> Cryptic Coda & Obscure Odysseys
>  by Ice Star
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Great Divorce, Part One [Alicorn Pre-History]
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the world was still young and the great crystal roots of Harmonia still were seen wrapping around the world, the Alicorns were fewer and among the planet's only life. Ponies crossed no plains and foraged in no forests, for no ponies tread the world and their ancestors were still unrefined in the arcane, looked to herds for safety, and hardly bigger than dogs. Horns more akin to nubs were the most revered things in the hearts of these creatures, and the Alicorns looked over these creatures sparingly, with patience to see if they might grow into something proud beyond curious, runty little animals with more than stubby wings, promise, and potential. And that potential for more — for languages, art, and advancements like those of the Alicorns — shone like the gleam developing in the coats of the northernmost would-be ponies.

Like the ancestors of ponies, other mortal creatures had yet to grow. Those that would be griffons, dragons, changelings, bovines, and other creatures flocked Harmonia's young world with the dawning equines, and they too were only outlines of what they would become and how their magics would unfold. With them were all other creatures that had grown on Harmonia's world, all things big and small, for primordial serpents and their many beastly kin shared the world that was always growing, and no soul was spared of being predator or prey. 

Harmonia herself took the greatest pride in her flourishing planet, and as all world trees do, her mystic insight into the future of her world and the visions brought from such knowings ran deeper than all mortal marvel for her titanic roots across their lands and under their sea. Such was the only true unity on her planet, for before there was any final sense of maturity and identity in mortal creatures, the very span of the roots of their World Tree before motions of the planet buried, wrapped, formed, and folded atop them was the only shared sight for any creature. 

In this old age, there were no Northern Lights to shine majestically in the roots, for there was no Empire, and no Heart to make them. Forests were few, so there were hardly dappled shadows from leaves. Every land knew different nights, different days, and different everything, but no matter how fickle the moon and sun whirled about the world, sunlight, and starlight would always find the roots at some point, somewhere, and all could look upon the beauty. As prehistory marched on, some of the mortal's first stories would tell only of Harmonia's roots. Draconic ancestors knew that no lava could melt them, sea creatures told of how no wave could budge them, and those that would be buffalo told of how no stampede could break them. 

From the ancestors of the mortal equine, zebra would tell of the dreams sleeping in its shadow gave, sea ponies would sing of its beauty, and flutter ponies told of how the roots winding through their land were something their cousins, the pegasus, could catch no sight of from their earliest cloud cities. Donkeys recalled how the roots spanned so far none could follow. 

From the place from which she sprouted strong and unmoving, Harmonia was just as awed by those who sprang from her creation as they were with her. Even when the emotion of her creatures came from a place of ignorance, her power of foresight did nothing to cloud Harmonia's vast enjoyment. To see the beginning of the life stories of her creatures as they were fostered a steady, quiet excitement in her for when their evolution would bring a plethora of species borne from unity as the stories of her were. Then, there would be sirens in the sea, mules in the prairies, and kirin in the mountains.

Harmonia took no shape in this time and saw the development of her world from between the brief periods when she woke, and from her roots was fed the information of the present, while in the crystalline core of her trunk, past the ripening Fruit of Magic, flashes of future-knowings danced beautifully in her being. Harmonia was a being above beings that could feel no loneliness, want no company, experience no hunger, and while she was plentiful in all things a World Tree must have — magic, knowings, peculiar fruit, power, and ancient dreams -—she had none to bestow upon some of her most important gifts: prophecies. Around her were only mere mortals on her continents that split into new ones every time she woke! Mortals lacked language, time, and anything that could be of use to her! 

Such omens bubbling up in Harmonia sprouted from impatience nagging enough that she nearly wished to shake her branches to rid herself of the feeling, preferring her usual cool, dreamy serenity of heart. Her impatience was not born from loneliness, but her wants. She who saw the world with the past, present, and future as layered and with multiplicity did not desire her need for manifestation and speaking to be fulfilled for conversation and company. A thought like that was nearly petty to a being above trivialities and with a cosmic pedigree. She was granted a life along tangibility and the metaphysical, and as expected from any World Tree, from her roots and her labors came the planet which all lived upon, and with its growth side-realms built-in magic were birthed and waiting to be unlocked by any being worthy to call them and claim them. The idea that she needed to speak to a creature out of a feeling she could only interpret as whiny from the mortal echoes of it that feed her roots. Harmonia did not drift through space for eons, building her planet sprouting from her for just as long, to have the same feeling that a tree's cupule did when it fell from the boughs and was squashed into the mud by a hoof. 

What she needed was a creature who would have the capacity for understanding her prophecy as they were now, a chance to fill it and the good sense to live long enough that it might serve a purpose or be passed on. Without even her knowings, Harmonia could spend a few decades finding sensible reasons for why a mortal would never suffice for her needs and such a list would be finely crafted, too.

To list, to order, and to organize were all qualities at which Harmonia could claim to be within her vast arsenal of skill and ability. Before she would ever let loose a prophecy, action, or allow herself anything beyond her crystalline self, she was to take in all possibilities and consider any facet of her plans, words, and actions. A fine Tree like herself was as naturally endowed with all but total omniscience from the moment of her creation, and while she was nigh-omnipresent with her magic and roots, she was not wholly omnipotent in any capacity, as no being and nothing were. For all her great ability, whether it was to create, to see and know beyond, and to live as long as her planet, Harmonia was rooted. Her manifestation capabilities were limited to the grove where she resided, and there her physical presence and much of her metaphysical presence were tethered in a meeting place of the two states.

Luckily, Harmonia's world was not so new, so primitive, or so barren that she was without immortals. Native to her frontier planet, beyond any known civilizations of the stars, were a modest amount of Alicorns. Born to her world were those who held their own awe of the beings still to evolve, and those were the first Alicorns of the budding planet, most of whom were of the mountains and volcanoes. They kept to themselves, for the most part, and phased in and out of the forming mountains that they guarded as their homes. The Alicorns would grow over the many ages to include about a dozen or so as the two couples brought more foals with magma-flowing manes, stone-flecked coats, and a variety of features boldly showcasing their natures. 

Each of the mountain Alicorns were as varied as the peak terrains to those who only gave the briefest looks to them, neglecting their familial resemblance. Such was rooted in them as much as their real variance: the temperaments and hearts of each could be no similar to one another than a pebble was the eruption of a volcano. Despite this, the elders would still descend from their ranges and lava domes to observe the progress of civilization. To griffons, they gifted the right stones for spears; to minotaurs, they showed them ash-enriched soil; and for the kirin, they served as a muse unlike any other, and drew many an odd creature and ghost into the woods around their peaks, sparing many a mortal. 

This gaggle of wide-spread Alicorns had yet to flourish into their full potential but still were the most breathtaking beings in the world. Theirs was the first language spoken, their homes crafted from magic and mountain were the first castle-like places, and their food was plentiful, having been sown into the rich soil around what mortals could only fear as fire-mountains greater than the meager flames they were just learning to spark. 

It wasn't long before many of the earliest mortal legends were filled with this strange family, with their odd muzzles, magic to tremble before, and baffling ways of living. It was like the only thing the tall, sweeping Alicorns had in common with the mortals were the marks that marked both their flanks in time and the magic everything possessed. 

The mountain Alicorns upon Harmonia's world were the first to widely be held with a vital reverence that would pave the way for how Alicorns would become understood, worshiped, and lived with long into the future, past when Alicorns would come to rule then-future mortals, but long after the Age of Alicorns would begin and Collapse. What other Alicorn were they to see? The World-Tilters and the other two Wayward Sisters had yet to fall upon the planet, the Prince of Spirits had yet to live, the lone ocean Alicorn was a colt who had yet to rise to godhood and pull the Shifting Isles up from the sea, and the blue mare of the north had yet to cut out her heart and pluck out her eyes. 

Mountain Alicorns were friends, however enigmatic, and their acts to mortals were more than the first legends. They offered acts of friendship to those who could not understand them, enacting fully-aware demonstrations of charity. Mortal creatures relished in this, knowing from what was passed down that no matter how the Alicorns might seem, these were the great beings that were friends with their grandparents, their grandparents before them, and even further generations back. Even when their arguments with one another shook the mountains and it was within their powers to blow the tops of them off as much as they were capable of healing the sick, it would always be Alicorns who were preferable to deal with among immortals.

Draconequui were not going to neglect to find Harmonia's world forever, and a small pack of them were gleeful to discover her frontier planet. They readily took part in terrorizing the variety of unseen creatures with their pranks and powers. Crops were transformed, minds warped, and many of the first huts were given legs. The world of mortals was now turned upside down, and they found themselves under attack by beings as everlasting as the Alicorns and a great affinity for eating everything in the rubbish heap. 

There were times when the upheaval of the draconequui was too much, and mortals were overwhelmed before they could summon aid, with only those below the water's surface being spared the calamity. With their Alicorns living in the distant mountains, and equally capable of residing within the mountains themselves, the only hope to summon rescues when mortal abilities faltered was through the sky. 

Griffon ancestors swooped from their aeries on the lesser peaks to scream their panic. Bovine thundered across the ground, wanting to loosen stones to crush draconequui and use their dances to summon the mountain gods. Kirin rushed to their dragon kin for aid, shrewdly wishing to buy their fang and claw with trinkets and wealth, if only for the curses twisting the enchantments of their forests into places of despair, only to learn that they would have no dealing with the egg-thieves and magical might of the draconequui. The immortals stirred fear in those whose array of magical abilities had deemed them protectors. Giraffes and zebra found their weapons useless against draconequus transformations and their medicine feeble in the shadow of the sicknesses they could bring. 

In their lands, ponies and horses scrambled to the prehistoric temples they constructed in their camps and villages, looking upon the paintings of Alicorns who often brought them such gifts and they considered their friends. They fought for any chance to light their signal fires so that their smoke might drift up to the mountains, and neither mortal magic, feather, utter-flutter, or the skills of the other races could do more than dent at the power of their tormentors. Trick upon trick was cast on the ponies who went to lit the fire, and unnatural changes befell every piece in the process: kindling, pony, and the will to do so at all. 

With no signals across the world, the few mountain Alicorns not dwelling within their god-worlds and mountain hearts rose from their labyrinthine halls of stone, only to find the very pests of chaos that their patriarch had warned them of. The great Alicorn stallion Canterhorn was the eldest under the earth of all the mountain gods. He knew tales of the creatures, and stood tall as the spire that took after him — for that was the way of the Alicorns and their mountains — and saw how the few of his family and friends were challenged by the draconequui. It was through the others of his kind and their dominion and connection to the earth's very bones that he felt their panic. When he found his dear wife and the few who were present on the mortal plain beleaguered and bullied back into merging with their mountains, he urged them to stay there. Closed in, they may be, but there the draconequui could not match the stubbornness and ability of an occupied mountain. 

With his fury set in stone, his loved ones upon his mind, and righteous anger within his heart, Canterhorn traversed all places with fury, teaching whatever draconequui he could what the magic of a spurned god and father tasted like. He passed plains and hinterland, driven only by his mind's eye until he found the most enchanted forest in the world. He needn't even see the astonishing peculiarities of the place to know that it was so, for in his travels he had flown above the reach of mortals and seen where all the roots of the world led. Here, a forest so sprawling and dense it all but quivered with venom for the draconequui, tangibly yearning to pick them to their bones — something the creatures hadn't been able to do to this sacred place. 

He foraged past a great density of magical animals and plants intent to erase all evidence of his trespassing. Though he did not need such a thing, Canterhorn's inability to get rest nagged at him. This forest was truly forever free, and it did not slumber! At night it was teeming with all that was unseen, ready to claw at him, snag him from the forest's floor, and the crystalline roots of the world shook the moss from them with the harshest quakes, sending all manner of creatures zipping past him in the lightless place, biting at him and stinging him in the gloom.

Who dares intrude upon my forest?

Who dares violate my heart?

What foulness have you brought?

Why do you trespass upon the most sacred grounds on Havenfell? How is it you plan to bring harm to my young planet?

Canterhorn could not have understood that Harmonia's sight was vaster than anything he would ever know, not then. He was in a place without even the stars to guide him, and his family was in peril. In all the dealings he would later have the spirit, he would never understand why she thundered such questions at him — not because she used such a force to shake her forest more than before, or because she spoke with no voice, but because no proof against her omniscience existed to him, or to any who would tell him; the very one who would ever know of blind spots in Harmonia's vision during his time was one Wayward Sister who still had yet to fall from the sky.

All that Canterhorn could know was Harmonia with no prophet, but the first of her many omens quivering in every leaf in what would become known as the Everfree.
> The Great Divorce, Part Two [Alicorn Pre-History]
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Canterhorn was something to marvel at. Crystal veins and clusters across the north were no comparison to the sparkling, twisting branches that stretched above him from an untarnished trunk. Wrapped up among the tinkling hanging crystals unlike any he had seen before were five pulsing orbs. Like the rest of the structure, they held the look of something beyond normal crystal but had the unusual vibrancy he could only attribute to fruit still ripening. Canterhorn saw how they twinkled with various degrees of strength, each asserting a purpose hungering in them. 

This was where his travels through the forest had led, and though it was barren of ghosts, these gems and the voice that came from the tree were all things he thought could be another obstacle and nuisance. How could one not look upon what was embedded within the stout trunk, and the sharp points of magenta that glistened there, seeing anything but the most powerful of these stones gaping at him like a maw beyond the ferocity of any hydra? 

Much to Canterhorn's surprise, the tree bowed one of its boughs limbs in a rickety, sweeping gesture that sent a sound like ice shattering. The pale pink gem clasped on the odd limb winked shyly at him, like the way a mortal's least favorite child swayed when indicated.

You may not claim my fruit!

The way the thunderous voice of a female returned, echoing from no source but something unseen about the tree — or the tree itself — snapped up Canterhorn's mane. In this age, Alicorns had yet to wear much along the lines of crowns and went about unadorned unless armor was called for, their hallowed marks testament enough for the primitive time, when even they had not learned how nice some trinkets could be. Thus, his mane edged with the jagged stripes of all the creams and silvers of the world's highest dawns and dusks could only be tossed by the blast of her words. 

Canterhorn dared not anger this being further with the voice of his kind and hurriedly explained he wanted none of the fruit she bore and sought to free his kin. Standing his ground stubbornly, he spoke to the tree of the draconequui who had touched much of the world with their vulgar magics, and that he would seek the necessary vengeance upon those who antagonized the world in order to bring justice. 

Harmonia listened to the god's words and was practically soaking up the strength he imbued them with. In an Alicorn, she observed a treasure trove of exceptional qualities beyond the value of any dragon's hoard. Now that she could finally peer over one of these fine equines with care, the resilient soul, immense magic, and every quality she had considered for the bearer of her prophecy. Perhaps he would not be the one to receive the full extent of her many visions, predictions, and prophecies, but he would be fine for now. 

Then you will do nothing to take that which is unripened and unfit to be used for this task from me.

Canterhorn was ready to offer an answer, only to realize she had asked no question.

I am Harmonia Everfree, and you are the first to find me since this world has been spun and lived. You will be the last to do so for a flood of mortal lifetimes and a period that will make this moment ancient when the next unfolds. Until then, I sense the pain of my world and how it has been warped like the twists of my roots by those who have skipped the stars to menace me. 

You know yourself by an identity that not once fell within the mists of my slumber, as those of your kin have. I can hold you to no measure of personal kindness, mirth, or charity, nor shall I think to when the frailest of my fruit and its two less trying siblings are wrongly suited to your quest. Speak your name so that I might judge you, he who already knows of the love marking those born upon my young world.

He told her that he was Canterhorn, head of his family for his experience, defender of mortal ponies on his side of the world for his power, father, uncle, brother, and husband to those now forced within the very spires of the earth that bowed to their will. To Harmonia, he spoke about his domain, and how it enabled Canterhorn and his magic to fold and smash the surface of the world to shape the younger peaks gifted to his young family members. 

Harmonia knew that he was a stallion brave and wise. That which was most important to him he yearned to hoard where danger could not reach them like stone masks gems and caverns. Beneath his flinty expressions and stone-sprouting coat, the uncertain safety and all too apparent humiliation of his kin inspired him to purposeful action.

Then, I will call you only Canterhorn. Think of me not with any gulf between us, as there are for you and your mortals. I will ask something of you. Refuse and be cast from here with no hope; accept and take steps towards the journey I shall send you on, with my words to instruct you. Nothing about you offers any sense you might show yourself to be a Bearer one day, but the fruit is not yet ripe, you are without companions to offer the context I need, and I might only be blinking.

I can see that the leg of justice known as revenge is a reward to you and that only freeing your family rivals it. However, I am not one to bestow a visitor such as yourself with no boons. I will give you one to leave my forest with ease, and if you agree to be true, then I will offer you something of your future from my knowings.

In mere heartbeats, a spirit sprang from the light of the tree. Standing before Canterhorn was an Alicorn apparition with eyes as white as a summer noon-day sun and a cascade of bright lights forming a rainbow mane and tail to match the hues of her tree's fruits. Upon her glittering blue, translucent coat was the mark of gold. Canterhorn took in the towering figure's mark, thinking it to look much like a seed. 

Ah, could I forget a thing, I would think that the fairness of Alicorns had escaped me! She let her mighty wings fan, and all that was around them showed through the limbs. I have not beheld your kind so personally since I was but a seed myself, adrift in the stars alongside the most varied and enchanted ways you have to move across our universe. Now I must thank you for your proximity, for now, I can allow myself to manifest in this multiplicity! Harmonia's strong neck indicated herself with a tilt and then the tree, whose many roots were puncturing the ground.

Tell me, Canterhorn, are you a stallion as true as you are brave? Orange and red chimed softly with a sound high, clear, and unlike anything, Canterhorn had known or would know from anything else. He watched as the gems built up light, glowing like a distant fire despite their closeness and pulsing unlike any. Tell me so, and speak with the wisdom you hold yourself to, not just for me to trust you, but to trust yourself on this quest. 

Without faith in yourself, genuine knowledge of the righteousness of your deeds, and the deeds of your enemy, you take up no revenge at all. The indulgence of wicked actions untrue is nothing with ties to Harmony or justice, and merely an act of slaughter acted on by hearsay. I shall have nothing to do with the making of monsters. Kill those who must be killed, and vanquish those that must be done away with. I must warn you to do no more, or I shall have a new champion do away with you.

Canterhorn received her words in grave silence, meditating not just on them, but on the feelings within himself. Then, he swore himself to be true in intention and action, now and until all had passed. 

Up in the boughs of Harmonia's tree-self, the glow of orange swelled like the sun sinking below the horizon over the ocean, bleeding light across his coat. 

Harmonia's white eye-light was all that broke past the sharpness of the color, and what stung Canterhorn's eyes briefly when the fruit's light retreated into little more than normal luster. She bowed her head and spoke unto him that prophecy that had quaked within her for so long:


In my forest, you shall see no specter
so I must send you to wander in search of a suitable protector
looking not for a way to bring them here 
but for those who can use them to make the draconequui disappear

In distant wilds, you will find orphans cast from the sky
know that they are those of magic like yourself, with might in their eye
speak not of their domain over the dead
ensure only that these two will not be misled

Join with them and their army with horns aglow
fight at the youths' sides to rid the world of draconequui high and low 
spare only those who did not bring great enough harm
whether their minds are feeble or too young to charm

When your war is won and the draconequui pushed away
those given mercy must repair the world as pay
and every fallen mortal you must bury
of the draconequui, you must remain forever wary

Even when the last grave appears at peace
your new Alicorns will have the world to police
let mortals know that their words are the first commands they are required to follow
and that no longer will their souls be left roam eternally and feel so hollow

See how these fine gods establish their realm
and gather collections everlasting when they take up the helm
from now until forever know their words are not boasts
here marks the dawn of the era of ghosts!


Canterhorn was given an object like the yellow seed marking the apparition and told that in no possible past, present, or future of the world would he ever have a chance to be a Spark, not that he knew what that could be. With that, Harmonia told him that even when he could be no Spark and would never Bear Magic in all possibilities of the world, there were futures where his spire became the heart from which empire would begin, kingdoms would fall, and other gods would reside. 

When Harmonia had finished, Canterhorn followed the last of her instructions. He crushed the boon and found himself upon the border where Harmonia Everfree's forest thinned into a less potently magical wood. Every scratch he had sustained was healed, and as the boon's teleportation faded, Canterhorn wondered if the many knowings of Harmonia danced around her being, dying and living as the stars did.
> The Great Divorce, Part Three [Alicorn Pre-History]
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Such was a fitting name for Harmonia to give the times. Draconequui were new, and while their magic was devastating, not all of them acted out or brutality. Canterhorn knew that many still acted out of foul glee, just glad to stir up chaos upon another planet. The words of Harmonia Everfree were testament enough of that. None of this was in Canterhorn's favor since a draconequus acting to indulge in pure amusement would still do so at the cost of him, and his capture would do the world no favor. 

Other Alicorns were nothing to be startled by. He was starting to see those outside his clan more frequently. Every few thousand years he would encounter the ocean god, and hear some small amount of news about what transpired in his travels and below the ocean's surface. To interact at such a level was sparse to mortal equines, who still thought their great-grandparents were comparable to Alicorns in lifespan awe. Canterhorn knew that Alicorns were hardly in possession of the same ache that prompted mortals to be so unbearably suffocating in many of their desires for social contact. 

When it came to having to take an adventure all alone, this was something to admire. What few supplies were needed, Canterhorn could gather or make as he wished. He needn't be burdened by a soul. 

None that were alive, at least. 

Before the draconequui, the most fearsome bane to the planet were ghosts. Since the first death upon the planet, souls had amounted without rest. There was no way to erase them or destroy them, and mortals' painstakingly slow process had been a great contributing factor to their booms. Every prey-creature hunted, a predator who was trapped, all sick who had perished, enemies that were slain, lovers lost... any and every death was only the signal of another ghost.

The most that could be done was to ward them into the wilds. Gathering in greater numbers kept enough mortal creatures from being picked on by the teasing deceased or harmed by the malicious poltergeists. A whole variety of ghosts could be encountered, and no matter how educated a pony became on them, there were always so many more kinds. Each was driven by so many different motives, and their hauntings were often debilitating to those who knew only to defend a village and adhere to burial rites in hopes of hobbling how those no longer in their lives could so easily infest and rule them. 

Even Canterhorn found them to be a nuisance. A phantom intent on possessing him would be hard-pressed to succeed, but when he was traveling, vulnerable, or dreaming of the family he longed to free? Then he was susceptible to millions of spirits within the range of his camps in the strange places he saw. 

Would the soul of a departed mountain goat try and guide him off the edge to grisly injury? Could the soul of a pony dragged from her herd before they could even speak, slain in the night, and roaming about mad with the passing of time and evolution of her kind seek to brutalize him as she had been? Might he wake to the glassy sight of a kirin crushed during the building of a temple, half his skull gaping and opaque for what was once within show his bones gleaming in the moonlight? When he took one wrong turn in what was a forest desirably silent, would he find it was hauntingly so because of the presence of the pale, convulsing half-form of a minotaur calf partially bitten by cragodiles ages ago, only for it to be crying and jibbering still? 

All were not uncommon to witness deep past the small borders of settlements that could be protected. One had to abandon the hard weapons of spears and spiked pits when managing creatures that could be harmed by none. Magic itself was only just enough to even interact with ghosts, and the few that had any real ability over them bore specialized marks and magic to magic.

Since he knew not how long his adventure would last, Canterhorn could not risk a mortal liability by bringing one with him. Any choice would have an opportunity cost exceeding any benefits. No flight means he would have to monitor them on the ground all the time. No overt magic would make him do all skilled work. More specialized skills, like the influence of the earthbound ponies, would give him perks he did not require, like potent herbs and superior, speedy harvests. In the end, any companion of his would still know death. 

To stand alone as he was now, would be better than any company at all.

But by every ghost upon the planet, he would trade any possibility of mortal assistance in any world if it meant he could see his wife, if only for a sunrise. 



...



Canterhorn found the first Alicorn when his skull was struck by a pulse of light. From the earth, he had been gathering anything that could be gleaned from the path ahead. As mountains had roots to the earth, it was only inevitable Canterhorn did. Any that would ever call themselves geomancers would owe their magic, their marks, and arguably their souls to the First Geomancer himself. 

He had been sneaking about for a number of decades in search of Harmonia's Alicorns. His longing for his loved ones mounted, but his journey was new in the span of what it could be. Canterhorn had strayed far from the roots of Harmonia and into the uncountable territories that no mortals knew. 

While he had yet to cross oceans, his efforts brought him to ragged coastlines that soared into the sky and snapped at it with the look of fangs. Here, mosses were plentiful, seaweeds choked stony gums, and the breath of goats grew thin at this level. Minotaur fought with cave creatures for shelter from the cutting, salty waves.

And that was where a pulse of light struck the back of Canterhorn's head, about where his ear neared his horn. A rough cry escaped him, as the force of the magic had robbed him of wind.

Before he hit the ground, pain flared throughout him, dots of shadow drizzled across his vision, and from behind him, a glorious golden light raced up like a predator. It was no sunlight, but if the sun could have offspring, this had to be the sun's own spawn who charged at him from behind in a way that made light enlarge his shadow.

As the halo burst out from behind him, the black of his shadow was what caught him.



...



He awoke with an ache in his head like a buffalo stampede and dank air against his coat. The smell and taste of salt rubbed its way into the back of Canterhorn's throat with each breath. Cave scenery was limited to the stalagmites and stalactites and a single equine shape leaping from each in the semi-dark hole. 

And truly, the place was only semi-dark, and not because of any small distance between the opening and the stony place where Canterhorn found himself. Only the scent of the ocean shore and the light of the sky managed to trickle here. Had his horn not hurt with his head, and his mind been sound with no sense of injury, he would have immediately tried to illuminate the figure. 

Alighting among the stones was the form of an Alicorn who was young and slim, as far as Canterhorn could see. Wings stretched with their motions and spears only slightly less crude than those of mortals were held tight in the grip of her yellowy magic. 

When she glowed — for Canterhorn knew by her light that she was a filly and the source of his attacker's light — her whole form was in possession of a halo-like no light he could place. She had a way of moving that told him she spent much time here, something reinforced by the sight of kelp and washed-up sea plants in shell bowls for when she hungered. He caught sight of how her yellow mane and tail spilled out in waves of wind-teased plaits and that her coat was orchid purple, something that did not belong here. 

Alicorns held a natural disposition that could allow them to train and harness a swiftness and patterns of movement for their kinds alone, just as many creatures could move in such ways for their kind and their kind only, whether it be the stalking of big cats or the distinct lumber of a dragon. 

There was fine proof of that fitness in the young mare. 

He called out to her, knowing she was aware he was awake. 

The young mare tried to hide behind a pillar of stone, her golden glow pouring out from either side and the meandering souls of drowned mortals expected to gather in such a place drifting closer to where she darted. Wingtips poked out to sweep up fallen spears. 

Canterhorn chuckled, seeing that, unlike Harmonia who spoke every language in her knowings, this little Alicorn was unfamiliar with his language, and possibly any at all. So, he spoke with caring, letting words that peppered previous mortal languages. He could only try and see if she knew of one, or at the very least would take to one if she recognized what he was trying to do. Whatever Alicorns lived among the distant stars in Harmonia's reckoning were not any Canterhorn knew, nor was their language anything he would speak. 

He just needed her to recognize something, and the sooner the better. Few places were safe from draconequui now, and he had avoided their menace for so long. He didn't know how long this young mare had been here, or if she had company at some point, but eventually a sound caught his attention.

The little mare had gasped behind her rock, a sound that rang throughout the cave and above the sounds of ghosts. He had offered her a word — or something he knew as one. It came from a time when even the languages of today were not yet born, and the rudimentary beginnings of mortal words were just stretching. 

He had called her friend, and she knew it. She had heard him and understood him — and, he thought, no doubt from somepony else too. Considering her location and habits thus far, she likely hadn't even heard anything from a pony. Spears no doubt came from encounters with feral beasts who didn't take so kindly to do anything but eat her and ghosts had their whispers. Maybe Alicorns were unlikely to find themselves lonely and lived beyond a mortal's dream life, but that did not mean a century of loneliness was anything less than what it sounded like. He certainly couldn't imagine that this adolescent took her isolation so kindly. 

She settled right in front of him after a burst of movement. 

Canterhorn caught sight of the deep golden yellow of her mane — a dark and lively hue that put any flaxen shade to shame — and how it spilled down to her withers like ocean waves. Muddy gray paste rimmed her dark blue eyes in order to ward off the sun. Nicks from unfortunate encounters with the seaside cliffs covered the young one's body as dapples would. 

The mark already upon her flank was a glistening golden apple and a sprig of olive, the very tree that grew in the land of his dear wife, Helena. It was the minotaurs who idolized their protector goddess that would bring her baskets from their harvests to her mountain expansive villas, where she would accept the offerings from her most adoring subjects. 

Canterhorn needed no other sign that this Alicorn was one of hope and peace, and had to hold back budding tears. 

Tilting her head to the side, the young one finally pointed to herself, and with a careful tone said only one thing: Elysium. 



...



Elysium was a young warrior and fast friend. As Canterhorn allowed himself to remain under the glowing teen's supervision, he learned that they had to be. No translating spell was there to make up for their awkwardness, and such refined and precise magics had yet to emerge. Instead, living by the seaside shelter was how the two Alicorns learned to place their trust in one other. Neither was prey to a blind sense of misplaced friendliness, instead, they showed each other through the hard work of kelp gathering and other chores that there was companionship to be found. 

The day was reserved more for rest than roaming, and the dawn and dusk were Elysium's most active hours. They became Canterhorn's too. Elysium showed him how she survived for years, diving for her food, harvesting cliff plants, and spearing fish to mix with the tide pools in hopes of them becoming something fertile over the years where she could grow food. Her golden glow lit her world constantly, concentrated in a halo about her head. In the day, this was glaring and drew the attention of many souls. The risk of draconequui only mounted with the sun to accent her light. The day held none of the stars Elysium used to read her world, nor was the daytime sky anything to provide a sense of comfort.

She came from the stars, only to be discarded on Harmonia's young Havenfell. They brought her solace and were the first art she knew. The day was a lid that made the world an improper jar; night showed her beauty and truth. 

Together, they worked side by side and with great patience learned the languages of one another. Elysium's foreign one, which she alone spoke on this planet, was not even known to her in full. She was a teenage mare, left to survive on a frontier planet for centuries. It would come to mean to her what the first horseshoes of infants that mothers gilded in the ages to come would mean to them. 

Only when they could trust one another, in the careful ways of Alicorns, did the two gather what supplies they could and leave the rocky seaside behind them. Elysium spoke of the many more ghosts that encroached on what was once the closest she could claim to a home. Canterhorn told her that they still had one more Alicorn to find and that Harmonia had whispered to him from where the slimmest fiber of one of her world-circling roots broke up through the earth. 

It was then that the young Alicorn and her friend readied a great contraption from Elysium's mind's eye: the first boat of the world. The prow and body were carved from magic-melded driftwood and the sails were fashioned from the peculiar combination of nets and fiber Elysium knew how to make, producing a sheet. The rudder and oars for when pure magic alone could not guide them into the unknown world.

Then, they sailed west.



...



With spear and the mature magic of the geomancer's magic, the duo fought their way across the wild ocean and the sea of ghosts within it, bubbling up like the foam. Below the surface, the sole god with domain over the watery world and its vast territory had managed to avoid the brunt of the draconequui, who were rambunctious and terrifying, but often lazy with their conduct and magic. This spared seaponies, sirens, and other such creatures of the full extent of struggles known to those who had no such shelters on the surface world. 

They found no Alicorn in the savannah, only zebra, giraffe, boar, camel, and other animal tribes unknown to them. At first, the non-predator sapients showed the Alicorns nothing but fear. All they had come to expect from over the Barren Sea and eastward were terrible draconequui, brutish griffons from their vast island in the middle of the passage, and the rocs they worshipped. They pleaded and threatened the two newcomers out of fear, shunning them like the ghosts driven from their villages and oases, proclaiming that they wanted no harm from the strange creatures. 

Elysium and Canterhorn were filled with sorrow knowing these creatures were once trusting, but there was no Alicorn here. They left for other lands, passing through a fractured land inhabited by elephants, the pony-filled coastal lands of what would be Andalusia in the ages to come, the snowy peninsula of the yeti, skirted the titanic taiga of the bears, and all the dragons of the western lands. Their magic grew as sharp as their knowledge of the fraction of the lands of this vast continent they were able to see. 

The many species of this continent were divisive and prone to war over the many biomes that shifted as violently as the most primitive alliances in the dawning, draconequus-tormented lands to the west. It was as though Harmonia herself had slapped the continent with her roots, carving the vales and canyons with her movements before declaring, "This land shall be a hotbed of ethnic conflict for eras to come!"

Canterhorn now knew why the mountain Alicorns he knew to live in this part of the world was either explosive types or tranquil and solitary. Mortals' turmoil was so prevalent a conflict here, and their vain and brutal squabbles were wastes of the young art of warcraft, for war had already existed as long as life had. 

Only when Canterhorn and Elysium came to the land where they felt most weary did they get another sign. Harmonia's roots hummed in the earth, the distinct and enchanting melody relieving the Alicorns of one step of their adventure. 

Delighted, they set up their first camp in this land. Plunging valleys with rings of mist and dense trees amazed the two, as did the rushing rivers of yellow and brown. Bears and birds gave the two a wide berth, and a sense of peace finally settled over the Alicorns knowing that they had reached the land that had attracted little attention from passing chaos immortals. Their only company would not even be other creatures, like the bears bearing black rings around their eyes. 

For miles, the only true company was the hanging tombs from the cliffsides of the valleys and gorges. Their ghosts bothered Elysium little, and she took pleasure in having tranquility in these forests, knowing there was a wild sanctuary. Seeing the natives would be a matter of choice instead of any company forcing their presence, be they living or dead. Would there be ponies in this land, or were mountain structures a sign of monkeys or dragons? Such fine tombs meant that the elders of the land were well taken care of, even in death, and that the natives were skilled — both key signs of a rich culture. 

While she slept peacefully, Canterhorn worked his magic and communed with the mountains. They had magic expected from all-natural things, but any Alicorns were distant and dormant due to draconequui. His entrance to their land would be noted no more than a moth entering one of the cliff tombs would be by the residents there. His sorrow at the chance to see any like-magicked Alicorns aside, be it for comradery or assistance, Canterhorn was able to learn much from the mountains. 

The climate of this land was varied, and the workings of his geomancy fed to him that ahead were arid and subtropical lands different from the highland Canterhorn and Elysium found themselves in. Draconequui had brought some of their influence, but the unknown natives were well protected by something that gave chaos-bringers mixed feelings: dragons, which were plentiful in this land. The two reactions draconequui had to dragons were to attempt courtship or aggression from any curmudgeonly dragon that retaliated against the pests. There was no in-between. 

This did not stop the evidence of conflict from seeding itself in the valley. Rumbles returned with the magic echo of numerous graves and alterations to the land, the wisdom gained from magic-making things clear to Canterhorn. War was fought on this land, not just among the natives lost and arranged under the terrain, but from invading forces. Where these invasions came from was either by land, sea, or any other means the land could not offer to Canterhorn. 

It was no wonder that such land could be fought over; diversity and plenty gave cause to mortals' feuds rather than mending them. Without the judgment of that which could be independent and above them, too many of them would only feed the conflicts of one another into sagas long enough to be called history. 

These mountains had temples and farms perched proudly in them, signs that the mortals were not all lost to themselves. The former was clear sign immortals were present somewhere... perhaps the Alicorn needed to complete the era of ghosts. 



...



The natives were varied and peculiar creatures. All of them were equine hybrids, with the other elements of their bloodlines intriguing the two Alicorns immensely. No such creatures like these existed in the lands they had come from. Alicorns unknown to Canterhorn and Elysium had obviously courted a dragon here and there in a previous time. It would have to be the smaller wingless variety, as anything else was impossible, deadly, instinctively unattractive, and unwelcome. The creatures were short and slinky, at least compared to the Alicorns. In a way, they had come into their own as a unique equine once-removed, acting as an individual species than a mere hybrid. 

Very few had wings and those that did always bore a curiously mismatched pair. All had twin horns growing from their foreheads, the latter of which was often scaly. Each had notable prongs and varying girths. Some of the males looked like they could lock their larger tines and wrestle brutally, while others' horns were too slender and delicate in appearance, thinner than even the horn of the slimmest unicorn's horn. 

Like the rings of mist clinging to the mountains of the creatures' lands, upon their horns were shining rings. The hues for each were not the earthy colored variety of the main part, instead, these stripes appeared much like the metals dragon greed was sparked by. Gold, silver, brass, copper, and other colors elegantly crowned the appendages. The luster of these stripes made their magical auras into a marvel, as intriguing as a foal's first sight of a rainbow. It was clear that without these beautiful light shows, there would be little to enchant about their aura, which did not have the vast and unique range of colors that ponies and Alicorns had.  

The natives eagerly questioned the Alicorns before welcoming them, as it had been much time since they had known one who offered them generosity and any form of friendliness without boons or wants to be fulfilled in return. Before they admitted to the presence of an Alicorn among them, the creatures told the Alicorns more of their woes. 

The natives called themselves the qilin, though their dialects varied, and they lived on the vast territory sensed by Canterhorn and also had many extensive clans that removed themselves from the mainland, moving across the sea. That kind, which the numerous qilin saw infrequently, lived upon the biggest islands of a vast archipelago, claiming the sun favored them. The qilin had yet to hate the mainlanders so bitterly, as the mainlanders had yet to hate those that had not yet called themselves the kirin, for this was still a primitive age. 

Over half these scaly, stately beings were impacted with notable inborn sterility that made them treasure their eggs with the greatest reverence. The draconequui who regarded them with such deeply varying emotions had exploited this, placing curses of barrenness upon many more of the qilin and mocking them for their state. Fertile qilin had little ability to consort from the ponies and horses from which they were descended. This left them isolated and left to the whims of the few draconequui who did not regard them with overt cruelty or the wingless dragons of land. These dragons were equally weary of the struggles and plights of the chaos-makers who interfered with their simplest desires for tranquility, hoarding, and family. 

The most pony-like of the bunch were always rather unfortunate, as the brunt of any biological disadvantages were heaviest in their kind, and their pleas were especially strong to the two Alicorns. Barrenness was especially strong upon them, as were lower magic and physical weakness. Seeing their fellow qilin be cursed with what was naturally correlated with the most pony-like broke the hearts of this qilin strain. They felt none should have to be inflicted with such struggles. 

While pony-like dragon hybrid strains could prove disadvantaged if infertile and early in hybridization, the few winged qilin were regarded with suspicion tinged in their community. Every qilin strain with wings, regardless of clan or other features, could only come from a draconequus and dragon, or a draconic strain qilin long since hatched and separated from their more equine relatives. Their magic distinctly bore traits of the chaos-bringers they were descended from. The others regarded them warily and distantly, dismissing them all with the name longma to brand their Otherness.

The magic of the qilin was dazzling to behold, coming from a combination of their fire breath, scales, and the twin horns so like antlers. Qilin with deer ancestors had some of the most marvelous horns of all. The sheer array of creatures that could be mixed into the lineage of these hybrids was astounding: deer, naiad equines, and dryad equines. Even the petite variations of aquatic dragons had taken favor to qilin, allowing qilin strains not already benefiting from amphibiousness lent by naiad heritage to enjoy a whole life under the water. 

The diversity of the qilin races alone was touching, and their attempt to draw the barest familial connections with one another brought memories of Canterhorn's own family to him, stirring his sympathies. Pockets of survival and stubbornness had arisen in the chaos-tainted world, and the qilin was the most exemplary of this. But what creatures should have to live in a ruined age if it could be helped? The putrid equality of suffering under the draconequui was terrible enough. 

A line of qilin whose horns were striped dominantly with jade had established themselves as the leaders. Their clan was spread thin across the inter-fighting territories, but enough were still present to consult with the Alicorn duo regarding their quest. Their leader was a stallion — something that would later be scorned by the qilin — who said he was to be called Yongle by two Alicorns. 

Most peculiar about the qilin to Elysium and Canterhorn was how this mortal species would not name themselves once and true, but often rename themselves. Though they often had haunches capable of marks, no qilin had any like ponies or Alicorns did. Those that did have any hatched with a peculiar, faint one of two dappled hemispheres circling one another in an infinite cycle. All the colors varied, though that mark was always constant, just as long as a pony strain qilin haunch was not covered with scales. 

No other name of his mattered, Yongle had told the two, but the name he gave himself to represent what he wanted to restore to his land. 

Yongle had every need to be ambitious, and the ruthlessness in his draconic slit eyes was enough for the Alicorns to know no wrong could come from assisting the qilin, so as long as Yongle led his kind and let that part of him show. 

Elysium and Canterhorn gathered in Yongle's half-made ghost of a fortress city. Qilin adored the moon's pale magic, letting them hide and find themselves through meditation. To shun that was to be unknown. Under the stars, they planned long into the night that preserved them for chaos-bringers. 

Yongle told them he knew of the Alicorn they sought. The sun-fearing island qilin who was so peculiar in how they had begun to deviate from the qilin's traditions housed the young soul. To reach this Alicorn, they would have to journey to these islands. 

Except that the island qilin had crossed the sea by magicking themselves across, swimming, and crossing the last of a long land bridge some draconequui had tempted them across, taunting the qilin to follow the stretch of rock and see if it was endless.

All that was gone now and no shouts crossed the sea. Even the serpents that were seen as tricky aunts and uncles by the qilin refused to listen to them. The naiads they shared blood with and had once been so close to left them for the sea ponies and the sirens when chaos fractured the world. He explained this predicament of all being together and cut off from so many others like them.

This was how Yongle came to know of Elysium's boats. 


...



With the might of young Elysium, the first imitation of what would once be a navy was built. Elysium's ability to assemble many stronger, larger, and longer rafts capable of supporting whole troops of qilin. Each one was a product of her own labor, all while the qilin watched in awe, knowing that time was of the essence, or otherwise, they would ask the young immortal how she devised such a thing — and how it could work. 

Weapons and supplies were readied, as were Canterhorn's promise to defend the mainland qilin left behind and lead them while Yongle and Elysium sailed away to the so-called Islands of the Sun.

On the way, Yongle and Elyisum's prowess in battle and the fighting spirit of the other qilin were bared to the sea serpents and abominations that threatened them. The latter were a creature unlike any horror Elysium had known: masses of contorted flesh and fur, multiple mouths with terrifyingly varied teeth, hideous huge stingers, mandibles capable of ripping ponies in half, numerous heads incapable of being identified beyond that, dozens of unusable wings ruined by salt, floundering snake-like bodies, and random protruding fins.

The bulging eyes reflected nothing but aggression and torment, and were usually studded across the body in positions that could only be painful — but thankfully easy targets — and were all pony-sized. Each was colored with the yellowed, red-pupil arrangement all draconequui had. None had any magic except to charge, struggle, attack, and swim. 

These beasts look like glorified, scaled tumors if those tumors had drunk all the malice of mortal-kind at their best. 

Yongle met the bellows of each such frightening mass by revealing his curling fangs with a snarl, the beard, and two flowing whiskers he had flowing half as furiously as Elysium's ethereal halo burned. 

He would yank each spear from them with his own cloven hooves, licking the blood of the beasts off, much to Elysium's repulsion. The 'whorls of fire' or intricate patterns growing over his scales would glow with the fire he would breathe over each spear before stabbing the dying beasts once again. 

After many victories, Yongle and his comrades would paint their scales with intricate, early pictographs Elysium had no meaning for — and refused to let any add them to her own coat. Yongle rocked their barge of a 'raft' by laughing heartily upon his back, the blood sigils on his snake-like belly facing the sky. Her distant attitude amused him in ways neither could understand of each other. 

It was on their third day of sailing and fighting that Elysium learned the abomination monsters-of-monsters that the qilin fought were the inevitable result when any draconequus mated with a pony, or a pony with a chaos-monster: a parasitic entity that was not birthed so much as it devoured the unlucky female of either species from the womb outward, bursting out as an inevitable terror that was the wretched spawn, consuming nothing intelligently and beyond all reason. The beasts were impervious to magic, and the draconequus heritage lent an unfortunate long life to that which could only be brought down in the most physically violent fashion. 

Given long enough, these brutal entities might come to bypass enough of their suffering to something temporarily manageable. Those with draconequus fathers had some perverse insult of 'luck' and would sometimes begin to shadow a draconequus needily with whatever half-mind they had remaining.

It was only in the shadow of the draconequus sire and with the touch of his magic that they would offer a deimatic inverse, shifting into a gooey appearance a fraction of their size, eager to please and follow that which brought them such suffering. 

The only description had for the beasts she could manage was 'smoozy'.



...



The islands where the qilin claimed the sun lived were foggy and defended by storms unlike any Elysium's coast had known. She dreaded all the weather of this half of the world and was the only one upon all the barges who had any ability with flying through any gale close to this. Worse still was how she was the only one who could convince drowned souls not to drag her friends-in-arms below the surface to their deaths. 

The sun-qilin had little difference in their motley of appearances, except for the manes and tails of the qilin that were so often pin-straight had been pulled away from their faces and cut short. The winds were terrible upon this shore and the salt of the air was familiar but unwanted. 

The sight of the moon-qilin upon the barges unseen before made these rival qilin light their horns in startled retaliation, smoke curling from their muzzles and snouts enviously. Their hoarding instinct had already been set off.

Elysium put herself between the two massive groups. Her horn's light intensified her constant halo and her wings flaring with the imperious air generations of mortal emperors would try to attain. As soon as she did so, every sun-qilin bowed low without warning.



...



Too many of the island-dwelling moon-qilin nearly choked on their fish in the market at the sight of another Alicorn. Their chatter was incessant and more cheerful than the hostility the sun-qilin were greeted with. Few pointed and those were usually foals. Mares pointed with their eyes, cradling their eggs too quietly for Elysium's liking. Mortals were rarely sneaky for any good reason. The silence was the Alicorns' nature, or so she had learned in the company of her friend. Alicorns did not need to be stimulated by the constant chatter and odd yearnings that drove nearly all mortal creatures to one another in droves. She enjoyed friendship, but there was something completely Other and desperate in the craving of these mortals. 

Upon every gateway, door, and banner was not just the bloody red orb of a painted sun but the fiery red image of a dozen creatures. Be it the image of a fish, dragon, qilin, dragon, pony, or even an Alicorn's image, the red creature was too prominent and purposeful. Even the direction that it pointed with claw, wing, or direction of the paintings' gaze was a sign unknown to Elysium.

She looked up to the snow-capped mountain looming over the fishing village, where the paths and gateways disappeared into the forests. 

The Alicorn must live there, but why? The solitude was good, Elysium was certain of that in a way she knew was more than just the Alicorn need for that wondrous way of life. But why have the other Alicorn in such a barren state? Would this Alicorn burn everything? Was that why they were depicted with fire? Was she supposed to work with an Alicorn as overblown as the suns shown in each art piece here? Would this Alicorn be little more than an inflated fool, hot-headed and juvenile in how they thought of their own goodness?

Perhaps the forests could bring some reprieve. The sun-qilin having little to say about them was welcoming enough. Elysium found that where mortals flocked to the least were often among the most magical, sanctifying places — the kind that called deeply to those like Canterhorn and her. 



...



The forests were the horror of the island. Too many souls were forsaken and weeping called to them from the path the sun-qilin were petrified to stray from when they ventured here at all. Those who still tried to study the ways of gods and ghosts barely fended those twisted from despair away from the party. The sun-qilin who guided them begged by their twin horns and the power of their ancestors — the dragons and the mountains so revered — to have the Alicorns do more to aid the spirits that were tormenting them. 

Canterhorn was quick to intimidate the ghosts haunting their party, though his magic was not as tuned to the spirits and warding against them as Elysium's was. She was a star of aura in the dark canopy with magic unseen to the qilin of the sun and moon.  She heard the calls of those spirits lost in a dark that brought anything but peace to her. They had accusations to the living, calls of wanting to return, and the weight of secrets burdening them all. These ghosts cried out for something that mortal society had to offer: their lives to have ended with more than drifting, for the wrong to get their due, and the good to get their rewards. 

From Canterhorn, Elysium had learned that Alicorns had their ways of discussing disagreements and the nature of problems in ways that ended not with raids and the primal resorts of mortals. They had no art of war or forms of the council like the Alicorns. Even the Alicorns admitted that they merely cast their wishes and spoke to one another from experience and their wants, all their opinions weighed similarly. There was no way such a system could endure, and certainly not as time went on and called for greater reasoning. None were able to speak that much more highly than another, and all decisions were rooted in the opinion of many than an expert assessment. 

Even the dead wanted their due, and they never stopped crying out for anything to relieve them from their torture or for righteous actions to befall others. Of the ghosts, Elysium longed to stop and speak with everyone, if only they had the time. Was this what the unknown Alicorn endured? The cries of these spirits? 

And in all her eternity that followed, she wished that these forests would have never gotten worse.

It was only in the land of the sun that the darkest shadows could be found below all that false light. Every horrible of that irony would weigh upon her with each face of a wandering wraith she saw.

Would this other Alicorn struggle with solutions for ghosts as she had?
> The Great Divorce, Part Four [Alicorn Pre-History]
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Alicorn introduced himself with fire and false faces. He burst into the clearing, coming out from the shade of the trees with streaks of flame curling in his flowing mane. Elysium spread her wings to shield her party of mixed qilin; she could see that he was an Alicorn in his eyes, for he looked at her with recognition of what she was. Then, from somewhere Elyisum could not see, came the light of an overwhelmingly bright aura. 

Though her heart pounded and she stood ready for battle, Elysium watched as one of the moon-qilin she arrived with pointed to his flank. Before the light fully obscured it, Elysium gasped. He was an Alicorn, beyond all doubt. Wings and mortal-defying magic aside, upon his flank was a great mark. A skull and black holly were emblazoned on his coat. Gone was the guise of a winged lion, though the flowing orange mane with a waving edge of fire stayed. His mark looked proper on his natural, equine form. The tail of the feline flicked, and in a flash, it was replaced by a flaming plume fit for an Alicorn. About his face was a wispy goat's beard of orange. Elysium watched the red-coated stallion emerge from his magic, his young face as bright as the two orange eyes that greeted her. 

He truly paid little heed to the party she protected. The flame-tipped feathers of the stallion folded neatly as soon as he caught sight of Elysium's nervous blush. 


...



The Alicorn stallion's name was Stolas, and he whispered it to Elysium, who worked with the qilin to translate. Other than a smattering of words she had no knowledge of, Stolas spoke the peculiar dialect of the sun-qilin and boasted knowledge of other tongues: moon-qilin, dragon, and more. He showed off the cave he lived in like it was a great mountain worthy of Canterhorn's praise. Elysium found herself snickering at how her friend would find this stallion's antics silly, for who boasts of a cave that way? Stolas had a humor to him, sharper than the talons of the longma, and his stories of the mainland qilin and their tradition of night-sneaking and moon-songs could be told alongside the stories of sun-qilin fighting mountain spirits to steal light. Eventually, all of them were laughing together.

Elysium could never recall a time when she felt true and happy among mortalkind. Stolas was company that did not try to guide and govern her like Canterhorn. He was a fellow star-orphan, who had lived and survived alone, honing his sorcery with no need, want, or the possibility of contact as she had. While all the qilin relished in the knowledge Stolas had of the precious stones that made up the majority of their diet, only Elyisum and the moon-qilin were pleased with his extensive knowledge of plants. The sun-qilin were disappointed they would not be to use Stolas as a source of information on the fish that were the non-gem staple of their diet.

The depths of the ghost forests were dangerous, and Elysium and Stolas were the ones tasked with gathering supplies while the qilin trained and rested at the cave. That was the way things had to be, for the qilin were tired from travel and the trauma of chaos upon the world left them with the need for tranquility. 

There was something about time with Stolas that made Elysium still feel like she was alone, even when he never stopped talking. Together, they made the effort to teach one another. She helped him with warcraft while he showed her new plants and magical skills. They ventured out, even during the perilous day, and managed to avoid an encounter with draconequui and their magic. Stolas told her all the tales of his travels alone, while Elysium was enraptured by the enormity of his theatrics. 
Stolas had never had a friend, and every tale of Elysium's journey with Canterhorn held a plethora of wonders for him just to hear about. He had an un-Alicorn streak of loneliness to him, one that brightened every time Elysium found herself explaining an enjoyable moment of camaraderie. Under his eyes were the dark circles of a stallion who did not sleep for the unhealthiest of reasons; he explained that the ghosts would find him if he did, and would he have no false faces and magic at hoof then. He resigned himself to wandering the forests and aiding the settlements he found- though, never for free. 
Elysium would offer him the rare sympathy she saved for Canterhorn and the ghosts, trying to offer the touch of her wing or a wither to lean on. Canterhorn and her had spent enough years traveling together to know that immortals could ease themselves into perfectly healthy sleepless periods for years or more; stress and suddenness were what took a toll, leading to the dark circles that Stolas sported.

After months in the haunted forests of the sun-qilin islands, Stolas finally agreed to make the trip across the ocean. Elysium had grown fond enough of him to nuzzle him, and her golden light was always brighter at the thought of Stolas. She could no longer sneak up upon him with surprises of gifts gathered from sun-qilin settlements because all too often he would spoil her desire to show generous favoritism by looking into the memory orbs of flame that he was able to use for scrying. 

Qilin of both groups were eager to venture out from the forest canopies. They were now leaner, stronger, and now knew that neutrality was better to present than niceness. They accepted the gifts of supplies provided by the settlement and called for more friends and kin alike to join them. The promise of glory in battle and seeing the far reaches of the world was stronger than any ties of blood and home, so many were quick to pack and leave for the shore. Entirely new fleets of boats were under construction to support all the new troops, and the new methods devised by Elysium and Stolas ensured that boats would be offered as compensation for qilin fighters and depleted hoards.

With the sun-qilin satisfied, Elysium and Stolas set sail with their first army. Back to the mainland, Canterhorn, and forwards into war. 


...



Canterhorn welcomed the two younger Alicorns eagerly. During Elysium's time away, the elder stallion had managed to restore some of the finer semblances of civilization to the sun-qilin. They thrived under his protection and were awed by his great magics; for the first time ever they no longer had to deplete herb stores over common ailments and previously mortal injuries were no longer succumbed to. They spent their moon cycles organizing feasts and leisures that even those who knew the history of qilinkind and dragons said were absent. The first holidays could now be celebrated and even in such dire times all because of the Alicorns. 

Joining the rank of the worshipped Alicorns, dragons, and ancestors were the mountains. Canterhorn's hold over them had shown the qilin the full power of the peaks that rose above the land. The returning moon-qilin led their sun-qilin in arms and the young Alicorns into a great welcome home festival, with feasts in their names and the promise of a great war to come. Moon-qilin of the mainland only held their festivities at night, and for the first time in ages, they felt no fear in lighting lanterns and keeping open fires. Three eternal souls would now protect them. 

Stolas had not seen the mainland in the centuries since he had crossed the land bridge to find the sun-swallowing islands where the draconequui did not reach. All had grown different with time, and Elysium delighted in showing it all to him. Instead of lingering where their qilin armies celebrated, or quietly basking in the joyous celebration around the feast like Canterhorn, Elysium allowed herself to be whisked away by Stolas.

Even without the dishonesty of his shifting magic, there were sides to him that Elysium hadn't known. He had confessed to her that the reason he used his talents of scrying and shifting was not just because there was a sliver of something he enjoyed in dishonesty and disguise, but because of how he handled ghosts on the sun-swallowing islands. Instead of wishing to evaluate them so thoroughly as Elysium did and offer the good among them respite, he preferred to snag the wicked from their ranks. He had seen those who evaded what they had truly earned in mortal life and found it fitting to give them rightly-earned torment. 

Only Stolas had the same draw to the ghosts of mortals as Elysium did, and she had no one else to trade conversations about ghosts. Even more than that, he was the only one who ever joined her in her speculations about what to do with the ghosts. They would weave their way through the trees, seeing if there was a straying spirit drawn to their magic. Stolas rarely kept an eye on her like Canterhorn did, but always extended a hoof to help her along. 

At the highest peak in the valley, they could watch the web of lantern lights, and the mortals who were so much like ants below them. And they could do it together, savoring the company of the one they really wanted to be spending time with each other. 



...



After many nights of songs, dances, and feasting, Canterhorn held a meeting with Elysium and Stolas. He explained to them the graveness of the wider world that would never be helped without them. Stolas was vital to their cause, and Canterhorn held none of the World Tree's words from him. With the agreement of the two younger Alicorns, the plan was made to leave under the light of the next night.

When that night came, the Alicorns went to the sun-qilin Yongle and the sun-qilin representative. Only the latter was willing to follow the Alicorns out of the vast land of the qilin and help the Alicorns in further amassing their armies to march against the draconequui. Yongle expressed only sorrow that the greatest security and friendships he had would now be gone, and he would be left to defend his kind and build his city all on his own. 

But it was what must be done, and the Alicorns left with great fanfare. Nowhere else in the world was there such rejoicing, but in the mist-ringed mountains, the songs and cheers of the qilin rang. One small part of the world had harmony if they could defend it. 



...



Canterhorn was able to help the rallied qilin perfect their art of smithing and introduce new concepts to them, pulled straight from the halls of the Alicorns. With the aid of dragon-kin, the qilin crafted fireworks for war and peacetimes. The band traveled to the land of the zebra, boar, and other creatures where the medicine of the qilin became perfected and they found more creatures willing to support them. Here, Elysium worked with mortals to build bigger, better boats that could sail their troops from continent to continent if need be but was mostly for wars at sea. It was here that she also learned that Stolas used his talent for shapeshifting to be dishonest, and for him, it was a helpful thing in life. This confused and fascinated her, but she always had much time to work and little time to think about it, though she knew it was something she would have to judge eventually.

And maybe, just maybe, her feelings got in the way.

Together, they ventured deep into the lands of the zebra, boar, giraffe, hyena, and other creatures. Rhinos and hippos had joined them, trained by the qilin armies and Canterhorn in the art of war, unlike mortals who had known it before. There, they found Anarchy, a fearsome witch among the draconequui who brought only disease to thought and undoing to any society, no matter how small. She drove mortals against one another as easily as snapping. 

Canterhorn fought with her and the mountains were leveled into savannah. Elysium and Stolas joined in soon after, not wanting their mortal friends to take the brunt of Anarchy's attacks. The mortals were helpless to her magic; it was never a fair fight. Many perished anyway, and rivers ran red. However, clever Stolas and Elysium had been working on something fitting for lovers of their kind. While Canterhorn fought for his wife with unparalleled ferocity, the young union had magic and might of their own.

The magic of the draconequui could not move the dead. With their magic combined, Elysium and Stolas called every ghost that had clogged the region from the start of time. They called the spirits of their lost friends from here and along the way. Their legions soon flooded with faces that would not perish, and the living were outnumbered by ranks of dead.

Canterhorn helped the younger Alicorns jostle the continent, and the swarm of ghosts pushed anarchy down a faultline's chasm. By the time she would be able to wake, escape, and heal from everything done to her, there would be more Alicorns and more weapons against her kind. She would only be a mortal fear.

That day, three Alicorns knew that victory over the draconequui was possible, and they lead the marches of the dead onward to the next sunrise. 



...



Mayhem was a male draconequus as fond of females as he was of his namesake. He was found with the gaggle of females that had each been tormenting the world around them in hopes of impressing him. Calamity, Disorder, Furor, and Hullabloo all whined and threw tantrums taken out on the world in the attempts at seduction that were directed at Mayhem. Only great old Anarchy was missing. Every one of them eyed the scouts from the qilin (who had yet to split into different nations) with a very real, predatory hunger. Like the dragons, they were not averse to eating meat.

When the ghosts swarmed in and joined rank with the living scouts, the harem began to stir with discontent. The presence of Elysium and Stolas swooping in had them imitating their friend Frenzy. The young union faced down their many foes,  not simply leading their troops into battle, but also harnessing greater magics than their previous encounter.

For days, the battle wore on and the ghosts grew in ranks until Stolas and Elysium let loose their most elaborate magic yet, tearing at the threads of Midgard until the force of their powers tore them apart with a cry.



...



They woke up in separate realms, each place was bursting with magic in a new, fantastical landscape. Unknowingly, the couple was so connected in their love that in their expressions of despair at the sudden loss of one another, the two star-orphans mimicked each other's movements. Elysium's tears flowed freely, and even Stolas shed some when he could not break his way out of his newfound realm to reach his mare. 

Harmonia spoke to them both together, while apart.


Your other half is well
You need not let loose another spell
These are your god's worlds here
A plane of Verity for one young mare, my dear
And for the young stallion, I see that Righteousness has chosen you
Though I am not yet through, none of you need to look so blue
Embrace your worlds and they will let you go
Yet your tasks are not through, I hope you know
I judge that you mention marriage to Canterhorn soon
Should you accept then arise, my Union of Justice for I have more boons
Justice, divided in half, a union of two gods for balance forever

Elysium, true of heart and hoof, know your name 
Escape this plane into everlasting fame
Stolas, I ask you to do the same
To figure out what you two are within Justice is the last step of this game

Next, with your newfound power, I ask that you seek two lands
The planes of Paradise and Tartarus with are perfect for your plans


Though separately confined, the two Alicorns calmed their shaky breathing. They quieted their minds with thoughts of the other and of the present, letting the magic of the realm flow into them and help name what they were as half of Justice.  

"Judgement," Elysium whispered, relief flooding her voice and the actualization dawning on her as the sun touched her again. 

"Punishment," murmured Stolas, shifting his wings with a new sense of comfort. He felt the world change around him, and the next thing he knew, he could sense Elysium sitting across from him again.

The battle was over. Canterhorn had thrown the draconequui into the sea they put their smooze in, and it was in the deepest trenches that the sea ponies would tie them. Rumor had it that there was a prince under the waves who might know what to do. They had won, just as Stolas had won the right to shift into griffon form and try to squeeze Elysium's lungs out of her in a hug.

Here they were, the god of justice, broken down to its two most fundamental elements and spread across two souls. 



...



Stolas and Elysium meditated in their realms. Not only were they as well-suited to each Alicorn as a spouse, but they had much to think of. For one, there was marriage. It was an Alicorn rite, one passed down to mortals in time, and was meant to honor the commitment for as long as the parties were able to. Unless something went wrong, and considering the immortal origins, that usually meant eternity (or, in the case of mortals, until death). Would they want it? Could they justify it in these dark times? Did it mean foals in the future?

And what of all the draconequui that they had to defeat? There were still Echidna, Frenzy, Uproar, Entropy, Babel, Tezcatlipoca, Strife, Achlys, Tlaloc, Havoc, Turmoil, Tumult, Bedlam, Chimera, and Xiuhtecuhtli. Those were all the draconequui that Canterhorn had found during his time alone or on his treks protecting Elysium when they still had to evade instead of fight. 

They were enough to make regular deep-sea fare like Scylla and Charybdis come across as peaceful. Elysium had braved enough serpents and sea monsters to know she only met a fraction of the ocean in her lifetime. She wasn't ready to change that, even if she was a warrior. The thought of settling down somewhere safe enough to have foals in an era of peace with none other than Stolas appealed to her. 

For Stolas, he was certain he wanted Elysium in his life no matter what. He felt his thoughts of struggling to discern what he wanted her to be were naught but war anxieties. How could anyone see the future clearly through battle after battle? How could anyone envision an end to this? With that, he could accept that it was not his fault if his confidence was not unshakeable. Time together would tell if Elysium and him could make a life together. 

He left his realm fist, half-confident and ready to find Canterhorn. Beautiful Elysium left moments later, her head held eye.

All the ghosts in their corner of the world would be invited to their wedding. 



...



Paradise and Tartarus were found by complete accident. It was the honeymoon of Stolas and Elysium with the night itself as their wedding canopy. They were trying to find somewhere safe in jungles and savannahs where the loss of the two gods meant failure for the world. In an attempt to go beyond their realms, they found a shake and a tear where they were plunged somewhere utterly new. 

Rolling plains, vast forests, sky-scraping crystals, the purest waters, rocky gorges, and more were in harmony. They stretched farther than the two Alicorns could see even when they flew far above the treelines of the biggest forest they could find. All they could see looming in the distance was a warped mountain of rock and crystalline bits that look like it could be shaped into a towering castle like the mountain Alicorns had. 

Right before their wedding, Harmonia visited them again. She told them that Paradise and Tartarus were not personal god-worlds, as if she hadn't made that clear the first time, and that it would take great push and pull of the planes to uncover them in such a dire time when the layers of the world wished to retreat from the reach of the draconequui, lest one of them become a god. She said that they were eternal realms that the new gods needed to find before the draconequui and that they needed to be severed from direct access from the planet. This, of course, meant that anywhere across the planet, numerous gateways existed anywhere on the planet and at any time some creature could wander into either one, which have stood since the dawn of Havenfell's creation. These attached realms needed to be even more hidden than the planes of magic that attached to immortals and worked their godhood into being, severing themselves from Havenfell.

The Union of Justice's first real task would be to sever Paradise and Tartarus away from the planet into this state of everlasting connection, but one that was thankfully invisible. All gateways would have to be by choice. They would need guards. There could not be many of them. The draconequui could not claim these realms for themselves. 

"Is this..." Elysium breathed, pumping her wings higher toward the twin sky. Above them, an achingly eternal twilight shone over the land. 

"...Paradise?" Stolas finished for her. 

As soon as he spoke the name, the stars rippled and winked like a symphony of lights. The clouds roiled and churned into perfect lazy swirls high above the land. The air from the trees grew sweeter. 

The two Alicorns cheered, but they knew that they must find the twin to this world. They began to look.



...



While Elysium took to the skies, it was Stolas who found that they were not alone. Under the trees he found the source of shuffling and barking where he hadn't heard any previously in this silent land. Dogs in earthy hues were hopping around on the ground, wrestling, and scratching at themselves as dogs did. They had caused too much commotion among themselves to notice when Stolas approached. He was able to sneak up on them, and it is there that he saw that they were no ordinary dogs Their limbs were numerous. Dogs with two heads ran about on uneven numbers of limbs. Dogs with many legs dug holes and rolled about on the ground. One dog, the biggest of the young-looking ones, had three heads and a darker coat. 

When Stolas trotted over to them, he too took the form of a multi-limbed dog. He let them sniff him and see that he was no threat. Then, he followed them when they retreated to their den through the trees and into a cave of Midgard, yet he refused to go join them. Some of the dogs stayed back with him, others went to join the rest of their feral, mismatched families. This was not Tartarus, but it was important. No other animal life lurked in the forest except for these dogs.
Stolas, whispered the trees. Harmonia's voice sounded farther away than ever before. Soon, he could see why: the crystalline root from Harmonia that was reaching through the Midgard entryway was small and thin. It looked as though it had been spun from glass and dew.

"Yes?" he murmured quickly, through the gritted dog teeth of his form.


Draconequus magic may be the culprit to what you see
All that has led to the present condition of these creatures is cloudy

What I can declare is this: when they spilled into this realm they were dying and sick
This has led to the realms' greatest secrets from possibly becoming known and among the enemy's tricks
See these orthrus dogs, watch them howl and bay
Listen closely, and I shall finally tell you the way

Those betwixt life and death and brought to these realms will live forever
This potentiality for so many immortals must not be given freely, never

The Union of Justice shall guard these places and do with them what you will
Yet keep them from the dastardly hooves, paws, and claws that would use them for ill

I grant you guardianship over these everlasting hounds
May their accidental immortality advise you how to properly set bounds


The root retreated as soon as the last word was whispered. The sound it made was like a dragonfly darting by in a swift breeze, with a glass-like chiming following as the thin root retreated into a crack on the Midgard side. By now he had stood tall, backing out from the arch of trees that led to the Midgaardian cave. He let his canine disguise fall and he was crowded by the dogs who were eager to greet his true form. Stolas knew that he had to find his way back to Elysium, and he knew not the ends of this realm, or if it ended at all. 

He hadn't found Tartarus, but he found something better. Stolas turned to the dogs and whistled towards the three-headed black dog. "Will you follow me, little friend? I promise only good things for the rest of your kind, that they will multiply, and that they may be loved by creatures like my mortal ponies for ages to come."

Two drooling heads cocked to the side curiously, and the dog trotted over to Stolas.

"I will call you Cerberus," he said, patting each one of the heads and scratching each dog under the chin. "For now, you will follow me and I will introduce you to my wife. You are going to be a splendid gift in our lives, for in all the time I have lived in Havenfell, I have never had a companion. That bothers me, you know. Elysium is purer in her absence of sociability towards other creatures, but I think I understand the draconequui somewhat in their need to meddle. You shall always have a home with me, no matter the season. I know I shall have something special awaiting you."

With his gentlest magic, he scooped up the newly-named dog and placed the pup snugly upon his back. Time to search for Elysium. He ached at having to leave the rest of the strange dogs. The name Harmonia gave them escaped him. But he knew that even in his absence, they would be well. Harmonia had said that every single one of them was immortal, and that meant Stolas and Cerberus would have friends to come back to. They may look lean with hunger, but true immortals did not need to eat. Their bodies had yet to get used to this, soon their latent sustaining magic would kick in. When the war was done, he would come back for them and give them a feast. For now, the realm that sapped all need for food could do its work and they could be safe betwixt the worlds of Paradise and Midgard. 



...



He found Elysium at the mouth of the greatest gorge either of the two had seen. The dark rocks were just short of black, and the kind of gray that comes from being soaked by the sea. Yet, not a drop of water could be found. All around them was naught but rocks. Each of them had flown over this canyon — oh, how even that seemed to be too small of a word — thinking that they had just been too high to see the bottom and that all the darkness was because water may have obscured it. Now they saw the truth. This place cradled shadows and was barren of any hint of water, without a hint of the way down. 

The length of the chasm was unclear, it stretched on as endlessly as the realm did, and despite the irregular shape nature gave it, both could tell that they stood at the swell. The widest point was the closest to a specific landmark as any from the groves, caves, and smaller rock faces that Stolas had been investigating. Oh, how the two Alicorns wished for Canterhorn to be with them. His magic would be able to read the riddles of the stone to the two younger equines. 

"I checked that mountain. Every stone, natural cave, and crystal. There is no Tartarus there that I can find." Elysium said. "I started muttering the name out loud to myself while I was flying, and when I flew around here, there was a tug to my words. Listen, darling. Tartarus, Tartarus, Tartarus."

At her chant, something happened and all three creatures lifted their ears. The sound of rocks shifting rose from deep in the chasm. The clarity of the name grew like a song each time Elysium said it, an unintentional emphasis happening where the name seemed to devour everything before it in her sentence until only the certainty of the name remained. 

The newlyweds nodded to each other and stretched out their wings, each grazing the feathers of the other with tender affection in the process. The two young gods and their new dog plummeted into the dark. Hundreds of thousands of years and farther in the future, griffons would invent bullets, and yet those would not travel with the deadly, straightforward focus of Elysium on her plunge. Stolas followed afterward, trying to strike a balance between swift and steady with Cerberus on his back. He knew he still needed to follow his wife. 

When they arrived at the bottom, the wideness of the chasm meant nothing. They could see only the pale illumination of the steps in front of them, the light of each others' eyes, and the outline of another's form. All the light that shone down below was like what an ant in a tomb might see.

"Tartarus, Tartarus, Tartarus," Elysium chanted again. 

The groan of creation answered them. The jangle of stone against stone shook somewhere in the shadow.

The two gods wasted no more time, they followed the sound deep into the dark and caught sight of something that sent both of their hearts galloping. Spread before them was a door wide enough to encircle a few mountains and so tall that the highest point was barely not obscured in shadow. There was nothing to roll the door away and no hint that it would. The trim was a familiar sight: a crystalline root of many hues would its way around the edges of the vault like the trim on a basket, with the root trailing off into the dark. The immense vault door was shaped like a serpent with eyes of the darkest onyx in might sockets and teeth so pale and sharp they almost looked real as the serpent devoured itself. No detail had been spared on the scales. 

"Tartarus," whispered Stolas at last, and behind the vault, a solemn thrum of understanding resonated. 

You have indeed found the place where all gates to Tartarus converge, came the steady voice of Harmonia. It is well-connected with Paradise, yet to sever either of these realms from my planet, you must know them both.

"Must we go inside?" Elysium fluttered her wings nervously. "We have an innocent with us." She nodded towards Cerberus.

"We also do not know if we will come back in one piece if we face whatever is on the other side of that door..." Stolas said grimly. He rolled his withers so that Cerberus scooted closer to him. 

How observant of you, came that flat, delicate tone. And do understand, that is a compliment. The realm is not fond of many. It was created by consequence, not on purpose. Destruction is not within me, not of my own creation. Tartarus may yet have a use. It tells me that it shall only accept the most worthy and visionary to shape it. This is no mere realm of fire or icy darkness like a prison. A thousand torments are nothing to what this realm can grow to be. The potential for more to dwell within is always there. You three need not go inside. I especially would not want to see either of you two lost among its untamed grounds, nor would I wish to see little Cerberus mauled and frightened.

The two Alicorns nodded solemnly.

Go back to Midgard, my champions, came Harmonia's faint whisper. There is still work to be done.



...



In the morning Canterhorn was flooded with the realm-hopping tale of the two newlywedded gods and with many kisses from Cerberus. He had been spending much of his time repairing what he could of the earth. In their battle with Anarchy, nearly all the mountains had been flattened and wiped out to what could only be savannah land in the foreseeable future. After battling the harem, wounds had still been made in the world, and those would always need to be filled. When his wife, Helena, was freed he would tell her of the many important duties he had learned. Together, they could use it to better their two kingdoms, her minotaur and the ponies they shared. 

When Helena was free to unmerge, he would tell her all about how necessary it would be for their future foals to learn of such stewardship. Spending time with the young Elysium and Stolas made him long for all the wonders of family. He knew in his heart that he could take care of foals just as well as he could help the two star-orphan youth.

While the two young gods spend more time together, both as lovers and planners, it was Canterhorn who sheltered troops and used his magic to know the earth. From where the vast armies of Elysium and Stolas were located, he used his skills to read the world. There were three things that they always needed to find. The first was food and water for the living troop. The second was an area that drew large quantities of ghosts and wore all the signs of haunted land, that way they could recruit the dead. The last important signs to read were all the signs of chaos and corruption upon the world, and how the ghosts felled by them turned their illness and emotion onto the land itself. Those signs would lead them to more draconequui.



...



Elysium and Stolas knew what they had to do to sever the realms.  First, they deposited Cerberus with their armies where he would be cared for and a safe distance from their magic. Next, they flew to where they had been when they found Paradise. Then, they united their magic and set it free. They probed past the visible world, past all that could be easily touched, and into the vast unseen magic of things. 

They felt magic without borders, every localized leyline, and the presence of every living creature's unique magical signature. The burden of it struck them from the skies where they had been readying for their ritual and weighed upon their wings with a might beyond any yoke and stone. The experience was like being temporarily stripped of skin and imbuing every last nerve with the capability of five non-magical senses and then widening the awareness of those new senses to whole continents. 

Sweat poured down the faces of Stolas and Elysium who bravely pressed on to do what only gods could. They found the intangible essence and forms of Paradise and Tartarus. Touching both of them with their own magic sent the signals of hearing the name of each did right to their minds, giving them the awareness of the intentions of the realms. With the forms secured, they proceeded to encircle every scrap of Paradise and Tartarus where they intertwined with Midgard. Then, they began the proper severance — pouring all of the magic of their talents, Alicorn might, and all that they had learned in their lives into the permanent unraveling of the bond to Midgard. Together, they thought of the deep canyon that they had ventured down and of all the power that it would take to make something like that through magic. Only Alicorns and draconequui had the capability of achieving such things, and two of them working together were better than one of them making an attempt alone — so they continued to pour forth their power, their auras mingling and blending before their eyes until they finally released the magic.

Elysium and Stolas found themselves each flung in opposite directions, breaking trees in half with the force of how they were thrown from one another. The world trembled and bent like a pulse of air had popped and sent ripples all throughout the world. The rings of Stolas' and Elysium's magic went with them, traveling outward and never losing luminance even as they lost sight of it.

The severance was complete; only pinpricks of the strongest paths to the gates of Tartarus were left intact. Stolas had plans for them, ones that would keep mortals out for good, but permit some level of accessibility of his plans — and what plans he had! The feat he performed with Elysium flooded him with inspiration on how he might put Tartarus to use. When he looked at her, something in her eyes told her that she was thinking similarly — though, he hoped she was thinking of Paradise, for he wanted to make Tartarus into something truly unique that the young world was in great need of.

The couple groaned as they rose to their legs, lighting their horns to heal themselves where any wound or breakage could be found until they were as pristine as when they started. Only now, there was a light brighter in Stolas' eyes and Elysium's halo shone even more than it did before. Their manes and tales flowed all the more proudly. 

Stolas and Elysium knew the draconequui would come, such displays of magic couldn't go unnoticed around the world, and certainly not to creatures whose more mature members could habitually sense such things. 



...



It took much time, but eventually, the draconequui found the armies of Canterhorn, Stolas, and Elysium. All three of the gods were rested and ready. Their armies were overflowing with ranks of living and dead alike. 

Echidna had curses fired at her from legions of unicorns and qilin until patches of her body were plagued with gemstones, then had dragons set upon her

Frenzy was tied to Uproar and sealed together with the power of three Alicorns. Their hatred drove them to pummel entire canyon systems into being and bite at each other until their forms were scrap and blood. Their souls would regrow their bodies in the span of centuries at the earliest. That was more than enough time for the world to heal and the Alicorns to be ready.

Canterhorn kicked Entropy into space.

Babel was buried at the curst of the earth below the deepest desert with only a mere tower to grace the spot of his prison of so many eons. 

Tezcatlipoca was hacked to pieces in battle and had his body scattered about the continent, with gallons of his blood given to zebra witch doctors. His soul was loose, and like Frenzy and Uproar, he would return in time, but by then he would be made to learn his lesson again if he dared attempt anything.

Strife was squashed beneath uninhabited mountains on what would one day become Mirkaysia.

Achlys was slain weeping for strife by legions composed of those made childless mothers due to the draconequui, with the ghosts of their young aiding them as they were able. Her bones were ground to dust with the knowledge that she would return again.

Tlaloc was thrown into a volcano and locked in its heart. 

Havoc had the lush land of Brumbralia piled upon him until his anger dried the vast island and his magic seeped into the evolutionary patterns of the non-sapient wildlife

Turmoil was swarmed by ghosts that drove him madder than before and ran hiding among the ancestors of the changelings for many thousands of years. 

Tumult was locked in where three tectonic plates met and left to be stretched. Cerberus also bit him many times with each of his heads. 

Bedlam was eaten alive by leviathans and tatzlwurms, all knew that he would return one day, as immortals do.

Chimera was turned into water and had his form poured out at different points of the Eastern continent and frozen in what would become Sibearia. 

Xiuhtecuhtli was turned over to the ocean and kept in a prison of its deepest trenches for many lifetimes.

With the defeat of the last draconequus, rejoicing like no other shook the world. Even the festivals of Alicorns at the time could not compare to the revelry of the world's dead no longer haunted but hopeful, and all the creatures that migrated with the gods now celebrating a victory many years in the making. It was after the draconequui had been stilled for some time that announcements were made. The majority of the qilin would return to their land, and many others among the living would follow in their steps. Canterhorn would go coax the mountain Alicorns out again. 

Only the innumerable legions of dead were left with nowhere and nothing, which was exactly what they had before, and they began to lament. 

This was stopped by Elysium and Stolas who used the Voice of the Alicorns to capture the attention of the living and the dead alike. They declared that the norm of ghosts in the world would end, and with their magic combined, they opened the way to Paradise. There, Elysium raised the first platform for judgment and Stolas began to brave Tartarus. All the ghosts who joined them had been good souls in life, and in Paradise they found themselves restored and Elysium gifted those judged good with knowledge life deprived them of. With all the souls that she judged fair, they worked together to give shape to her crystal behemoth of a castle, Paradise Estate. 

All the ghosts of the world would need to be rounded up. All the evil spirits in the world would need to face their side of eternal judgment — the tortures that Stolas was crafting. Meanwhile, at the Gate of Gates, Cerberus grew well and was loved. His own magic thrived and manifested as bilocation: all gates of Tartarus that remained would have him there, always, and all at once. 

Stolas braved the rivers of Tartarus which he named Styx, Acheron, Phlegethon, and Cocytus. Their unique waters were the tamest abnormalities in the vast and varied landscapes of the underworld. Stolas erected a fortress, one safe area where he could oversee everything, and it became known as the Volcano of Gloom. He set up Tartarus so that it was filled with lands of ever-increasing torture, as well as a section of naught but cold and solitary jails that the mightiest magic guarded. Fire and ice were but tame offerings. Above all else, Stolas found that Tartarus chose him as only Elysium had before; his magic was magnified and his ideas never had to stay so anymore. All he wanted could be manifest in Tartarus, the realm welcomed eagerly and accepted all that he gave it while awaiting its future eternal residents. Without the previous level of ties to Havenfell, there was something richer and more magical about both realms.

Now the age of ghosts had truly begun perhaps all would be well.