disaster who doesn't.
I was at the Midnight Grove at the time, accompanying His Majesty during the leisurely walks he was wont to take with Her Majesty whenever he won an Ida tournament.
What? Ah, no. I did not walk with them. Before her ascension, Her Majesty frequently dealt with alicorns hoping to catch a glimpse of their futures. More so when Juste Canite entered his second diminishing. I ensured that they did not disturb her during these times. Not an easy task, mind you. Our brethren can be highly persistent, inconsiderate, and surprisingly incapable of reading the mood.
I remember having just sent away another petitioner when the Agamanthion gated its extension into the Midnight Grove.
That sight...
I don't recall how long I was breathless when it happens. My lungs will likely burst if I tried to re-enact it now. Imagine a pointed spire of metal and stone, thick as an entire fortress, as tall as the highest peaks of Bytos, and covered in twisting cables with the girth of tree trunks. Imagine it emerging diagonally from the Grove's perpetually moon-lit sky, growing downward as if...as if some titanic force was stabbing into our very world.
I did not know how to react at first. It was possible that it was just some spectacle conjured by a great number of alicorns. Though, such commotions were highly frowned upon in the Midnight Grove. It was the reason Her Majesty resided there.
It was what followed that finally moved me. Like a cloud of black sand rising up when a strong wind blows through, thousands of...creatures emerged from that spire, and swiftly descended on the Grove. I will admit that the opening rush of these creatures so surprised me that I would have been overcome so early into the fight, without even getting a clear view of what was attacking.
As for what was attacking, I believe the Seekers refer to them as "planar shadows". Certainly, they did resemble formless, indistinct blobs of darkness. They could be shadows, if what cast them was a glob of opaque sludge.
To this day, I can't be sure as to what they were, or how to best describe them. Think of a hole on a piece of fabric that's constantly fluttering about. It seems to be shifting in size and shape, but it isn't. Those things gave off the same seeming, except the "fabric" was the structure of the Grove itself.
Ah, but no matter what scholarly debate eventually defined them as, our enchanted, Herd-forged steel struck true against them. A strong blow to the center of their beings discorporated them like so much black smoke. Likewise, a blast of magical energy could overwhelm them, leaving nothing behind.
You might think that such obvious, and easily exploited, vulnerabilities would not make them so great a threat. True, by myself, I could have destroyed several hundred without too much exertion. But we were assailed by thousands, even tens of thousands at some point. The spire exuded them as fire exuded smoke, and that was not the most ominous thing it appeared to be doing at that time.
And they were far from harmless. One of them brushed against me in a moment of carelessness, and that brief touch brought on a chill unlike any other. When we were colts, His Majesty and I would soak ourselves in water before circling the highest peaks of Bytos for a bracing race. Even the cold of those times cannot be compared. The chill sapped strength from one's body, and even magic from one's horn, as we later found out. Poor Aves Cantio, I wonder if he would have survived if I had not turned him away, or if all he would hear from Her Majesty was that he was going to be untimely diminished soon after their talk.
We were at a severe disadvantage as well. The Midnight Grove is not well known for its gatherings of powerful warriors. One can find, perhaps, the occasional warrior meditating before or after a trip to Ida, but not so much. The attack was so sudden that those who could fight were cornered into pockets fighting desperately against strange foes. Planar shadows swarmed us relentlessly, their numbers constantly replenished by the Agamanthion's extension. They blotted out the moon, spread out among the trees, and they exuded a dark that suppressed our light spells.
What few alicorns to muster a defense swiftly dwindled in number. I could not even see the invading spire past the unending cloud of foes pouring from it. All seemed lost.
I can understand that incredulity on your face, colt. You might find it laughable, being so young. You would not think that our great and glorious Herd could even come close to being overwhelmed and destroyed. You go to Ida, and see our finest warriors display such prowess, such a variety of skills and power, and you become complacent in our invincibility. No abomination wandering Vestibulum would make a serious attempt to attack us. Those in the other heavenly realms would not dare so easily.
But it was true, at that time, when I stared at the blotted moon, and the swarm of shadows, that I feared our time had come. That the Fifteenth Cycle would be our last. I had resigned myself to destruction.
Oh, but I was so easily lost to despair. Fortunately for me, for all of us, there was one who had a different take on the situation. Sanctus Dominus's power of sunlight cut through both the shadows, and the haze of our growing despair.
The Midnight Grove would have been the first to collapse during that dark time if it wasn't for Sanctus Dominus' coincidental visit. Or, perhaps, that was why Her Majesty preferred the Grove all along? She has said that the Agamanthion clouded her sight, but she may have seen enough of its effects to prepare.
Regardless of Her Majesty's preempting, or lack of it, His Majesty soon proved the catalyst for the Grove's salvation. His power of sunlight shone like a beacon for others to gather to, destroying the planar shadows by the thousands, and granting renewed strength to the weakened all in a single golden flare.
You may have heard and read tales of His Majesty's prowess. I assure you, to see him in Ida is an exhilarating, terrifying experience no book can prepare you for. And the battles that occurred during the Void Rift Crisis...no number of witnessing duels prepared me. It was during the battle for the Midnight Grove did I realize that, even during his best duels, and those rare planar boundary standoffs, His Majesty restrained himself. In Ida, he started out leisurely, as one would feel for icebreakers in a conversation. The opponent was allowed a few attacks as one would be quiet during another's introduction, before he struck back. Not so during this battle. He moved with indescribable speed, nearly invisible, but with a presence so great that we rallied to his sun without hesitation.
I wish I could describe Her Majesty's prowess in some way, but I barely caught glimpses of her. She stood at the center of our foes, her power of dark swirling around her, striking in its deepness, visible even in the shadows, and the dimmed moonlight. But I did not catch a single strike from her Obscurus Alis. You have that quizzical look on your face, colt. Have you not seen Her Majesty's signature weapons? Six, short, black blades, curved, and feather-shaped? Ah, that's an understandable pity. They are a very rare sight. Before her ascension, Her Majesty only fought twice in Ida, and, in both cases, her opponents destroyed themselves in confusion.
Those two let us see a way through, and we clung to that hope with everything we could muster. Still, we had a colossal task before us.
I was in the Hall of Records when the Void Rift Crisis began, yes, try to contain your shock. I stayed there with the scribes for the duration of that disaster. You must understand that this hall is the greatest repository of Eternal Herd history anywhere, rivaled only by the Circle of Knowledge, and they still send scholars here regularly for materials. We've lost enough of our past with the Sixth Cycle, and I will be diminished a hundred times over, in the most painful ways possible, before I stand by and watch more be swallowed by obscurity.
The First Ascendant had ordered that the Hall of Records be designed like a fortress. It may seem strange to you now, but the First Cycle was a time of anxieties and suspicion. We were worried of being invaded by the Wolvenaar, or the Q'tzal, at that time, and we were ready to defend ourselves. That's why the oldest buildings in Empyrea tend to have the feel of fortresses to them. I give praise to the First's foresight now as I did during the crisis. My scribes and I boast of no frightful power, but I am proud to say we held strong without losing a single manuscript. We were fortunate that the planar shadows were drawn to the living, especially those close to the Agamanthion's extensions, it was not as if we were their primary targets.
My endeavors, however, kept me inside one structure during most of the crisis. You will have to ask General Gravitas and the others about how the rest of Empyrea fared. Be discerning, mind you. He is not above peppering truth with exaggerations to make a point. Empyrea has always been our most resilient plane; directly anchored by the Throne's physical presence, bolstered by cycles of building, and assured by a constant large concentration of alicorns. If the Herd is to be truly destroyed, Empyrea will be the last to fall.
Of course, I shall not allow that you come away from this conversation without having learned something of the Void Rift Crisis.
You are likely wondering what the King and Queen of the Fifteenth Cycle were doing during such a time of need. Surely, the Throne could have swept away these invaders.
First, we should consider the time this took place. It was the closing period of the Fifteenth Cycle. I do not merely mean that the King had announced that he was stepping down soon, I mean that the process had already begun. The Fifteenth Ascendant was in the process of removing himself from the Throne's attunement, immediately after which Turbo Pinnae would take up the crown. It was, perhaps, the worst time for the Void Rift Crisis to occur.
Some among us have posited that the Agamanthion had bidden its time for such a moment, and that Pinnae's involvement in studying it was coincidental. But such talk is often just dismissed as the theories of apologists. And it assumes that some sinister intelligence lurked within the Agamanthion. Or, at least, the Sixth had designed it to monitor the situation all over the Herd, then activate when certain conditions were met. The Seekers have been quick to oppose the notion. It is understandable that they will not hear of any suggestion that the Necromancer Queen was somehow plotting our destruction. Understandable, but ill-advised for those who would quest for knowledge. The Seekers should have been prepared to face such a possibility. Looking back, they might have been more cautious with the Agamanthion if they even remotely suspected that it was purposely harmful. It is not as if the other artifacts they discovered were quaint little toys.
Deliberate plan or not, however, the Throne's power was at its weakest when the Void Rift Crisis happened. It also did not help that we were more complacent at that time. If you look at the Herd now, you wouldn't think that it was possible for us to be complacent, but what you see now in our increased show of might and more frequent organized events in Ida is the result of lessons learned during the Void Rift Crisis. Before that, it was far more common for an alicorn to fly around without his barding, or for colts and fillies not to have lessons involving the art of fighting. Indeed, the "Young Fighters Tournament" in Ida is a tradition created only during the Sixteenth Cycle. Patrolling the areas in Vestibulum where the boundaries of our world are thin was also seen more as an onerous, ceremonial task. These times, sentinel work is taken very seriously, and our presence in Vestibulum has doubled.
Still, that did not mean that the Fifteenth did nothing. Far from it. The Throne was vital for holding our world together while the Agamanthion struggled to collapse it. The King and Queen had to stay with the Throne, utilizing their already faded attunement to hold the Eternal Herd together. Without them, the Herd would have collapsed before Sanctus Dominus could mount a rally. It must have been difficult to react so suddenly. The Fifteenth had told me several times in various conversations how relieved he was to lay down the crown. To have to take it up again so suddenly, and to find out that his son had likely been diminished, and was responsible for such a disaster...it was a marvel of inner strength for sure.
Do you know that the Fifteenth Ascendant has already naturally diminished? It is an unprecedented occurrence. Ascendants usually stay on for a cycle or two after passing on the Throne's responsibilities. The Fifteenth was gone before Sanctus Dominus' sun crown could even be forged. Perhaps the burden of the Void Rift Crisis happening in his cycle, the downfall of his son, and the strain of re-attuning to the Throne so suddenly drained him to such a state.
I suppose it was only fitting. No son should be diminished before his father. The sad reality of it is that he was not alone in his plight.
The Agamanthion struck Empyrea the hardest for obvious reasons. This is where the Throne, the cornerstone of our glorious Herd, resides. It is also the most populous layer of our heavenly realm. All our heavenly realm's layers may reflect its beauty and majesty, but our planar city stands as the clearest mirror to alicorn culture. If Empyrea had fallen, there would have been no hope for the rest of the Eternal Herd.
It was most fortunate, as fortunate as anything could have been during that horrific time, that I and a large portion of my command had been there.
You're smirking. Don't pretend otherwise. You may think I'm putting on airs, but I never said that I alone carried the defense of Empyrea on my shoulders. You might also know that Sanctus Dominus did not save the Herd by himself either. We all had a role, and I merely choose to be frank when I say that mine was a large one.
When the strange creatures emerged from the Agamanthion's extension, we knew straight away the enormity of the problem. They scattered into the city as easily as you might scatter a bag of fine sand. True, our streets may be well-ordered, and we had many large fortress-like structures to fall back on. But this was't the First Cycle, when alicorns thought as warriors under threat. Cycles of adding smaller, more elaborate buildings increased the size and complexity of Empyrea, allowing for thousands upon thousands of small, enclosed, individual areas. The fighting took to the streets, through homes, and other structures. There were too many places to hide in, and suddenly finding one's self swarmed by shadows at the turn of a corner diminished a good number of our brethren.
The presence of so many hiding places also revealed a far more disgusting problem. Most of Empyrea's residents nobly stood up to fight. As they should for our homes, and our brethren. My troops and I held the primary paths to Throne's Rest, where we fought shoulder to shoulder with responsible citizens. The plan was to clear the streets of planar shadows before taking the fight to the spire. However, there were miserable wretches; pathetic cowards who fortified their homes, and hid away, defending only themselves. Spineless cravens like Procul Ocularus and Medius Locus thought they could save themselves, and just wait for the matter to settle down.
This is the result of cycles of softening, fattening, and growing increasingly arrogant. The Herd was already showing weakness during the Twelfth Cycle, and it only worsened past that. We've spent too much time focusing on Art, Philosophy, and Politics, abandoning the vital subjects of combat, tactics, and survival. We have failed to foster courage and tenacity in our youth by allowing them too much idle time for their whimsies. We have elders who have never set a hoof in Ida, let alone undergo sentinel duty.
To the present, I still denounce these wretches before our King, demanding that they be exiled to the far reaches of Vestibulum, to wander that endless gray forever. The scum who refuse to defend our beloved Herd should not be allowed to live in it. But, if Dominus has anything that can be called a weakness, it's an excess of benevolence. It's likely because he has the might to fight in the place of so many that he easily forgives those who can hide behind him. If more had depended on these fools, the cowardice they demonstrated would be all the more damning. Instead, they are allowed to go on as if they had done nothing wrong. Ocularus even has a seat in the Council of Elders! What advice can he possibly offer our King that would be worth more than the breath he would take to say it?
What? Ah, the invasion.
We held on valiantly, of course, but the chance to counterattack did not materialize. The planar shadows possessed endless reinforcements. I attempted to lead a small group to attack the Agamanthion's extensions, and thus stem the unending flow of enemies. We found only enough purchase to make a few attempts to break through the shield surrounding it. The Herd may frequently associate her with Necromancy, but the Sixth's abjurations defied limits. Not even with Atrox could I dispel or break through the barriers, at least not with so little time to make my attempt. My loyal retinue fought hard for those few attempts, and it cost the untimely diminishing of Crabrones Stimulus.
Lexarius will tell you that such a move was reckless. He has that luxury, as do several of our "esteemed elders" none of whom had a plan beyond surviving, and hoping that a savior turns up. And now, they sit on their cushioned sofas, sipping tea and sampling cakes, second-guessing every move made in the heat of battle with the self-satisfied delusion that this constitutes "participating" in war.
And yes, a savior did appear, but that does not make their placidity right, nor my actions wrong. We are blessed with unimaginable fortune that such an alicorn as our King came to exist during that cycle, but to conduct ourselves to rely on such fortune is a crime.
I will confess, after the failed attempt to attack the Agamanthion's extension, I had to consider the likelihood that we were only delaying our complete destruction. The bright lights of our planar city had gone dark, and the cries of desperation were loud all around.
Do you frequent our battle plane of Ida, colt? Good. One's fighting skills should always be honed. Where would our beloved Herd be if all of us spent our time arguing semantics with Ocularus and his ilk? I tell you, back in the beginning of the Fifteenth Cycle, I could have purged half the Eternal Herd's population, and not decreased our martial might. That's how bad it had gotten. It has been a long, arduous process, but we now see great improvements in the Sixteenth. Blasphemous as it may sound, I thank the chaos of the Void Rift Crisis for that.
But do not let Ida make you complacent. It is far easier to show valor with the reassurance of surviving mistakes. The Void Rift Crisis revealed the true colors of those of us who had to survive it. Yes, I despaired that any chance of victory in the face of such odds, but I resigned myself to fight on. That is tenacity to be emulated.
I was in Bytos when the crisis began. I remember it well; I was with Conlis Corde in the Lightning Forge, discussing his plans for the next crown with the Fifteenth Cycle drawing to a close. It's an odd conversation to look back on now, because we were talking about the wind crown he was still designing for Turbo Pinnae, not the sun crown that floats above our King's brow at the present. He was talking about how time-consuming it was to create storm-forged silver, if Pinnae was the sort to like extravagant spirals that mimic tornadoes, and how annoying it was that the shipment of clearest diamonds available from the Singing Mines was late. I wonder if he still has those plans stored somewhere, or if the memory attached to them proved too painful.
I remember standing next to him, gaping at the eerie sight of a spire of metal and stone rising past the cloud cover of the Silent Storm Peaks. Him bellowing for an apprentice while I still stood there dumbfounded.
Have you been to the Lightning Forge, young one? No? But I see that all too familiar glimmer in your eyes. Every young alicorn dreams of being summoned there by Conlis Corde, to be presented weapons and armor by the First Cycle's greatest smith. It is a lonesome fortress, atop the highest of the Silent Storm Peaks, and shrouded by a perpetual, thunder-less, lightning storm of utter brilliance and violence. When one speaks of Herd-forged weapons, it is that image that springs to mind.
The Lightning Forge is not among the places you would imagine being vulnerable should we be actually invaded. Still, with that alien spire rising in the distance, we all felt vulnerable.
Being so high up in Lightning Forge allowed us quite the vantage point as the planar shadows dispersed all across Bytos. It offered some degree of safety as well, for which I will always be grateful. The planar shadows had a tendency to descend, thus affording me, Conlis, and his apprentices some time to prepare.
Now, Bytos is no planar city, but it has no shortage of residents. Soon, we had alicorns flying in to regroup, confident that the bolts would not strike them. The pursuing planar shadows were not afforded that same courtesy, but they came at such great numbers and persistence that not even a perpetual electrical storm of titanic proportions could hold them back. They swarmed as clouds even darker than any storm's, and it was clear that high concentration of living beings was drawing them.
Faced with an increasing number of stories about what was happening throughout the rest of the Herd, and with planar shadows approaching the Lightning Forge, Conlis was forced to open up his armory to the available defenders. You may see this as a good idea, and it was in some ways. We were in danger of losing the Lightning Forge, and thus one of the Herd's best sources of armaments. The loss of already crafted tools would have been bad enough, but far worse would have been to lose the forge itself. It is the living heart of the primal storm elemental living among us, an irreplaceable friend to the Herd since the First Cycle. Its destruction would have snuffed out the Silent Storm Peaks' namesake forever, and taken from us an ancient ally.
For these reasons, Conlis thought it best to take the risk of unleashing his mightiest creations to defend the Herd, but understand that there is a reason why so few alicorns are summoned to the Lightning Forge normally. It takes Conlis time to evaluate the potential match between warrior and gear. He has to consider temperament, balance, skill, and physical ability. If these are not in harmony, his masterpiece will likely be as harmful to the wielder as to any enemy. Assigning them simply the nearest warriors available must have been a nightmare.
It is true that the Lightning Forge was spared the destruction that wracked Bytos, which includes the caving in of several mountain ranges, but a brief reading into the Void Rift Crisis' records will show you that Bytos suffered a lot of untimely diminishings.
Many of those were not from being overwhelmed by planar shadows. I could only watch as some of our warriors fell to errant strikes from unfamiliar weapons and overzealous swings. Many of the defenders that found themselves in Bytos during the crisis were young warriors, not even an Ida tournament or two in them, all too dazzled by the prospect of wielding a masterpiece outside Ida. Tragic that such a chance cost them their first diminishing.
And the tragedy was not limited to alicorns. Many of Conlis' masterpieces were destroyed, some in incredible explosions that wracked the mountains. I tell you, he spent the entire battle for Bytos weeping. The Lightning Forge at the present now has a great deal of space in its armory. For the first time since the First Cycle, Conlis Corde might diminish with fewer works than what he began with.
I was grievously injured myself because of these accidents. Tellus Ped lost control of his weapon in the middle of his charge, and crushed one of my wings with a panicked swing of that warhammer; a stark reminder that valor must always be tempered with knowledge. I would chastise Tellus for his folly, but I will likely encounter him during the Eighteenth Cycle, if I haven't diminished by then.
As if the chaos from Conlis' weapons wasn't enough, we faced two dilemmas: while the peaks of Bytos were to our advantage, the deep valleys and cavern complexes swarmed with the enemy. There are stories that there are still planar shadows lurking the depths of Bytos. Rubbish, of course, but born of the very real fear of having to fight your way out of those caves.
Conlis' best works were also not enough to shatter the shields around the spire; proving that the greatest of his creations cannot make up for innate strength.
I could tell you of my meager exploits, colt, but there is little to benefit you in that regard. I fought to protect the Midnight Grove, I did my part, and followed where His Majesty led. I have no glorious exploit to brag of, because there was nothing glorious about the Void Rift Crisis for any of us Seekers. A horrible mistake was made, and the Herd was paying for it. I fought to defend our world, but, in the back of my mind, I was already imagining the terrible backlash against the Seekers once the fighting finished. The same could be said for many of my brethren. And we were right to be concerned. Our High Seekers got away easy, even if it did cost them their diminishing. They didn't have to explain themselves to the thousands of angry, bereaved alicorns left behind by the Agamanthion's rampage. By the time Sagax Lumen is restored, she'll either find the Seekers gone for good, or having moved on from the crisis. Either way, she won't have to work so hard to deal with the consequences of her reckless gambit with Turbo Pinnae.
Let me explain the planar shadows as best I can instead. Let it be known once more that we Seekers quest for knowledge, not to eradicate our entire world.
Sadly, we have no remnants of the planar shadows to study. When the Agamanthion was destroyed, they all faded into nothing. What the Seekers have are mere theories from our experiences with the Sixth's magic, and the scattered fragments of the Agamanthion's extensions. That is little enough to go on, and Gravitas has called for destroying those very few fragments. That fool will erase all traces of the Sixth Cycle if he can, not realizing that we will only harm the Herd by forgetting the danger it faced. Fortunately, His Majesty has not listened to those ridiculous motions.
Through studying the arrays on the Agamanthion's extensions, we've come to the conclusion that the planar shadows were created through Necromancy; specifically Un-life.
Confused? Not surprising. Don't hang your head in shame. Necromancy is not a good talking point in the Herd. It is unfortunate that we dance around the subject, as if not discussing it would erase it from existence. The Herd paid dearly for its lack of experience with Necromancy during the crisis, but we still haven't learned a thing.
Un-life is one of the core concepts of Necromancy. Perhaps, you've heard of the others. Life Tap is the conversion of vitality to magical energy, Grudge is the harnessing of negative feelings into curses, and the creation of horrors. Un-life is the negation of life force. Life animates, sustains, and grows, Un-life slays, devours, and discorporates.
The planar shadows, we theorize, were globs of Un-life. They had no sentience of any sort, and were merely projections of the Agamanthion. To what end, likely to protect the artifact as it performed its task by snuffing out the lives of everything in the vicinity. That would explain why their numbers did not falter. "Kill" a projection, and the Agamanthion simply creates a new one.
The power needed to project so many is a feat worthy of even our Throne. What we could guess was that these extensions drew power from the Eternal Herd itself, a version of life tap at a massive scale. I know, it is a horrifying thought, that an artifact could leech the very essence of our world to destroy it. Though it may seem like cursing at him, I wish Ater Lingua had not been diminished during the crisis. He is the Seekers' best mind on Necromancy. Even an apprentice of his would do.
Later on, many alicorns would report that these shadows began taking the forms of various recognizable entities; shadowy wolvenaar, thorciasids, alicorns, q'tzal, and even a false centimanus, all appeared throughout the Void Rift Crisis. We alicorns pride ourselves in our magical prowess, and it is that natural ability that shaped these globs into all these fantastic creatures. Planar shadows may not have been capable of being swayed from their primitive purpose, but they were influenced by the growing fears of our brethren. Fear of diminishing, and fear of our world being destroyed bridged into other fears of those who were in close contact with the planar shadows. These thoughts were ripped from those who fell victim to the black swarms, and the devouring shadow adapted a particular shape.
The planar shadows are no masters of shape-shifting, however. They took on the form, thus acquiring the reach and limbs, but they did not gain any innate abilities, which was a great blessing for those who had to deal with them.
Me? No, colt, I am not a necromancer of any skill worth mentioning. I've tried to master it, as every Sixth Cycle alicorn has tried, but I simply do not have any affinity for it. Scholarly interest can only take one so far in spellcasting. Out of the Herd, the talent for it is exceedingly, and frustratingly rare.
If you wish to speak to a necromancer of talent, you will have to speak to Prince Oceanus. I believe he is the only noteworthy necromancer present for this cycle. Do not expect results should you try. He is tight-lipped, cold, and constantly busy with the tasks he has involved himself in. Count yourself fortunate if you can even get a word to him before that gang of mares that stalks him starts harassing you.
The prince himself has little interest in sharing his knowledge. All the more pity; his commentary on the gathered scraps of the Sixth Ascendant's necromantic notes is utter brilliance. The Seekers have tried several times to recruit him as an adviser, but he has made it clear that his brush with the Sixth's work was a passing interest. Perhaps, that is for the best given our short history on non-Sixth Cycle recruits.
You've come to the right stallion to tell you of that turning point. I was near His Majesty when it happened, and I was the one to coin the phrase that even our records use. "The Flash in the Grove"...such a sense of drama! It inspires mystery, glory, and beauty in the title alone, and that moment deserved it. The Flash in the Grove perfectly defines the two halves of the Void Rift Crisis: the half where we were on the brink of annihilation, and the half where we mounted a glorious charge against a foul artifact with the Lord of Sunlight at our head.
What happened? Glory happened. While all the Herd writhed, and struggled to push back the Agamanthion's invasions, our King shone. I've seen you ask your questions, sir. I'm sure Lexarius and Gravitas have interesting insights to offer through their actions at that time, but let me make one thing clear: the Void Rift Crisis is Sanctus Dominus' excellence, the story of his rise more so than it is the story of Turbo Pinnae's fall.
The Void Rift Crisis found His Majesty in the Midnight Grove, and what a fitting place to begin his rise towards the Throne. Some may argue that it is not as important as Empyrea, or Elys, where the Agamanthion itself floated, but, symbolically, it was perfect. It holds the Gardens of Repose, the endless garden where the lingering remains of our diminished can be felt the strongest. Sanctus Dominus started here as the one who inherits the will of every ascendant who has come before him. He comes from the place of silence and dark, suddenly shining forth to save us all.
The Flash in the Grove was the first, and the most fitting, manifestation of Sanctus Dominus' kingship. From the First Cycle to that moment, the Midnight Grove was a layer of twilit repose, and comforting dark. A place for reflection, for trying to commune with the very faint presences of our diminished, or for simply relaxing. Casting even a faint artificial light in there was frowned upon. Sanctus Dominus cast aside tradition, and called forth light. You seem underwhelmed. The breaking of that tradition set a precedent that we have observed time and again during the Sixteenth Cycle. He is not popular with his Council of Elders, as you may well know. There is that tournament where he invited wolvenaar representatives, the many times he has overruled council votes, even his choice for his Queen. That first came to be during the Flash in the Grove.
Ah, but I get ahead of myself.
When he saw that even furious attacks from his compatriots could do no harm to the Agamanthion's shields, Sanctus Dominus called forth one of his signature spells; the Sunlight Spear.
A little too simple you might say, but there lies the elegance of it. Sanctus Dominus wielded no artifact to craft that attack. He came up with no grand plan, no last ditch gamble with power he does not know. It was the same sunlight spear he used in Ida, but at a magnitude that defied true comprehension. It was...an exhalation of the power of sunlight, a message to reach the hearts of all those who would even merely find out about it. It was an embodiment of the pure strength of the Herd, unmodified by invention or desperation, merely the steadfast might of one of our greatest. And so is the same for the Sixteenth Cycle. The other heavenly realms must have discovered the trouble in ours. We had lost a great deal, and the very integrity of our world had been damaged. His Majesty relied on no clever bluff to assert our formidable might. He merely demonstrated how strong we remained to both set the other heavenly realms at ease, and to keep them from having ideas.
And what a spear! For the first time in my life, I saw the bright colors that the Midnight Grove perpetually muted with shadow. My eyes burned from my insistence to keep witnessing, but I couldn't turn away. It felt like blasphemy to turn away. He hurled that spear at the spire, and, for a moment, we all held our breaths. Those mighty, impregnable shields cracked, then shattered,as easily as fine crystal.
His Majesty would later explain that Her Majesty pointed out a small flaw in the Agamanthion's shields, and that his sunlight spear struck true because of it. Such boundless humility, and such a perfect match. His wisdom extends to the choosing of his mate; beauty, skill, temperament, even reputation. That he wooed her successfully reveals a charisma to match.
The breaking of those shields roused all of us to a valorous outrage. The planar shadows fell away like scattered leaves. I am no mighty warrior myself, being far more suited to recording duels in Ida than participating in them, but, by the crowns of our rulers, was I inspired at that moment. I had shouted myself hoarse before I realized that His Majesty had attacked the spire itself.
The Seekers of the Sixth have long since studied the remnants of these spires, and have concluded that, while the design marks it as a creation of the Sixth, some of the materials are not of this world, particularly the bone-like substance at the core, which they found to be as hard as diamond.
Hah! Such definitions are but academic in the end. His Majesty's twin blades, empowered with both the power of sunlight and the power of dark, sliced through the spire with the same ease one would have in slicing bread.
If you travel to the Midnight Grove now, you may yet visit the remains of the spire that crashed to the ground after that cut. If those overzealous seekers guarding it allow you to come close enough, you'll find that, while the wreckage has many rough breaks in it, it has a single, perfectly smooth cut. That is the mark of Dominus; a perfect slice amidst jagged breaks, a shining success amidst floundering failures.
The Flash in the Grove? Must you use that ridiculous name? True, many from the Herd have already adopted it, but that only worries me more over the rampant dramatics slowly, but surely, shrouding the Void Rift Crisis.
Silva Inber has a flair for such theatrics, and his enthusiasm is appreciated, but he and the rest of the Herd must remember that these events happened. The Void Rift Crisis should be understood in earnest, not dressed up in drama to the point of ludicrousness. I hear he's already planned a play, a play! When future generations start scoffing at tellings of the Void Rift Crisis as fantasy, I know who to blame.
The Flash in the Grove was indeed a massive sunlight spear, but that is not the whole of the matter. I would know as I was with His and Her Majesty as they discussed how to attack the Agamanthion's extension.
His Majesty's power of sunlight was a natural deterrent for the necromantic energy involved in the Agamanthion's extensions. It is, after all, life-sustaining energy to counter the hungry un-life of the Agamanthion's defenders. When he hurled his spears, the planar shadows scattered. It was the best way to reach the spire's shields without being intercepted.
What Silva Inber leaves out is that it's the power of dark that possesses the strong capability for unraveling such complicated defensive spells as the ones surrounding the extension. When that fateful sunlight spear flew towards the spire, it was laced with the might of Her Majesty as well. We were all so bedazzled by the sight of day temporarily breaking in the Midnight Grove, and His Majesty's successful strike against the spire, that we failed to notice the power of dark quietly doing its work. It is testament to how well those two work together that the power of dark grows in might when paired with the power of sunlight. The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow. General Gravitas may scoff at the "fanciful poetics", but I have seen up close just how true that combination can be. I am sure that our Queen prefers to stay silently in the background, but I feel obligated to balance all the praise for His Majesty.
Despite our low numbers, the alicorns of the Midnight Grove were the first to halt the Agamanthion's assault. Without the extension, the planar shadows disappeared, leaving us some time to plan for our next move. It also allowed us the chance to determine our losses.
You may not think that to be diminished is such a terrible loss. True, in the span of three or four cycles, our diminished are restored. Those of our brethren who have lived most of their time well are not so apprehensive of fading into near nonexistence for a long time. The ones who are still young; without even a single cycle to them, the sense of loss is greater. Those young warriors who fell in the Midnight Grove have not had the chance to make their mark before being forced dormant. And, upon their restoration, they face the uncertainty of a Herd that has had several cycles to change. Nor are they certain as to who among those they knew are diminished or active.
And that is to say nothing of those who remain. Have a dear friend whom you expected to share company with for a long time be untimely diminished, and you will see for yourself how long a cycle can be, let alone several. A great many of the Fifteenth Cycle's youth fell during the crisis. They were the ones expected to carry the Herd as the veterans go their rest. Now, with them gone until, at least, the eighteenth, who can we count on? We would have to rely on the earlier cycle alicorns who would still take a while to be restored and adjusted.
Even such thoughts were optimistic while we watched the wreckage of the Agamanthion's extension. The brief respite allowed us to take stock of what we had accomplished, the enormity of the situation, and the thought of us all being destroyed with no hope of restoration. There wasn't a single one of us who did not tremble. We have never been ones to think of time limits now, have we? We've always taken it for granted that we can outwait many of our problems, and take all the time we need to achieve our goals. Suddenly discovering a time limit shocked many of us to near stupor.
Well, except for His and Her Majesty.
I can understand that Her Majesty's sight could have granted her some measure of confidence. She was, as she remains at the present, the very picture of assured serenity. That gentle smile stilled our panicked and despairing hearts. Though I claim no ability to see possible futures, that assurance lent me, as well as all those with us, just a quick glance past the haze of uncertainty. Perhaps, her sight already granted her a vision of the possibility that we might survive, and she, through solely her countenance, shared that vision.
His Majesty, however, strode at our head without showing a single sign of worry. Her Majesty may have told him a favorable vision, but I imagine that it would be hard to not suspect her of...nudging how she describes it just to better morale. Yet, His Majesty was grinning fiercely when opened a gate to Empyrea, as if this world-destroying crisis was no different from just another battle in Ida. After our hearts had been calmed by Her Majesty, they were inflamed by His Majesty's unwavering confidence. The Lord of Sunlight is unbeatable. He does not just prove that in battle, he exudes it with each breath. Even the weakest among us, those who never showed their faces in Ida, looked like they could beat the Agamanthion to rubble with their bare hooves in the light cast by His Majesty.
We had to secure the Throne first, then we could start our counterattack. His Majesty never voiced this plan, but we knew the instant he opened that gate. He had that air of purpose in his mien that pulled at us inexorably, and we were all just a little more courageous for it.
I will never forget that instant when Sanctus Dominus gated into Empyrea to reinforce us. It was perfectly timed, if not by him, then it must be fate itself. When he burst from his gate, he was accompanied by a flash from the power of sunlight that dispelled the unnatural haze the planar shadows brought with them. The battle's outlook brightened, both literally and figuratively.
Let me start on the matter by saying that I had always believed that it was Sanctus Dominus who was meant for the Throne, not Turbo Pinnae. You might think that I am merely relying on hindsight to make such a claim. I know the truth of it. Dominus is a warrior without equal, skilled in both fighting, and leading allies, gifted with both a tactical, analytical mind, and sharp, unwavering instincts. I have faced him twice in combat, and know this from personal experience. Lexarius, and even Magnus Chartophylax, will readily tell you of my defeats, as if I'm supposed to be humiliated by losing to one so strong. Go on, ask any of the thousands that he has cut down. None of them regret it. I discovered both my limits and his potential through those fights, and so I understood right away that if there was going to be a King between him and Pinnae, it would be him.
We had destroyed eight waves of planar shadows before help arrived. The alicorns under my command proved valorous and skilled, but we were finite, and subject to fatigue. Each time the Agamanthion spewed out its minions, thousands surged towards Throne's Rest. None of them so much as touched the threshold so long as my troops and I stood.
I remember their names; Aes Cor, Cantus Lamina, Tempus Plaga...I also remember their desperate grimaces, their last attempts to stay undiminished lest the defense falter. Many say I am too hard on Pinnae and the Seekers. I remember these fine alicorn warriors diminishing before making it past their first cycle, and I know I am not. In truth I have been too soft. That a warrior perish for a scholar's incompetence is inexcusable. That the same scholars are granted more opportunities to show that incompetence is an invitation for disaster.
Dominus and the alicorns from the Midnight Grove emerged from their gates in time for another wave of planar shadows. They appeared from behind as well, turning what I had expected to be a difficult fight into an easy sweep. You would have had to be there to fully experience that moment, colt. Upon his arrival, an unusual gust of wind blew all around us while my troops cheered. It felt as if Empyrea itself breathed a sigh of relief. When Dominus landed among us, he was briefly surrounded by a nimbus of light, not quite his usual aura of sunlight. It only lasted for a moment.
I did not pay too much attention to it back then, but, as I look back to it now, I realize that it must be the light of the Throne itself. As early as that moment, his kingship was acknowledged.
We had precious little time to keep cheering the timely arrival. The Agamanthion was relentless in spewing its shadows. In order to keep them away from the Throne, I had concentrated my forces around it, and that left the rest of Empyrea to fend for themselves.
You may think this cruel and narrow-minded, Procul Ocularus certainly does. That's because he spent the Void Rift Crisis fleeing from one district to another, praying that I could be bothered to spare troops to protect him. A pity that he survived. Far more deserving alicorns should have taken his spot.
With Dominus at our head, an assault on the spire came within reach--
What? Watch your mouth, colt. Did you come to me for an account of the Void Rift Crisis, or to monger rumors, and make up conflicts? I gave up command upon Dominus' arrival immediately, and with ease. It wasn't a problem. In the Council of Elders, they indeed bicker and stall because they insist on being treated equally, to be afforded all these courtesies, and to have their opinions considered even if they know nothing. For seasoned warriors like me and Dominus, the greatest takes the lead while the lesser take up position. Our roles were clear the instant we saw each other.
Now, if you're done with your insinuations...
The assault on the Agamanthion's extension was a veritable routine maneuver compared to our earlier ordeal against its waves of planar shadows. The spire in the Midnight Grove fell through the combined might of Dominus and Gratia, with only a small number of young alicorn warriors to aid them. In Empyrea, they had the help of some of the most powerful warriors in the Herd. The planar shadows did not stand a chance.
To this moment, the remnants of the Agamanthion extension still remains in here in Empyrea. The Seekers guard it fiercely, aware that I would like nothing more than to eradicate it for good, except perhaps their disbanding. They act as if it had always been harmless. Let me describe to you what it was like during the battle so you may have a clearer picture.
If the Agamanthion was indeed created by the Sixth Ascendant, then the Necromancer Queen must have had a penchant for the ugly and the over-complicated. It's impossible to confuse the spire for one of our magnificent city structures. It was a dark and jagged thing, all harsh angles in comparison to the gently curving and sloping towers around it. Empyrea's buildings are always enchanted, but our builders always weave them subtly through the architecture. The spire had necromantic symbols carved deep into the metal and stone, obscene with its display of magic. Its outer shell had uneven openings that exposed, glowing wires, and spinning gears inside. It was like watching an alicorn walking around with his guts hanging out.
I was only too glad when Dominus sliced the thing apart. Empyrea, indeed the Herd, earned a measure of respite from a single strike, certainly more so than a thousand policy-deciding councils.
Bytos may not know the violence that Ida does, but I maintain that it is one of our harshest layers; a land more jagged than any other from its looming, cloud-crowned peaks to valleys so deep that their bottoms never see sunlight. Have you taken the time to explore Bytos, young one? I do not mean the usual places like the Crystal Falls, and the Peak of Sunlight. I know it's tempting to remain cooped up here in Empyrea, but there is also a certain joy in flying to our highest mountain-tops ,and letting the icy winds ruffle one's feathers until your wings find their limit.
Ah, forgive me if I suddenly sound sentimental. You asked me of my part in the crisis, that put me back to what it was like defending Bytos.
It's easy now to put off exploring the layers of our Eternal Herd, but mountains were ruined during that time; places you will never get to see. Their remains slid down and buried several valleys.
Of course, those of us blessed with the power of earth have been able to heal the land as best they can, but the character of those places will no longer be the same. They are lost to us for good. We remain fortunate, however, for the layer itself still exists.
Only Bytos has all the necessary metals and minerals necessary to craft our proud Herd-forged steel. Offer a weapon made of anything less to even a young, barely experienced alicorn warrior, and you will get an insulted rejection. It's not surprising that our greatest smiths and foundries can be found here as well, from the Lightning Forge to the Crucible of Cold Fire. Should Bytos be lost, we will lose our means to obtain our best arms and armor, severely weakening our might. So, the Throne may not be there, but we had just cause to fight as hard as those elsewhere during the crisis.
The fighting primarily took place in the sky. We maneuvered around the spire, looking for a way to strike back Unfortunately, the Agamanthion had opened its gate at the center of Mount Frosthorn, stabbing its way out of the inner cavern complex to poke at Bytos' sky. An assault by ground would require a treacherous climb up a steep slope, followed by navigating Frosthorn's inner passages. Teleporting in would risk us emerging in the middle of an ambush inside the tunnels. And so, the battle for Bytos was a battle to control the sky.
In addition, no strong leader emerged when the fighting began. I stepped forward, and implored our brethren to hold firm, and to move as one. On this rare thing, I must concede a point to Gravitas. Several did know me enough, but I was no familiar presence in Ida. My prowess lacked the ability to inspire. I know that, in Empyrea, Gravitas swiftly took command once the crisis began, and it was a unified defense of the Throne that His Majesty rescued. In Bytos, it was several scattered groups trying to mount an offensive against an unknown foe.
It was heartbreaking to see a great many of our brethren overwhelmed by planar shadows. They would fall incredible heights in a spiral of feathers, only to fade into nothingness before coming even close to hitting the ground. And now, we are facing a potential future problem with so many Fifteenth Cycle alicorns untimely diminished. In the future, there could be a period when we will lack veterans that should have been from the Fifteenth Cycle.
But that is for the far future.
Ultimately, our disparate forces were rescued by the timely arrival of Sanctus Dominus and those who had successfully defended the Midnight Grove and Empyrea.
You must be tired of description of His Majesty's well-documented prowess. It is that familiarity that allows him to so easily call others to his side. Let me speak of the one who, instead, did as much as he, but in silence.
So few among us have ever seen Her Majesty, Divina Gratia, fight for a variety of reasons. She has appeared in Ida even less than I have. During the Void Rift Crisis, few even bothered looking for her. There is also her power of dark, which naturally conceals her actions, and subtly eradicates her enemies.
Yes, I had been searching for her during the Void Rift Crisis. I was worried, for one thing, and I hoped to understand more of the situation through her sight.
Gratia...hrm...pardon.
Her Majesty's power of dark is a very rare blessing within the Herd. Magnus' records show that less than ten such alicorns are born with it in a cycle, and none with such potency as Her Majesty's. If you could catch a glimpse of her fighting, it is nearly a bewitching sight to behold. She fights with haunting grace, well-befitting her namesake, always dancing in one's periphery. Conlis Corde boasts that Obscurus Alis can instantly reach anything that casts a deep enough shadow. In the presence of Sanctus Dominus' sun, that is nearly everything.
The spire in Bytos was eventually destroyed, obviously. Her Majesty's power of dark also empowered His Majesty's blades when it was time for him to deliver the blow against the spires of the Agamanthion. We all remember the Flash in the Grove, and the finishing blows to those spires, but we should not fail to acknowledge the dark that made the power of sunlight shine even brighter.
I do not know how many she destroyed, or how many alicorns were saved by her timely strikes. Her Majesty never speaks of the Void Rift Crisis, or even her accomplishments in general.
Do I...? Why, yes. I don't see how that ties with your query into the Void Rift Crisis, but yes, I did know Her Majesty for quite a while before the crisis began. She was the one who introduced me to His Majesty. Yes, I do suppose it was that familiarity that let me witness her fighting when others didn't. The few times I was in Ida was to accompany her ventures after all. Her father, Juste Canite, was a well-known presence in Ida, and I believed that she would attract undue attention from those who expected her to have both his prowess and his fighting mindset.
Ah, but I am straying from the topic now. Let me just end on the matter by saying we are all blessed so much by her presence, so much so Sanctus Dominus.
I assume that you have visited that place, colt. You know of what I mean; a perfectly circular patch of land barren of any plant, the soil is dark gray, grainy, and unnaturally smooth, a few shards of black stone scattered here and there, and a group of Seekers watching your every move?
Has it been named yet? I don't think they've finished arguing over what its name is supposed to be. The Ruined Circle, the Blackened Grounds, the Death Plain, Pinnae's Folly...a waste of time if you ask me. Our race's propensity for unending bickering will bring about a true calamity at some point.
And it nearly did, to the shame of us Seekers.
With Empyrea and the other layers purged of the Agamanthion's probing spires, we could concentrate on the Agamanthion itself, which had anchored itself in Elys. The alicorns that fought to defend it were faced with the direst of situations. The layer faced total collapse, the guardians of the Agamanthion itself were far more formidable than planar shadows. A few alicorns had made it from Elys to tell us of their predicament. In return, a good portion of us went ahead to aid them while Dominus rallied the others. That was when a problem needlessly and foolishly arose.
Solitarius Via, one of our own, proposed that, since we have reduced the threat, we should study the then-active Agamanthion. The majority of the Seekers, myself among them, disagreed. The Agamanthion had gone rogue. Even if this was not its true purpose, it should be destroyed. Though the destruction of its extensions appeared to slow it down significantly, the Agamanthion was still tearing away at the structure of our plane. This was most strongly evidenced by the fact that the Fifteenth Ascendant still had to concentrate on the Throne.
Still, Solitarius took it to the Council of Elders, daring to waste time convening them to discuss and vote on the matter while the fighting continued in Elys. Without the Fifteenth to render final judgment, they could have bickered forever while our very world collapsed around them.
I can barely describe the sort of embarrassment this entailed for the Seekers, as well as the Council of Elders. I swear on the flaming crown of the First, if I ever find Solitarius in Ida, or even anywhere outside the Herd, I will strike him down. The Seekers have been damaged enough by the Void Rift Crisis, and he had chosen to open the wound further, and shower it with salt. When the crisis came to an end, I was absolutely terrified that His Majesty would remember this bout of stupidity, and punish it by decreeing the end of the Seekers. He didn't, and I would kiss his hooves until my lips are worn to nothing in gratitude if I didn't fear Her Majesty.
We were fortunate that Sanctus Dominus never did put much weight in council votes, a tradition he has maintained in his kingship as you may have noticed. All the more wise of him, I say. The Council discusses and advises. Whatever they finally vote on is but a tool for the King and Queen to use as they see fit. But whenever situations where a final judgement can't be given, they eagerly flex their "authority".
It was good to see their frustrated faces when Sanctus Dominus led all of us to Elys before they could even properly begin their deliberation. Solitarius' especially. I mourn the loss of such an enormous source of knowledge for our cause, I truly do, but we sacrificed the Agamanthion with our own reckless trust of Pinnae. It was only right that we bear responsibility, even if it means losing our only chance to ever complete our quest.
So, yes, I followed His Majesty wholeheartedly into Elys, knowing that I would be there to help destroy the Agamanthion. I have had to explain this course of action to the Seekers returning from other heavenly realms, or Vestibulum. It is not an easy task, I assure you.
But enough of the Seekers' woes.
At the very least, I was able to witness what the Agamanthion's active form was while Solitarius and the Council remained behind with their theories.
In its dormant state, the Agamanthion appeared as a massive pyramid of smooth, black gemstone, big enough to house even a thousand of us comfortably, with flying room included. Its sides were perfectly measured, down to the precision of a needle's tip. This was no construction of many small gems. This was a single piece cut to perfection. It floated lazily around the skies of Elys, like a carefree wanderer until we decided to tinker with it.
Active, the Agamanthion had doubled in size, appearing as a diamond of perfect proportions. The sky...no, it wan't just the sky. Elys itself had darkened around it, as if it were a malignant disease infesting our very world. The air carried a black tinge. The nearby clouds were dark and heavy, and the light of Elys' sun was dim around it.
We saw the great ports along its sides where its extensions had come out. On the dying plain beneath it, the bases of its spires lay like discarded toys after Sanctus Dominus had cut them.
And its dread...
Have you ever been hindered by an emotion so strongly that it felt like physical restraints? That was how I, and many others I'm sure, felt. The Agamanthion exuded dread that made it feel like we were flying through thick webbing. And it did more than just slow us down. I spent some time studying its dormant form, enough to find it a familiar sight, but in its active state, it was so utterly alien to our world, so much that it hurt just to perceive it. The mind reeled from the dread it exuded, and the weaker warriors among us actually fainted just from the approach.
Now, we can say that we triumphed over the Agamanthion. I assure you, during that first, fateful approach, I truly thought that we were flying to nowhere but our doom.
Ah, the final assault on the Agamanthion. Though I could contribute little to the fighting, I had elected to join His Majesty and the others. Certainly, it was a more useful thing to do than record yet another Council meeting, and I felt that I had to bear witness for this record. The attack on the Agamanthion was going to decide the fate of the Herd, I wasn't going rely solely on eyewitness accounts to record it for posterity.
The battle for Elys was vastly different from all our previous clashes with the Agamanthion. This was obvious even while we gathered. At the start of the crisis, we were scattered, individual alicorns, caught by surprise because we were too proud of both our King-to-be's abilities, and the fact that nothing would dare attack the Eternal Herd. The force that gathered in Elys, surrounding the Agamanthion itself with a living cage of warriors, was the humbled and readied might of the Eternal Herd.
And what a sight it was; a breath-taking array of stallions and mares, wings beating in unison, weapons drawn, barding gleaming, spells ready, and eyes hard. The inner light from the many blessings of those assembled brightened the benighted aura of the Agamanthion. And leading the way was Sanctus Dominus, every inch a king, even before the light of our Throne shone upon him. Near him was Divina Gratia, her form difficult make out. To an observer she seemed both by his side and all around him like a cloak. Her power of dark was light and sublime, graceful wisps of black markedly different from the dull, heavy dark pouring from the Agamanthion. Also near him was Animus Arcem, his faithful companion since his earliest exploits, General Gravitas, who already deferred to him as a king at so early a point, and Lexarius, another old friend.
There has never been such a massive gathering of the Herd's fighting forces, not since the First Cycle, when every warrior of the Herd stood before the First Ascendant, and swore allegiance.
Faced with this might, the Agamanthion reacted by diverting more of its power from its abominable task to defending itself. It is this reaction that continues to spark debate as to whether there was a malignant intelligence within the Agamanthion or if it was merely a construct following specific instructions.
The planar shadows surrounding it were all of a monstrous shape; winged beasts, crawling monstrosities, slithering horrors. Every nightmarish imagining that our brethren could come up with manifested around the Agamanthion as dark, silent shapes. The worst, I suspect, were from the Sixth Cycle alicorns. Their travels not only in this world, but in other ones as well gave them a far greater variety of foes for the Agamanthion to replicate.
And these were the easy foes; the front-line fodder for the elite of the Agamanthion's defenders. The planar shadows were projections after all, spells that gave the seeming of life, without approaching the real thing. When we surrounded the Agamanthion, the etchings along its sides glowed white, revealing unrecognizable script.
The diviners among us recognized the energy from summoning spells, but could not trace where they were summoning from. Before long, we were faced monsters dredged from the far reaches of Vestibulum.
Oh, now I pique your interest, colt. I could explain in great detail, but that is a lecture of a different matter. I'm sure you are well aware that a variety of powerful creatures roam the great space between worlds we call the Endless Gray of Vestibulum. No? Then I recommend the book "Bestiary of the Plane Between Planes", by Stella Fulmen. We have plenty of copies in the Ninth Cycle Wing.
Some of our scholars theorize that they belonged to a world that had been utterly destroyed, thus forcing them to a wandering existence with no home world to take them in. They are brutal, hideous existences, said to be creatures from a time when there was barely any structure to how living beings emerged. The Agamanthion successfully summoned three of them.
First was one of the centimanii; an armored, colossal, tree-like entity of hard and white flesh. It crawled Elys on a hundred root-like appendages with frightening speed and grace. On its "trunk" grew fifty enormous heads, all bald, and snout-less things. And its namesake, a hundred sword-wielding arms, each blade as tall as a house, each arm big and strong enough to wield it like a knife. This one was no tentative intruder as the one before. Like its siblings, it shrugged off even the mightiest spells. It spun and flailed in its inimitable hundred-handed sword style, dicing those warriors that came close for a physical fight.
Next was a hagunemnon. Now, to attempt to describe it to you would be a futile task. The hagunemnon first oozed out of its summoning portal as a hill-sized glob of red, ropy flesh, spotted with dozens of gigantic, unblinking eyes as well as disgusting, circular mouths ringed with fangs. It did not stay that way for long. The hagunemnon are the ultimate shape-shifters, able to copy multiple foes at once and mimic their power to some degree. As soon as it emerged, it grew a dozen alicorn heads, and fired off a barrage of hostile spells.
The third...I do not know if it came from Vestibulum. Perhaps, it came from some other dead plane somewhere. We do not even know its name. It was a huge thing with a bloated head far too big for its body, tiny arms that ended in little sharp fingers, and thin legs that hung uselessly under it. The skin was wrinkled and blackened, like rotting afterbirth. It exuded a stench so foul it made me gag, and I was at the rear lines. I can only pity those unfortunate enough to fight it at so close a range. It was a thing of powerful necromantic ability. Some of us surmised that it was the "pilot" of the Agamanthion, others saw it as just another horror pulled out of the realms outside the Herd.
Now, it is dubbed "Atropal" by our scholars, named so after its rot. Of the three, this one I despised the most. The other two were summoned fighters. This thing cast its spells on the land and formed disgusting undead monstrosities from it. Those struck by its blackened beams were drained of vitality, their bodies rotting to nothing before our eyes.
Their summoning poses a puzzling question. If the Agamanthion was merely a machine, then the Sixth must have negotiated with these beings so that they would allow themselves to be summoned by contingency spells. Yet, what could she offer them, and why? One cannot help but pity the Seekers, as each revelation of the Sixth only burdens them with harder questions.
Yes, that is correct, I was one of the alicorns that engaged the centimanus during the Battle for Elys.
This is an awful memory you are asking me to relive, colt. Can't you ask me something cheery such as the celebration after the crisis? I met my dear Aura Magnum there after all. No? You would rather hear about the hundred-handed abomination that sliced through several of my comrades in a welter of blood? Fourth's hammer, colt, you have a fascination for the macabre it seems.
The Herd has had to deal with the centimanii so directly only a few times before in our long history. Though they are content to wander Vestibulum, they are a capricious lot, prone to odd moments of whimsy. At least, the three unique individuals that the Herd has recorded since the First Cycle were. Their antics would not be so bad if they were not so unbelievably strong and brutal. As a sentinel, my only encounters with them prior to the Void Rift Crisis was when one of them menaced my patrol from a distance. We challenged it to a brief clash just to drive it away, and it obliged after a few lazy attempts at attacking.
Fighting one seriously, however...a true ordeal.
The centimanus that appeared in Elys was not recognized by any of us, though how one tells apart one fifty-headed, hundred-handed monstrosity from another escapes me. Someone can, apparently. Perhaps it's one of our diviners, or just an alicorn with odd ideas about how to spend his time. What it did mean is that this was considered a newly-sighted individual, bringing the total population of the centimanii to four.
I think you've been given some details as to what one looks like. The name we gave to them as a race isn't exactly subtle.
You'd think we'd have the advantage when faced with one. A centimanus is capable of only a few spells, which it largely ignores in favor of physical combat. Tall as one is, it does not fly. Against a flying, spell-casting alicorn, it should pose little threat, correct?
That is when one quickly discovers the impossibility of affecting it with magic, and its fondness for hurling one hundred boulders at a time with incredible power and accuracy. It is the very manifestation of pure brutishness; a heavily-armored, muscle-bound giant that forces the fight to play to its strengths.
I was never the fastest flyer in my patrol, and that turned into my fortune during that battle. We had decided that, if magic wasn't going to bring down this behemoth, we were going to dive in for weapon strikes. It takes an incredible amount of arrogance, I know, for an alicorn to think that he was what it takes to engage a centimanus in melee combat, but we were not left with much of a choice. That poor fool, Nivis Casus, overtook me as usual, far too eager to be the first to slay one of the Agamanthion's main defenders. He lost his wings after the centimanus' first five slashes. As he dropped within its range, he lost his head, then his forelegs. He was gone before he could hit the ground. I am not sure if it was because he had completely diminished, or the centimanus had sliced him into pieces too small to be seen.
You'd be shocked at how quick those gigantic tree-trunk arms could move, how flexible, and how accurate. It pirouetted among us with all the grace of a trained dancer. I was falling back before I could finish my first attack. I don't even remember how it gashed me three times. I could only be thankful that it hadn't taken a wing off. Or my head for that matter. Its body stretched out, flexed, and curled as if it was a giant tentacle with sword-wielding monsters attached to it. Its constant stance-shifting had caused more that one alicorn to be cut down after failing to judge distance. And it was strong. Incredibly strong. Its swings strained magical shields to their limits with a sheer strength and volume of hits.
And the noise. It wasn't a quiet battle around us, of course, but the centimanus was especially loud. The constant whistling of its hundred blades cutting through the air was enough to give me a headache. Its fifty heads were happy to shout battle cries and taunts in its language, if they weren't simply bellowing their rage.
How did we slay it?
First, slaying it wasn't our imperative goal. We engaged it so His Majesty's group could break through this creature without it harassing them. We were there to keep it busy, hoping that the destruction of the Agamanthion would cause it to disappear. I didn't know how to slay a centimanus. I'm still not sure how in present.
It started with a successful stab from Aurus Majorus. He drew blood when he slipped his spear past the impeccable parries from over a dozen blades, and between the plates of the creature's armor. I can still remember him about to let out a triumphant cry, but his head was gone in the resulting counterattack.
Still, the hit inspired the rest of us. We had allowed it to stay in its rhythm by letting it keep striking. When we took the initiative, we began pushing it back. Oh, it cost lives to keep whittling it down, but we had the bodies to throw. I got my own hits as well. I was able to cave in the skull of one of its heads. I recall that moment because I nearly lost a foreleg from that, and that, for an odd reason, I started wondering if I had damaged one of its many brains or if these heads were mostly empty save for one.
And, ultimately, we did not even slay it. Once it started to bleed profusely, it opted to simply quit and leave. Perhaps the Sixth didn't negotiate enough for undying loyalty. I, for one, hope that it doesn't have a particularly sharp memory, or that it's the forgiving sort. I still patrol Vestibulum, and I don't like the thought of it lying in wait amidst the gray, waiting for the handsome alicorn who caved one of its heads in.
Does that satisfy your curiosity? Good, want to hear how I met Aura Magnum now? Speaking of her might wash my mind of that horrible battle.
Aren't you a little old to still be frightened of the hagunemnon? They can't infiltrate the Herd, so relax. Here, let me put your mind at ease. Yes, it's true that they are unparalleled shape-shifters, but the likelihood of one of them suddenly getting the bright idea, and the means, to gate into our world is all but impossible. So don't believe the stories about how some alicorn you meet might be a hagunemnon luring you to a lonely spot so it can devour you.
There's a simple reason why they can't do that. The hagunemnon may be able to alter their forms as easily as you and I can breathe, and even mimic our innate abilities to some degree, but they are all afflicted by some sort of compulsion to keep shifting. The hagunemnon are cursed with inconsistency; they can't stay in one form for more than a few moments, and they never wholly copy one shape. They keep mixing and matching endlessly, eternally wandering Vestibulum as perpetual globs of transforming flesh. So, if you spot a two-headed alicorn with the lower half of a wolvenaar, then you might have found a hagunemnon, or an incorrigible prankster.
How do we know this? The same reason we have an approximation of their name. During the Fourth Cycle, a patrol of sentinels encountered one that had transformed into a creature coherent enough to speak in our language. During those brief moments, it explained itself as best it can. Afterwards, it went berserk, and they had to drive it away.
Feel better? Now, excuse me, I have--
Oh...that hagunemnon.
You could have interrupted, eh? Saved me some time and breath.
I did engage the hagunemnon that the Agamanthion summoned to defend itself. Me, and a lot of now-diminished comrades. Let me start off saying that it was not typical of its kind. This may not seem much from one who has only ever encountered a such a thing once aside from the Agamanthion's pet, but even our records will prove that this particular creature was larger, and more vicious than its brethren.
How the Sixth made contact with it is yet an unfathomable mystery. These creatures have an indecipherable babbling tongue, and show very little inclination to communicate.
The size may not seem to matter much for a creature that changes shape so easily. Perhaps not in terms of physical prowess, but the hagunemnon grow as they age, albeit very slowly. For this one to had gotten so big marked it as ancient, and that means it has had plenty of time to experience other creatures.
There is nothing quite like the madness of fighting a hagunemnon. It sprayed dozens of clawed limbs and tentacles at us as soon as we approached. It sprouted alicorn heads to hurl spells, then three sets of wings to take the fight to the skies. It lashed with tentacles bristling with the feelers of thorciasids, then grabbed whatever it paralyzed with three sets of wolvenaar jaws.
But there is more to these creatures than the fury of their transformations. Regardless of their shape, whether they rake you with a claw or bludgeon you with a hoof, the hagunemnon retain their one constant quality; their venom.
I was struck across the side during the fight, when I flew too close to one of its flailing claw-studded tentacles, or was that a fang-covered tongue? The wound, and the surrounding flesh, burned worse than any fire or acid. My muscles convulsed and twitched, and nearby bones felt softer and twisted.
I was lucky not to have received a more grievous wound. Luci Carcer was struck several times, and we could only watch as she melted into a puddle of clear goop before fading from existence. We call it venom out of convenience, but no substance actually enters the blood when a hagunemnon strikes, which is why even blunt strikes have the same effect. We can't be sure. I suspect that it is simply its unstable nature infecting the form of its victims. It took several restoration spells to heal my body after that scratch. I shudder to think how it must have felt for those who lost their lives fighting this monster.
I was just getting to that. Yes, we did slay it. The centimanus had enough sense to retreat when the battle turned against it, but the hagunemnon was far too frenzied to even consider that it was losing. To render it vulnerable, we had to lock it in a single form. We tried a binding circle, even if it meant hastily constructing one on the plain while being pestered by planar shadows, it accomplished nothing. We tried various transmutation spells to force it into a single form, but it easily shifted out of them in an instant when forcibly transformed.
Finally, in desperation, one of our healers struck it with a very powerful spell. Well, it was not merely desperation, I suppose. Argentum later explained that he was desperately trying to heal a friend, but aimed at the wrong creature. That clumsy oaf found the solution to the fight by accident, truly the wonders of the Herd never cease.
"Restoring" the creature locked its shape briefly. We descended upon it at once, cutting and burning until it was a great smear of smoldering gore across the plain. Much later, I discovered how hard it was to rid one's barding of the smell of its guts. May whatever essence residing in that thing be forever banished to the oblivion of its broken plane.
The accident has not been forgotten by our scholars. There is a theory going around that the hagunemnon are a race of some other creature cursed to be what they are now, that there might be a way to heal them permanently. There's talk of making contact to learn more of them. I for one will be happy not to see another one of them, especially when Aqua Malleus suggested that they can probably transform themselves into gray mist for a short period of time.
The Atropal? Speak not of that repugnant creature, colt! Why, the mere mention of its name carries an odor of rot for those of us who remember fighting it.
Very well, for the sake of posterity, I shall regale you of our fight against it.
That creature fought unlike the other two that the Agamanthion summoned. It considered wading into the fray as unseemly; a task it preferred to leave to the many underlings its disgusting necromancies spewed forth. More unsettling was that it was the only one among them that spoke.
Of course I haven't a clue as to what it said. Did you think that it would deign to learn and speak our language out of politeness? I've already given my testimony in the Hall of Records and the Empyrean Circle of Knowledge along with all the others that heard it. In time, I'm sure that our fine scholars will make sense of its words, though I believe they will discover that it was merely insulting us over and over.
We still don't know where it came from. We can place both the centimanus and the hagunemnon in Vestibulum, but this one did not fit the same mold. The Seekers surmise that there must be a dead plane out there, a world drowned by Un-life, where the Necromancer Queen plucked this thing from. Certainly, the artifacts that she left behind all exhibit a particular weave of necromantic spells that is alien to the Herd.
I can only imagine what kind of bleak, foul, ruined world could possibly spawn that wretched thing. It reeked of death. Its features...I cannot be entirely sure given how different its body shape was, but its large head, puny body, and severely underdeveloped limbs gave it an infantile look. Yes, it did look like an infant twice as big as an alicorn. If it truly was one, I would hate to encounter an adult.
The first of us who engaged did note fare so well, and illustrated a hole in our spell techniques. In Ida, it is rare to encounter an opponent skilled in that school of magic. Death wards are not part of the usual defenses we put up upon immediately entering a fight.
The first ones to fly in paid for this oversight dearly. The Un-life that creature exuded suppressed the life force of those careless enough to approach with no protection. They fell to the ground before they could close in, the strength leaving their wings. I saw the color drain from Finitor's face and the look in his eyes that spoke of a terrible mistake. That creature touched him once, and he collapsed into a moldering heap.
Let it not be said that we do not learn from our mistakes, or that we are completely defenseless against Necromancy. The second group, myself included, waded through the fetid magical aura safely. Relatively speaking, of course. It still fired rays of dreadful magic at us, the touch of its rotted, claw-like fingers spelled a quick demise, and more of its minions crawled out to engage.
I should speak of the monsters it created. The Eternal Herd does not leave dead bodies and restless spirits lying around as you might expect in Vestibulum or some other realm. The Undead do not form here whether by some accumulation of residual necromantic energy or the deliberate casting of such a spell. All the more to put my mind at ease. What a horrific thought it would be to imagine our diminished being manipulated while they are in a helpless state of near-nonexistence. Unthinkable!
So, where would these creatures come from then? I had asked the same question when I saw them. They were certainly corpse-like with their exposed entrails, bones, and rotting appendages, but they did not look like they had ever been alive to begin with. Some of the body parts did not match. Their joints did not lock in place for others. They looked hastily and poorly stitched together toys. We knew better than to underestimate them, however. They were tough despite their construction, and they possessed this ability to work extremely well in conjunction with their creator's attacks.
I am proud to admit that I may have the best theory for it, thanks to my keen sense of spell casting differences. The necromantic surges that creature used nearly disguised a very simple summoning conjuration. You might recognize it, colt, it's nothing more than the extradimensional space we utilize to store our personal effects that we would like to maintain at close reach. Here is the twist to it. Most of us maintain a space no bigger than a good-sized chest or the inside of a closet. Imagine such a space the size of an enormous tomb, a mausoleum. Now, fill that space with chopped up, partly rotten dead bodies, ready to provide raw material for your necromancy to piece together and animate. The size boggles the mind. Some of the creatures it brought forth towered above us. I remember a particular creature; a pillar of flailing skeletal arms and legs held together by sinew. I brought it down with a timely strike at its base. You should have seen the stroke of my blade. Exquisite! I'll be happy to demonstrate in Ida if you like.
Did we slay it? No. Ultimately, we couldn't. It was too secure behind its perpetually spawning walls of flesh and bone horrors, and the dread its direct attacks inspired left few willing to attack it. When the Agamanthion failed, it simply gated away without another word. That is another odd thing about it. It seemed resentful of having to fight us at all. I am sure that the centimanus and the hagunemnon were also forcibly plucked from what they had been doing, but they were all too glad to get into a fight. This one loathed every second of it.
Perhaps, in time, we might meet it again in its travels. However, I would like to think that it has gone to rest in its dead world. Without the Sixth to disturb it, we may never have to deal with it again.
It was an honor to take part in that direct charge towards the Agamanthion. I tell you, if I was untimely diminished before the end of it, I would have accepted my fate with no regrets.
While the rest of our warriors engaged the thousands of minions the Agamanthion threw out in its defense, His Majesty led a small group to infiltrate the Agamanthion itself. The rest of the Herd understood that it was to find a weakness past the Agamanthion's hard exterior, and destroy it from within.
Certainly this was true, but it was also true that His Majesty, despite all the odds, still nursed the hope that he would find Turbo Pinnae inside. It seemed a foolish hope at the time. Even Her Majesty, her sight obscured by the Agamanthion, warned him of expecting too much. I do not know where he finds that relentless optimism. From the start of the Void Rift Crisis to the end of it, I never saw him even consider that we were lost. We all marvel at Her Majesty's sight, but I would like to, just once, see what he sees.
As for the group, I have always accompanied His Majesty in every fight he has ever joined, so it was only natural that I joined him for that assault. There are some of our brethren who, in the comfort of their lounges, argue that I should not have been given such an honor. True, I am not among the very elite of the Herd's warriors. I hold my own as best I can, no more, no less. I do not claim to fully understand His Majesty's reasoning, but, without sounding too proud, I can say that my familiar presence, watching out as best I can, helps ease his mind. As such, so long as he wishes it, I shall always fight alongside our King.
Her Majesty accompanied him as well, as she had from the start of the crisis and as she does to this very moment. His Majesty had been courting her long before the crisis, indeed as soon as Juste Canite introduced them, but I believe that it was the trial of the Void Rift Crisis that fully confirmed their bond. They were inseparable throughout the crisis, and we all see how much more they have become after it.
There was also Lexarius. As I had always accompanied His Majesty in Ida, so Lexarius did the same for Her Majesty. To a lesser extent, of course, given both their aversion to the battle plane. That is not to say that he is no friend to His Majesty. Lexarius offered a valuable perspective to His Majesty, a task he maintains to this moment. Whenever the battles of Ida grew tiresome, His Majesty frequently conversed with Lexarius. It should also be noted that Lexarius is a skilled fighter. Certainly better than several of the Elders he is so fond of debating.
General Gravitas completed the group. While I certainly admire his fighting prowess, and I do not doubt his resolve to protect the Herd, General Gravitas did his utmost to make it difficult to work with him. Did you know that he had the utter gall to question Her Majesty's presence in the group? He claimed that her power of dark might make her susceptible to the Agamanthion's influence, this was despite the Agamanthion never doing such a thing.
If you're seeking the ultimate proof of our King's benevolence, you need only to consider the fact that General Gravitas reached the end of the Void Rift Crisis undiminished.
Thanks to the many valiant warriors of the Herd, we were able to reach one of the openings into the Agamanthion. That brief flight alone was, in itself, a trial. It hurt to stay the course while I watched our comrades fight to their last for this opportunity. In the feast hall of Ida, I still look at the empty seats where many of them used to frequent. The cycles will be long before I get to speak to them again. So I hold on to the stories of this battle so I may tell them of it upon their restoration.
Now, I had visited the Agamanthion only a couple of times when it was dormant. Back then, it was a veritable maze of darkened halls. The black stone seemed to dampen sound and find light, even magical ones. To walk its halls was to risk being ensnared by its confusing turns, and its shroud of near-silence.
Active, the halls of the Agamanthion pulsed with power. What seemed like plain stone was actually etched with script that the Seekers barely understood. They glowed and faded in a rhythm, as if keeping time with the Agamanthion"s heart.
His Majesty and General Gravitas had no patience for navigating the Agamanthion. His Majesty's twin swords and mighty Atrox carved and pounded a straight path to our target.
And that is how we discovered an aspect of the Agamanthion that Pinnae and the Seekers failed to notice. Dark crimson oozed from those broken stone walls. Yes, the Agamanthion did indeed bleed. Or, perhaps, that is just me being sentimental. I do not know what the red substance that seeped out of those walls were. It pulsed with ruby light and ran as thick as any blood. That none of the Seekers noticed it disturbs me as well. I doubt that they would be so unobservant. Perhaps, it only came to be after the Agamanthion activated.
And this is as far as my part in the charge finishes. I caught but a glimpse of the core of the Agamanthion before its internal defenses brought its minions against us. While our King and Queen pressed on with Lexarius, I remained with General Gravitas to keep the path clear.
I am grateful that I was needed to hold off the Agamanthion's defenses. That mere glance at the very core of the Agamanthion left me terribly frightened. I also know that a hard choice was made during the final encounter with it. It is a blessing for me not to bear the burden of witnessing what transpired there.
That moment in the core of the Agamanthion...yes, that was a trying moment.
If I must praise our esteemed General Gravitas for anything at all, I would say that he is quite an effective wall. Well, that might be an exaggeration. He did have Animus Arcem to support him.
We had reached the core of the Agamanthion; a feat that the Seekers couldn't accomplish with their meticulous and respectfully careful tinkering for nearly ten cycles. I would not expect any pat on the back from them any time soon. We bludgeoned and cut our way through, and the walls sprayed us with something that suspiciously looked like glowing blood. If somepony even suggested this method before the crisis, the Seekers would have likely assaulted that alicorn.
We did not find the Sixth Ascendant as some Seekers had theorized and hoped. The core itself was a massive chamber; all black stone and metal, hideous arcane machinery loomed at us, almost leering with their bizarre design. They all pulsed with that same glowing liquid from the walls. From what we saw, I would guess that the Agamanthion was extracting this liquid from its exterior and feeding it to the machinery here. But I'm merely describing the peripheral aspects of the place.
At the center of this madness was the thing that gave this crisis its name. We call it "void rift" as the term best describes it, for the brief time of that encounter. It resembled a large, badly-formed gate, the sort you'd expect from a colt still learning his summoning conjurations. The edges were rough, and the structure was unstable. If it were a simple gate to another layer, entering it would have thrown you to a random spot.
But this was no ordinary gate. The destination you could see at the other side was a pool of blackness; a gaping void that seemed to draw all around it inside. How had it been opened? Why? What was the Agamanthion feeding it? These are all questions that we are unfortunate enough to have now, and likely forever will.
We did not have the luxury of either giving it a thorough examination or debating a solution. Closing this rift would end the crisis, we just had to make sure we succeeded with the least possible damage. The machines in the core chamber included a transparent, enchanted container that insulated the rift from outside conditions. Tubes fed it from different directions, and I recall the glowing red swirl around the edges of the rift.
Her Majesty's sight was hazy, as was always the case with the Agamanthion. The core's destruction would bring about the end of the crisis, she said. How badly it would affect the rest of the Herd, she couldn't see.
I don't know if it was mere recklessness or if he had some instinct that cannot be explained which guides him, but His Majesty struck without hesitation. He severed the tubes that fed the thing, and then the machines all around us.
What about me? I was terrified. The complexities of the Agamanthion paralyzed me with fear. Pinnae tinkered with this artifact, and it cost him greatly. I had neither the knowledge nor the hubris to act with conviction. This was beyond playing with fire.
Finally, His Majesty turned his twin swords on the insulating container. Here was when something curious happened.
Upon that blow, the container shattered, exposing the void rift at last. At that same moment, one of His Majesty's swords shattered as well. Four pieces of what I was later told was his left blade flew around the chamber. It seemed a small incident at the time, but, I swear, I saw a smile and a tear escape Her Majesty at the sight of this.
As for the void rift, I had feared that the loss of the container would cause it to violently suck everything around it. Instead it floated before us, seemingly helpless.
We could have closed it at that point. Even I could sense that hard part had been resolved, and closing the void rift would not take more than a modified gate-closing spell.
But the loss of the container alerted us to another thing. We sensed the lingering trail of Turbo Pinnae, in the same way you might feel the faint presences of our diminished in the Midnight Grove's Pools of Reflection. The trail and the circumstances were obvious. Pinnae had been sucked into that void past the rift. Closing it right away might have doomed his diminished state to an eternity of oblivion. His Majesty sought to go through the rift, find Pinnae, whether he was in a diminished state or not, then close it entirely.
Complications had also arisen. To access the rift as we had done, we destroyed the machines that fed that substance, which continued now to pool inside the Agamanthion. I sensed the walls straining, and knew that it wouldn't be long until the artifact burst. We didn't know how bad the explosion would be or what it would do to the rift itself.
I begged His Majesty to consider things carefully. We did not know what lay on the other side. We did not know if there was even a sliver of a chance to save Turbo Pinnae. We ran the risk of losing him, one of the Herd's greatest defenders, for an impossible task.
Her Majesty pleaded with him too. I believe it was the first and last time she had shown that emotion. As it was the first time she was so unsure of the likelihood of the task. Tears do not befit Her Majesty's countenance, let me tell you. It hurt to witness it, and I would gladly fight the worst of our enemies to avoid it.
And, of course, His Majesty dove in anyway, advising us to escape the Agamanthion to warn the others.
Our flight to escape the Agamanthion has to be the hardest flight I had ever undertaken. So much more so for Her Majesty. It was not out of any external danger. Already, the Agamanthion was failing. Its defenders had either died or fled, and the planar shadows winked out of existence. The difficulty lay in our own guilt. Even though he was the one who told us to go, even though he was the one who insisted in going in, to flee while His Majesty charged felt like a betrayal. When we gave the warning so that all of us in Elys retreated, it was hard not to feel outraged upon seeing so many escape while His Majesty was in danger; a foolish notion, but a foolishness I couldn't help.
I think Silva Inber describes what happened afterward better. It's not as if I can keep you in suspense when History lets you see the result. The Agamanthion was destroyed, and from its void rift heart, Sanctus Dominus, who would be King before the dust of that massive explosion settled, flew out with his wayward friend's diminished essence.
Throughout our history, from the First Cycle to this very moment, Elys had never before, and likely never again, experienced such a thunderous, cataclysmic blast as the Agamanthion's destruction. We had fled as far as we could. The more cowardly among us gated to the safety of another layer, but for those such as I, who were obliged to witness no matter the danger, there was no turning away from the sight. The shock wave flattened the rolling hills that the Agamanthion had been floating over, turning a vast area into a smooth, gently sloping crater. The energies it had contained ruined the ground, creating Elys's very first, and still only dead spot. I, for one, think that "the Ruined Circle" is the most fitting name. Special mention has to be put on the fact that such a violent explosion could create such symmetry, and the fact that it ruined the perfection of Elys' fertile lands.
Ah, but I stray.
That final throes of the Agamanthion signaled what is likely the end of a period. It was the burial of the Sixth Cycle into obscurity, and the last hope of the Seekers being crushed. It may well be the toll for the end of the Seekers themselves. From what has transpired in the Sixteenth Cycle, I can say that it has also signaled the end of the Herd's relaxed state. Never again will there be so many of us unprepared to fight as we were during the start of the Void Rift Crisis.
But, as they often are, this ending marked the beginning of something else. For as an old era, and the Necromancer Queen faded away, the Lord of Sunlight stepped forward as our Sixteenth Ascendant. And what an ascension it was! A blazing, glorious entrance into the new cycle unmatched by any cycle. Our King began his reign by saving our world. Some of my pessimistic peers call it a dark omen for a new cycle, but I see it as an auspicious precedent. We have among us a King who can pull our very world from the brink of total annihilation, a King who would dive into the depths of the void to save one of us, and, most importantly, a King who can defy all odds.
What do I mean? It's obvious from how he emerged from the wreckage of the Agamanthion. Well, wreckage might be too generous a word. Nearly the entire structure of the Agamanthion had been obliterated. Only the void rift itself remained floating in the forlorn skies of Elys. We searched for His Majesty desperately, though none of us dared to approach the void rift save for Her Majesty.
I must admit that, during that bleak time, even my faith in His Majesty wavered. It seemed that I was going to publish my last writing on his illustrious life with his final sacrifice to save us all being the last chapter. What an easily swayed fool I was! I cannot help but laugh at myself whenever I remember that time when my mistaken despair was proven so wrong in the most spectacular way possible.
The void rift was a hateful thing, a reminder of the horror visited upon our beloved Eternal Herd. When we found no trace of His Majesty, we turned our attention on the thing, to close it for good so that it may never blight our heavenly realm again.
I was among the first to notice it, and I was certainly the very first to let out a cry. From the darkness of the void past the rift, a lone speck of golden sunlight shone through. I was caught in a paralyzing jolt of hesitation; should I back off to make way for that approaching light, or dive in to greet it joyously? I doubt I was the only one to be trapped by that moment.
Ultimately, I did neither. As did all the others. There wasn't enough time.
His Majesty flew through the rift, and into the heavenly realm he was destined to rule. He survived being at the very core of that tremendous blast, and the unknown hostile blackness past the void rift. His glorious return was appropriately accompanied by a scintillating burst of radiance that could very well rival the Flash in the Grove. In that instant, the void rift was closed, and the Eternal Herd was well and truly free of the horror of the Agamanthion.
The sharpest-eyed among us spotted the very faint outline of Turbo Pinnae's diminished form, gently floating away from His Majesty to safely rejoin the Herd. I am truly more sorry for him than angry. The Herd will be hard on Turbo Pinnae upon his restoration, though I suspect it won't be as hard as he would be on himself. More sadly, he has missed his close friend's cycle, and the wonders of it.
We were all awestruck by the sight, many could not help but genuflect already, myself included, and we had yet to witness the true wonder of what was happening.
For you see, after the Agamanthion was destroyed, the Eternal Herd no longer in danger of tearing apart. The Fifteenth Ascendant was finally able to rest, and reflect. He removed himself from the Throne, bringing the Fifteenth Cycle to a rather ignominious end. I mean no disrespect, but to close the cycle by being on the verge of total destruction, and to have your chosen heir fall so far, is a grim affair. They say that the Fifteenth diminished before he could even completely leave Throne's Rest. We cannot be sure if he had designated His Majesty as the next ascendant, or if he diminished heirless, leaving the Throne itself to seek a worthy ruler. If the latter were true, and I would like to think that it is, then His Majesty will be the second to be chosen purely by the Throne since the First Ascendant.
Regardless, the Throne was vacated while all of us stared on, and later cheered His Majesty's successful rescue of Turbo Pinnae. While we cried victory, it bathed His Majesty in a nimbus of light, and transfigured him before all of us. Thus, lo and behold, rising from the destruction of the old, the Sixteenth Ascendant came to be.
You have a good eye for detail, colt, or is it a good ear? Yes, something did come of the sword that Sanctus Dominus shattered on the Agamanthion's heart. I suppose I should start at the beginning of the matter.
I crafted Sanctus Dominus' twin swords for him after he won his first single combat tournament in Ida. Before that, he was using blade-shaped beams of sunlight; powerful, but draining to maintain. During the finals of the trio team tournament from earlier, he had been in trouble precisely because of that cost.
The left blade was Desiderium Cordis, the right blade is Sol Fata. Odd names, you say? Why? Perhaps you thought it would be more related to the power of sunlight? Something like "Zenith" perhaps?
The truth be told, I was planning something like that while I was still watching him fight, and shortly after his victory. It was only when I learned more of him, that I altered my design.
If that misbegotten Void Rift Crisis had never happened, Sanctus Dominus would still be spending all of his time wandering the Herd in search of fights to test himself. Indeed, I think he might even depart from our world, and wander Vestibulum, or other places in search of adventure and a worthy fight. He had that restless spirit in him, and he seemed happiest in the exhilaration of valor. If he had his way, he would never choose another path besides that wandering one.
But I knew what was bound to happen. His Majesty's strength has no equal, and this was before his ascension. Such power is always drawn to grave and important matters, no matter how much one wishes to avoid them. The swords I crafted were meant to reflect those two aspects of his life; that which he wants to do, and that which he will inevitably.
Is it truly a coincidence that it was his heart's desire that shattered when he struck the Agamanthion? Did not the end of the Void Rift Crisis signal the end of his carefree, wandering days? Even after Sanctus Dominus has stepped away from the Throne, he will always be the Sixteenth Ascendant, and that will always resonate in Ida. Who would even dare face him without trembling? I fear that even Divina Gratia would be hard-pressed to keep him from wandering off to distant realms once the sun crown no longer rests on his head. I suppose that it would be possible that we would lose both of them to the endless gray of Vestibulum.
I was not the only one who saw the meaning of this, apparently. Shortly after His Majesty proposed to her, Divina Gratia came to me with the four pieces of Desiderium Cordis. I had thought them lost after such a massive blast, but I suppose her sight is capable of such wonders. Her Majesty asked me to forge weapons out of the pieces, each one meant for her children.
You can imagine that this was quite a shock. Her Majesty could have simply requested me to forge new weapons afresh instead of reusing a broken sword. That she also asked that I forge as my whims directed me, for alicorns not even born, was also odd. There is a good chance that the pieces will not fit their wielders if I simply go off on a whim while I craft them. True, I have many weapons here in stock that have no specific wielders, but that is why I do not give them out so easily. These weapons already have assigned owners. I tried to explain this to her, but she waved it off with a smile.
Perhaps, Her Majesty had already seen the results, or, more frighteningly, she might have influenced my forging without my knowledge. It also did not escape me that she was asking for four separate weapons. That meant she expected four children. An astonishing number! That's three more than any of the other ascendants, indeed, three more than most alicorn parents. Her own parents completed their first diminishing and restoration before conceiving her as their only child. She expected to conceive four in a fraction of that time.
Of course I complied, even with the odd conditions. I was not going to refuse our Queen, and one of the heroes of the Void Rift Crisis. It also certainly piqued my interest.
I have already completed Glacies Anima out of the right edge for Prince Oceanus, and I am quite proud of the result. That the slender blade fits his power of water, and even his fighting style, so well is quite chilling. I know my will, and I know that I crafted as I wanted to, but it is hard to shake off the feeling that there is another's direction moving me as well. Truly, Her Majesty's sight, and her power of dark, leaves me in awe. But there is still a chance that it was mere coincidence.
That's why I am curious as to how this second weapon will fit. Aurea Gloriam is still too big for young Princess Celestia to wield, so I can't be sure how well she and the tip-forged spear take to each other. I have heard that the thieving scamp injured a wing when it fell on her after she tried to make off with it before the right time. I swear, His Majesty spoils that filly, likely because he is secure in Oceanus' capabilities as the next King. Why, when Her Majesty took her along to claim the spear, she tried to steal one of the knives an apprentice of mine was working on!
That leaves me with two pieces: the hilt with the broken base of the blade for the thirdborn, and the left edge for the lastborn. I already have some ideas, but I will hold off crafting them until I see how well the princess wields Gloriam. If they are clearly incompatible, I shall ask Her Majesty to reconsider, and let me observe the candidate before forging. Or, it's possible that no more children will be born. I know she has this sight, but four children?
Nevertheless, I do think I understand some of the reasoning. His Majesty has given his left blade to save the Herd, and take the Throne. Yet, Desiderium Cordis is not lost, it has simply transformed, now living on as regalia for his beloved children. Now you know the fate of the once-broken blade.
I have seen a few cycles in my time, colt, and the sixteenth has been undoubtedly the most trying of them all. I dare say that it has been the most trying of all the Herd's cycles. I do not regret living through it. Quite the opposite, it has been my honor to fight for my beloved Herd in its time of troubles, just as it remains my honor to serve the Sixteenth Ascendant.
Oh, is that a look of disappointment, colt? Expecting me to storm over the King's reign?
Make no mistake about it, I have nothing but respect for Sanctus Dominus. Though I question many of his choices, he has led the Herd to both recovery, and a new-found respect from the other heavenly realms. From the way Lexarius speaks, one would think that I am already plotting some kind of rebellion. What a foolish notion. His Majesty follows his own path as always, and there is much to respect about that, no matter how much or how little my opinions align with his.
And my disagreements with His Majesty are greatly exaggerated. You may have noticed that I have made great strides in the improvement of our military might. Once, we had been reduced to a few scattered skirmishes across Ida and a few tournaments, we now have organized battles of great scale, and frequent tournaments for even our children to be prepared. Our training centers are booming again, as they haven't for several cycles. The presence of our sentinels in our borders are now at a number I am also comfortable with. Are these the signs that I have been reduced to an ineffectual complainer by His Majesty? I think not.
Nevertheless, it is true that there are some policies I strongly agree with.
I have said this before, and I say it again, Sanctus Dominus' own benevolence creates unnecessary risks within the Herd. Too little punishment has been given to those deserving of it.
Without a doubt, the Void Rift Crisis is one of the most terrible things that has ever happened to the Herd, but it has done something that we should heed. It has exposed us. It showed who among us are truly brave, and who are cowards. It revealed the dangers of reckless experimentation combined with excessive sentimentality. It is only prudent that we learn from this. The Herd must be purged of those who cannot fight to defend it. The Seekers must be brought to a halt, and the relics of their cycle destroyed. So long as these alicorns remain as they are, we always face the risk of another Void Rift Crisis, or worse.
Yet, His Majesty has allowed them to continue to exist here. I admire his confidence in believing that he can take care of any danger to our Herd, and he is likely right, but it is better to expect the very worst of both the situation, and the alicorns involved, than to risk being unprepared for future problems.
The sight? Hmph! Don't make me laugh. How trustworthy is Her Majesty's sight? It did nothing to predict the Void Rift Crisis now, did it? Yes, we have seen it work, but there is a gap between what Her Majesty sees, and what Her Majesty says. I, for one, would rather not depend on her every word, especially when she says so little. Don't be fooled when you come upon Her Majesty's glowing presence. That is the light of the Throne shining through her. The power of dark sheds no light of its own. Isn't that foreboding in its own right?
Yes, you must have heard it from others as well, colt, you are a rumor-monger after all. I did not approve of His Majesty's choice for his mate. In this, I was not alone, but I am the most vocal.
I do not fully trust Her Majesty. I think her role in the Void Rift Crisis is highly suspect. I am not convinced by the talk that the Agamanthion clouded her sight as it seems quite convenient. She has made it clear that it was her motion to spare the Seekers from further punishment, and it is worrying that His Majesty defers to her in matters of soldierly concern, when she has shown even less inclination for soldierly matters than Lexarius and Procul Ocularus. Certainly, the power of dark is an ominous "blessing" to have. After the Void Rift Crisis, should it come as a surprise if we find it disturbing that our Queen is blessed with the power of dark?
Dark and sunlight being...bah! Don't recite that nonsense Silva Inber spews to any who listen. The Herd won't be protected by poetic musings!
Now, their son, Prince Oceanus, there is an alicorn that shows great promise, and radiates assurance. He is a skilled warrior, unbeaten in Ida, just like his father, though I wish he would spend more time there. Our warriors learn from the defeats they suffer at his hooves. Unfortunately, he is easily bored of one-sided duels. Fortunately, he appears just as easily bored by the endless debates all throughout Empyrea. I did not like that he tinkered with the Sixth Ascendant's notes on Necromancy, but his commentary allows our warriors better insight on a school of magic so hard to prepare for. That, and that he appears to have lost interest in Seeker work. Once he finds his focus, I am sure he will be perfect for the seventeenth ascension.
Celestia? Pah, there is little good to say of her: mischievous, unfocused, clearly spoiled by not bearing the same responsibility as her older brother. She gives sense to the tendency of alicorns to have only one foal. I cannot even imagine how it will be for the third child that Her Majesty is already carrying. I will admit that she acquitted herself well during the most recent Young Fighter's Tournament in Ida; Ferro Cornu and Novacula Lingua could not have been easy foes, and she was the youngest participant. Still, she was soundly beaten by Solis Coruscaria, and, for a daughter of Sanctus Dominus who shares in the same blessing, that is simply disappointing. She is fortunate to be secondborn.
I have high hopes for the future, pensive I may sound over some developments during the sixteenth. We have had a strong cycle, despite our struggles, and a more promising candidate for the seventeenth ascension. I highly doubt I will remain undiminished for even half of the next cycle, but I do believe I can rest easy with what we have accomplished.
It should come as no surprise that the Void Rift Crisis had, and continues to have, a significant impact on the Eternal Herd, such as the attitudes of its alicorns, and the steps that had to be taken by our new King.
The Herd was saved, let there be no doubt of that. We continue to exist because we successfully prevented the Agamanthion from destroying us all, but our heavenly realm was badly damaged as a result of our struggles. Only the power of our Throne has what it takes to repair our world, and the King and Queen are the only ones who can focus its power.
That task alone, with absolutely nothing else interfering, is difficult and time-consuming enough, but fate would not make it so easy now, would it? Our King and Queen must deal with with volatile, sometimes petty, situations arising from within the Herd and outside it.
Very early into the Sixteenth Cycle, the Wolvenaar made an inquiry regarding our state. They sent emissaries, they smiled their toothy smiles, and asked if we needed assistance. I highly doubt that they did so out of a deep concern for our well-being. The Q'tzal followed suit. Our patrols also noticed an increase of wandering creatures in Vestibulum, feeling about our borders, checking if we responded as readily to their little threats after the Void Rift Crisis as readily and as aggressively as when we did before. Even if we were weakened, the likelihood of an otherworldly invasion is very very slim. Still, we must continue to show a united and strong front, partly out of dignity, and partly because even a very very slim chance should be eliminated. Since the First Cycle, there has never been a war between realms, and we have no intention of providing a reason for one.
His Majesty has shown a remarkable degree of restraint in this matter, far more than I had expected of him. I was afraid that he would listen to every one of General Gravitas' aggressive proposals, but he has been cordial with all our guests, and surprisingly subtle in his displays of power. Our brethren have been inspired, and follow his lead. I suppose that is to be expected of the Lord of Sunlight. As the sun, he naturally radiates power without ever appearing that he is trying.
Far more poignant and worrying is the effect of the Void Rift Crisis within the Herd, particularly the Seekers of the Sixth.
Before the Void Rift Crisis, the rest of the Eternal Herd was, more or less, sympathetic to the cause of the Seekers. We cannot even begin to fathom what it is like to know so little of the cycle you were born in. Though many of us wouldn't go so far as to join them in their wanderings and obsessive studies, we were happy to lend some assistance, and there were indeed those not of the Sixth Cycle who did take up the Seeker's mantle.
Once the circumstances involving the Agamanthion came to light, however, that sympathy cooled into suspicion, scorn, or simply apathy. General Gravitas, clearly displaying his bottomless source of self-righteousness, continues to call for the punishment of all the Seekers involved with the Agamanthion, including those who were already untimely diminished by the crisis.
The Seekers have responded by shutting down. At first, they were willing to argue with those who accused the Sixth Ascendant of causing these horrific events. They posited that the Agamanthion was misused, resulting in a malfunction. They argued hard against Gravitas' motion to eradicate every last one of the Sixth's artifacts. Recently, they won't even bother anymore. They guard these artifacts fiercely, submitting only to His Majesty's commands that every possible precaution should be made before even the most minor undertaking.
You are very fortunate in tracking down, and speaking to Ignis Cordo. She is among the very last of the Seekers still willing to speak of anything regarding the Agamanthion. You'll find that trying to speak with the other Seekers will be nearly impossible. The few that remain here to study what is left of the Agamanthion have become extremely guarded. More and more of the Seekers that were not diminished have taken their quests to Vestibulum, and the other heavenly realms. I suspect that it is to escape the shame that will likely haunt them forevermore. If this matter still does not seem grim to you, colt, I must remind you that nearly all Sixth Cycle alicorns are Seekers. Not only have we lost the Sixth Cycle historically, we may have well lost the actual generation.
In this matter, I consider His Majesty to have been very prudent as well. He has made no attack on the Seekers as an organization nor decreed the destruction of what little physical remains there are of the Sixth Ascendant's reign, proving himself a friend to History, and certainly more than earning the gratitude of the Hall of Records, and the Circle of Knowledge, if not the Seekers of the Sixth as well. His Majesty understands that we need to know more of the Sixth's legacy especially because of what happened with the Agamanthion, not in spite of it. Perhaps, most telling of this commitment is that he allowed Prince Oceanus to study the Sixth's notes on Necromancy, despite the worried outcry from many of his subjects.
I also believe that the reason for this also has a personal aspect. Turbo Pinnae dedicated himself to the Seekers' cause, for good or for ill. To destroy what is left of the Sixth's legacy is to render everything Pinnae has done, and the sacrifice he and all the other Seekers have made, meaningless. It is easy to see that, despite all that has happened, His Majesty still highly regards his old friend.
And then, there is the most direct result of the void rift...
You have not heard of this? You must try to keep up with current events, it caused quite an uproar. It is a curious thing. Quite recently, Prince Oceanus traveled to Vestibulum to try to gate into the place the void rift led to. Many of us thought it was madness. Even I thought it was an incredibly risky act. But His Majesty agreed if it was in Vestibulum, and that Prince Oceanus was not to enter.
To our wonder, Prince Oceanus reported that, despite his meticulous calculations to make sure that it was the void rift's destination he was gating to, he did not find the endless blackness that his father saw in the Agamanthion's core. He spoke of seeing a lush world filled with strange scaly beasts with wings. More observations were quickly made after this report. We know that this world is fairly new, likely no older than the Sixteenth Cycle. It is also...limited in some ways. It has no layers as our heavenly realm does. We do not know what happens to its inhabitants upon their deaths.
A wave of frenzied speculations have followed. A popular theory is that this was the void that the Agamanthion was feeding, that it was a device that ripped a world's very essence from it to create a new one. Prince Oceanus himself has stated that it appears to have materialized shortly after the Sixteenth Cycle began. The timing either fits or is an incredible coincidence. He suggesed that the strange properties, and lack of layers is because it is not fully formed, that whatever process of creation has been interrupted.
Others believe that Prince Oceanus simply opened the wrong gate, and that this is just an unexplored world with strange properties.
His Majesty has forbidden all meddling with it, let alone entry. All the Herd is limited to very distant observation. Now, some in the Council of Elders have been saying that if this was the result of the Agamanthion's process, then this world is rightfully part of the Eternal Herd and should be populated as one. His Majesty has rejected such a proposition. I do not know how well this will fare. It might be that the other heavenly realms have discovered it already. They might make a move, and we would have to respond.
For now, I have a feeling that this matter will become the center of great events just like the Agamanthion was.