A story of three Alicorn siblings living in an exotic desert kingdom long before Celestia and Luna were born, yet they have more influence on the lives of the Two Sisters than they realize...
There are three of them, all Alicorns living to the desert land south of the Everfree Kingdom, which is the land that will one day be Equestria. They are a family of three: an elder sister and the younger kin she raised long before Celestia and Luna had even been born.
Elinora of the White Flame rules wisely, alone until the others are of age and get their marks. Hasad is charismatic and an excellent mediator. Stellaura is nervous, paranoid, and wants nothing more to be like her brother and please everyone, including herself by overcoming her inferiority complex. All of them have their own wishes for the world.
The exact origins of this world are known only to the spirit of this world's Tree, wherever she may reside. Those who grow close to such a foreign being might learn of its perspective on time and the gift it has offered to immortal and mortal alike. However, the Tree can hardly claim responsibility as the true masters of this world. That credit would go to the Alicorns, immortal equines whose great power shaped the world and was recounted in the greatest tales that were still passed down by their cousins, the varying subspecies of ponies and rare horses of the world and its three major plains of Midgard, Paradise, and Tartarus. It is in the latter two that the dead reside, and many more lesser plains spring forth, awaiting a god to unlock them from where they drip, somewhere between Midgard and the starry realm of Where Gods Walk, that turned ponies into demigods.
Many other creatures lived among ponykind, such as changelings, buffalo, dragons, and griffins. They too were scattered all across the diverse landscapes that covered the vast globe, learning of the natural magic both inborn and external of themselves, for there were homes to be made, adventures to be had, and things to be learned for the everlasting and those of the mortal stock alike.
Many borders were created and kingdoms featuring great citadels and vast wilds were formed. Almost all were governed by the great Alicorns who were born into various abilities to perfect and master the world upon realizing what they were marked for and a part of themselves, very much like their pony cousins, did even though there were only about thirty Alicorns and billions of mortal creatures.
One of these kingdoms was Al Far'iimbra, an empire to the south that occupied territory that was mostly desert and only qualified as 'exotic' in a very conventional sense. It may have not been a sky-high realm like Aerogard, the isolated and pristine city of crystal surrounded by the biting winds of snow, or the verdant land of Everfree where one could find themselves faced with near endless-woods, enchanted and unenchanted, but like each other land retained a majesty all its own.
Theirs was a mysterious, yet warm and friendly land. From all across the hemisphere - sometimes even beyond - visitors came and went on all sorts of diplomatic trips bringing their stories, trinkets, and magics with them. It didn't matter if the guest was another royal offering eloquent speeches or a mercenary desiring treasure, all those who came in camaraderie were welcomed by the queen who sat upon the amber throne, with its gilded accents touched by both the light of the moon and the sun which shone through the enormous open-air windows.
Almost all agreed that Elinora was just like the kingdom she ruled and the castle she lived in. Every hallway and every torch was lit with a special radiant white flame that only Elinora's magic could produce. It lit every candle, lamp, and every hearth in Marecca as well. Perhaps she had found some way to bewitch the city itself for visitors were never silent about this phenomena. Every dazzling and vibrant white spark drawing curious, wide-eyed stares usually accompanied by a gaping mouth.
Day and night the city remained bathed in the soft glow that seemed to affect the sands of the desert itself turning it into an even more exotic spectacle by creating the illusion that made every grain of sand glow.
It was as if the land of Al Far'iimbra, empire of mystery and magic, was locked in an eternal Twilight.
Elinora, Queen of Al Far'iimbra, Princess of Light, was the perfect fit for this land. She was the very image of diligence. She would work for cycles to finish every last bit of work and strived for diplomacy before conflict in all things. She never took breaks and burned as brightly as the white flame that emblazoned her side. On top of managing an empire, Elinora performed an even more difficult task: raising her two younger siblings, who upon receiving their marks would rule alongside her. It would be long - the Alicorns did not earn their marks as quickly as ponies.
Until then, Elinora kept her unfaltering serene smile in place and continued her tasks with the seemingly undaunted enthusiasm of any beloved monarch.
Everything she did, she did on her own, her fire burning ever brighter, unaware that within this special light was the one who wanted nothing more than to put this fire out, no matter what the cost.
Stellaura felt a smile grace her muzzle, a muzzle that was more accustomed to timid frowns on a regular basis, as she stepped out from indoors and into the largely shaded garden courtyard of her expansive home.
Elinora’s palace had a few such courtyards like this, but for Stellaura this particular one was her favourite. Like the others it secluded her from the myriad politics and affairs of Marecca, but she also was the only one that ever seemed to frequent it.
The cloistered sanctuary of a courtyard consisted of a wide open space of desert sand dominated by an artificial oasis shaded by date trees and fed by the palace’s intricate aqueduct systems. The sky was fairly cloudy but not an unpleasant sight with the radiant sun burning bright hot amidst the gathering banks of clouds as it always did.
Giggling, the Alicorn filly quickly set about her usual favourite activity when she visited the courtyard.
Stellaura found many months ago that the sand was of just the perfect consistency for building. In combination with the water from the pond, she could build almost anything she could imagine, from little villages and fields, to cities and entire kingdoms using bits and pieces that the trees dropped as architectural elements.
Today, the young princess decided that Marecca, as she knew it both from what she’d been taught and from mornings spent viewing it on the heights of her home’s balconies and parapets, would be her newest project. With a bucket and the land-shaping power of telekinesis at her disposal, Stellaura got to work with relatively euphoric glee characteristic of foals her age.
In a very short span of time especially by her own race’s temporal perception, Stellaura had constructed herself a resplendent city of true majesty. The sand of the oasis was now dotted with defensive battlements, and neat grids as well as almost haphazard side alleys that surrounded great minarets, cupolas, and even the great ziggurat-shaped representation of Marecca’s Hanging Gardens. While all impressive, there was also with a newfound sense of intricacy with this newest creation.
The inspiration had ignited in her mind without warning or origin point, and Stellaura nearly brought the flat of her hoof to her face over having not thought of it in the many other sessions of play and building leading up to this point.
All along miniature Marecca’s streets, boulevards, and thoroughfares were the highest quality representations of its citizens and market stalls that Stellaura could muster. Were the material not sand and the pony miniatures more true to the appearance of their living inspirations, one could be forgiven for mistaking the princess’ city for the actual city, as if stolen from a diminutive alternate reality.
Whilst admiring her creations, nearly beaming, misfortune befell Stellaura. The clouds above had achieved a critical mass, and with that mass came the inevitable downpour that forced the Alicorn filly to retreat to the shelter of the nearest courtyard arcade. Stellaura grew despondent as she witnessed the events now unfolding before her, the steady pitter-patter of the rainfall on sand, stone, and leaves punctuating every passing second.
The date trees had proven traitorous, embracing the life-giving rainwater above in its many torrents willfully in the way that all plants did, yet also serving to concentrate much of the aquatic downpour onto specific regions of Stellaura’s Mini-Marecca.
Mini-Marecca’s great Hanging Gardens were the first to topple over in a pathetic lump of sand that gradually washed away down into the pond of the oasis along with many of the sand citizens and smaller buildings nearest it. Rivulets of brown and green, sand and leaf-laden water erased the neat grids of the streets and city blocks.
Distressing to Stellaura even more so than the loss of the Gardens was the minarets that dominated the skyline of her creation. They fell and vanished into the sand from whence they had come, without the dignity and grace with which they had previously risen. Stellaura’s final straw for the release of her own torrent was the demise of her home as she had known it. The palace washed away in parts unlike the similarly-sized Hanging Gardens thanks only to its placement away from the date trees. Roofs and entire sections first, then the foundations at last gave way underneath the surviving structure as the barely held together and equally barely recognizable sand structure inexorably slid down into the pond.
Blinking through eyes that were difficult to see with through the downpour and the tears, Stellaura saw the palace remains vanish and dissolve into the water with finality before she bolted out of the courtyard that had likely seen the departure of its only and final visitor. Elsewhere in the palace home, Hasad paused from his present deliberations with precognition. He readied his shoulder as he always did in episodes like these.
Princess Stellaura squirmed slightly as she felt the painter's gaze evaluate his subject, a critical look in his eyes. Queen Elinora, or Nora as she called her elder sister, had commissioned a portrait from an artist hailing from the Everfree Kingdom to the north. The art there was very different from the smooth, gleaming floral mosaics, symmetrical shapes, and elegant flourishes that made up the styles of Al Far'iimbra, which was lacking the warmly shaded, lucid scenes, and life-like creatures that danced across Everfree canvasses.
Much to Stellaura's dismay Nora had told this master of the brush to include both the young filly and colt, Princess and Prince. This did not sit well with the Princess, who was bashful and tongue-tied in the presence of strangers with an untamed habit of blushing at the slightest discomfort. Even though Nora was in the background with an encouraging look on her face and her eyes twinkling kindly, Stellaura still had a hard time attempting the royal duty of Not Fidgeting.
She wanted to tell Nora that it was so much harder than it looked, and surely if she were in her place Nora wouldn't want somepony staring at her.
Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and tried to make her shy grin as happy looking as possible while avoiding looking like a maniac. She had to stand completely still as well and hoped to the stars that her dimples weren't showing.
As discreetly as she could, Stellaura flicked her gaze towards Hasad. Despite his seemingly meek expression he shone with the softer confidence of any self-assured foal, looking as if today were his coronation.
Meanwhile behind the easel that held the masterpiece in the making, the unicorn foreigner was trying to create every detail in his oil paints: the sunlight filtering throughout the room, the slightly silvery coats of the twins, their large green eyes, a rarity in the desert, the purplish manes and tails, both curly, worn somewhat long, and of course their wings.
Stellaura's had the swallowtail look shared by nopony, not even the queen observing him and Hasad's overlarge and powerful looking ones, even though neither could fly yet, nor will they anytime soon.
In the end it didn't matter because the one detail the artist captured perfectly was the Prince's painted smile.
It was tall and smooth ,so at times it was hard to believe it was made of glass at all, instead of tempered starlight. Three shapes were reflected in it, if you could call them mere shapes instead of divine beings despite the fact that two had not yet ascended fully to their divine birthright.
The first was a mare as dazzling as firelight with a coat of the palest gold. She was tall with a delicate face that held monolid chartreuse eyes outlined with flecks of inky black makeup that were glowing with pride. Elinora's thin legs were clad in gold, sapphire-studded trinkets even brighter than her eyes and her hooves ended with silky feathers hiding her hooves. Her impossibly long, thick, and sparkling mane and tail were the hue of white-hot molten silver, a simple crown also studded with blue gems rested on her head. But most impressive were Elinora's wings: they resembled obovate leaves, the tips of her feathers paper-white, and wrapped around her younger siblings who were now almost grown, no longer simply foals.
Stellaura was no longer just a filly, she towered over most adults, especially since she didn't have the same doll-like build of Elinora. Her purple-magenta mane and tail, spotted with flecks of black had begun to sparkle. She had let them grow long ever since she discovered her mane could be a bit like a curtain - protecting her when she felt shy and the magenta threw eyes off her constantly flushing face. Everything made her nervous these days even though she was a princess living well, like royalty and she would one day be ruling a country alongside her...
You know what? Maybe that was it. Princess Stellaura didn't believe she was good enough for such a task. Sometimes she was so panicked she felt as if she was nothing but flaws, clearly unfit leader material.
Stellaura wished with all her heart that sometimes, just sometimes she could be more like her brother. She tried to look calm, wings folded neatly at her sides as she stared into the clear, undisturbed surface.
Hasad stood next to her, a small smile on his face. Clearly, his thoughts must be happier than hers. Over the years he had cut his mane and tail short. Both had lost most of the curl that his sister's had retained, and the black seemed to overtake the magenta quite a bit. His green eyes were far from that of his meek sister's - they always shone lightly, if not vividly, after all his short mane was pulled away from his eyes. Who knew what brilliant ideas ran through his head? One of his wings, which were slightly larger than his sister's, touched her wither.
Ever since they were little this had only one meaning to Stellaura: Everything is all right, Sister.
After all, he wasn't like Nora - married to her country. She always confided in Hasad when they were foals.
But now here they were, neither foals or adults, especially without their marks. Looking in this unbiased pane of truth, neatly fitted into a polished wood frame. Stellaura was wearing new gold earrings, like tears of sunlight, and a necklace of braided gold that was cold against her chest. She swallowed in discomfort. Hasad too, wore new ornaments - a plain necklace of the very same metal and tall unadorned boots of gold so smooth they looked like extensions of himself the way they were fitted. They were presents from Elinora.
Nora leaned forward, a benevolent smile on her face. "We are so proud of the both of you."
Stellaura swallowed and vowed that from this day forward she would work twice as hard, no four times, eight times as hard to overcome her awkwardness and try to step out of the protective shadow of the other two Alicorns. She wanted to be a proper goddess, one that her country deserved.
Elinora continued to beam, wiping a budding tear away with her wing. Her immortal siblings were growing up so fast!
Hasad made a vow as well, not nearly as eloquent or dashing as his twin's, but much, much more meaningful.
She held it delicately in her lime green magic, as not to furl the precious parchment. The study was airy and well lit. Hardly and specks of dust or sand settled on the scrolls neatly tucked into the cubbies in their shelves. Plaques of gleaming metals listed the name of each scroll, the author, subject, date it was written, as well as who had recently borrowed the materials in glowing runes.
These runes were recorded in the arcane language used by many magic schools, or at least the more orderly ones that adhered to many laws and strict principles that left no room for the experimentation allowed by looser schools or guilds.
Stellaura laid the map on a nearby desk, smoothing out a corner as she did so. On it were bold strokes of colored ink detailing landscapes and borders, plainer hued stuff was used for writing out the names of kingdoms and citadels, some of which were as proud and grand as Marecca, although none were quite as special to the Princess. After all, this city was her home.
Her horn lit up with magic now forming a light to aid in her reading. All these places... they seemed so far away to her, which was far from the truth, but Stellaura wouldn't know, since she had never been outside of Al Far'iimbra and wondered what the other Alicorns were like. What were their kingdoms like? How did they contribute to the vast empire High King Noctus and High Queen Lumina kept in check? What made them different from her desert home?
She sighed and rested her muzzle on the desk.
Hasad peered over at what she was doing from across the table. "What is it, Sister?"
"Hasad, do you think that everything is going to be okay?" She dropped the majestic plural used by those born to the crown, which they were taught to use since birth. From the earliest days of foalhood this always that whatever she was discussing was serious even though most Alicorns her age spoke in the majestic plural, serious or not until they were teenagers when they finally started mingling with ponies.
His magenta aura lost control of the scroll he was holding, perhaps this question had caught him by surprise.
"What do you mean, Sister?" He replied, a mere repeat of the question he asked before. Hasad clearly looked puzzled by the vague question he was just asked.
"Well, Nora is trying to have me give a s-speech again and..." She paused, teeth chattering "...I JUST CANNOT DO IT! S-speaking in front of s-so many ponies and feeling like no matter what I do I do not belong, and the words never come, that I will never impress them like Nora does. I tried to tell her that this, this is the one thing I just cannot bring myself to do e-even though I know I cannot better myself if-"
"Sister," Hasad said firmly, magic collecting the scroll he had dropped. "Are you asking Us once again to give a speech in your place?"
"Yes," she whispered burying her face in her hooves out of embarrassment. The werelight she had conjured moments before snuffed out.
"Sister, look up."
Stellaura started sobbing.
Why was she always like this? Why couldn't she do anything? Was everything always going to be this frustrating? How could she ever be a queen if this kept happening?
"No, you have to stop this, Sister. Thoughts like that are not going to help you at all, and before you ask Us, yes we do indeed know your own thoughts were straying."
Stellaura looked up into her brother's concerned face, a curl of her dark violet-magenta mane falling between her eyes and aiding in the concealment of her own. "S-so will you consider...?"
Hasad shook his head in a clear indication of 'no'. "There is no need to even consider this. We have already made up Our mind and will give this speech in your place, as your frustrated state clearly need a break from your duties."
Stellaura nodded, although she still seemed downcast and Hasad noticed this.
"Sister, it is often said that the ones who hurt us most are the ones closest to us. This is especially true in your case, as we do not thinking anypony could hurt you more than your anxieties are now. We shall go to inform Elinora of this change."
Stellaura thanked him and when he left she sighed with relief. She just wished that asking for favors like this didn't make her feel as if she were manipulating her brother, however much he agreed.
She gulped and went back to poring over her maps and wondering what other country she might wish to visit in the future. There were lands filled with all sorts of creatures that didn't live here. When she was centuries younger Stellaura was shocked to discover that not every land was inhabited by ponies, horses, camels, buffalo, jinn, dragons, phoenixes, and the other creatures that lived where she did. Now she was nervous knowing how many creatures lived in the world. What could they possibly like? Maybe one day she would find, after all who could argue with an eternity to live over the few centuries that were allotted to all the mortal species. Only dragons neared anywhere close to the lifespan of immortals, but by the time they reached even a thousand years, they were frail and ancient. Little ever lingered.
She would see centuries roll by and watch empires rise and fall. They could be but children to her if she thought it so. She was not doomed to be like the few power-mad sorcerers who sought the only kind of twisted immortality that could be gained from the meddling they did in cheap enchantments that preserved nothing, or the fewer fools who thought any kind of technology would bring them a salvation that would never be. Their minds would twist and wither, and in no time at all they would become shells before they crumbled to dust.
The only magic that might come close to such things were the surges that created demigods, and some effects of spells only Alicorns and Harmony itself could produce, but none of these were the permanence that fools could only dream of. The few unhappy sorts tried and failed, their stories faded just as quickly as they surfaced. Neither a normal equine nor a demigod could handle immortality, and they were not known to. Only an immortal mind could bear eternity, and even mortals with hints and grasps of the trait and enduring spirit never found themselves among the everlasting.
It goes without saying that Stellaura would see many, many maps find their way into her hooves.
When his younger sister was nervous she referred to herself as I, just as her own subjects would use in reference to themselves. Demigods were known to do this as well, since few, if any were raised anywhere near the nobility. His older sister would also do this, but less often. In their heads they would do this often as well, no need to keep up that speech within their own minds, even though it was speech they were taught to emulate since foalhood and nearly had it engraved in them. It was simply a habit.
But Hasad... well, for him it was never a habit. He truly could not comprehend the prospect of an individual self and he certainly could not comprehend 'I'. He never had.
The only thing that covered this up was his royal status - he could refer to himself as a plural, and thus lesser, as much as he wanted and get away with it. Nopony would notice that he had no idea how to understand the individual, or the personal. To him, defining features were something that was could only be skin deep: coat colors, occupations, marks, and names. A different mane style and differing eye colors were the only ways that Hasad could tell others apart, other than that every living thing was identical to him, a mere physical puppet and nothing more.
He would never let it slip though, he had thousands of years as practice rendering this disguise flawless in his mind, which never knew a complete sense of self, if it knew any at all. Individuality and all it embodied was a non-existent concept to Hasad.
These ponies, his own family, they would all see only what he wanted them to see, and they always would with no exceptions. Even though it would be near impossible for somepony like Hasad to directly manipulate others when he viewed all others as less than a speck of dirt, this complication managed to elude him, there were always those that were weak and could be pulled away from a herd and isolated: the submissive, the fool, the modest, the selfless, and others could be chipped away from all they clung to. After all, he had to conceal such behavior since foalhood or else somepony would have found out; sisters, servants, foreigners.
It all went unnoticed, especially now as Hasad the Selfless sat at the circular marble table, his elder sister next to him, unable to detect the serious expression he wore was false because it was an expression she had always known. Especially since she was busy looking at the High King and Queen, Lumina and Noctus of the Everfree Kingdom.
In truth, Hasad had no interest in them. Lumina and Noctus were just two more royals to whom he had to put on a happy face and offer a polite word; whatever the situation deemed 'right' in the sense of normalacy. There was nothing interesting about the foaless couple, they only ever visited other kingdoms for diplomacy and never let any others, Alicorn, equine, or another, visit their home if they were outside the family that included Lumina's two sisters and her brothers-in-law. What transpired in the servant-less Everfree Palace was unknown, and only paintings of its exterior were widely known to all. Mortals went in, briefly, sometimes to be knighted, but they never stayed; they spoke of the limited view of its interior that they were presented with, and its splendor. Their enigmatic gods had beckoned them inside.
Hasad never thought about any of this, since he found them to be so dreadfully boring, and nodded dumbly to something the Elder Sister said. The words meant nothing to him, he could tell what it was. Words were but keys to him, turn it in a lock and with a sudden click you get what is inside. Nothing else mattered. This wasn't quite accurate since the prince rarely consorted with thieves or locksmiths so he would not know the finer points of anything. Only the monotony of politics remained comprehensible to such a selfish creature.
But could you really call him selfish? The word on its own had more self than the prince.
The world seemed to fade even more due to the dullness of the situation. Hasad always felt detached from his body, in some sense, but not because of boredom. Nothing seemed to tie him to anything, his flesh included, and an ever-present detached feeling loomed over him and blurred his feeling. He was of course, attending this meeting in his younger sister's place - she was one of the two sisters he had, and never once in his life did he refer to them by name. Younger, older; big sister, little sister; big sis, little sis - almost anything would work, and he was thought affectionate for such behavior. His own name had only ever rung hollow to him too, and occasionally pained him like a dull wound, and puzzled him at other times. How empty it was, the sound of it having as much value as a brand to him.
The younger sister had become much more unstable lately, refusing to appear publicly unless it was the three of them together. This was good for Hasad as she became less informed and he only increased his public image.
She had been shy and clumsy since birth, early on he had taken note of this and made sure to bend it to his will and toy with her, slyly smashing any confidence should hope to get or ever develop, playing off her insecurities so she became increasingly more paranoid and even mopey at times, and she only hated herself in the end. He kept her weak, yet she never knew. In fact, she still looked to him as the good big brother, as her elder twin, and her shining star. To rely on another so much for an unfounded reason like kinship only made her weaker. Lately, she looked to him more than she ever had to the Elder Sister, which was good, since both held the same view of Hasad that many possessed: a well-spoken and kind prince, with a sense of maturity his twin sister lacked.
Nothing had to be twisted in his favor, everything Hasad wanted was giving to him because he gave false love instead of honest hate. He was a liar of the worst kind because you couldn't tell where truth began and lies ended unless you were Hasad himself, his motives to others as readable and blank as his white coat that was like paper before anything had been written upon it. Of course, this is exactly what he wanted. Although, maybe the worst part of all was that he was good at it.
The Elder may have raised them but she overlooked many details and was too busy to help them most of the time, since she was only one Alicorn after all, she could only try to be the parent - or considering her tendency to overwork and go above and beyond what needed to be done - parents that none of them ever had. She was a ruler too, and an army of mortal servants at her disposal could only lighten lesser duties so much. Mortals were employed by Alicorns out of graciousness, not out of necessity.
He loved how fragile the younger one's mind was though, how easy it was to push the invisible switch on her inferiority complex, to give her advice so big she could hardly hope to follow it and was left wallowing in bouts of insecurity worse than before. There was a delight to be had in in that.
How easy it was to pretend to feel, to play supportive big brother, after all, what he said was at least true to him: Those who are close to us are the ones who hurt us most.
Hasad loved an honest lie, because lying was all he ever did.
When the meeting was done, Hasad left the room studded with mosaics - the southern tapestry, as the Elder called them - smiled at Noctus and Lumina, thanking them for their time and wishing them safe travels as he bowed.
They smiled kindly, all of them suspecting nothing.
He stared at the chamber wall, expression emotionless and unreadable. The walls were tan, but in the cool, windowless room of his they could have passed for gray. He was thousands of years old, yet time was something Hasad could not stand.
How long did he have to wait?
Hasad was not partial to the light; it didn't matter whether it belonged to the sun or the moon, natural light was simply displeasing to the prince. When he was not lying, he avoided the light, as he sat in the dark of this unusually plain room. It made it easier for his thoughts to whisper-whisper all around him. He didn't care of their origins, as long as they told him what they wanted and of everything that could be. Each one cut into the inside of his skull like the talons of a griffin teacher raked down a chalkboard and the jangle of rusty metal.
Maybe they were his, and maybe they weren't, but to somepony like Hasad none of that mattered, nor will it ever.
...
The smile was fake. The kindness, the sincerity. Every earnest-seeming move and the ones he purposely flawed, every honest imperfection was a lie. All the laughter, the tears, every tantrum and smile from every moment of his life was false. The perfect mask was one that was chipped so you could only imagine what was below, and use false whimsy to fill in the rest.
The Hasad they all knew and loved was a lie crafted by the prince who festered behind the mask. Oh, how he has grown into that mask. It was a mask he had worn since he was a colt, but as he grew into the mask he could feel it breaking. It was not meant to fit forever, and he watched as each piece fell to the ground and shattered without even sound. Others dug into him with some sharpness and he voiced nothing about how they pained him.
His perfection was crumbling, and no physical entity, even an Alicorn or divine was perfect in itself. Something like a choice or object might be, there might even be the perfect way to solve a problem, but perfection did not exist within a creature.
He wanted to make the perfect choice, and in his warped and twisted mind it existed, buried deep somewhere just waiting for the prince to discover it in full and tear it away from whatever restraints it was bound by.
But of course, this would require a very carefully calculated moment that took time and effort to bring about.
A moment of perfection.
...
He was Nameless, at least to himself. He could not love and he did not know hate, all these centuries helped distill whatever peculiar, wholly sinister set of emotions he was born with and fashion them into something even more eldritch and and disturbing than any legend or cautionary tale of Tartarus could ever describe.
The only thing that ever broke this spell of detachment, that made him really feel anything was destruction.
He wanted to destroy everything personally. He wanted to pull everything apart brick by brick and smash it, make it nothing. He wanted to see things fall: a city crumble, a forest burn to ashes, mountains fall to dust, and much more gruesome things.
There was a maddening hunger to these desires that only grew as years passed; and living creatures found their way into all these wants, too.
He had to wait until he finally got his creation right, or else how could he accomplish anything? He needed the perfect weapon to go with the perfect plan. Failure had to be considered and eradicated along with everything else.
Yet, even that required time...
...
He has always felt nothing, for the most part. The prince loved the idea of nothing, or everything falling, everything, everypony breaking like smashed glass and being forgotten forever. The dead realms of Paradise and Tartarus were of no concern to him. He simply wanted to 'reset' the world with blood over and over again.
Hasad the Selfless was hollow, devoid of all but strange and mysterious machinations that would require the perfect magic, one that wielded the terror inside him and amplified it beyond all insanity and understanding.
He would have to perfect a new magic for this and he would, he would build it all from nothing and the result was ensured to be catastrophic. Through his lies, selfishness, and amoral ruthlessness Hasad the Nameless would buy his way to the only power that he ever desired. He just had to play his part and act like the caring big brother everypony thought him to be, the one that could feel everything, the one that eveypony believe could feel alive of all things. As long as he had been alive, that was the one the one thing he never felt and it was from there everything else followed.
He stood up, still staring at the wall with a tumultuous look in his eyes and his horn flashing with splinters of magic, the magenta crackling softly. Magic which soon swirled into the faintest traces of violet tinted with green. With cold precision Hasad silently ripped open a hole in the blanket of the world ringed in the same colors, all his special way of creating a pocket dimension, a magical feat he had been playing with, and a dull gray plain yawned back at him.
He slipped inside, sealing it behind him before he collapsed screaming.
How long did he have to wait?
Though this magic was a start. He had no idea where it came from or whose it was but it would never be a concern to him.
He would wait for the last piece of his mask to fall.
Chapter 7: A Destiny Born in Flame, or the Jinni's Word
Stellaura gulped, a cold sweat on her brow as Elinora looked from one twin to another. The queen's mouth moved very little, almost as if not to disturb her grim expression.
Stellaura didn't want to believe a single word her sister said.
'There is a hostile jinn on the loose in a village not far from here...'
That was fine, it was nothing Elinora could not solve.
'...and We believe the both of you are old enough to handle this sort of thing, thus you will join Us.'
Hasad gasped. "It would be an honor, Elder Sister; We volunteer Our magics in this effort."
Another gulp later, Stellaura felt her eyes tearing up. Her brother would be on her side, of course. He knew about her fears. Her every nerve was screaming back at her.
Elinora turned and exited the tower balcony that overlooked a tranquil tiled courtyard complete with bubbling fountains. Stellaura swore they were laughing at her. She knew they were, how did the others miss it?
"Do not be late!" Elinora called.
There was a third gulp and Stellaura turned to face Hasad. "What am I to do? Nora expects me to -"
"Our elder sister expects you to perform your duty, just like We do."
"But-"
Hasad frowned and rolled his eyes, silently unfolding his colossal wings. The next moment, he was gone.
He wasn't on her side...
Stellaura wrapped her forehooves around the balcony and tried not to shiver, despite the warm climate. She never left the castle these days, and that was for the better. She couldn't tell anypony of her anxieties, or of the things they made her see. Ponies didn't understand anymore. Nora didn't understand, and just kept giving her talks about determination and trying hard and things for foals and they never worked.
Now Hasad had forsaken her, hadn't he?
Ever since she was small, Stellaura had been extra sensitive to the flow of unusual magic. No equine, Alicorn or not was able to fully read aura, detect spells, or anything of the sort but Stellaura came very close to doing so, and a fain static was always brushing against her nerves, and it pained her. Anytime she was near a pony with a particularly strange talent, a haunted building, or any sort of curse she became mildly ill or on edge. Magic that was meant to harm made her feel anxious if it was strong enough - not something that happened often because mortal magic users were not 'strong' by the standards of her illness, and really only a weak, dizzy pulse at best.
Magic made her sick, and for an Alicorn, that was heartbreaking. Pegasai did not get ill because they flew, and yet Stellaura was sickly because of a condition that she should not have, but had grown into anyway.
Yes, the princess had always been a rather jumpy individual from the start, but she still couldn't understand why this happened so much in her own home, it was always worse. Everything was worse, and terrible. She tried to talk to her brother about this but even he was as baffled, as was Nora and every other mage, healer, and physician that had been consulted, and there was nothing they could do. She was practically cursed! Her chance of true divinity and a god's world were crippled too.
Any malicious magic of this realm would not be spared. Even the magics of the after worlds obeyed this, yet this was not their doing.
She was shivering. Her hooves were trembling. Stellaura lurched forward and vomited.
...So why was it getting worse as she got older?
After she recovered, the princess flew off to join her siblings.
...
Stellaura wanted to be anywhere but here. She wanted the constant feeling of dread that happened whenever she was around such magic.
She lived in a world bursting with magic that it could never be separated from, even if this thought had occurred to any creature, it would make no difference. It was a world that was contributing to a sickness of both mind and body that no creature had the power to stop.
Even when there was not a single soul around she still felt as if somepony was watching, trying to lead her with only this creeping paranoia but something else. What was it?
What did the magic want? What could it be saying to ears as deaf as hers, what was it trying to show to eyes that were blind?
She did not know that this was true, that there were machinations she remained unaware of.
However this did not mean Stellaura knew nothing.
She knew the world was burning.
All around her there was fire: the red of the jinni's flame and the warm, white light of Nora's fire magic, which was regarded as holy by ponies. This included the very same ponies who had called the three siblings to the outskirts of their village where the troublesome spirit had retreated, the Alicorns in aerial pursuit. Stellaura had the misfortune of being the closest to the fire spirit.
Maybe you are not cut out to be a princess, the ever-present little voice nagged. Why did it have to bother her now? Ponies were in trouble!
Nora knows you cannot rule.
Stop, she begged, swiveling clumsily to avoid a stray rose-red flame. She glided higher to avoid the scorched sands.
She had to focus.
Focus on what, Stellaura? How about your weaknesses - that is all you are! Years shut up in the castle has made it too hard for you to fly.Your mind is feeble, your heart is weak. Look at Hasad, look at all those that surround you - they are better and will always be!
She had to keep flying. She shouldn't listen.
He is your twin, yet, you are anything but equal. All you are is babbling foal unfit to even be an Alicorn!
All she had to do was keep flying, close her eyes, and most of all not cry.
Don't listen.
"That would be wise, now, if only you could follow your own advice, hmm?" The voice was feminine sounding, but belonged to no creature she knew.
Stellaura's eyes fluttered open and she found herself lost in the fire, her siblings nowhere to be seen as smoke stung her eyes, made her lungs ache, and a overwhelmingly warm blood-hued inferno circling her, stretching into the sky and blotting it out. This left the silver coated Alicorn whose curly mane shone, waved, and sparkled like a proper goddesses'.
Who spoke those words? Where were they? "Was it the jinn?"
"That I am," the voiced said, sounder calmer then before. Stellaura realized she said the last part out loud and bit the inside of cheek until she tasted blood. She could see through the intense layers of fire that would have caused a normal creature to perish; a small ball of fire that was disembodied from the rest of the chaos: the natural form of the jinn, a creature whose might would have been nothing against a stronger willed and quick thinking Alicorn.
Stellaura was staring straight into the 'eyes' of the jinn. Presumably, she was caught in its trap.
The jinn took the ethereal shape of an earth pony mare, her body constructed out of the very same flames she caused mischief with. There were noticeable differences: her legs did not end with hooves but clumps of sizzling flame that hid where any possible hooves could have been. Her eyes had no pupils but pockets of sparks, their lashes thin veils flame.
The jinn smiled knowingly at the princess, although she hadn't the faintest idea what the creature could be grinning about.
"W-what is it that you want s-spirit?" Sputtered Stellaura, choking slightly on some of the blood from before.
The jinn paused, her unusual eyes seemed to be staring straight through Stellaura. "For a princess, you are very rude, it seems you lack proper manner, since you do not even bother to give your own name."
Stellaura brought a hoof to her face to wipe away a few drops of sweat, which was not from the fire. She wanted to hide. Was this jinn playing games with her? She had never met one so she wouldn't know. All the stories say that they are fire spirits that rarely congregate, instead scorching the sands as they travel, much like the grains when blown by the wind. They are also reported to have the gift of prophecy, yet rarely did they ever know what their parlor trick level predictions meant, only High Queen Lumina of the Everfree was known to have such a power, bestowed upon her by the Tree, Harmonia herself.
Never in her six thousand years did Stellaura think she would ever meet one - much less leave the city for this long. She may have been a full grown adult, currently equal to a mortal mare approaching her mid-twenties but she remained relatively helpless thanks to Hasad always helping her to get out of any kind of panic-inducing royal duties - most of which were important to the ponies they ruled over. She was not a recluse but because of her magic Stellaura had become a shut-in like the bears up north when they hibernated, except all of Marecca was her cave.
She meant the gaze of the jinn. Perhaps... perhaps it was time to change that...
...one step at a time...
Her horn ignited with lime green magic.
...one spell at a time...
She didn't know what she was doing, much less what the magic was going to do. She unfolded her wings and glided after the jinn who had been smart enough to move, it too, was gliding on streams of fire and wasn't sure of what magic was coming.
But Stellaura felt as if she knew what to do now.
She had to contain the fire and the one who made it. She would take it and store it somewhere. Stellaura like all of this time did not know that there would one day be two sisters who would manage similar feats to what she was about to do now, although with their own measures of strength as twists to the process even if they would never meet this mare.
It didn't matter, this was Stellaura's moment, to do something unique, something only she could do that no matter what cannot be replicated exactly by any other.
Stellaura shot a blast of magic toward the spirit, who was fast enough and watched as it enveloped her fiery form.
She disappeared in the sparkling cloud so unlike any color that could be found in abundance in the vast stretches of sand she called home.
A plain gold lamp fell to the sand, it was the only thing she had been able to think of and it had worked.
There was a flash of white and Stellaura looked at a her once-bare flank with a gasp. Nora had always told her that it would take longer for most Alicorns to gain the marks of their destiny-one of the few things they shared with ponies - and now here it was! A glimmering lamp, that was made of many different jewels and gleaming gold accents with a bluish cloud that glittered right beside it as it flowed forth in the form on a unicorn-esque silhouette.
She picked up the lamp with the very same magic that she had used to conjure the object and seal the jinn.
Stellaura could hardly wait to tell her brother and sister what had happened... this meant that she was Elinora's peer, she would have a coronation that would go down in all the history records for years to come. This was her first step to officially dealing with all the other immortals of this world and becoming a proper goddess.
Somehow she would manage to tell them: her family, her ponies, the world itself what she managed to do here.
He never let his true feelings show. No matter what, they could never slip out like water from a courtyard fountain. He had thousands of years of practice, implementing emotional flaws such as a blush, furrow or falter only when needed.
No mask was supposed to be perfect, but his was. He strove for it!
It was disastrous for one - pony or Alicorn - to conceal so much of any feeling, if that is what it could be called, even in the strange case of Prince Hasad.
Today was his sister's coronation. She was draped in garments of blues the color of a noon sky on a cloudless day that were outlined with rich magenta trims, and stars stitched in the very same hue. It was on this one occasion that Stellaura did not try to hide behind the tassels.
She still wore her gold earrings and necklace.
Her legs still shook. He could see that.
Stellaura looked up at Elinora, who was almost twice her height. She tried to be calm.
Every word that Elinora spoke rang out through the hall of sand-toned stone. Ponies from all over, and even a few visiting Alicorns. They were garbed in the respective jewels and raiment of their native lands.
They smiled. They laughed and nodded, eating up every well-spoken word from the angelic queen. She spoke of every deed her little sister had done, all wrapped up in gilded words.
There was the High Queen and King, Lumina and Noctus, seated among the front rows, their smiles were slight but earnest, Lumina's a mix between shy and somber. In contrast, Noctus' almost seemed teasing and joyful.
In the background were echoes of conversations, so many of them all trivial, hushed, and fleeting pleasantries in the mind of the prince. Such a thing reminded him of birdsong - not worth deciphering, even if he could. It was not a thought that had ever occurred to him, nor was it his talent.
But what was his talent?
He had lived for thousands of years, and as a prodigy no less. Hasad was a mastermind who believed he deserved everything.
His eyes seemed a bit greener, but it most likely was only a trick of the light.
She was weaker.
She wasn't as cunning.
Had this ruined his plans?
No.
Such a thing was not possible.
Yet... how could this runt discover something so important before him? Right now she was being granted power, maybe it was in name only but Hasad wanted that power, it could help him. There was dominance in power.
Their country was often considered to be unbearably warm by certain foreigners, but nothing could compare to the unseen inferno that raged on in the void that was Hasad.
The court banter had faded to nothing in his ears, as it long had for those gathered around him, watching the sight with looks of such honor. For the mortals here, which were few in number compared to their Alicorn cousins and long-lived demigods, this would be the only time they ever witnessed such a sight in the two centuries and thirty years that they could live up to.
He liked nothing, and that is almost exactly what you would see - his face remained calm, with a slight smile that was indistinguishable from a sincere one. On the outside his eyes shown with the most honest looking pride as Crown Princess Stellaura was made a Queen.
He spoke only lies. His kindness was just as false, his laughs never really earnest. All of his generosity was nothing more then the most skilled of manipulation, which he had learned from no creature or text.
His loyalties were nonexistent.
He loved nothing.
Whatever trick of the light or unnoticed illusion was in effect made Hasad's irises shine as bright as emeralds.
His lesser had seemingly rose before he had.
Her talent is most unusual. How far will it go? What is the extent of its power?
He wanted to know.
He would.
The new Queen turned toward her subjects, her allies, and the other face in the audience, the one she sought.
Her smile was sheepish. The delegates saw it as bashful and Hasad viewed it as another sign of her weakness.
Her green eyes stopped when she found who she was looking for. Stellaura managed to smile a little wider, however meek it still seemed. She waved her hoof slightly, new golden anklets jingling against her silver coat.
Hasad waved back. The smile he gave her was as meaningful as all his others.
His sister was soon swept away by an Alicorn mare with an olive coat and a chiton of sky blue, clasped in black pearls and shiny bronze that shimmered with the light of her tumbling, glittering mane and tail. The tight curls ran with orange, yellows, and red like the hottest of magma. He wasn't sure how the laurel atop her head didn't burn, and he didn't really care. What was important is that Stellaura, who had been secluded for so long in her own fear was now interacting with somepony outside of her closest acquaintances and family.
His eyes would have narrowed had Elinora's gaze not swept in his direction, a serene and blissfully unaware smile on her face. The moment soon passed and Hasad was quick to mentally chastise himself. How could he even consider such a risky move? He had so much experience and yet this had somehow crossed his mind. Even if he could have come up with a large number of convincing silver-tongued lies on the spot to rationalize what would typically be an uncharacteristic move it was still startling to think that he would attempt such a thing...
What was this strange and powerful energy that had coursed through him in such a short time, until he had felt himself consumed?
It had so much potential...
He could use this...
At long last Hasad had met his namesake, a green shoot that had rooted deep inside and like a fire would only spread as an instrument to further his quest for destruction.
All around him were whirling, chattering shapes. No eyes were on him, the charismatic and well-liked prince was a familiar sight at the castle.
The fire would burn forever.
Before this day he had felt nothing toward the one he called Sister, now he had something to direct at her.
In the months since her coronation, Queen Stellaura had hardly been able to see her brother, since she was so caught up in new duties that warranted her attention be directed elsewhere. She hoped Hasad didn't feel bad about this, though, since she was entirely sure he enjoyed talking to her, after all, he had always helped her.
But today was busy with her new friend. She had met Princess Etna at her coronation. She was from the neighboring country, a harsh and awesome mountainous land with jagged peaks that clawed towards the sky in a fierce attempt to escape the hellish waste created by their fire-belching brethren and the unforgiving climate.
No ponies were able to live in most of this land, instead the populous minotaurs dwelt in this country, constructing tall villas that sheltered fragile vineyards and olive groves. The sang proud epics so that their mirthful tunes and wine-drinking might bring the heroes of their art - delicate mosaics and frescoes - back to life so they may slay monsters and go on odysseys once again.
The minotaurs were not alone in this westward neighbor, with the Everfree Kingdom to the north of them both. Dragons of all kinds crawled and flew throughout the land, hoarding treasure and dueling in the sky. Some were even known to train young heroes and the aspiring sorcerer, while others gobbled up the travelers who strayed too far into the treacherous mountains, searching for much needed mountain springs to supply flocks of goats and sheep.
Messengers were not to be trusted due to such unsafe conditions, so instead the creatures of this land - including the mountain and volcano gods that made up Etna's family - sent out phoenixes to carry messages, inviting much loved guests to the sacred hearths of villas and mountain estates. It was only near the coast that a few ponies were able to live in bustling hilly cities carved of stone and magic with mazes of streets that rotated and changed like the gears of a clock, and great caverns housed awe-striking magical feats in the deepest subterranean places: portals and great structures yawning in the darkness. Boats with eyes of paint and enchantment rested in the harbor patiently waiting for their next crew.
Stellaura would listen eagerly as Princess Etna told tales of her homeland. Even though the queen had heard of the land from which the princess hailed, but never before had she heard words paint such a vivid picture and made her feel like she knew what it was like to breathe the air of the harsh mountains as gray as the clouds of a storm. The mountains of Stellaura's land eventually grew into those Princess Etna knew, despite how different they were. Every night they looked up at the same sky.
Gray and rocky behemoths. Those that spouted fire that destroyed all in its wake yet provided the only fertile soil the land had.
Dusty brown stone softened by the wind that whistled through their lonely peeks like the reeds of the north. There was hardly any fire to be seen, and few depended on these mountains for life.
Sometimes the snow never stopped.
The sand would get in Stellaura's mane.
There was no sand where Etna lived, even the beaches were rocks on which the sea crashed endlessly.
Stellaura lived in a turreted palace surrounded by ponies, lithe horses, and endless cities whose turrets sheltered skinny trees that swayed in the wind. Her only family were Nora and Hasad.
Princess Etna was from a fortress built into a mountain where words resonated throughout a thousand twisting halls like the mighty crack of lightning. Some of these tunnels stretched deep throughout each mountain range and volcano heart like nerve endings. There were no trees and the only green was that of olives and her coat. There were no smooth tiles, courtyard fountains, or perfumed blossoms. Instead she had cold eyeries carved with magic from the very mountains themselves. There was no poetry or gentle music in that floated through the breeze each evening as ponies laughed and danced in city streets.
Princess Etna knew no quiet studies or silent hours. She lived with a barrage of cousins and siblings with fiery tempers and stubborn dispositions who knew only to shout in the Royal Voice instead of speak. Her mother, Queen Helena and brother, Prince Denali, were no different. The only mountain spirit unlike this was Canterhorn, the lord of this particular Alicorn family, who resided far to the north on the peak of an unsettled mountain who had yet to know any form of architecture.
In no time at all Queen Stellaura and Princess Etna had become inseparable.
...
On this day Princess Etna was trying to make her way through one of the halls of Marecca's palace. She still hadn't gotten used to the layout in the decades since she met Stellaura at her coronation.
Now if only she could find her!
Sunlight wafted through one of the bright corridor's pane-less windows, stirring a linen curtain slightly.
It was often hard to find Stellaura whenever the princess visited, since the queen was frequently as busy as her elder counterpart, or retreating into her usual shyness.
Despite the godly levels of Alicorn magic Princess Etna had never been one for the more diplomatic spells like one that properly translate Arabian, Arcane, or any other tongue. She was a geomancer, a master of the earth, rocks, all things tectonic and subduction. Of course she was lucky enough to be fairly fluent in Equish, the language of the Everfree and the Arabian Stellaura was teaching her wasn't too hard to remember. Perhaps one day, oh say a few centuries from now they'd be so fluent in the other's native language that it would be impossible to tell who originally spoke what.
Princess Etna paused and looked out a window, inhaling the air which had never mixed with ash.
Her recent thoughts popped into her mind like bubbles in sea foam. Everypony was always talking about Hasad, her twin brother. Princess Etna never understood why. She'd hardly ever talked to him, compared to his sisters he was well-spoken, but otherwise seemed normal, and painfully so. Instead, the princess compared the two queens to each other whenever she said that.
Those two were everlasting. She could remember them so well: Elinora the wise and devoted, followed by Stellaura the shy but earnest.
Next to her, somepony spoke. Etna turned, it was none other then the prince himself.
He repeated what he said. She furrowed her brow.
"Sorry... my Arabian poor," Etna replied apologetically.
Hasad's horn flashed magenta. "Will this do?"
Etna nodded, finally able to hear words spoken in her native tongue.
"Are you looking for Sister?" he asked. That right there was one of the few things she recalled about Hasad, he always referred to Stellaura as Sister and Elinora as Elder Sister. She guessed it was sort of cute, but he always seemed to for go names of others whenever needed and address them by whatever title they might have, saying he felt disrespectful if he didn't put emphasis on station before anything else.
"Yes, I am. Have you seen her?"
He smiled politely. "We are afraid We have not seen her around. But We have noted that you have taken many frequent trips to our land recently and hope that you are well, as is your family."
Etna tried to return the smile. This was the second thing about Hasad: he was very formal, never had she heard him ever say 'I' or 'mine'. "Yes, everpony is well and your sister is a friend of mine, remember?" The last part - 'remember' - had obviously been a joke.
"We do." He didn't get the joke.
"Well then how is everything over here in Sand Land?"
"Quite sandy, now that you ask, Princess."
Hasad's eye twitched and it did not go unnoticed to his guest.
"What is wrong?" Etna asked.
"Oh, nothing it is just that-" Hasad pointed to her wavy forelock, which was neatly swept to the side, yet a few glowing strands did fall across her brow.
Etna's eyes followed his accusing hoof. "My forelock? What about it?"
"We have never been fond of the style, that is all. It is so... irritating," Hasad replied dryly.
Etna noted that even though he was Stellaura's twin, their resemblance wasn't as great as some of the castle's would suggest, or at least not as great as it had once been.
Stellaura had a curly purple mane tinged with black that shimmered and flowed, glimmering like magic aura itself. Her eyes were often hidden by the few curly strands that fell in her face and managed to escape the confines of circlets she would often wear. Hasad's mane had lost most of the purple to it, as well as the curl his sister's mane had retained. He parted it and brushed the natural forelock back. His mane and tail had only managed to change partway so far into a near-featureless wave of flowing black. He was also much taller than most Alicorns his age, and Etna hated feeling short.
"So," Etna said as she flipped her mane to the side so the silly prince would stop complaining, "I know Stellaura can seal things, but what is it you do? Are you trying to get your mark in anything?"
His smile didn't falter. "No not really, We are too preoccupied with work and adventure never really interested Us. And do you really think it would be fair to Our Sister for us to devote all our energies to seeking that? We have royal duties as well, and neglecting them would be irresponsible of Us."
Boring. Boring. Boring.
Etna tried to listen as he went on and on his dull conversation extending beyond what she would have willingly tolerated. She grew even more impatient and after a hurried good bye she went off to find her friend even though something else was on her mind. Prince Hasad was the most boring creature to ever exist, she was right not to have paid attention to him.
Amira Fire-sight. It was a powerful name, so unlike herself. She was simply Amira, and something from such and early time could fade like clouds did into wispy trails before vanishing.
That's it, just Amira. She was Amira the earth pony mare with a coat of gold and a mane and tail of white, after the foalhood incident where she was struck by lightning. She could not recall what color they had been before, her mind was not the eternal and amazing thing of the gods. She was Amira.
And somehow she stunned the village elders by surviving such a thing. She was Amira of the buffalo, growing up in their land with an Arabian father and a buffalo-raised pony mother. She had always been just Amira when her mane and tail were still sunset-pink, as she was told, and she knew only tales of the land she had now journeyed to. The tales were very, very real. Fireside stories of a land she had never been to detailing a lake that mirrored the sky, trees like sprigs, and fruit sweeter than rain were not lies. Amira the peasant saw them all before her now, as she strolled through the streets of Marecca with only a bag decorated with beads and feathers by her side, hiding her starry mark.
Amira the earth pony gazed around her, completely awestruck by the sand-bordered land from which her father hailed. Passing ponies, horses, and other creatures turned to glance briefly at this dazed stranger who must be a tourist. Perhaps they had seen how hungrily she had been grazing in an oasis-park, not too long ago.
They did not know, but Amira was far from a tourist. She knew the language of her father, her mother, and enough Equish - also known as Everfree - to get by, even if she did speak with an accent that belonged to neither.
She was here for a reason as well. Unlike many of the marks of earth ponies, Amira's was not relating to what one would call 'earthly'.
Not long after that would have been fatal event as a foal, the young Amira had begun to see things in the nightly fires of her camp. Small fleeting images like someone dropping a bowl.
And then the visions started coming true. More strange things would follow.
Magical things that set Amira apart from her tribe were examples of powers such as hers, which were the kind told about in the tales of the grand universities of the south where Queen Elinora alongside a newer, much younger queen, her sister Stellaura worked to eradicate every instance of ignorance that could be.
Noting her talent, Amira was encouraged to visit the capital city of Marecca to see if any school would take her. After all, Amira was trained medicine mare of unrivaled skill among buffalo. The only thing that wasn't in her favor were her motor skills: after the accident she developed a tic, and small bouts shivering or twitching followed by a faint burst of sparks that would erupt from her, and would cause her to fumble and trip often.
With the help of a few Arabian subjects she soon found herself stumbling into the highest acclaimed magic school that Marecca had to offer. And they accepted her.
From there she became known all across all the southern kingdoms as the the Buffalo Pony. Amira published many treatises on various aspects of spell theory and many forms of magic exclusive to the unicorn scholars she worked alongside and the Alicorns she never personally met.
It was only when she was about to deliver one of her latest papers on medicine - which like her visions - was a life-long passion that she met Queen Elinora, who took an immediate liking to the cowardly, ever-frazzled, yet polite pony who always enjoyed staying behind a desk, and listening to lectures.
Amira the Buffalo Pony became Amira the the Queen's Pupil, where she discovered her skill with tinkering. She was still a clumsy and bashful mare with a lopsided smile but with Elinora's teachings Amira developed an elegance to go along with her manners.
In time, Amira the Queen's Pupil became Amira Fire-sight, demigod princess, and that was where she was standing in front of a shining new mosaic that showed this mare, her white mane clumsily pinned up in a bun, clad in shining new regalia with her shiny and new smile.
It seemed like when you're a demigod everything is shiny and new, like nothing can go wrong. With the powerful Queen Elinora beside her, things certainly felt that way.
Amira kept telling herself all sorts of things. She wasn't as new to the horn and wings as she'd like to believe. She'd had them for almost three moons now.
Amira came to this hall often. In the first two moons she had talked to fellow demigods from other countries. They told her the exact same things she should expect - it helped somewhat, especially since there were quite a few others to talk to. Demigods were not as common as their unascended pony counterparts. There were only fifty-four, if she were to count herself, alive currently.
Most of them told her how she would most likely be establishing her own vassal kingdom. All of them seemed to understand how to rule and it wasn't like Amira knew nothing of government, it's just that she wasn't much of a ruler. Nopony else seemed to understand that most demigods were either winged unicorns or pegacorns. Hardly any currently alive were terracorns like herself.
She wasn't sure if she wanted a vassal kingdom. There would be so many creatures under her care and if something happened to them...
Elinora faced her student. "Well Amira have you decided what you will be doing now?"
Amira thought of the buffalo she was raised with. They were her family , and while they were not discriminated these citizens of the desert were not the best represented either... but they needed no ruler like Elinora, or any other godly being.
"I will become a sage and teach others as you have taught me."
A blank page is said to be an invitation, and Hasad always found them to live up to that old mare's saying. He made a small snort. He supposed mares could hardly be called old since they were all but mortals. He had spent thousands of years dealing with them, listening to their problems, and utterly immersed in their culture like a swimmer in water. Why the divine dealt with them as they did instead of destroying them was a stupid and dreary thing - gods ruled mortals, they laughed with them, fought alongside them, accepted them, guided them, and even some managed to romance and lay with the pitiful toys of flesh and bone. Even the more reclusive and less forgiving of immortals would not be so murderous towards these whelps, at least not on a large scale. Vendettas sprung and there was the mortal who found themselves caught up in some toying scheme or making a bad bargain from time to time, but not much more.
Flesh and bone. Hasad longed to pull at that, to hear screams, cries, to bring a great and senseless violence to these beings. The thought of it was pleasurable, and the minds of those who killed and butchered their kin and fellow mortal had Hasad's envy too. They were free to destroy, desecrate, contaminate, and violate - everything Hasad sought to do on a worldly scale, to be the salt and fire of the earth, to rake it and scar it. To taste mortal flesh and blood, and so much more.
He could pluck a pony from their home, lure them from all they'd ever know, force them to where he wished and have his absolute unleashed power and will over them, but then... that little taste. He would not stop. He would not have enough. There would be no way to lock himself back up again, and for so many thousands of years this aching message had been carved into his mind since his days of youth.
All or nothing it would be. Tastes of violence would not satisfy him. Samplings of brutality would not sate him. Ponies could not be all he yearned to break, it was not just the face of this world, the terra firma that he wished to raze.
He lived among Alicorns and other immortals still. There was much more he could do to them. Their suffering could be prolonged in so many ways...
However, if a blank page is an invitation, then what is an entire book whose pages have not even seen light? Hasad considered that to be a calling. Around him were various ink wells and quills all lined up neatly and surrounding the new volumes that needed his words to be laid bare on their leaves.
Everything around him was utilitarian in design. Plain desks, chairs, vases, and other furniture. There was no dust or imperfections in this room, everything was as crisp and neat as the paper.
Envy still flowed through him. He felt it in the back of his mind, in recent times it had fueled him, for every time he had to look at his worthless sister.
So he put it to use, for feeling did not truly exist in him or add to his life. It was as plainer then the surrounding objects. Inside his mind there were no bittersweet recollections, happy memories, or even that faint feeling of knowing you misplaced something.
Hasad really was blank.
He levitated a quill into the air, truly without a care in the world, and began to write every theory and magic formula he had forged and perfected in his head over the past fifty years since the coronation of his sister and the demigod who became the Shaman of the buffalo, one of Elinora's mortal pets.
The quill found its way into the ink pot, and from there Hasad began to write.
He wrote of jealousy, burning so powerful it could not be contained within oneself. He wrote of the twisted perfection embedded with his own mind and his desire for the crumbling and fall of the dreams of others crept into every scratch of his neat and spidery writing. Envy worked its way into every drip of ink and after hours Hasad was finally done.
Every single book was crammed with hundreds of thousands of passages of magic, yet Hasad knew no exhaustion from his task.
His expression was blank and placid, as unmoving as a statue's features but his stillness was more unsettling than any stone idol could ever be. Hasad was positively eerie.
Silence dragged on and his mane and tail rippled. There was still nothing to break this.
Any other individual would have been nerve-racked as Stellaura. Hasad had written out a new kind of magic and was going to test it to its full extent immediately. For a mortal this would be a death wish, but that was nothing compared to the effects that such recklessness could have on him.
One screw up, a single thing out of place in the sloppy rough drafts of magic he would be using and the effects of such a disaster would be permanent. From there it depended on how discreetly a toxic backlash could be concealed. He couldn't have another soul find out about such practices.
It would only become more dangerous from here as he perfected his forbidden arts, constantly revising and maybe even scrapping entire concepts. For each of these experiments he would be using himself to test every spell since too many complications and other risks would be involved if he tried seeking another to test this on. His research was too precious as well, so it was out of the question.
Hasad did not worry about any of the consequences one with everlasting life like himself would face by engaging in such pursuits. It was not out of arrogance or the inability to comprehend such a thing but rather his desperation and detachment. As long as Hasad got what he wanted he didn't care if it destroyed him.
The air next to Hasad fizzled before opening as if someone had sliced the air itself. The prince's horn stopped glowing and his magenta aura faded. Anywhere else his magic would risk detection, he had to practice elsewhere and where better than a quiet space he ripped into the fabric of things?
...
Hasad's Royal Voice screamed throughout the expanse of the empty gray, and even though there was no beginning, end, ground, and sky within his shouts caused tremors to shake the void in which he stood.
The spell books had not worked, at least not for him. They were sloppy. Every time he tried to activate everything contained within those words he failed terribly. The books were trying to fragment his soul and separate it to create a phantom of all the wondrous corruption that resided in him, and manifested it as his mania, a powerful spirit of his own insecurities, vengeance, and strife.
It wouldn't work and it never would. The soul of an Alicorn cannot be split, it is always whole and forever present.
He levitated the spell books so they might be scrutinized by his gaze and decide their fate. Every other day his eyes would match the faux expression on his face, happy, sad, anger and so forth. Never did he possess any telltale signs of these constant lies or a placid or glassy look.
Today they bored through the books, his eyes truly looked like one who'd seen everything, as if this books could encompass everything he was disgusted with.
Hasad's horn was cloaked in the magic he had used to master these books and to open this domain to his. At most this could extend the mortal lifespan for centuries and perhaps enable them to cause minor havoc, like razing a hooffull of cities without any survivors, nothing big.
But mere power was not enough. It never was.
Purple and green danced across the covers. These were too precious to destroy but it would be dangerous to keep them, even in here.
But for now they would be worthless to keep. He had to hide them.
The magic continued to envelope the failed creations. It would be best to send them somewhere so far away from the desert. Someplace cold... but equally barren... not so sandy either... perhaps mountains instead? It couldn't have any ponies either...
The magic swirled furiously before it and the books vanished with it, a preservation spell upon the tomes. They had gone to where ever it was that Hasad had envisioned in his mind.
After the first of many creations were gone Hasad resumed his bellowing and shooting off his magic in random directions, utterly ruthless to the one place where he let the mask drop. He didn't want to wait. He had to wait.
Hasad had to become magic, in a way, and then he had to destroy himself.
But that's only if there was anything left to destroy...
Chapter 12: Amira the Technomancer and her Creations
There was a gleam of scholarly delight in the eyes of Amira Fire-sight as she scrutinized every detail of her latest mechanical creation while her magic sparked it into full operation.
Standing before her on a raised dais of polished marble with accompanying wooden framework was a large, almost chariot-sized collection of white and opalescent crystals. They were arrayed in a geometrically perfect sphere, arcs of electricity rippling and dancing across their lattices from a star-like core they revolved around in perfect concert.
After months of free time having been exhausted refining her assembly technique, power distribution, and overall construct design, the demigoddess had completed work on what she planned to unveil to Al Far’iimbra as the most advanced magitech novelty ever yet conceived.
Amira had succeeded in producing one of the first, and most powerful, stationary and continuously operating generators of magical power and electricity yet seen in the world. But it was only the first half of the true novel creation she had concocted in her further grand efforts to advance her knowledge and that of all civilization around her ever onwards.
Currents of magical energy wisped out from the outermost surfaces of the crystals like the billowing tails of a spirit’s robes towards a curious-looking contraption that Amira kept on the wooden table beside the dias.
A gold and ivory printing press, of the size appropriate for producing tomes, readily absorbed the magic and began channeling it to its apparatuses. As Amira watched expectantly, no less the eager scholar and tinkerer, the printing press began acting off its own accord. Paper and ink was loaded in via automated enhancements in the crystals, and page after page, a fresh copy of one of her treatises was hot off the press, ready for perusal.
Amira inspected the fresh tome of knowledge and beamed. While novel now, perhaps this machine could soon prove to be a worthy weapon in the war against what little ignorance that dared to linger in the world?
In the centuries since the first error, Hasad had perfected so many aspects of his forbidden arts. No longer was his magic fit for the manifestations of mania spirits who were unaccessible to him. Now, he was sure that this time everything would be perfect.
In the legends of the world shortly before his time, Lumina of Magic was not always the high queen. She and her future husband and family were Harmonia's Bearers, wielding the six magical Elements that linked them and made them known as true companions. With the Elements, and before their own divinity was realized, the six young Alicorns had journeyed to the farthest reaches of the frozen north. It was the framework for one of the world's greatest legends, song, art, and almost any aspect of culture had caught some fragment of the epic-length tale. Lumina led her party to the unknown wastes, past rumors of crystal kingdoms and yaks to defeat a great Sorceress. She encountered a dark legion and a couple of very peculiar creatures: demons.
They were a peculiar couple of beings, mere footnotes in history, and their mysterious nature was... terribly inspirational, in some way. Magic-forged beings who, with every fact he learned about them, grew more elusive. They were too shrouded in time and legend for anything of substance to truly be gathered about such smoke-and-mirror beings... but like smoke, he was drawn to some aspect and nature of these past failures - for they just had to be failures - and yearned to perfect... something. He needed to think of that something, and be haunted by it.
These demons were history's shadows - he had not learned of them as anything but 'Lumina's foes' and this and that about them, and their dark powers, until he was much older than a mere colt.
Hasad was torn between a stagnant indifference, the dullest intrigue, and some sort of sick shadow of obsession with these curved-horned creatures, and it roiled about in him from time to time.
Demons held an answer. Their ancient names, Antumbra the Brute and Penumbra of Woe might mean something to him.
...
It was the same tear leading to the gray and lifeless place where he stood. In his opaque magic, a stone tablet floated. The surface was like that of a book on which Hasad had decided to emblazon with a small circle of spikes surrounding the image of the Spark of Marecca, for irony's sake. The new project was bound with clasps of enchanted metal to keep each tablet together, and it opened like a tome of paper.
Hasad was sure that by now he had perfected envy. And if he hadn't? Well that is where his latest 'revelation' came in.
Envy was obviously jealousy, and up until the recent centuries Hasad had no reason to envy Stellaura.
But really how different is envy from greed?
That it what he asked himself over and over, until he decided that he would create something so much like the first spellbooks, yet the roots would lie in something else. Emotion was such a fickle thing, but Hasad was sure with enough of his warped efforts he would succeed.
He would.
All he had to do was change the seeds of his project and watch as a whole new plant began to grow.
This magic would not focus on brooding and jealous desire or the lust for what others had but the insatiable want for more of anything shallow, petty, or utterly unnecessary. Anything so utterly material that only the shallowest and most selfish of all creatures would proceed to seek something out. Something of the sort.
That had to be what would lead him to success, what could found this great magic and it would only get deeper from here. Even if Hasad wanted to back out such a thing was no longer possible.
He would try to keep the way this magic worked similar enough so this power would be brought out through incantation as well.
Hasad had discovered so many ways to fail, and gotten rid of many ideas. and other pointless drabbles that never amounted to anything.
Surely, this one would, for how many smaller trinkets were obliterated in the shadow of what Hasad had been willing to become his magnum opus?
During the time Hasad had been planning this he tried to think of the single best way to capture greed.
Sometimes, greed and envy could be one in the same. Who has not envied the great minds as they show their great works: poets, painters, thinkers and the like?
Who has not wanted to be them, to have knowledge and skill like they do? To have such an ability to create something both of and beyond their selves.
To be inspired.
Then the second side of the coin: the artists themselves. How many have gone into a fury as the realize their sculpture, verses, or craft has not turned out as they intended? How many take their hooves or talons to their projects abandoned partway through because it wasn't quite right? Some desert their medium all together and such a failure while many others are to afraid to try to create because of what others and the most critical of all - the artists themselves - might say. Such sorts do not attempt anything because they believe they will fall short of perfection.
It didn't go as planned.
It went different in their head.
It was supposed to be different.
But what if it could manifest exactly as intended?
So Hasad writes the words of greed and envy in the stone, every character carved with his magic:
From in the head to out in the world, every thought to action. Hold close this book and through its spell, you'll start a chain reaction. Projecting forth whatever beauty you see. Only when true words are spoken will you finally be set free.
The contractions of the commoners followed by a... well, the last part was almost a joke. Who will tell you your own mind is gone when you create such glory? What kind of pony would tell you the truth when all you present are gilded lies and paint over all your problems as your heart, mind, and soul are caught up in such strife?
Who would even want to be near you, to bother to look for anything behind your eyes when they might as well be envious themselves, or to have a perverted and obsessive love with every aspect of what was once you, now so surface deep?
After all, why have your own dream when you can want the dreams of others and sabotage them?
Perhaps, one might even base their dream on the pain of others by using what they believe to be a gift to rule of others.
...
When Hasad had finalized the last bits of the enchantment he held up his latest creation. He felt no pride in what he was doing. This artifact was a mere tool to his mind. It was worthy of being created well but this was just an artless trinket to him, meant only to further his own pursuits.
His magic took on a different color: a bright vibrant green, opaque and cloudy compared to his normal magenta.
The tablet clattered to the ground with a dull thud.
He could create anything he wanted...
Anything...
Hasad's horn glowed brighter.
His eyes were tinged with a purple glow, the green irises now red, green smoke puring from his eyes.
He tried to focus. He really did.
What was it that he really wanted? He knew.
But could it really be conjured with a spell? Did he really think that this would be some kind of loophole?
No.
The glow in his eyes faded, he'd have to work on concealing the change in aura color later.
This magic might prove to be useful in the future, since the spell wasn't going to be reversed anytime soon.
However the source of such power was no longer useful to him.
Hasad's regular magic reappeared as the tablet was picked up. He would dispose of this one the same way he disposed of the spellbooks that made up his previous projects.
But perhaps he could try something different with this one... by getting rid of these rather incriminating objects in such a fashion Hasad was not only ensuring that he wouldn't be pinned as the source since he was the perfect prince but that some pony could find these and use them. Misery loved company. Sure, an Alicorn could stop them without even lifting a feather since none of these projects were particularly powerful yet and the wielder of Hasad's scrapped projects would still be mortal but it was worth it it just to see if one might grow anarchic and famous enough to become word worthy.
The tablets vanished to whatever destination Hasad envisioned in his mind. He didn't really care so long as it was devoid of creatures living there and unlikely to be found.
He needed to start over.
Again.
All he needed to do was create the perfect corruption with the perfect price and roots.
It didn't matter how much he suffered in the process, because if he got what he wanted. that was all that mattered.
Nopony will find out. Not even the extreme foresight possessed by Queen Lumina could predict this, even his fellow immortals are as blind as foals. The high queen's visions were abstract and sporadic. He need not fear them.
Queen Lumina. How long has it been since he thought of her? She has not changed since he last saw her. Neither has he, Hasad's flank was still blank, and though Alicorns were slow to be marked, at almost his age it was less so. To not dabble greatly in more magics, to not study and master what Alicorns could would look unusual in a few centuries.
As a young mare, Lumina and her sisters, along with a few others and Noctus, then her mere companion, defeated a great evil that resided to the farthest reaches of the northern realms, where all was mountains whose fierceness rivaled even the great maw of the volcanoes of the south. It was a savage place.
How long ago it was as well, over nine thousand years had passed since then and now.
Yet still there were whispers... about what Lumina of the Light and King Noctus hid in that castle of theirs. Everypony knew that is where the Spirit of Harmony resided, so that couldn't be it. Why, Lumina even had a pet name for the primordial spirit.
Surely the Queen of All would have some secrets... was it treasure?
Forbidden knowledge?
Hasad was more intrigued then most due to his dabbling in secrecy and similar pursuits.
He just didn't understand what the king and queen had to hide. They were always private but there were whispers now that they were hiding something in their castle.
He wouldn't dismiss it, but his focus needed to be elsewhere.
Hasad stopped pacing through the extent of the void, where he found himself in all his free time and even more now that his duties as a prince were reduced since his sister had adjusted well to her role as queen, unfortunately.
Everything here was the dullest shade of gray imaginable, Hasad had never changed that. The prince kept everything as it was in here. There was still nothing to distinguish between the ground and the air. He didn't leave hoofprints in here. It was like walking on glass, except that there was no immediate feeling of solidity below him. Or any at all.
Anypony else would have felt like they were falling with no way to escape.
Resting on the 'ground' by his hooves were an assortment of objects Hasad had acquired for the magic. The first two times he had tried using the written medium, this time he would try crafting something.
That is why the objects around him were ingots, gems, and various other substances like rare samples of flora and unrefined gemstones. He had gathered anything that might work in order to test out all their properties.
His eyes glowed with a ring of green. That had been disguised from others but never here, where such magic could be very useful. When his horn lit up it was with bursts of magenta striped with bright green, like a firecracker. This hadn't proved hard to manage at all, since his last big project needed a deep and vulnerable mind to control. Hasad's mind was not deeply sensitive or vulnerable.
He set to work, every gemstone he had shining with more life than he could ever have against the silent and rippling pitch-black of his mane.
...
After hours of work a gray amulet of indeterminate metal was held in the cold embrace of his dual colored aura. As an artistic - although not very impressive - last touch he had added a second part to the plain triangle of cold silver material the main part was wrought from.This part was carved from magic like the rest of the humble-looking amulet, but out of a darker substance, with a smokier hue and with a duller luster. It was carved in the shape of an Alicorn, or at least part of one. The wings were spread out against an angular face in profile.
By his tastes, this was almost too extravagant. Hasad turned it over, his expression blank except for the edges of his mouth being downturned slightly. He was a prince, and no mortal who simply wore the title like a jacket either, it didn't matter whether or not he was a prince or some higher-ranking individual, like a kind or emperor, because just like every other Alicorn, ruling was his birthright.
He could be extravagant if he wanted to. With that in mind Hasad plucked out the purest diamond from the pile he had, its facets clearer than glass. There was no proper light in this realm like that shed by the sun and moon, so he could not glimpse it glisten were it to be held up to such a source.
Hasad placed the diamond over the center of the amulet's first part. The metal immediately melded to accompany the piece's newest addition.
It still didn't look right, so he selected a few more materials to add to his creation to form feather tips and an single eye.
When it was complete, Hasad brought the finished amulet to his eye and gave it a once over before pinning it onto the plain metal neckband he wore. As with the diamond the amulet found no difficulties affixing itself to any surface.
Now it was time to figure out which vice this creation would become... and to see if it could pass his test and become an instrument of destruction wielded by him or if it would find the hooves of another.
His magic lit up, the dual aura flaring violently as it raced across his horn like fire consuming dry twigs.
What would trigger this? It would not be envy or greed for he had already tried those.
What was it that could turn a creature to such a state that they might seek goals similar to his own?
Power.
False ambition.
These were such things, the lies that swayed the vain. This artifact would magnify power to a finite level but it would replace the wits of the user with the unsatisfiable lust for power to levels they could never hope to attain as it corrupted their senses. For example, if a unicorn of no particular talent were to wield this artifact they would go from their mundane ranking to somewhere between a demigod and a unicorn archmage.
But for him... it barely did anything. Hasad was already a wild fire of magic but the power this amulet gave was a mere match of light.
He tore it off, fury in his normally blank eyes. That made three failures so far, how much longer would this go on?
How much more would he suffer?!
Success was inevitable. It was possible.
His legs shook with anticipation.
Hasad could tear down civilization brick by brick. His heart was so willing to do this that it knew nothing else and his mind was bent on nothing but achieving this destruction through any means. But most of all, it was his soul that burned for only this since the beginning of his existence, and nothing could deter his soul which was not like that of any other living creatures. It was not him, there were no thoughts or feelings there. Nothing to say that this was Hasad. It was mechanical and undefined and there was nothing that could change that.
Only when there was the slightest destruction that Hasad was behind did this alter slightly and something was expressed, a spark that died before it was born. Were he a bit more reflective he would know that this was the only happiness, however twisted it was, he could hope to achieve.
Every day and night, Hasad felt nothing but the utmost degree of suffering, there was a fire inside him that scorched.
But Hasad was not fireproof and he could feel the screams within himself as his very soul was blistering in torment.
It had burned away any words he might have had to describe such agony and soon he had realized that it had burned away anything else.
Perhaps the greatest revelation that Hasad had as a colt was that this wasn't something external of him. It wasn't a curse or other affliction.
It was him, and Hasad had long since embraced himself and all the twisted workings within.
He was in control. Everywhere but here he was in control.
He was himself, despite whatever oblivion he was forced to exist in.
Hasad stared at the amulet with eyes too hollow for even something like vengeance to form.
How would he dispose of this amulet? Where would it end up?
Its fate was uncertain even if his was not. He neither enjoyed or loathed being himself since other beings were simply that to him - other beings. To him it was impossible for something to exist below the surface because not only had that thought never occurred to him but even if it had he still wouldn't care because others could be destroyed and that was all that mattered to him.
Maybe it was wonderful to be Hasad.
He turned the amulet over again, this time in a manner that appeared absentminded.
Towers of paper taller than Hasad were stacked everywhere against the gray. So many decades worth of spells, all here because he knew that this time he finally had it right. There would be no mistakes or failed projects.
Each of these pages was loose parchment stacked in orderly fashion. None of them had suffered any wear in this stagnant place, even though some were decades old. Each was covered with diagrams, spells, and other ramblings and arcane workings that defied all magic. Some would be coherent to any other creature, but only barely. The rest were the scribblings of a madpony and it was these mere scribbles that would be used to topple all in his wake.
With them, of course, was a smidge of inspiration of the two demons of old. He had studied how the old stories told of their magical feats, overshadowed by the Alicorns and great wars of the world. What went unwritten haunted him. These were the now-long-dead creatures who gave birth to an array of things tucked into culture - entire concepts, even. The words of 'demonic', 'inner demons', and other such terms had not made their way into language before the brief and miserable lives of Penumbra and Antumbra.
He had discovered so much in this endeavor, and each time he came to the correct conclusion there was a sense of... smug enlightenment of some kind. Yes, that was it, this feeling was almost as great as the destruction this would be causing. When he was done with this, he would dispose of the final project like he had all the other unsuccessful ones. Perhaps the spellbooks he sent to a cold and unknown fate so many years ago could use some company? These ones would not perish, because there would be something dark and dreary about this project, it would linger still, like a shadow - and it could not be outrun. It would be selective. It would be choosy. It would know.
In the grasp of his lime and magenta aura, hundreds of thousands of papers swirled. There was no great challenge in shifting aura now, the sparkling colors easily changed to opaque and smoky green and violet, smoke streaming from his eyes as the layers of charms that warded off magic were dropped. Then below those were the shields he had used to offset the effect of those and null others magic.
At the core of such deception were the spells used to change his own appearance, they too fell away with the light of his horn to reveal the changes and various effects this magic had on him, beginning when he started this final project, the magnum opus that would push all the changes to what they were meant to be.
His teeth had slowly sharpened so the tips of incomplete fangs could now be seen and his horn had started to curve unnaturally so it was almost as jagged and curved as a changeling's, the tip was colored the faintest red, and an infant darkness not his own pressed at his mind, coercing such an excruciatingly painful growth.
It lived.
...
Hasad had learned more than most could comprehend when it came to this project.
He had learned what was more powerful than envy, greed, the thirst to conquer, or anything else.
Suffering.
Twisted and blinding suffering that drove the miserable past the point of all reason, so they would pay any price to get what they want even if nothing of themselves remains in the end. Suffering that would cause one to go to any means necessary to hurt anyone they could, all in order to achieve a single goal that was more alive than their tormented existence would ever let them know. This was the pain that blinded them to look at the point of no return and go beyond it. These were the creatures, equine or not, that were their own hubris even if they did not yet know it.
They were not outcasts or rogues. They were not the criminals one would expect, not at first. Instead, these sorts were the most normal and noble of birth. They donned masks so they might hide that their nature was worse than any hero's monster. They were not tyrants in deed, but tyrants of the soul, incorrigible megalomaniacs and the like. They were neighbor, that you would see, and your enemy all the same, but that you would not know, and they would call you friend. You would love them.
But sometimes they weren't such ponies. Sometimes, they were those who made the decisions that would bind them and define them for the rest of time in a single, impulsive moment at the price of themselves, for what else would one give up to achieve everything they ever wanted?
These faceless fools so wholeheartedly believed that they were gaining their one greatest wish, so they might satisfy their impulsivity and selfishness had no idea they would be giving up everything they ever knew and could ever have at the cost of their very identity, to turn one wicked creature into an unstable cage of many splintered voices and souls all united in their suffering in the body of one. Demons.
For these beings, who would be but Shadows of what they were, anarchy would be always, as they were doomed in their own anger and despair to destroy all around them, to never be alone or together, whole or fragmented as much as they tried.
And as long as there was someone to suffer, his project would be able to find... a little puppet, a willing one to stumble towards such deceitful pull.
This would be what many of the spells in his tome would lead to: those who sought to corrupt themselves because they did not care, or they were too desperate for anything else by tempting those ignorant of consequences or too haughty or brash to care with eldritch knowledge that possessed ulterior motives of its own, even if it had no soul. It would seem like it did to even one doomed Shadow, with even a mere flicker of conscious in their depersonalized state as they were drowned out in every trivial or material item they could want in a permanent contract. Tartarus alone would break this contract, for there could be nowhere else for a summoner and their demons to go.
Some other results of the spell would be magic's ultimate taboos, including the greatest of them all: created life, which unlike any hollow or incomplete construct was bestowed a soul, which all the demons would have, regardless of if they were in control or not. Even if none existed now, and none knew of these master spells caused by dabbling in the dark all tales of old had at least mentionings of such tormented creatures: that was the legacy of Antumbra and Penumbra.
The Shadows born form this would be the ultimate weapons, for what is a greater weapon than life itself?
...
Waves of the dark aura, overwhelming to anypony else that would be in here, to the point where they would be vaporized, swirled about like a maelstrom. The many pages of arcane studies and advanced magic were swept up in them but they made no sound, for the roar of the magic was too great.
It sounded like wind, deep and ominous right before a storm's thunder let loose its crashing howl to signify that a storm was beginning, and a flash of lightning would soon follow with its own ear-splitting strike... and the fire that followed, if it hit such a thing in this world.
It was like that but a hundred times louder. Alicorn ears really are a magnificent thing.
Soon, the papers found themselves hidden by the vicious waves. It was then that Hasad took notice of something odd... in this hurricane of power, in which he was the eye.
At the very edges of these waves, on what might call the crest, were flecks of gray crystal formations, mere shards swept up along with everything else. As they too were tossed around he saw that they did not splinter like any other gem should have.
What were they and how did they get here of all places?
He did not slow his creation or stop it, instead the aura around his horn grew as he plucked one of crystals from its brethren.
There was no luster to it and it did not look like any gem he knew of. He took a closer look at the magic whipping around him and saw the crystals.
It was then that he noticed how they were formed. The magic was flowing around him like streaks of color in paints: green and purple. But when he looked even closer he could see small, thin bolts of black that hissed and whistled eerily. Some flickered and died, easily vanishing into the rest of the magic, but many didn't. Instead, they crashed into one another and converged with a blast of ebony sparks that tainted patches of the rest with its dark color, before crystallizing in front of his eyes.
This process sounded like whispers.
These crystals needed a name.
He blinked, and his green eyes were no longer like an equine's, but instead they appeared to be almost like a dragon's. Hasad would have to add this discovery to his masterpiece.
...
It was done. After so many years of careful manipulation and lies, Hasad was finally ready, he was clever and powerful enough.
This had taken his entire life.
The storm was not gone, rather it had simply changed form. Every ounce, every scrap that made up the storm. All his knowledge and deceit had gone into this final creation. Not even this was spared his malice. It was his malice, his loathing, every dastardly fragment of himself had gone into this. Hundreds of thousands of pages, secrets and lies, made up this toxic and irresistible volume.
It was all condensed into a single book. The smoke hued cover despite being brand-new, had a worn and aged appearance. The spine bore a few crystalline fragments of the strange crystals, which he named for the sound they made when they whispered through the air.
But it was this book that whispered more than the crystals ever could.
What did they whisper of? Was it envy for his sister, her mark, and power? Greed for his want of destruction? Or was it of ambition, for it was he who decided to spend his eternity doing this? Was it his want to crush and break? To hear sobs, begging, and more as he conquered creature after creature? Their flesh, blood, and bone upon his tongue?
Hasad wasn't sure if what he heard were words at all.
He stared with wide, glassy eyes as the writing began to appear on the cover, all on its own, for he was not controlling it at all. Yet, the words that appeared were in his own writing, the script spidery and thin.
What did it say?
You want a name.
There was only a blink on the prince's part.
You want so much.
He continued to sate at the book, face expressionless.
Strife cocked one of his bushy blonde eyebrows. A look of careful contemplation spread across the broad face of the draconequus. "Complete anarchy, you say?"
Next to the muscular creature stood his companion, a lean female draconequus with a long curly mane of frizzy white and a ginger coat. She smiled broadly, revealing a snaggle-tooth smile. "I'm sure dear Anarchy would be so proud to know that her name has been absorbed into this silly tongue," she paused for a split second before screeching her next sentence. "That is if the dratted witch weren't asleep somewhere in the mountains!"
She whipped her head back and let loose a monstrous, ear-grating cackle that her platinum-coated companion did not seem to mind. The Alicorn stared at Strife and Achlys, keeping his expression unreadable. "Yes, that is exactly what was proposed," his now-obvious monotone clashed with the lack of tact that these creatures had.
Strife stroked his beard, which like his eyebrows was a pale blonde color. "So what you're saying there, Princey, is that Achlys and I should round up every member of our kind that we can find to assist one of you?"
"Exactly." He cringed internally. Why were these draconequui so dense at times? They were reclusive and mischievous creatures with a population of about thirty or so known individuals. They mostly lived in mountains and dry climates, but unlike other creatures they had virtually no culture of their own. The pack-rat creatures were scavengers, and even though they often wrought disguises, so they might live among others long enough to cause havoc they had little knowledge to call their own, it was painful to explain even basic concepts to them since they couldn't count. When he had inquired about that they merely stated they did not need his 'sense', saying the word like it was a curse.
Achlys brought one of her paws - that of a tiger's - to her muzzle and tapped her chin in thought. "Alright, so we bring more draconequui here to help you, an Alicorn, bring about utter destruction of a sort...?"
"Yes." Draconequii and Alicorns were naturally enemies, since the former proved themselves to be quite the nuisance. Both were immortal and each had roots that were not of this world, but they hardly had any serious conflicts since the average draconequus could be overpowered by a mature Alicorn who had proper schooling in magic and all their talents unlocked. Foresight was on the equine side.
Of course, he wasn't going to tell them his true plan, which involved his betrayal of these temporary allies because just like Alicorns there would be a way to destroy them if he looked hard enough...
Strife gave the stallion an oddly calm look. "Why should we help you of all creatures, Princey? Why shouldn't Allie and I go back home to our son? We did tell little Discord that we'd be back soon, and I guess if we just ignore this offer of yours it'll be like we were never gone at all."
He stared at them blankly. After the first few words he had zoned out. So these infernal creatures mentioned something about their home? Ugh. He must correct them, it seems.
"If you were to do your part and gather the others, you would be able to rid the world of many a pesky mortal, correct? With the toppling of civilization there will be plenty of chaos and suffering for generations to come. The lack of mortals will mean less resources will be used, and as the sole Alicorn who remains unbroken, We will permit you to access all these resources for your own benefit and torture all who remain, until We decide that the process is to be repeated."
The female draconequus sighed loudly. "As tempting as your offer is, Strife and I simply aren't sure we'd want to cause the entire world that much harm. I'm not saying it's a bad idea, just a rather merciless one, you know? And you god-horsies are kinda what keeps this dinky space marble from ending anyway, right? We'd have to skip town eventually if all the Alicorns were gone... even if they are boring stuffy-faces."
He flicked his tail in agitation. "We see."
Strife poked the prince's metal color with a webbed talon. "And who would follow a pretty prince with a locket anyway? You don't even have the silly mark equines get, yet you're a full grown stallion are you not?"
"We are," he said with a sneer, smacking Strife's webbed claw away from the amulet, not bothering to add that he was a demon now.
Achlys shrugged. "So what we're saying is-"
They both stopped and stared straight ahead, right at the prince like they were statues. Achlys' mouth was still open with the refusal she was about to deliver.
Their wide eyes were tinged with green, a familiar purple smoke accompanying this change.
"So what you are saying, Achlys, is that you both will come right back to this spot once you gather the last of the draconequui who will be fit to serve under Our command?"
The dark magic on his horn grew brighter as he made his new puppets nod. It had taken this long just to talk around things and pick their weak, uneducated minds! Once that was done, he wove a quick spell to contain some of his great demon's magic in their minds. His puppets had to stay puppets after all, but nopony ever said they couldn't be convincing puppets.
The prince watched as the draconequui took to the sky, flying to wherever the nearest of their kind lived, scattered and waiting to be his next victims.
After watching them go, he too flew away from the lonely sand dune a few days away from Marecca where they had decided to meet. At some point he'd have to tell Elinora that his 'diplomatic meeting' was a success.
It would probably be the last thing he told her.
Now that he had cast the spell, he was no longer Hasad, Crown Prince of Marecca, if he had ever been at all nor would he use a spell to keep up the appearance of the prince the prince anymore. He would have to refrain from using any kind of magic for just a little while longer since it was becoming harder to hide both the dark aura and the latest stripe of color to his regular one.
The last spark of magic, red, lime, and magenta died on his horn. He looked down at the barren landscape below, watching the silver of the disguise of prince's coat creeping over the new one and the glinting sand reflect in the amulet's diamond which was now ruby-red with the corruption of his magic.
In time that too disappeared, as everything else would.
Stellaura's legs buckled, along with the rest of her long before she could even look up at the sky. Warm sunlight rolled over the windswept tower, along with something else mixed in with the heat.
It was something deep and sickening, but what could it be way out here? She was alone as she took this break, guarding the city walls in the distance from any possible sandstorms. There weren't many pegasai in Marecca, after all, so the duty to deter the weather sent from Aerogard above fell to Elinora, Stellaura, and the unicorn mages too. With Elinora in the heart of the city a few hour's flight away, and Hasad absent on a trip to a nearby city, it was up to her to protect every brick of her beloved citadel.
But this wasn't a sandstorm. Never in her life had a mere sandstorm sent crippling waves of pain throughout her.
This was magic, but it was no magic that she knew of.
This magic was foul and proud, with every second she lay near paralyzed in her ill stupor, it felt as if a hundred fires roared around her.
The standards nearby whipped wildly in a sudden gust of wind.
What was that she saw out of the corner of her eye? Streaks of color, there were so many snaking up the tower like ribbons.
Smokey green as bright as emeralds, vibrant ruby, and wisps of glittering magenta. They were soon followed by a dense, chaotic cloud of similar colors. Stellaura heard a something she had never heard before below her: a crisp, shattering, metallic noise like somepony was walking on glass. With the wind and the glass-like sound it almost sounded like there was whispering in the air.
Were those words that she heard? What was it they said?
Stellaura tried to reach through the fever-like state she was trapped in. How did the goddess end up so? She pricked her ears, straining to capture what words that might be:
Aiiirrr...
How ironic it was that the sharp whistles in the air seemed to form the word itself in the Everfree tongue.
...rnt..
It was the sound of a dying breeze as well, as the reveal of what made such sounds. Like vines cling to a trellis, she could glimpse the gleaming gray crystals that shone like coal in the sun coating the smooth sandstone of the elegant guard tower with its top open the wind.
What were these crystals, so much like parasites to the young queen, and how was it that they came to the sands?
There was another whoosh of air, followed by the sight of feathers whiter than the tales of snow she had heard.
Next she finally felt something odd... she knew that magic was reaching into her mind, Elinora had done this a few times at meetings when they needed to discuss something in private, and it was merely telepathy and not illegal mind-works, violation, or hypnosis. This was how Stellaura learned to tell what another equine's mind felt like. But, whoever was doing this... she wasn't sure how to describe whoever this was, because when this normally happened she always could feel who it was, like they were standing next to her, but this mind just felt like she was floating above an abyss with nothing to hold onto.
A second later there were earsplitting screams, panicked whispers, and enraged shouts all at once but none of them from her. They came from the hollowness of it all, some voices sound female, some male. None were coherent they all sounded awful, and soon the very air here was coated with their suffering and free for all as these entities without even a bodies to call their own tried to fight for everything in attempts to tear everyone else apart at the risk of themselves in an immortal prison.
It was horrifying.
If Stellaura was afraid of anything else before, she would never be again, for whatever this was made her wish for everything else after mere seconds: Tartarus, oblivion, anything as long as it wasn't this screaming, crying hive.
Whoever it was that was trying to communicate with her was hollow.
She managed to throw enough focus together so she could light her horn and create a thin shield around herself, one that forced the yawning abyss of a conscious from her own. Lime green light hovered around her like transparent mist.
She had to fight this... whatever it was.
She slowly rose to her hooves. Although, her sensitivity to magic would always be severe it wasn't nearly as unmanageable or crippling as it had once been, with the exceptions being anything more powerful than a draconequus.
But whatever this was... it was worth at least a dozen draconequui.
She then saw the rest of the being as it landed on the tower's edge, bare hooves of white meeting crystal.
An unearthly smile full of viciousness and fangs. "Hello, Sister."
A mane of rippling black and eyes of purple, with pupils like a a dragon's.
Wings twice the size of her own, and a horn that was curved in a similar way to a tusk rather than any equine's. It was tipped in red.
This was not her brother. It couldn't be.
She saw only a glaring coat of white against a smoke-like violet and green overtaken by black sparks, and dots that gave her the impulse to rub her eyes.
Around his neck was an amulet, with what looked to be a ruby at the center.
He smiled unnaturally wide. "What is it Sister? Did you not miss me, because I will not miss you."
Stellaura gasped. "Y-You...! Y-You s-said it-t!"
"Yes, I did."
"Hasad, why?! What is this? This monster, this mess, this magic. What happ-"
"SILENCE!" He roared. It was not in the Voice but Stellaura still flinched. Her brother never yelled at her like that...
She was quiet, because the distraught queen was unsure if this was the brother she loved... it couldn't be... could it?
"Did you really not see this coming? Have you really never suspected me? Are you truly like everypony else in that you had never seen what was happening? Would you love me blindly, as your subjects did never suspicious of me simply because I was your own brother?"
"I do not understand!" Stellaura screamed. "Why would I ever be suspicious of my own family? My own twin?"
"Of course you do not understand, and you never will understand anything about what I have been doing, but I think you will begin to comprehend all of this if you learn what I did to you, Sister."
"W-w-what?"
Really, came the little voice Stellaura thought had disappeared, that is what you ask?
Her heart skipped a beat. Stellaura was shaking all over and her throat was dry and her tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of her mouth but she managed to get it to work once the tears followed. "You were that voice?! Do you mean that ever since we were foals, you were that ambiguous whisper that told me I was worthless, or that I should be a pony because at least ponies can die, and everything else over and over again in that horrible emotionless tone... a-and you're using it right now?"
"Yes. All I had to do was change it so it sounded like you instead of me. I know you better than you do, Sister."
"B-but what else did you do?"
"It is simple really. I made sure you were always emotionally weak, and did everything for you but encouraging you to seek any opportunities, improve yourself, or ever break free of your comfort zone. I broke into your own mind countless times to rewire the tiniest parts of it so you would burst into tears, or become very sick for what appeared to be no reason. Unfortunately, you gained great 'magical sensitivity' from my work... that was a bit of a setback." He smiled at her, a smile that she wished he had never seen.
"I also altered you magic sensitivity enough at times, so you wouldn't sense any of this. Outside of that, I only ever lied to you in every way, instilled paranoias in at a whim with my magic, I also made you completely dependent on me. I even locked your magic in certain areas with the help of a few lucky guesses. Why do you think you got your mark so late? Hasad did not think you would be getting any at all! Or at least, that is what Hasad thought. I know him, I hear him, and he is desperate for blood, Stellaura. I am not him, you notice dissimilar and similar features in my face, yes? Our desires are not so divergent, thus I allow myself liberties with how I describe Hasad's deeds."
Stellaura couldn't respond, she was bawling on the floor, her crown had fallen off her head.
"Oh stop that will you? Quit acting like such a foal," he ordered, voice cruel and taking no disobedience.
She didn't, Stellaura kept going, wailing louder and louder. She looked up at him with pleading eyes that were overflowing with tears. Her mascara was smudged. "But Hasad, you are family! My own brother! How could you do this? Do you feel remorse?"
"No. I feel nothing, and I... Hasad never did."
"What will you do now?"
He flashed her the most disarming and sincere looking smile she had ever seen. "Oh Sister," he began, tone bright and cheerful, "it is not a matter of what I will do, but what you will!"
His horn lit up and a blast of gray magic hit her shield, tainting it and draining it of its bright hue before it collapsed. It would have been quicker than any she had ever seen before, but Stellaura didn't see it.
Then the dark aura that would become signature thousands of years later engulfed the former prince's now-curved horn.
His sister's eyes drained of all depth until her green irises were flat in color and her pupils lacked even the faintest glimmer of sentience. They gained a two-dimensional indeterminate and runny shade somewhere between gray and black. Her mane stopped sparkling and flowing. In a few seconds, it hung limp and lifeless in her face. There was no curl to it anymore. Even though her mark remained, it was translucent and mocking, a homeless memento of a creature who no longer existed. An insult. A lie. The half-mark was so meaningless that a dead language was of more value.
Everything that made up the Alicorn mare that was once Stellaura was gone. What was left wasn't even a husk.
He had taken her soul.
Those lifeless eyes blinked, but they saw nothing.
He scowled at the brilliant and foreign shade of lime in the air. This small cloud was a condensed version of Stellaura, it could do nothing on its own but remember. The 'body' left sitting on the tower's floor was but an object.
He blasted the hovering cloud. Stellaura shrieked as the last bit of her was dispelled into the air. While it was not gone, being an immortal's soul it would never again know mercy or a painless existence.
Yet another spell had to be cast because the risk of the soul finding the body in the proper circumstance was still possible.
The eyes of the body lit up with dark magic as it received the last words it was likely to ever hear:
"Seal yourself."
And it did, horn producing a flat aura that did not ripple at first before bursting into a lively swansong of sparkling verdant lime, one last time.
The air nearby was ripped open and a misty land of blue and soft, glowing star-like orbs was revealed.
This was the realm of magic itself, where only Alicorns could go, Where Gods Walk, though not every god was an Alicorn. There were many misty layers in this realm, some accessible only in certain conditions. The best known example were the demigods who were made when a pony of some kind causes exceptional magical phenomena, which causes an extreme magic surge that rips open a temporary gate - often through nearby objects - and transports them there. They can only leave if they find it in themselves to accept becoming a demigod, otherwise they will explode violently which will cause tremors that are absorbed by the parallel dimension and released in Midgard with disastrous results.
The Shadow did not stay to watch, for he knew that the order would be carried out. He took off in the direction of Marecca, which would be defenseless, as would Elinora and the rest of the country including some of the neighboring ones which did not have Alicorn rulers like most. He would not dispose of the others in the way he had of Stellaura, but he definitely had something in mind.
It only helped that he would draw the attention of others whether it be demigods, Alicorns, and even mortal armies. Their citadels would fall, their would be altered and his army of puppeted draconequui would only help before he turned on them too. He knew the locations of all the Alicorns, or so went his thoughts.
The book used to attain this was gone, transported at random to somewhere nearby its northern cousins were all Shadows-to-be would read it while all others saw only blank pages. He really had left his own mark on the world. A collection of manuscripts. A stone tablet. An amulet. A seemingly indestructible spellbook.
Soon the blood of billions would find their way onto his hooves.
The world itself could do nothing but if one were able to stand below the demon they would see feathers, like tears of snow falling from the sky.
The one trivial thing had always wanted, despite his own hollowness was a proper name. The book knew this and with its help he had been given one.
