> Fate's Plaything
>  by Evergreen_shadow
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Yup, saw that coming.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You ever have one of those days where nothing quite goes right? 

Missed your bus to school or work? Boss makes you work overtime because you incorrectly filed a single document? Your dog got run over and the guy gets the nerve to yell at you for not keeping him on a leash?  Yeah, I can relate. We all have those days.

Those days generally don't, however, end with you lying on your back in some remote desert in a pool of your own blood, riddled with shrapnel wounds and wondering which would be your last breath.

Funny, I knew something was off the moment we started this convoy. I just knew it. I've always had a sort of sixth sense about things, a subtle feeling of, "huh, how funny would it be if this happened?" I've always been able to guess what would happen several seconds before it did, from conversations to avoiding car collisions. My sense of the near future even saved my life on more than one occasion.

This was not one of those times. This was one of those, "I told you so, stupid," times. 

Because somehow, I knew we'd get hit. Just before we set out, I thought, "Huh, how funny would it be..." Sure enough, about an hour in, a barrage of RPGs broadsides out convoy. Most of us make it out of the Humvees alright, including me and a buddy of mine. 

Of course, right as we are clear of the burning truck, "Huh, wouldn't it be funny if..."

I looked up in the sky, and, against all odds, I noticed a tiny black dot silhouetted against the moon. I knew there was no way we'd survive if I did anything else. So, I minimized the overall damage, did the stupid thing, and grabbed my buddy by the neck of his flak vest and flung him behind me randomly with adrenaline enhanced strength. Hopefully, I can at least shield him from the worst of it.

A second and a half later, the blast catches me in the side and launches me against the side of the truck. I roll off and crumple in a heap beside the blackened crater. On the upside, I'm 96% sure that my friend is OK, since I tossed him clear over the nearest outcropping of rocks, shielding him from the mortar that dropped next to us. Thinking back to a lecture from an old EOD specialist, I vaguely remember that these things have a damage radius of about 150 feet. And a lethal radius of about 50. I had no more that 10 feet of clearance when that thing went off. There isn't a doubt in my mind that I am going to die. 

Resigned to this, I stare up at the stark white full moon in a cloudless night sky. I had never noticed before, but without the city lights, the night here was awash with more stars than I could even fathom. It's so beautiful, I can't help but cry, knowing I'd never see another night like this again.So very many things I'd miss now. Pristine night skies. The feel of an ocean breeze as I sit on rocky outcroppings, watching the turn off the tides. The hum of the city buzzing about me. The gentle laughter of friends.

The warm embrace of my beloved Tempest.

My heart skips a beat, and not because of shock, though that will probably follow soon enough. I'd told her I'd come home. I told her nothing would happen to me. After all, what could happen to an Air Force comm nerd setting up servers at the center of a well defended base? Guess I missed the part of the brief where I needed to be escorted with other key personnel to an outpost through known hostile territory.

I broke my promise. I swore to her and myself I wouldn't lie to her. And here I am, dying, breaking two promises at the same time. My face, caked with dirt and sand over congealed blood, now feels freshly wet as tears flow out of my eyes. the weight of the world bears down on me. I feel as though I'm being crushed, yet nothing lies against me. My own regret and sorrow at the terrible wrong I've done is now driving the last of my life out. A small spark of anger jumps up within me. What cruel fate was this? I cared nothing of my own life. Seeing her happy was what made everything I did worthwhile. Hearing this would crush her. The last thing I would ever do is make her sad. 

Vaguely, I perceive someone calling my name, but the sound is muted, distorted, as if I am underwater. I turn my head towards the sound. SrA Wolfe, my friend whom I threw clear of the blast, crawls toward me, face stricken. He reaches me, looking me over. His face becomes, if possible, even more anguished, and he turns, calling out, though I can't make out what he's saying anymore. Another figure enters my field of vision; the medic of the convoy stands over me, the professionalism of his post keeping his expression in check and his attendance to my condition quick and precise. It doesn't take him long. he steps back from me, shaking his head and saying something to Wolfe. Wolfe defiantly shakes his head, and yells at the medic. I can easily imagine him asking why he can't do anything for me. Through my misery, a small bit of my old cynical humor comes back.

I cough, and croak out, "Doctors patch you up. Medics just make you feel better when you die."

Wolfe whips his head towards me, shocked. He says something completely intelligible to me, though I'm guessing something along the lines of the dumbest question ever asked, "Are you ok?"

I just shake my head and reach up, grabbing his collar and letting gravity pull his head towards me. 

'W-Wolfe, do me a favor, w-would ya? Tell her I love her. Tell her, I'm s-sorry.... I-I'm s-sorry I... b-broke my prom... my p-prom..."

My breath hitches, my grip goes slack, and suddenly I'm falling away from Wolfe and the medic. Falling into darkness. Huh. If this was dying, it wasn't so bad after all. Albeit dark and lonely. Still, it was quiet and painless.

All of a sudden, I jerked to a halt, my fall abruptly ending, as if I reached the end of a bungee line, without the sudden rebound. I hung there for some time, in total void. Seconds or years, I could not guess. I wasn't even aware that time passed. I just waited.

"Hmm."

I started and looked around, started by the sudden noise in what was total nothingness. 

I tried to shout out, but no noise sounded.

"That... That can't be right..."

Looking around for the voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere, I suddenly noticed a patch of illumination. Not a source of light, just an illuminated area. And in that illuminated area floated a man. He was average of height, thin and pale, with high cheekbones, a thin, pointed chin, dark hair and monochromatic clothing, composed of black slacks and a black trench coat over a generic gray shirt. He was also barefoot for some reason. I suppose being within a void meant you didn't need shoes. But then, why wear clothes at all?

Most unique about this man were his eyes, which were a somber, dark blue, and held a weariness within them, balanced by an immeasurable amount of sympathy. The creases on his forehead and cheeks told of a man with a deep regret, though currently they were folded in a different way, more in line with deep thought leading to irritation as his eyes flitted between what appeared to be an iPad and an ornate hourglass.

I tried once again to speak, but, as before, my voice died before it left my mouth, even though I continued to try to speak. This time, however, he seemed to take notice of me.

"I'm sorry my dear boy, it's been so long since someone has come to THIS realm, I forgot that there is no sound but what I say. That is, unless I will it. Please, do speak."

Not feeling any different, I speak out.

"Who are you?"I frown at my voice; it sounds hollow and washed out, like an emotionless murmur from across a snowy field, yet the man seems to hear me fine. He chuckles lightly.

"Heh, not exactly the most polite thing to do, ask a man his identity within his realm without identifying yourself first. That could get you into trouble, dear boy." I open my mouth to apologize, realizing my rudeness at once, though somewhat irritated at this response, seeing how I DID just die, but the man forestalls me with a raised hand.

"Not to worry dear boy. You've been through a lot, so I wont fault you your error. In any event, I know who you are, so no need to identify yourself. Now to introduce myself. I am the master of atrophy, the bringer of the end. I am the reaper, and you are my harvest. I am the keeper of souls. I am Death."

Now, any other time, like if I had lain in a hospital bed the day before, or if I was in a car wreck, I would have probably denied it. There's no way I could have died, surely there's been a mistake? But, seeing as how I've recently been blown up and contemplated the fact that I was dying at the time, it doesn't really surprise me at all that I'm meeting Death himself, as it were. And considering that I had just saved my buddy, been blown up, realized that I broke a promise (well, technically two) to my fiancé, contemplated my death, died in earnest and floated through Death's own realm, all in what seemed to be no more than 10 minutes, I do the only  thing that made sense.

Death for his part, seems utterly nonplussed at my wild swings between hysterical laughter and hysterical sobs. Not that I take any notice. I'm a little too busy grappling with the fact that I was am and truly dead. I mean, what the actual hell man? I am dead, there is nothing I can do about it, and I don't know what I did to deserve it! So I laugh. Like a madman. And cry. Like some overly emotional Team Jacob fangirl at the end of Eclipse (don't ask me how I know this...) And the whole time, Death is... Standing..? Floating...? I don't know, existing there, looking like this is the first time someone has gone completely batshit at the fact that they had just died.However, he doesn't interrupt me. He just stands by as I work it out of my system. Eventually, my laughter subsides and my sobs jerk to a halt, and I take deep, steadying breaths to calm myself. 

"Well now, feeling better, dear boy?" Death asks, concerned.

"Would you?" I respond dully.

"I suppose not," he sighs. He looks down at his tablet. "Still though..."

"Still what?" I ask. "What did you mean before, when you said 'That can't be right?'"

"Well, not to be cliche or anything, but, in all honesty, it wasn't your time."You know, I had always wondered what it would be like to be frozen in a block of ice. I think it would be similar to how I feel now, because suddenly I can't breath, I can't move, I can't even think.

It wasn't your time. It wasn't your time. IT WASN'T YOUR TIME. 

These words flash through my mind, over and over, growing steadily louder. The ramifications of this slam into me, and if I could have, I'd have staggered away from Death. Had my heart have still been beating, I'm certain it would have skipped, and the color would have drained from my face.

As the echos grow in volume and number, I feel a writhing sense of... something rising with in me. It churns and grows as the echos of my unjust fate near a crescendo in my mind. 

And all of that horrible feeling releases itself all at once, and I realize what it is.

Anger.

Pure, raw, unbridled, uninhibited, unrelenting fury.

For a moment, my lungs remained locked, preventing me from giving voice to my anger. Then something clicks, and I expel my pent-up breath in nothing more or less than a primal scream of animal rage. I curl in on myself, and I scream. My fists clench until my nails pierce my skin and my knuckle crack. I rage and scream for some time, then all at once, round on Death, who, for some reason, looks genuinely frightened, like he was actually scared of me.

As well he should be.

I catch myself at the thought that echoed in my mind. Death looks shocked and relieved
that I stopped my rage, but I don't care. I catch myself at that thought, because it wasn't my thought.  It was completely alien. Not the, "I have no clue where that came from," alien. The, "that wasn't my voice or thought pattern," alien. However, something about it rang a dim bell, as though I should remember it from somewhere.

Shocked by this perturbing sequence of events, my anger subsides somewhat. Death notices, and approaches me tentatively. He places a thin, long-fingered hand on my shoulder. However, far from the grave-cold touch I expect from Death himself, it is actually surpisingly warm. More than that, a feeling of calm and reassurance seems to flow from it, somehow relieving my anger and leaving me with my first sense of serenity in a long time. 

Well, not quite total serenity. I bow my head to Death.

"I'm sorry. Truly I am.  I shoudln't have lost my head like that. Everything just welled up, and I couldn't control it. Thank you for whatever it was you did. It definitely helped."

Death smiled, and nodded in acceptance of my words.

"My dear boy, you aren't the first to lose your head, metaphorically or otherwise, when you met me. Nor, do I very much doubt, shall you be the last. Death, for humans, is a shocking thing. Nothing in life could prepare you for it, and so you couldn't know how to deal with it. Actually, there is no correct way, for each person is different. I find it is easier in the transitional period to let people deal with it as they will, rather than demand silly tributes or rituals that the old Deaths have."

...Wait, what?

"But that is neither here nor there. For now, we should figure out how to go forward with this..."

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Can't you just, you know, put me back, or something?"

"Oh dear, no," he responds, looking over his tablet. "If I could do that, then I would have done so as soon as you arrived in my realm. No one has ever done that, you see, at least not during my reign as Death. There are records of it happening in ages past, but those are few and far between, and are just that: records of appearances in the Void. But no past Death has ever written down why, or what happened after."

"So, you don't know what to do?"

"No," he replies. "But I know people who might. Come with me."

"Uh..." I hesitate. Death grasps my hand, surprising me again with his warm grip. "Come with you? How am I-"

"-supposed to do that?" I finish as the Void suddenly transforms, instantaneously replaced with a warm, sunlit forest clearing at noon. Everything looks more alive than anything I'd ever seen on Earth. The very air seemed to breathe. Far from the calm nothingness of the Void, this place was almost electrifying.

Contemplating this, I failed to notice we had been floating until I touch down on the ground. The grass seems to brush against my boots with its own will, and a plethora of insects, rodents, and creatures I have no name for scurry away from the spot I landed on. Death continues to float, and the grass seems to shy away from him. Before us in the middle of the clearing stood several larger creatures that were similar to elk, but different, having a much stronger musculature, six legs, two-clawed hooves, and bright, intelligent green eyes. In their midst stood a short woman, wearing what could only be described as a fasionista's nightmare. Half her head was shaved and colored in leopard spots, the other was comprised of wild streams of vivid, multicolored hair. As impossible as it sounds, it looked completely natural. She wore bright, eye catching clothing. Once again, this person's eyes were striking. One was a deep, chocolate brown, the other was a yellow only ever seen in wolves and cats, and had a slit pupil. On her face is the biggest, warmest, most genuine grin I have ever seen, anywhere.

<i>Huh, wouldnt it be funny if...</i>

"Life..." I say with reverence. 

"Now, how did you just guess?" she asked. Her voice is sweet and bright, and holds an accent that I can't quite place, yet seems intimately familiar to me. Her words seem to add to the already vibrant energy of this place. "Yes, I am Life. And you are Garth Maelstrom. Welcome to my realm. And hello to you, dear brother," she adds, turning to Death.

Death smiles and bows.

"Sister. It's been too long."

"...Bwuh!?"

Life and Death, polar opposites, turn to me, Life with an animated expression of befuddlement, Death with mild amusement.

"Dear boy, you've recently been blown up, died, and met the current incarnations of Life and Death, and you have no response to the fact that we are siblings other than 'Bwuh?'"

I take the hint and pick my jaw off the floor, quickly closing my mouth. Life laughs brightly at my no doubt comical expression, and I can't help but laugh too. Even Death seems to brighten and gain color as he smiles at the sound, which sounds like a mix of dogs barking, birds chirping, and many small streams bubbling over rocks in a gentle melody more pleasing than any I have ever heard.

"So, what brings my brother and one of his own mortal agents to my realm?" She asks, sobering slightly as she regards us both.

"One of his mortal agents, ma'am?" I ask, confused.

"You are a soldier. Even if you are primarily a technician, your work contributes to my brothers purpose." She says evenly. Noticing the sudden misgivings on my face, she continues, "No need for worry. Death is essential. Without it, life cannot continue, for if the old endures, how would the new be brought forth? Oh, and none of this silly ma'am nonsense. Do look like the kind of person that wants to be called ma'am?"

"Well, uh..." I hesitate, an awkward smile breaking through my already well stressed face. "No I can't say you do. But its a matter of habit-"

"-Military training and all." She finishes for me. "And even before that you always called people sir or ma'am."

"How-"

"I made you. I may not be Fate, but I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself."I frown and look away. If she knows me so well, then she knows...A small, soft hand places itself on my shoulder. Like Death, it is warm. Unlike his, the energy that flows from it invigorates me, and cleanses my shame at my own failings and shortcomings.

"Do not let it trouble you. Like all my children, I accept you and everything about you. Your ups and your downs, your pride and your shame, your loves and your hates and your fears. All are uniquely yours and are precious. You are you, and you should be proud of that simple fact."

She sounds like the mother I always wanted. Unbidden, one of my knees collapses. Through everything that has happened so for, the fact that I am dead lingers in my mind. Coupled with my recent experiences, I fall to the ground, bracing on my hands and knees, feeling spent, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

Life drops down to her own knees, gently lifts me from my braced position, and pulls me into a hug that comforts me almost as much as Tempest's had. Almost, but not quite.She says nothing, only holds me untill a modicum of composure returns to me. Once it does, I rise gently, her arms falling off me, and give her a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Life. I... Really needed that. A lot." 

"Not a problem. We all go through those times. Sometimes, the best help is a hug."

"Normally, I wouldn't agree with you, but you seem to have proven me wrong," I say dryly. Death smiles, as if in agreement, though with what part of my statment I can't say. "Back on track, we are here, because, from what Death has told me, I should NOT be here. That I wasn't supposed to die when I did, and that you could possibly help me get back."

Life looks surprised and shocked. "Death was wrong about someones time!? My word, that hasn't happened since... Well, never during his reign! And he was doing so well! He was looking to topple Anubis and Osiris for longest streak of unforeseeable deaths!"

"Oh gracious, I'd forgotten about that," said Death with sudden consternation. His eyes flitted down to his tablet, and he flicked his hands over it feverishly. "Let's see, their reign was about 1000 years, as usual, with 826 years free of unforseen deaths. I haven't had one since I started, you being the first," Death said with an exasperated look at me. "And I started in... Blasted new Gregorian calendar... 1187 and lets see," he rambles a bit as he looks over at his  floating hourglass. "So... with that... ARGH! BLAST IT ALL!"

"HAH! I WIN THE BET!" Life whoops with glee as Death crumbles, hands flying to cover 
his face as he groans, sinking to the ground below. His tablet and hourglass clatter 
against the trees as they fly from his hands. The grass around him seems to lose its 
color and wither at his touch. Life, meanwhile is busy dancing jumping around the 
meadow with the strange elk, chanting, "I won, I won, I won, I won!" 

"Yes, but that means Fate lost." Death said. He lowers arms and rises off the ground again, which immediately regains its former vibrance and vitality. The same cannot be said for Death. "And you know how touchy she gets when she's wrong."

Life quite literally stops  mid jump,  arms still raised over her head in victory, as her face seems to pale slightly. However, this sudden shift in her behavior quickly recedes.

"Well, she can get over it. It's about time she lost."

"What are you two talking about?"

"Oh, nothing dear boy," Death responded. "We often get into disputes and disagreements. Rather than resorting to altercations of a more disruptive nature, we generally let things work themselves out, betting on the outcomes. Fate almost always wins of course, but there are always times when she is wrong."

"Fate can be wrong? And what kind of things do deities bet?"

"Not deities," Life said with a wry smile. "None of us are deities. There are no deities, although we are the closest things to them. We are embodiments of something, like Life, Fate, Death, Luck and Thought. We each have our own realm and sphere of influence. But out powers are not infinite, our influence not absolute."

"And," Death adds, "you actually haven't met Fate, so you wouldn't know. But while she dictates the movement of the world, a lot of what she does is actually guess-work. Exceptionally educated, and usually extremely accurate guess-work, but guess-work all the same."

"And as for what we would bet," Life finished, answering my other question, "I'm not entirely sure you'd understand. There are some things beyond mortal comprehension, I'm afraid. The moments of the cosmos, the subtle echo of those movements, and the responses of other echos to every other echo are delicately balanced. If we wished, we could influence these movements with a new echo, one that would work in favor with our own realm, generating a sudden burst of new life, or massive cataclysm, for example. However, each of us benefits from each other's actions, since each of us is intimately tied to the other. Where a cataclysm takes place, new life would spring to fill the Void. Where new life arises, an older, less adaptable life would die, to make way for the new."

"I think I understand."

"No, I'm afraid you don't," Death states.  "What Life gave you was an extraordinarily simplified version." Reaching out, he makes a waving gesture, and his all but forgotten tablet and hourglass fly towards him.

Tablet in hand, he floats toward me. Floating it before him, he presents its screen to me.

"If you like, you may look. This will show you a bit of what we truly do."

Curious, I lean in, and look over the tablet. To my confusion, it seems empty, a blank white screen. Yet, as I look at it, comprehension seems to flood into me. Meaning flows from the blank screen into my mind. Too much meaning. It all seems to blur together, yet remains perfectly comprehensible. A dull throb develops at my temples, my vision begins to blur slightly, and my ears begin to ring. Yet the intimate knowledge of the workings of Death, and his ties to all other spheres of influence, doesn't cease. I feel myself becoming buried under the tide of knowledge and power rushing over me.

After what seems like an eternity, I tear my eyes away from the screen, yet the knowledge remains. I gasp for breath, realizing I haven't breathed since I looked at the tablet. As I breath, my vision begins to correct, but the throbbing headache remains, and the ringing of my ears continues.

"Well, my dear boy, I can honestly say I'm impressed," Death said. He reaches down and gently lifts me to my feet. I realize that I had ended up on my back when I wrenched myself from the rushing flow of understanding.

"Impressed?" I inquire blearily.

"Oh yes indeed," Life interjected. "Few if any mortals would be able to have stared at a Font of Knowledge for that long. Fewer still would have remained stable afterwards. However, even looking at it for as long as you did, you only understand an infinitely tiny speck of the cosmos, and most of that is of Death's power and influence. Still, you are something special, child."

"So does that mean you'll help me?" I ask, hopeful that perhaps they would.

Life's ever-present smile, a source of encouragement and support for me this entire time, falters. She recovers it, but it becomes a sad, apologetic smile, and my still heart immediately falls.

"Oh how I wish I could, dear boy... But you see, it is my power to seed new life in the cosmos. I cannot replant a life lost."

My heart drops even more at her words, but my emotions are spent by this point. All I can do is look away, my vision blurring once more.

"Sister," Death said, "I know that Life and Death are fair in all respects, but I cannot help but feel there is something more at work here. This boy does not deserve the destiny he was dealt, and I haven't scheduled his death for a further 82 years, 7 months, 22 days, 9 hours and 44 minutes."

Beneath my sorrow, I feel some slight horror, and more than a little indignation at his words.  Give a guy a little doubt here, Death. 

"Death," life responded, pinching the bridge of her nose, "you understand the metaphysical ramifications of what you're asking as well as I do. Returning him to life directly would cause a new echo in the world, and I'm not entirely sure what it would cause. Ignoring that, a direct infusion would grievously damage his body, mind, and spirit, perhaps beyond repair. That is not a life I would wish for anyone."

"Still," she continues, looking at me, then pulling her own tablet from seemingly nowhere, "I fear you are right, Death. This whole situation seems off. We can at least keep his physical self comatose as we search for a solution. Perhaps we should consult Fate."

"Sister, you know we can't take a mortal to her realm," Death says with more than a little concern. "The weight of her influence would crush him."

"You're right," she responds "but we can always bring her here!"

"What? No wait!

Heedless of Death's words, Life raises her hands, her tablet vanishing, and claps them together.

Instantly, Life's realm seems to stop. Even the air seems locked in place. I choke somewhat as the air in my lungs freezes. Between Life and Death, a new figure appeares. This woman is shorter than life, and about as opposite her in appearance as possible. Her clothing is conservative to the extreme, somewhere between a private school uniform and a secretary suit, all a dark gray in color, except for a white undershirt and primary red tie and black shoes. Her hair is styled in a short bob, and is pitch black. Her expression is one of utter boredom. Her eyes are as different from Life and Death's as possible. They are dull gray and completely lifeless, without pity or mercy, but also without cruelty. They were a void of utter numbness, and were infinitely more frightening than the entirety of Death's realm.

"I was beginning to wonder if I miscalculated," Fate said. A chill creeps down my spine at her voice, because of it's total lack of passion and the fact that it echos with a hollow quality, as though from the end of a lifeless cavern. "I've been waiting so long for you to call me that I was beginning to doubt myself."

Life grins, seemingly oblivious to the frightening presence of Fate.

"Well, you did miscalculate something. I won our bet! Death missed out on his 826 year streak!"

Though Fates change of expression is minimal, a slight furrow in her brow, the change in the atmosphere is palpable. The air feels charged as though with lightning, and a metallic taste fills my mouth.

"Well, that is unfortunate. I'm sorry to hear that, Death," Fate responds, sounding irritated rather than sympathetic. 

Death simply hunches over, mumbling something along the lines of, "not really important." Fate ignores this, turning to a rather smug looking Life.

"Well?" Life says, with an insufferable note in her voice. "Our bargain?"

Fate frowns infinitesimally. "Very well, dear sister."

Fate waves a hand negligibly. I feel rather than see a wave of power wash over me, and can't help but wonder if this was one of the echos the embodiments were talking about.

"Now, I know that wasn't what you called me here for. I'm curious as to why you two called me here."

"You mean you don't know?" Death asks incredulously.

"Brother, we just proved my knowledge is not infallible," Fate says irritably. Life just grins. "And if you must know, I've been trying to determine what this would be about for the last 482 years, though recent event have narrowed down my theories."

"Well, it's about this young man here." Death says with a motion towards me.

Fate seems to notice me for the first time. She walks over to me, and looks me over with the diligence of a military training instructor. Her eyes dart over me, taking in everything about me. Her frown and beetled brow reappear.

"Most interesting..."

She then reaches out and touches me on the forehead with a single finger. True to form, her touch is nothing like her sibling. It is cold as ice and foreboding, and a sense of doom falls upon me. I stiffen at the touch, and await my own judgement. 

After a second, she lowers her hand and backs away, seemingly surprised.

"Well, that is indeed most interesting."

"What is it, sister?" Life asks, a mild look of concern coming to her ever-present grin.

"Well, it seems we have a Fatetouched on our hands."

Life and Death wear what have to be the most completely blank look I have ever seen. Better than the poker face meme.

"I forgot that wasn't free knowledge," Fate says. "No helping it now, I suppose."

"Excuse me, Miss Fate?" I say, speaking for the first time in minutes and somewhat tripping on my words. "What do you mean by Fatetouched?"

"Well, he can speak after all." Fate says with what I can only guess is amusement. "Well, to explain Fatetouched, I'll have to explain a bit how my influence works. You see, most life in the world is born with a set purpose, a final destiny that they will attain. One of my jobs is to calculate these final destinations and ensure that these come to pass by moving and altering the Fatestrands. However, as one might guess, this becomes rather dull after a while. So a Fate can, at any given time, touch a new life entering the cosmos and completely remove them from Fate's influence. These are Fatetouched, bound by no destiny, free to shape the world they live in."

"We Fates do this primarily for entertainment purposes, but it is a double-edged blade. For, in addition to being in total control of their own fate, they may also alter the fate of others with their choices and actions. This can have unforseen and potentially disastrous consequences for a Fate, but it keeps things interesting and ensures the cycle of history breaks periodically to avoid stagnation. It also tests our abilities as Fates to keep control over the threads as they break or strengthen."

"How many of these Fatetouched have you made during your time as Fate?" Death asks warily.

Fate smiles ever so slightly. "This boy is my 16th."

"So, I'm nothing more than your plaything," I say, irritably.

"Oh not at all. Well, to a degree. But you are more than that. Only you can decide how much more."

Death ponders this as Fate continues.

"Still, why are you here, boy? No living mortal should be in the Realms of the Embodiments."

"Well, I suppose that's the kicker, Miss Fate. I'm not a living mortal anymore. I died not too long ago, saving a friend from a mortar round."

"And robbing me of a planned death I might add..." Death grumbled.

"Death and Life found it strange and thought I should be returned to the my body, but they say that they can't do it because of metaphysical reasons... Or something of that nature..."

"Well, yes, that is most strange. You aren't exactly the person that I would think would sacrifice themselves for another's sake. However, they are also right in that a direct return would have a number of ramifications that would prevent a safe transition, both for you and the cosmos. Balance must be maintained. Fortunately, we can solve this."

"You can!?" I ask, excitedly, feeling hope return to me.

"Yes, we can. I alone can't accomplish this, but we may be able to correct this. It will take some effort on your part though."

"I'll do it, whatever it takes, I'll get it done!"

"So eager. That's good. Mind your eagerness doesn't get you into trouble."

"Sister, what are you planning?" Death asks, raising an eyebrow at Fate. Fate gives him a significant look, and I get the feeling that more information is passing between them than words alone. Life, too seems aware of the exchange, and a broad grin slowly stretches her features. Death's eyes widen as Fate smiles. "Oh surely not sister! You can't be serious!"

"I can and I am." Fate says as Life laughs heartily. 

"Oh, I love it! And it's perfect! It will accomplish much with a single action!" Life exclaims with glee.

Death just shakes his head.

"I don't like this, a lot could happen that would ruin your plan."

"Yes, but that is what makes it entertaining," Fate says. "Besides, you have no better solution, so there is no reason to argue with it. It's the only way to get him back where he needs to be."

Death has no response to this.

I meanwhile, stand here utterly bewildered by their nonsensical conversation, feeling completely excluded from my own fate.

Fate finally turns to me.

"Well, boy, we have a consensus. We will be putting your physical body back on Earth into a temporary comatose state until you can return to it. In the meantime, you will be sent to a different world. This world is similar to your own, yet different in many respects. Most importantly, it contains the solution you seek to return you your body. However, there are many paths and dangers that would divert you from what you seek. Take care not to lose yourself. Also, bear in mind this: exactly one year from your arrival in this world, your old body will die in earnest and you will be unable to return to it. We will allow you to live the remainder of your life in this world if you so choose if this happens, but You will never be able to see your friends and family on Earth again. Lastly, this solution is the most elegant we could come up with, but it will still require a cost from you. A cost that must be paid, or you will not be able to return."

"Also," Death adds, "try not to die. I'm afraid the rules of Life, Death, and Fate are different in this world than they are in your part of the cosmos. If you die there, you die in earnest. I will not be able to help you."

"One final thing," Life adds, as Fate raises her hands before her, conjuring a sheet of energy that completely obscures her from me. "Do you wish to retain your old body in this new world, or start over as one of its inhabitants. I assure you that once you return you will be put back in your old body good as new, but becoming one of this worlds being will help make the transition easier."

I glance over my body, which, I finally realize without any concern, is completely naked. It is the exact way I had left it, which is to say, toned and muscular, after a long time spent getting it into shape from the chubby boy I used to be. I am quite proud of that fact.

"I'd like to stay myself." I state. "I put a lot of work into who I am, and I don't want that to go to waste."

"And you should be proud of your accomplishment," Life replies with a warm smile, then waves her hands in front of me. "Very well, it is done. Now, step through the portal."

I turn, and look at the sheet of crackling blue energy. Swallowing my considerable misgivings, I steel myself and walk through. I feel as though I walk through a sheet of water, and once again I am surrounded by blackness, only this time, I feel like I am rushing through space faster than humanly possible. Lights seem to streak past and a thousand voices seem to whisper in my mind. As I zip towards a particularly bright light, Fate's voice sounds once again in my mind.

"Oh, if and when you see Celly, give her our greetings."

The singular light rushes up to meet me. I feel an impact and am aware of nothing more for a time.
> Did NOT see THAT coming.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm running through a forest by night. I don't know what I'm running towards, but I realize I'm running FROM something. Something close behind me that growls and snarls and seems to get closer every second. I turn my head to look at whatever it is behind me, but all I see is an an endless expanse of shadow. So I face forward again to keep running. Again, the snarls break out. I pour on the speed to keep my distance, but the animal growls continue to rise in intesity.

I look about to find an escape as I keep running. I notice a break in the woods to my left, and leap through. A rushing noice behind me tells me my pursuer just missed catching me. Not pausing, even to catch my breath, I plow on, military training telling me to put as much distance between me and my attacker as possible. Weaving through the forest, I continue until I'm certain I'm no longer being chased. 

I come upon a cave. I enter quickly, seeking shelter. Not far in, I notice a light. Curious, I approach, to find a mirror, carved from crystal, and illuminated by moonlight reflecting off similar crystals in the cave. Approaching from the side, I halt and look about me as a voice from nowhere and everywhere whispers, "Come..."

Wary, I approach the mirror and face my reflection, only, it's not me in the mirror. An odd creature stands in the mirror opposite me. Four legged, blue furred, with a mane of black-streaked blue, and a tail to match. a chip in his ear and a scar on his cheek speak of many fights. The scar is placed exactly where my own would be.

My eyes widen, as do the creature's, and I notice the frightenly familiar shade of blue. My own eyes. I realize that I've been turned into a pony!

"Life lied to me," I thought. 

"Indeed," said my reflection, whose look of horror mirroring my own now twists to a feral grin. A pair of skeletal wing burst in a spray of blood from each shoulder, and the creature rises from the floor. Its eyes shift from my own blue to a sickly, venomous purple, and its front teeth sharpen to points. The mirror shatters and the creature flys forth to the ceiling of the cavern.

"And now, you will die!" The beast roars and swoops down, jaws open wide and horrible talons reach from its hooves for the kill.

I jerk awake with a hoarse scream, yanking my combat knife from its sheath and looking wildly around. The first thing I notice is that its dark. I look up at the sky to notice a cloudless moonlit night. Only, there was something different about the moon. Instead of the proverbial "Man in the Moon," a series of craters formed the shape of a horses head. Or more accurately, a unicorn's head. I frown at this. That wasn't normal. I look around. I seem to be at the edge of a forest, on the foothills of a mountain range. There seems to be a pathway leading up and through the mountains. Opposite that pathway is a path leading into the forest. 

I notice nothing else about me, no animals or people, or any sign of habitation, really, so I resheathe my knife.

What a nightmare. I hope I don't have many more of those. 

Looking down at my hands, I notice that they are still very much hands, and are covered once again in the armored, military issue gloves I had been wearing during the convoy. Sure enough, almost everything except my M4 Carbine and MOPP gear seems to be in place, including my body armor, full ABU's, (for which I'm very thankful) M9 Beretta with 3 full clips, combat knife, basic SABC/First Aid kit, two MRE's, full canteen, and a few other items.

I look over my M9, checking it for damage and regarding it with distaste. I never did like pistols, and the M9 was not on my top 10 pistol list. Still, it would get the job done if push came to shove. 

After taking inventory, I push myself to my feet and look about, and decide to enter the woods, which had a higher probability of finding some sort of civilization than the mountain range, plus more plentiful sources of food, water and shelter. I take all of four steps, then realize just how hungry and tired I am as my knees buckle under my own weight. 

Oh right. Blast those priorities.

Seeing as I am in no fit shape for travel, I push myself up again and fight off another wave of weakness and exhaustion. Shelter. Gotta find some shelter. My stomach growls pitifully. And some food. I fall back on my old SERE training and begin the S portion, Survival.

Casting about, I notice a few places to begin with building a rudimentary shelter. Some dried out, low-lying branches on a tall pine of some kind catch my eye, perfect for a fire. Rich, leafy branches from another woven together would make a decent lean-to. A couple of large leaves from a fern draped over would finish my shelter as an insulating layer and rain fly. As I gather the needed materials, I happen upon a tree bearing nuts almost identical to walnuts, only larger, and far easier to open. I harvest as many as I can and drop them into a pouch, then return to my work.

Within the space of an hour, my lean-to is built, propped up against the now partially stripped pine, and I set to work on the fire. Luckily, I had brought along a field survival magnesium stick. With some carefully placed tinder and a few good strokes of my knife over the fire starter, I soon have a small fire burning, providing me with light and warmth. I notice the fire is somewhat more vibrant than normal, perhaps due to the wood I'm using, and also seems somewhat more fluid in it's movements. I don't pay too much attention to it, and I set about cracking open the walnuts.

Normally, I would have been cautious in eating wild-gathered nuts, going through a more thorough process of testing them for poison, but at this point, I'm too damn hungry to care, and the's seem to be normal, perfectly healthy walnuts.

After cracking open about 20 shells, all of which seem to open perfectly, leaving behind an imacculate nut, I pop one in. The flavor of the nut is richer and heartier than walnuts I was used to, and each one seemed more filling than normal. After I eat about 11, I stop, feeling rather contented. Sipping from my canteen, I throw another log on the fire and huddle inside my shelter.

I stare at the fire for a while, then clutch at myself as a shiver crawls up my spine, though not from cold. I realize that I am well and truly alone, and that loneliness seemed to crush me. I've always been somewhat of an outcast, needing the company of only a select few to be happy, and even then, just being content to be in their presence. But now, cut off from everyone I know, and, perhaps, humanity itself, I feel incredibly isolated. 

I'm going to have to work hard and fast, if I want to get back before I start calling my canteen Wilson.

I chuckle slightly at this, and shiver again, beginning to drift off into an uneasy, but much needed, sleep.

--

1 hour earlier

Twilight Sparkle hummed to herself as she moved about her study, inkwell and quill in her magical grip, scribbling in various notebooks and scrolls. Numerous tomes and scrolls littered the floor about her, open to various chapters, but all pertaining to one thing: the movement of the stars.

Many theories existed as to what the stars were, where they came from, and why they form constellations as recognizable images to beings of all flocks of life, from ponies to griffons to dragons. Still more were devoted to methods of predicting their movements, beyond that of Princess Luna's own will, for some believed that the Princess of the night only held sway over the movements of the Moon.

Which, if any, were true was part of Twilight Sparkle's late-night foray into the papery realms of knowledge, handed down and altered through the centuries. The other part was her simple love of stargazing. It was one of her many pastimes, and had been so ever since her BBBFF Shining Armor had gotten her a kids telescope for her 3rd birthday. She still had it, on a shelf over her bed, a memento of her beloved sibling and her treasured hobby. Now however, she used a magically augmented, high powered telescope given to her by Princess Luna herself. 

The telescope in question was currently calibrated and aimed towards a red light in the sky known as Maerz, which she had recently come to suspect was not in fact a star, but a planet, like plane upon which Equestria rested. To prove this, however, she needed months more research and a theory that would blow the ideas and beliefs of Equestria's greatest thinkers, philosophers, and scientists completely out of the water.

Her thoughts and hypothesis on the matter were cut short by a loud crash from the other side of her door, beyond which lay the stairs leading down to the Ponyville Library, and which, no doubt was now blocked by a pile of books resting upon a very young dragon. She sighed, a look of mild consternation clouding her features as she turns and trots to the door. Sure enough, several books slide off the pile through the threshold before her hooves.

The aforementioned dragon grinned sheepishly, head, arm, and tail poking out from the pile of collected knowledge.

"Uh, heh heh heh," Spike chuckled nervously, "sorry about that, Twilight. That might have been a few more books than I could handle."

"You think?" Twilight asked sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. Reaching through the fabric of magic, Twilight gently enfolds the baby dragon in a levitation spell an plucks him out of the book pile. Feeling the contours of each individual scale through the spell, she set him down gently next to her, and released the magic. Her awareness snaps back into her mind and body fully once again. She then looked concernedly over her Number 1 assistant. "Why didn't you ask Owlowiscious to help you? The two of you together would have been able to bring these up with much less trouble."

Spike frowns and grumbles.

Twilight just shakes her head and once again reaches through the fabric of magic to pick up the books and neatly stack them in Daliboz Decimal order. Despite Spike having accepted her pet Owl's presence and friendship, he still felt a slight rivalry towards Owlowiscious, and didn't really like asking for his aid.

That stubborn pride of his is cute, but it's going to get him into trouble one day.

Looking over her shoulder at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room, she read the time.  

8:30. It's almost time. I should make the final calibrations before-

Her thoughts on the matter were quickly wiped away by the sudden, brilliant flash that completely whited out her room and seemed to emanate from her window. Spike cried out and shielded his eyes as his unicorn sister teleports from his side back to the window.

Her magic makes a multitude of recalibrations and adjustments to the telescope as her eyes, large as saucers, lock upon the brilliant streak of white hurtling through the sky as the bright flash recedes from the room. The telescope began to move of its own accord, tasked to follow the anomaly across the sky as twilight plastered an eye over the eyepiece. The anomaly, whatever it is, made numerous concentric shock waves as it arced over the sky, and descended toward the Everfree Forest to the West. The telescope locked on to the nucleus in the front, and, for a tiny, immeasurable moment, Twilight thought she saw an irregularly shaped silhouette at the center, much like a monkey. The object then disappeared behind the wild wood. Half a second later, a second white flash flares in the night, then fades out. 

Twilight braced herself against the  window frame, squeezing her eyes tight as she imagined a giant shock wave or massive burst of explosive sound racing towards Ponyville. When neither arrived, she opened her eyes once more, in total shock at what just happened. For a moment, neither Faithful Student nor Number 1 Assistant seemed to even breath. 

Then, Twilight appears to be in many places at once, so fast and fluid are her teleportations. She warps across the room, ink flying from her quill as she frantically makes notations and sketches of whatever it was that just roared across Luna's night.

Spike for his part looks at his sister with growing concern, noting the rather manic look in her eyes as she flips through pages of star charts and calculation. He gave a cry as she suddenly popped into existence right in his face.

"Spike!" She exclaimed, leaning over him. "Was Luna planning any meteor shower or comet's that I wasn't aware of tonight?"

Spike was about to answer when his face suddenly contorted and his stomach screwed up in an all to familiar feeling. A second later, he belched out a jet of green flame right into Twilight Sparkle's tri-colored mane. Of course, Twilight Sparkle, being the reasonable and stable pony she is when under duress, handled the situation, and her now smoldering mane, with appropriate mediation and grace.


...Said no one ever. 

She immediately gave a cry of shock and, with an involuntary outburst of magic, flung Spike headlong into the freshly reorganized towers of books he had carried up, which unceremoniously buried him once more. 

Twilight meanwhile did a frenzied sort of tap dance on the spot, shrieking in panic ignoring the scroll falling from the remnants of the original flame, and whipped her head back and forth as her horn continued to glow. A large bucket appeared in midair and, with all the grace befitting her station as Celestia's Faithful Student, dunked her whole head into the ice cold water.

Spike manages to wriggle his way out of the pile of books once again. Although penitent for having accidentally belched a letter right in Twilight Sparkle's face, he couldn't help but be irritated as he surveyed the damage. His irritation quickly disappeared as he spotted Twilight Sparkle. Or at least most of her. Her head was currently dunked under the water, her forehooves firmly planted on the wooden floor, her barrel at a 45 degree angle, and her flank and hindquarters elevated in the air. Spike, being known for his own level temperament and gentle responses... Oh, who am I kidding?

Spike laughed his scaly ass off. He literally rolled out of the pile of books, ended with his pace plastered on a star chart for the constellation known as "The Lovers Embrace," and proceeded to laugh until his face turned indigo from lack of air.

Twilight finally raised herself out of the bucket, lowering her hindquarters back down to the floor with a snap. She came out with a look on her face that spoke volumes of her current mood. She spotted Spike wheezing and gasping and still laughing uproariously at the situation, and the scowl that twisted her visage would have sent an Ursa Minor running in fear for its life.

Spike, on the other hand, merely looked up at his guardian with a toothy grin on his face, still chuckling.

"Hey Twilight," Spike said, barely suppressing his mirth, "did you manage to cool your head a bit?" And, once again, he devolved into hysterics.

Twilight grimaced, blowing a bedraggled lock of purple hair out of her face, then grin with a mischievous look in her eye. Spike was far too busy enjoying his best friend's recent example of her famous hotheadedness as it were to notice his tail being gently pulled into the air by magic. Once he reached the ceiling, Twilight levitated the bucket of water to the floor directly under him, and released her magic. Spike's laughter cut off with a startled yelp as he dropped from the ceiling and splashed down into the water.

He resurfaced with a panicked gasp and and leaped bodily out of the bucket, which vanished immediately afterwards. He shivered on the spot and glared at Twilight, who chuckled lightly.

"Serves you right. Now both our heads have been cooled." Spike just grumbled and looked away.

Trotting over to him, she places a hoof around him and pulls him into a hug. 

"Oh Spike, you know I only meant it as a joke. Besides, you laughed first. And I can only imagine I look about as funny as you do right now."

Spike looked up at Twilight, and the grumpiness dissolves into a tired smile, and he embraced Twilight in return.

"Thanks, Twi. But you look at least twice as funny as I do."

Twilight chuckled and shook her head. She looked about the floor and spotted the letter, lying abandoned near the pile of books.

Levitating it before her, she broke the seal, unfurled it, and began to read. As she did so, her face went from a gentle smile, to a look of focus, to consternation, to shock, and then to a mild look of fear.

"Uh, Twilight?" Spike asked tentatively.

Jarred out of her reverie, she looked over at Spike, and in an unnatural calm, spoke.

"We need to gather the Elements. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't anything that originated from Princess Luna or Princess Celestia's powers, and neither seems to know what it is.  We need to find it and isolate it in case it proves to be a threat."

--

About 12 hour later

I awaken groggily. The morning is cold, and the ground about me is covered in dew. My fire has gone out at some point in the night. I push myself to a sitting position and rub the sleep out of my eyes, then look about me. Then, I do a double take. What appears to be a normal forest during the night is anything but by day. The colors in the leaves, grass, and everything else seem richer and deeper than that of an Earth forest. Dense undergrowth occupies the majority of the forest about me. It must have been sheer happenstance that I walked into this clearing.

All about me, I hear cries and growls and rustlings of animals in the foliage. My awareness shoots into high alert, and I realize I should probably not tarry here too long. I get to my feet, stretching quickly, and adjust my armor. I proceed to break camp, disassembling my lean-to and scattering the branches and leaves as naturally as possible, then scatter the ashes of my fire pit.

All that complete, I reach into my pouch to grab a handful of walnuts. However, as I bring them out, I hesitate, noticing something about them I hadn't before. Each and every one is a deep blue, flecked with white splotches that look like stars. I hadn't noticed before, as there wasn't enough light to determine their full qualities last night. Now however, I fear I might have mad an error in judgement for eating these.

Still, I don't feel ill. Actually, I feel pretty good. That night of sleep really did me some good. I look down at my timepiece. It reads 0945, which seems fairly accurate, so I decide not to question it.

Nothing left for me to do, and still feeling sated from my late night meal of potentially toxic blue walnuts, I exit the clearing back towards the cliffs. Finding them, I make my way towards the forest trail, and set off down the road.

Several hours pass by uneventfully. The forest about me seems tranquil enough, despite the constant murmur of unseen creatures all about. It rather reminds me of the cloud forests of Costa Rica. Despite my loneliness, I feel at home here. Being in the wilds and woods always seemed to make me feel so alive, and the isolated, untainted feel of this forest feels... comforting in a way. Still, the trail seems too... Perfect. Planned. It's not like any game trail I'd ever seen. It's much too wide, and I can swear there are cobblestones every few feet. Perhaps I'm not as alone as I think here.

Around noon, I stop for lunch. Wanting to avoid possible encounters with any locals who might be about, I move off the trail. A few feet into the underbrush, I find a clearing next to a small but swift stream. I glance about to make sure it's secure, then walk tentatively in. Nothing pops out to attack, so I take a seat against a tree next to the stream, polish off the last of my water from my canteen, and refill it with the cold, refreshing water. I take a sip, noting the much earthier, clearer flavor than the canteen's last few drops of earth water.

I don't know what it is about this place, but everything here seems so... vibrant. Alive. Like everything was connected straight to Life's realm. Even the sensations are clearer and sharper, as though my senses back on Earth were dulled and muted.

I ponder this as I pull out an MRE. Most Airmen hate these things. I chuckle as I remember my recruiter's story. He once told me that when he joined the Air Force, the Army recruiter tried to dissuade him, saying the "Chair Force" was a bunch of wussies who deployed to hotels and ate pizza, to which he replies, "Hotel's and pizza, or tents and MREs... Hmm, I really like pizza..."

I, however, grew up used to minimal and sometimes tasteless fare, so MREs aren't that bad for me. A few are even pretty good.

I pop the chemical heater and wait for the main meal to cook. Once it is finished, I tear into it, grateful for some meat and carbs in my stomach. I count myself lucky as I chew my food for finding this clearing.

Huh, wouldn't it be funny if...

A loud growl and a rustle from a bush off to my left is my only warning. Thankfully, its all I need as I drop my meal, roll to the side, and draw my knife as a giant paw swipes through the air I had just resided, leaving four large gouges though the bark of my tree. I rise to a defensive crouch and turn to face my assailant. My jaw drops as I behold the oddest, yet most intimidating creature I've ever seen. It appears to be a rather large lion, but possesses two large bat-like wings, and, impossible as it sounds, a long SCORPIONS TAIL. Its body is abnormally proportioned, with its hindquarters resembling that of a proper lion, and it's front being more akin to a bears, heavyset and broad.

The beast glares at me with sharp, beady eyes, and roars its agitation at me.

Adrenaline kicks in and fight or flight engages. A cluster of trees to my left would possibly give me some cover for an escape, but would almost certainly leave me open to an attack from this monster. I decide it's probably wiser to kill it, then run. I reach down for my M9, wishing ineffectively that I had something with more power behind it.

The monster notices my movement, and lunges with a snarl, again slashing through the space I had occupied. A quick dodge roll under it's swinging paw put me well out of harms way. However, that roll dislodged my M9 from its unclipped holster, sending it flying out to the side of the clearing which the unnatural beast now occupied.

Glancing between it and the creature, I growled. Nothing else for it, then.

"Roll for initiative, motherfucker!" I roar at it, and charge.


> Rat's Nests and Side Effects
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fate's realm could not be more different from that of her siblings. The first thing one would notice is the sheer cold. If a living mortal arrived in her realm by freak accident or cruel design, they would find themselves instantly crystallized. Or, perhaps not. Instantaneous crystallization of the body would probably block the synapses of the brain. They'd be dead before they realized that they had appeared before the very mistress of all dooms, past and present.

The second thing one would notice if not a human-shaped ice cube by that time would be the fact that there was no land, similar to Death's realm, and that one seemed to be surrounded by gray clouds lit with monochromatic light being pushed in a very fast wind. However, no wind was to be found in this realm, and no matter how fast one could move, one would never touch a cloud within this realm. Touching a cloud is a dream, and dreams have no place in the realm of Fate.

The and last thing would be that, despite the space within this hollow world seeming empty, a multitude of threads and knots, invisible to the mortal eye, fills up the entirety of the gray void. These are the Threads of Fate, and the knots represent the uncountable number of beings of the cosmos, not just human, and are completely insubstantial.  Colored a faint, glowing gold, these lines would appear to only to those who possessed the eyes of an embodiment. Seeing all at the same time, with their gold glow against the grey clouds, would give the impression of a glorious and beautiful sunset.

Even Fate herself found her realm in this respect to be beautiful, her staunch minimalist attitude notwithstanding. 

Within her realm, she took on a different form. Her once pale skin now took on an unearthly glow. Her gray eyes now seem to swirl with tides of the same clouds as swirled in her realm, threaded by gold strands. She now holds a tablet similar to Death's, but iron grey in color, and an abacus floats by her, the counters along it's bars constantly shifting and sliding from one end to the other.

Most notable of all, the short black hair she wore while within Life's realm was now an elegant sheet of pale glowing gold, the same as the Threads of Life, fanning out in every direction, enfolding over herself, and diverting off, connecting all the infinite beings of the cosmos to her. She new not how many were connected to her at any given time, yet she new all of them more intimately than they knew themselves. For the most part, she knew the paths they would take, the destinies they would arrive at. 

On a rare occasion, one would divert from their prescribed path, sever or strengthen threads of their own accord, and she would be forced to intervene, correcting the mistake as needed before 
he echo of the change spreads too far. On an even more rare occasion, she would allow the change to take place, and observe as the echo rewrites billions of her calculations and predictions. 

Currently, though, nothing occupied her attention, and a bored Fate is a dangerous one. 

Negligently, she plucked at several Threads, feeling the bonds of a multitude of individuals echo through her fingertips. Her finger stops on one, and her bored look turns to a mildly irritated scowl as she gazes upon it. Instantaneously, she reorients herself within her infinite realm a great distance from where she had sat previously. Her gently flowing cascade of hair flutters a little at the disturbance, then continues it's gentle, ethereal dance.

Her finger follows the offending Thread to the rats nest it terminates at. In the midst of the uncountable golden strands, one glowed an ominous blood red. Frowning, she held out a hand and twisted her will. Rings of pale gray encircled the middle of her thumb, index, middle, and pinkie fingers above the between the knuckles. From each ring, a blade materializes, each longer than her  middle finger, blades of unparalleled craftsmanship, shaped with ornate detail, etched with ancient wounds of a eons dead language, and crafted of a material that appears at once organic and metallic.

She raises the Threadspinners Blades and holds them over the unstable Thread, preparing to sever it. Before she does, however, she notices a second odd thread, this one glowing green. She frowned. This was certainly new.

Her curiosity piqued, she banished the Threadspinners Blades. She extended both hands and clawed her fingers through the Threads and expanded the tangle, revealing a golden sphere within. She released the Threads, which remained expanded, and tapped the orb with the nail of her middle finger. The orb flashed, and a scene unfolded before her: A man, with the orb resting at his heart, 

stands beside a gurney, which holds a body bearing many freshly stitched wounds and trailing many wires and tubes. The man by the gurney speaks frantically to a tired-looking doctor. On the man's shirt is a name tag reading: WOLFE.

"...so difficult about it?! He's alive, isn't he?"The doctor brought a hand to his face and sighed heavily.

"Son, he IS alive. But that is about all that can be said about him. The wounds, blunt trauma, and the fact that he was AWARE of what was going on were too much for him. You were able to bring him back with CPR when he flatlined, but all that stress most likely forced him into a vegetative state. I can't say when he will regain consciousness. It might be five minutes, it might be never."Wolfe shakes his head angrily.

"HE SAVED MY LIFE!" Wolfe shouted. "There's got to be something you can do, dammit! Can't you give him something to bring him back?"

"Airman, you'd better get yourself in check," growled the doctor. Wolfe, still glaring, stepped back from the doctor and tried to deepen his sharp breathing. The doctor before him was an officer, and Wolfe, Fate recognized, knew his place, despite his anger and helplessness.

"Now," the doctor continued, now that the unruly Senior Airman had calmed down, if only slightly, "I could give him something to bring him back to consciousness. But the damage that would cause would be irrevocable. He'd have the mental facilities of a four year old child for the rest of his life. Do you want that for him?" 

Wolfe squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, tears tracking down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands and gave a choked sob. The doctor, looking sad, walked over and pat Wolfe's back in sympathy.

"Please," Wolfe said, "there has to be something you can do."

"I'm sorry," the doctor replied, the truth of his words evident in his voice. "It's up to him now. He has to fight this battle without alone." He squeezed Wolfe's shoulder and left the room, pulling the curtain closed after him.

Wolfe sobbed again, and lowered his hands, his face wrenched up in sorrow. He shook slightly and his hands clenched and unclenched. He took a deep, steady breath and walked over to where his friend's body lay. The only thing that betrayed the life that still beat within him was the peaceful breathing and the slow, steady beeping of the heart monitor. 

Remarkably, the blast and shrapnel missed his heart and brain, and his limbs were spared amputation. Still, the extent of his wounds was such that his liver and kidneys were shredded beyond repair and required transplants, his intestines were damaged extensively, multiple arteries had been sliced, and he was missing several toes, his left pinkie, and right ear. By some miracle, he survived the emergency airlift out of hostile territory, and, even more amazingly, the doctors, after extensive time in the ER, were able to isolate and repair the worst of the damage and stabilize his condition, though the doc's were still periodically picking out rocks and shrapnel from his muscles.

"Come on, buddy," Wolfe said, gazing down at the heavily wounded body of his friend and savior. 

Wolfe gave his undamaged right shoulder a gentle squeeze, and fresh tears leaked out of his eyes, a few splashing against the gurney's resident. "You've got to pull through this, dammit. You've got to. 'You always do,' right?" he said, quoting something his savior always said whenever things looked tough for him. "I won't forgive you if you don't, you stupid, dumb, selfless bastard."

Wolfe sniffled and wiped his eyes as he made his way out of the room. He yanked the curtain's open, and shut them behind him. On the curtain was a sheet of paper, and the paper was marked with numerous annotations and remarks. The broad lettering at the top read the following:

MAELSTROM, GARTH STUART, A1C

The scene faded as Fate leaned back, untouched by the emotional exchange. Still, she stroked her chin, deep in thought. Her abacus clicked rapidly as the counters slid even faster.This Fatetouched made quite an echo when he restrung the Threads of Fate around him. Not only did he stop the death of one who's time was planned as he was conceived, but this undoomed individual, who could not even fathom how lucky he was, was now galvanized by the sacrifice of Fatetouched. 

Fate already calculated 597,422 possible outcomes of his actions from now on, some becoming more concrete by the second. Each of those outcomes spawned millions of others, and so on and so forth. And that didn't include the untold multitude of others connected to this man. Even a small portion of those connected to him spawned a googolplex of possible destinies.

Fate was aware of them all, and her considerable mind spun at the implications. 

And Fate smiled.

Perhaps this would be entertaining after all.

Again, she traveled billions of times faster than the speed of thought, the orb she had been observing being wrapped once more in ethereal golden filaments.

She came to rest before another tangle. However, while others bound and constrained the orb within them until she willed it otherwise, this tangle wrapped around the orb, letting it rotate freely. Also, all of the lines here were the same forest green glow as the one that connected to Wolfe's orb. 

Fate wondered at the ball. Unless she deliberately and directly viewed the Fategem of her 

Fatetouched, he was a complete enigma to her. Nothing of his actions, thoughts, or even self could be seen by her otherwise. So, unlike the untold multitudes of other beings within the cosmos, he was a complete unknown to her. However, that did not mean that she hadn't attempted to move him to fit her wills and needs in past. 

However, attempted was all that could be said of her efforts, as he had time and again confounded her efforts to manipulate his movements. She had even attempted to prod him in the direction she had NOT desired, in an attempt of what humans called reverse psychology, in an attempt to trick him into taking her desired path. In what could only be called a frightening example of his stark opposition to her, he took the undesirable path she presented, directly contradicting her will, rather than her guidance.

She had, on more than one occasion, wondered if one of the other embodiments had intervened on his behalf, giving him some kind of foresight or knowledge of her movements. However, she rejected the notion. None of the others, save perhaps Vengeance, Destruction, or Discord, had the wherewithal to do such a thing, and, of those, none had the means. Discord might, perhaps, have been able to simulate something similar, but he was currently in no condition to do so. The only embodiment who would truly have been able to fabricate something like this was Thought, but he had no motive to do such a thing.

Nevertheless, something odd was at work here. Something that needed to be remedied, and soon, if things were to go her way. 

But then, perhaps it would be easier to just make another Fatetouched. 

Reaching out, she struck the orb with her finger, and, as before, a scene presented itself for her review. 

Fate, who was not one to easily be confused, shocked, frightened, or moved, found herself rather at a loss for words seeing what this irritating speck had gotten himself into. Somehow, within the space of a day and a half, he had stumbled upon a manticore, and was currently making his most likely imminent death as entertaining as possible.

"Roll for initiative, motherfucker," the image of Garth snarled as he charged the irate mass of fur, muscles, and weapons. The creature swung its massive paw at him, and, in a move of uncanny 

foresight of the attack and fear-fueled dexterity, collapsed mid-stride, tucking into a roll under the paw. He braced himself as he came out of the roll and struck at the hind leg of the beast with a drawn dagger. He severed the lower tendon, then buried it in the manticore's flank, but left himself open for a wild backswing from the paw he just dodged.

He was hurled against a tree trunk, leaving his dagger embedded in the manticore's muscle. The beast's rear end collapsed as it lost support from its stabbed left leg, roaring in pain. Garth, who should probably have died there, somehow was able to get to his feet, albeit somewhat unsteadily. 

"Aaaaahhh.... Shit, shit, shit..." he groaned, swearing profusely. He gave his head a good shake, then quickly leaped to the side as the scorpion tail whipped down from overhead and lodged itself in a root of the tree. The spot where the deadly spike embedded itself withered from the venom, but the spike was still stuck fast. In one swift movement Garth spun around, bent down and picked up a stick large stick, continued his spin as he stood back up, and used the momentum from his movement to deliver a savage downward blow to the tail at the joint between the stinger and the next segment down. However, it wasn't quite mighty enough as the armor of the tail cracked slightly, but did not break. Further, the force of the blow dislodged the stinger from the tree.

Garth, who had continued the spin after the strike, didn't bother to check his results as he made a desperate dash towards the handgun near him.

He didn't even get close.

The manticore, whom Fate guessed probably had enough of the unknown creature before it by this point, snarled at Garth, its eyes flashing dangerously. It pushed itself off the ground, combining its good legs and powerful wings into a pounce that brought it almost directly on top of Garth. It might have missed it's intended target, but it's momentum still pushed it into adequate striking range.

Angry, injured and probably hungry, it struck out with a paw, and was finally successful at catching the doomed human. Garth was picked up and pinned against a tree by a paw about the size of his head. Fate could see him struggling against it, punching and scratching the massive foreleg to no avail. The manticore snarled and grinned with feral joy as it raised its stinger for the kill.

The image faded as Fate stepped away from it with a sigh.

"Well, so much for that little plan." 

Unconnected as she was to Garth, or indeed, anything from that world, was utterly certain that the Fatetouched's unnatural luck had just run out for a second time. She saw no way that he could have escaped.

She warped back to her original position and leaned back, rather glumly. She had rather hoped he'd have lasted at least a little longer, if only to serve her purposes. Granted, she had no way to push him in that world, but she had a feeling, going into this, that the way that world worked, along with his own nature, would have done that for her.

All for naught, it seemed. Fate wasn't particularly upset by this turn of events. She had many other plans that she could implement to carry out what she had sent him to Harmonum for. Still, they would take time, and, while immortal, time wasn't really something she had, at least not in regards to this.

She sighed again, irritated that all the effort of making a Fatetouched and sending him across the cosmos ended with absolutely no results in her favor.

"Water under the proverbial bridge, I guess..."

Calling her tablet to her hands once more, she was in the midst of going over a list of possible candidates for a new Fatetouched from Life's list of creations for the next 20 years when she was suddenly aware she was no longer alone in her realm. Irritation cropped up instantly; she smothered it and looked up from her work to regard Death with a bored look.

"Brother," she greeted him. "What brings you here?"

"Sister, this is wrong," Death said, staring Fate in the eye.

Fate was taken aback, though nothing of it showed itself on her face.

Is he talking about my plans? How could he know? Perhaps this goes deeper than I had thought.

"Mind yourself, Death," Fate said, menace creeping into her normally uninterested tone. "This is not your realm, and you would be wise to respect it's master."

"Don't you try avoiding the issue, Fate," Death responded, holding firm. "How can you possibly justify using a mortal, one who had already suffered terrible misfortune, in this game meant only for immortals."

"Come now, Death," Fate scoffed, "you know as well as I that the mortals are the very pieces by which this game is played."

"Played against other mortals, yes," Death countered. "You want to set him directly against the very embodiments you contend with. You create a fateless being, only to give him a path he must now walk. Fate is indeed cruel."

"Enough," Fate said. She didn't shout. She didn't yell. Yet her word was an edict. The weight of the world condensed and focused to a point centered on Death, and instantly silenced him, binding him in place.

"Perhaps you forget, dear brother, that it was you who thought that we should bend the rules the first incarnation of Order set forth in the founding of the cosmos. You, that went against your own position to give the dead a second chance at life. You, who sought power beyond your own to make this a reality. Perhaps I should count you among my opponents, Death. You seem determined to undermine our very existence."

"What if I was, Fate?" Death responded, struggling with an extreme force of will against Fates edict of silence. "What if I disagreed with this whole existence? What if I felt that what we do is unfair, unkind, unjust? What if I believed that things should change? What then would you do, dear sister?" Death smirked, obviously strained.

Fate gazed upon her brother, mild look of contempt creeping into her normally stoic features.

"I would call you a fool and traitor to all we stand for. And I would laugh at you, for we are forever set in our system. For unfathomably countless cycles have the embodiments stood, each incarnation watching over and guiding the cosmos as the previous cycles did before them, and as each cycle will continue ever after, to the end of eternity. What gives you, a single Death, the wherewithal to wish change upon a system and foundation that has stood and structured the cosmos for as long as time has turned?"

Death smiled, straining against the edict.

"The idea that future generations of mortals and the next cycles of the embodiments would live and exist in and for ever better tomorrows. A system that would constantly change to avoid the stagnation we have carried since the inception of this flawed existence."

"This existence is not flawed," Fate said, and for the first time in many centuries, true anger colored her words. "How dare you even imply such a thing? Our forerunners created this system, because they knew that no better system could exist. Who are we to question that?"

Death just continued to smile, ignoring his peril before a dangerously angry Fate.

"Who were the embodiments of five-and-ten cycles before us," Death began, countering Fate, "to ask the same question, when they granted the Life, Death, Peace, and Harmony of that time their request to found a world outside of our jurisdiction, according to their own ideals?"

Fate's subtle scowl deepened.

"Fools, every last one of them. They invited disaster, and disaster followed. Were it not for them, the game we play might never have began, and we would have no need of this argument."

"Yet that world has seen more progress and happiness in it's infinitely small time than the cosmos has seen for trillions of cycles."

"Still," Fate said, eager for an end to this pointless squabble, "the fact remains that the cosmos was stable for eons before those fools decided to break from the edicts of the original embodiments. Their singular act has caused imbalance to wrack the cosmos for fifteen-and-a-half consecutive millennia. If the damage rectified by their misguided mistake is not rectified soon, the cosmos will begin to unravel. If that happens, what then?"

Death was silent for a time, deep in thought.

"Perhaps you're right, sister, for the time being," he said at last with a sigh. He met her gaze as her scowl began to ease toward her normal, bored appearance. "I suppose a divided front would make that become a reality. I will go along with this, for now." 

Death paused, and his gazed intensified. Fate met the gaze evenly.

"But mark my words, Fate," Death continued. "After all this is over, there will be a reckoning. This cosmos, whether from the current threat or its own inherent reality, is not going to last longer. Things must change. The stagnation we exist in must be dealt with."

"And mark MY words, Death," Fate responded, her already tense ire winding up again, "once all this is over, and your support is no longer needed, you WILL answer for this treason. Order will not be happy that you would change the cosmos he and his previous incarnations have worked so hard to maintain."

Death already pale face blanched bone white. Battling Fate on this matter was one thing. Irking Order himself over the very existence he held together would be tantamount to signing his own nonexistence. 

At least, without support.

Death swallowed a lump in his throat, then nodded.

"Then, we can consider this matter postponed, for the time being," he said.

Fate smirked, ever so subtly.

"Agreed," she said, and released Death from the edict she had placed upon him. He staggered in the space of Fate's realm before correcting himself and clearing his throat.

"Back to the matter at hand, how IS young Garth doing?"

"Probably dead at this point," Fate said, returning her attention to her tablet.

"SAY WHAT?" Death shouted, stumbling back from Fate.

Fate shrugged.

"Last I saw, he was in the midst of being mauled by a manticore. By now, he's probably being digested."

"How can you sit there and just let it happen?!" Death exclaimed, aghast at her sister's callousness, and by her seemingly allowing that which she supposedly wanted to avoid come to pass.

Fate, in the face of Death, and in full awareness of her actions up to this point, made perhaps the single most eloquent response to his irate inquiry.

She shrugged.

"DAMMIT FATE! You are going to be the ruin of us all!"

"What do you want me to do about it?" she inquired, indignant at his uncouth and melodramatic antics. "I can't affect anything in that realm. Besides, I can always make another Fatetouched."

Death shook his head and gesticulated ineffectually at his fellow embodiment.

"That isn't the POINT, dammit!" Death snarled. "We promised him we'd help him return to his body."

"And he accepted our help knowing the consequences if he died," Fate responded, unmoved. "Now, why don't you help me figure out who should be my next Fatetouched. I'm thinking something a little more resilient, perhaps a Dalek... maybe a Sangheili..."

Death stared at his sister, open-mouthed. Then he summoned his tablet and frantically passed his hand over it, searching for something. He frowned intensely, reading over his figures. Suddenly, he gasped.

"I don't believe it..." he said, almost reverently. He then disappeared, warping away from Fate.

Fate, however, still felt his presence in her realm. Exactly where she had been before this whole argument took place.

"Oh, would you get over yourself..." she groaned exasperatedly as she too warped through space, appearing once again at the green orb. Seeing it, she frowned. "Well, that's odd. That's very odd indeed."

She and Death leaned in. Raising her hand once more, she gave the orb a sharp tap.

And, for the second time, she found herself rendered completely speechless.

--

Several minutes earlier

--

This is it. Fuck, I never thought it'd end like this. Alone in another dimension, having already died once before, pinned against a tree and struggling to breathe, I stare my destiny full in the face. 

My destiny stares right back, fury and triumph plain in it's eyes, and it grins evilly at me, it's fetid breath clogging my nose. Since when do animals smile?! It raises it's barbed stinger, preparing for the kill. I scrabble at it's arm, trying with all my might to wriggle free, but this fucker is strong. The tail suddenly whips toward my face. The damn thing was trying to spear my brain. 

By some stroke of luck, I somehow manage to tilt my head just far enough to avoid the stinger, which impales the bark of the tree I'm pinned against. Sizzling fills my ears as the venom eats through the wood. Desperate, I hook my left arm as far out over the tail as I can and press down, then whip my right arm up, catching the tail under the crack I had left when I smashed that stick over it with the flat of my palm. 

I don't think I'll ever be able to guess how, but through some sort of miracle, I put enough force into the movement to finally break the exoskeleton, hyper-extend the joint, and weaken the hinge to the point that the joint snaps, bending in an unnatural direction.

The monster howls in obvious agony as it jerks away. It's paw comes off my chest, and it drops me. Unfortunately, it's a long way down, straight to the roots of the tree, and as I land, my ankle rolls, not enough to break the joint, but sufficient enough to JESUS HOLY BALLSACK THAT HURTS!

I howl in absolute agony, almost sympathetic towards the creature who's tail I had just broken. 

That sympathy is washed away the moment I notice it looking over at me, pure hate burning in it's eyes. It stalks towards me, limping slightly but never taking those horrible eyes off me. 

Biting back the pain, I look around for something. A rock. A stick. A fucking wet noodle, hell, anything that I could use to fight it, distract it, escape it. Then suddenly, I spot it. My M9 is just a few feet from me. I attempt to get to my feet, but stagger back down, searing pain in my ankle preventing me from even attempting to put weight on it.

The beast continues it's approach, knowing full well there was nothing I could do. 

NO. I WILL NOT LET IT END LIKE THIS. 

The thought, half mine, and half not, echos in my head. Planting the knee of my bad leg on the ground, I dig in my good foot under me, coil, and spring forward in a desperate leap to avoid my own second death. I extend my arm, hand open, and by some miracle, my hand closes around the M9's handle. I flip over, free hand moving to cock the weapon-

Too little, to late.

The monster stands on it's good hid leg, wings in mid-flap, paw raised, claws extended, ready to slash down and end my life once and for all. Time slows as it begins to descend, and it seems to blur with the speed of its descent...

I close my eyes...

My thoughts flash once more back to my life on Earth.

To all the things I would miss... 

Last of all, my thoughts go to my dearest Tempest.

I love you. 

--

--

--

--

--

-- 

However, the impact I expect never comes.

Instead, a burst green light glares through my eyelids as a wave of pressure bears down on me, pushing me into the dirt like a giant hand. I open my eyes to see a the remnants of a green flash wink out of existance where the monster had been. Where it was currently is immediately evident  due to an almighty crash somewhere beyond my feet. Glancing past them, I see the monster amidst a pile of splintered wood, getting slowly to its feet. 

Shaking its head, it glares at me once again and roars, leaping forward. This time, I see plainly a bolt of hunter green... energy of some kind streak over my head, shrieking ominously and spitting sparks. It connects with the mosnter and, as before, a flash of brillant green is followed by a powerful wave of concussive force, blowing the monster away into the wreckage of it's previous journey through the air. It tries to rise once more, obviously shaken, but still glaring at me with unyielding loathing in it's eyes.

"Just give up, manticore. You are beaten."

I start at the serious, confident male voice emanating from somewhere behind me. The manticore snarls, and, for the first time since I broke its tail, looks at something othr than me, glaring at the source of the voice behind me.

"So be it."

A third and final bolt of green light flies overhead. It his the beast full in the face. It's entire body is illuminated by emerald light. The light fades, and the animal crumbles. I'm not sure if it's dead, and I don't care. The fight is over, and I'm still alive. At least for the time being.

That may just be subject to change as two sets of footsteps, slightly out of sync from one another, approach from behind me. I try to crane my head, looking for whoever is approaching me, but stop as pain racks my back. Now that the fight is over, I seem to be coming down from the adrenaline. That means... Uh oh...

"Hmm..." The voice seems puzzled. "Never seen anything like you before. Are you ok?"

"Ugh..." I respond eloquently. "I think I'll live. Thank you, by the way. I thought I was a 

goner."

"Just doing my job," the voice stated, a shrug evident in it's tone. "You looked like you needed some help there." The half-syncronized pair of footsteps continues to approach.

"That's putting it mildly," I respond sardonically. I'm starting to get curious about the second set of footsteps. "Who's there with you?" I ask.

"No one's here with me," the voice responds, nonplussed.  "Why do you think there would be?"

I groan as I sit up, my head swimming as my stomach threatens to let fly my half finished MRE.

"Well," I moan, as I clutch my hands in my head, "there are two sets of footsteps coming from your direction." I turn to look at my saviors...

And my jaw drops as I look up into the intelligent, emerald eyes of a of a dark green horse, clad in grey armor and sporting a horn from under it's mane. It's body is oddly rounded and simplistic at first glance, but distinctly muscular and masculine beneath the dull metal plates. A pair of khaki saddlebags hang at its sides.

The horse, or more accurately, unicorn before me has an incredibly human-like expression, calm and even, but currently touched with a hint of confusion.

"Were you expecting something else?" he asks.

"I-you... u-uni...corn... but-but... I don't..." I stammer.

The unicorn, for his part, looks none too surprised by my nonsensical language.

"Just breathe. You've been through a lot."

He doesn't even know the half of it. But I take his advice. I breath in slowly through my nose...

And promptly vomit.

--

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Everfree.

--

It was a common fact of life that everypony everywhere was afraid of something. Be it spiders, 

snakes, heights, the dark, everybody had a fear. Fear is the body's natural reaction to danger. 

It's the beginning of the fight or flight response. It was a pony's way of keeping them alive and out of harms way when in danger. Everypony reacted to it differently, and everybody handled it differently. 

It was perfectly acceptable, then, that some ponies were more suseptable to it than others.

Fluttershy, however, took it to the extreme.

There wasn't much she wasn't afraid of. She was literally afraid of her own shadow! 

And yet, here she was, half trotting, half being pushed through the everfree forest by her oldest friend, Rainbow Dash, who, at this point, was wondering if she should just take Fluttershy home. Not that she wanted to be rid of her, of course. She just knew that they had a lot of ground to cover, and Fluttershy was just slowing them down. Moreover, the forest terrified her, and Rainbow Dash was certain she'd rather be back at her cottage attending to her woodland friends and tyrannical rabbit, Angel Bunny. What Fluttershy saw in that evil fluffball, Rainbow would never know.

Still, Fluttershy, for all her fears, knew the Everfree better than anypony, except maybe Zecora. However, the zebra witchdoctor was currently on a pilgramage to her native Zebratiana, and so was unavailable to help them on their search. Plus, Celestia made it clear that the Elements were possibly be needed on this trip. So Fluttershy's presence was deffinitely needed.

So, Rainbow Dash continued to push and prod her friend forward as they and the four other bearers of The Elements of Harmony marched on along the old forest road.

"Come on, Fluttershy," Dash said in her rough voice, punctuating her statement with a push and eliciting a soft Meep! in response, "I don't get why you are so scared of the forest. I mean, you've basically either befriended or Stared down all the monsters in here at least once. Why in the world are you still scared of the forest?"

The butter-yellow pegasus shivered and gulped before responding, eyes darting around the trees.

"W-well... um... b-b-b-because it's d-dark... and, um, it's sc-c-cary... and I haven't met all the m-m-monsters in here b-b-before," Fluttershy stammered. Her constant shivering made it hard to understand her. 

Rainbow just rolled her eyes and continued her shoves. Applejack, on the other hand, looked back over her shoulder and offered an encouraging smile to her fearful friend.

"Aw, c'mon now, Fluttershy," she said in her Southern drawl. "T'aint nothin' ta be afraid of. 'specially on a count a you're with us. We look out fer each other, sugarcube, you know that. 

Nothin' bad's gonna happen."

"Of course not, darling," Said Rarity from under her stylish sunhat and giving Fluttershy a sidelong glance over her sunglasses. "If I can handle a bunch of dirty, uncouth diamond dogs on my own, you can certainly handle anything in this forest with us around."

Fluttershy still looked apprehensive.

"Oh... I suppose, but... b-but what... what if-"

"Look, sugarcube," Applejack said, cutting her timid friend off, "Ah promise that nothin's gonna happen to you in this here forest, alright?"

"But-"

"I promise, Fluttershy. And I'm the Element of Honesty. T'aint no way I'd lie to you."

Fluttershy hesitated, then gave a weak smile.

"Oh, umm... Thank you, Applejack. That, does make me feel a little better."

"No thanks needed, sugarcube," Applejack responded with a wink, then turned her head forward again. 

With Fluttershy reassured, the group picked up their pace a little and continued on into the bowels of the forest.

"Hey Twilight, exactly how far is... Whatever it is we're supposed to find?" Asked Rainbow Dash.

Twilight, whose nose had been plastered in a book up to this point, looked over at the athletic weatherpony.

"I'm not totally sure, Dash. It could literally be anywhere in here, but, based on the fact that I didn't hear an explosion and there wasnt a shock wave, even from something that big, I'd wager that it's pretty far in, maybe on the other side of the forest near the Equestria-Gryphonus border." She turned to the meekest of the group. "Fluttershy, you live on the edge of the forest. Are you sure you didn't hear anything? Nothing got shaken up last night?"

Fluttershy looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head.

"I'm sorry Twilight, but I didn't see anything. I was just putting the chickens in their coop 

when that light flashed. It was kind of spooky at how quiet it was. All the animals seemed really frightened afterwards, the poor dears... I'm not sure why though..."

"Hmm... I wonder," Twilight muttered as she turned back to her book.

"That still doesn't answer my question," Rainbow Dash said obstinately. "How long are we going to be in here for?"

Twilight sighed, mildly irritated.

"We're going to be a while, Dash. It's about a day-and-a-half to the other side, so I figure we camp at the old castle once we reach it.

"Oh, my," said Fluttershy nervously, "Um, is that such a good idea, Twilight? I mean, who knows what could be living in there?"

"There wasn't anything there last time, so it shouldn't be a problem. I think it will be the perfect place to camp out and-"

Twilight was cut off as a pink blur bowled her over. She and the mass of pink-hued energy came to a stop with the frizzy superball staring at Twilight nose-to-nose.

"Oh my gosh thats a great idea Twilight! It will be so much fun! We can build a camp fire and sing camp fire songs and roast marshmallows and make smores! It's a good thing I always plan ahead becase it just so happens I always carry a bag of marshmallows with me wherever I go in case I go somewhere where there is a camp fire so I can always go up to the person and ask "hey there wanna make smores" and they'd go "of course I would silly" because come on, who doesn't love smores?"

Pinkie showed no signs of either stopping or getting off of Twilight any time soon, so Twilight 

abruptly stuffed her hoof into Pinkie's mouth, cutting off the hyperactive pony's tirade.

"Yes Pinkie," Twilight said, somewhat exasperated by all te interruptions, "we can make smores and it will be fun, but we have to actually get there first, so, could you please get off of me so we can get a move on?"

"Rrrrfy, mmmrrrrffy, wrrrrfffyy!" Pinky mumbled around the hoof in her mouth, vibrating Twilight's foreleg and sending a chill down her spine. Twilight retracted her leg quickly.

"Sorry, didn't quite get that," Twilight said to her awkward friend.

Pinkie smiled cheerfully.

"Sorry, I said, 'Rrrrfy, drrrrffy, wrrrrfffyy,'" Pinkie replied happily.

Twilight's visage met the underside of her forehoof in an all too common meeting that usually happened at least once whenever Pinkie Pie was around. Rainbow laughed heartily.

"Pinkie, you are so random!"

Pinkie stood and Pulled Twilight to her feet.

"Okay, let's get a move on troops!" Pinkie said enthusiaticaly, setting forth in a proper military trot. "Hut, two three four! Hut, two three four!"

The others merely followed behind, also in a trot, though lacking the military bearing and discipline of the spastic pink pony in front of them.

Twilight returned to her book.

Why do I get the feeling it's going to be a long day?

--

And back to our hero, no doubt reveling in his triumph...

--

Fresh vomit wells up and flies out, showing me the appearance of a freshly eaten MRE mixed with stomach juices. The result isn't pretty, and instantly makes me produce more.

Fuck adrenaline. Fuck it to hell and back.

The armored unicorn just sits back and watches, probably waiting for the worst of it to finish up. Unfortunately, he sits there for a while, as more and more keeps coming up. Eventually though, I get my rebellious stomach under control. I groan and shiver, despite the warm air of the forest. Adrenaline crashes suck. My head pounds, especially the back. Every part of me aches. My ankle throbs with growing pain. 

Something wet coats the back of my head and my right side. Looking down, I notice three large, circular holes in the right side of my flak vest, where no armor plates cover anything. The holes are also present in the ABU's underneath, my sand t-shirt, and my skin beneath that. The three wounds are shallow, but blood sheets out of them, soaking the t-shirt.  

Huh. That must have happened when he pinned me against the tree. And the wound in my head... Probably a result of me getting flung against the other tree. Looks like I'm in for a bit of recovery time.

Resigning myself to this, I shrug off my pack, undo the straps of my armor, and take it off. It clatters to the ground, and I stretch lightly, glad the weight is off my shoulders. I then begin to unbutton my ABU blouse.

The unicorn, seeing me giving myself a once over and noticing no more foodstuffs flying out of my gullet, approaches, though slowly and cautiously, as if he had never seen a human before.

"That doesn't look so good," the unicorn says, noting the wounds on my side. "Do you need help with that?"

"I'm not sure how much you could help," I reply, finally getting my shirt off and rummaging through my pack for my SABC kit. "You don't exactly have hands." The unicorn frowns at this, but shrugs and walks over to the... manticore, I think he said it was. Finding the kit, I pry it open, and sift through the contents. I don't find any normal antiseptic. What I do find are a set of disinfectant alcohol swabs.

God. DAMMIT.

Resigned to get the worst of this over, I roll up the sleeve of my ABU coat and bite down on it, then open up one of the swabs, take it in hand, and proceed to wipe down the uppermost wound.

Now, I have a fairly high tolerance for pain. I once had my wrist sliced open from a piece of falling glass, and I largely ignored it, though that might have been due to the fact that it severed a nerve. I also  got into a bike wreck that left me with a broken thumb and many instances of road rash, but I still had the clarity to drag myself out of the street where I had landed and call for help. Hell, I can ignore a papercut.

This, however, was a different kind of pain. It burns like a overcooked turkey determined to bring down the house around it. And, of all the multitude of pains there are, burns are the ones kind that I can't deal with.

I clamp down on the cloth and give a muffled yell as I work the sheet of pure evil around the wound. My eyes water, my neck tenses, and my eyes feel like are going to pop out of my head. 

I wipe out the wound for a minute that seems to drag on for days, the object of my torment sending shivers of agony down my spine. At last, I finish with the first wound, gasping for breath.

One down, three to go.

An indeterminate while later, I toss the last of the blood-soaked swabs away, and suck in a breath of relief. Good god, I was not eager to do that again any time soon. However, my ministrations aren't done yet. I look back to my SABC kit and pull out a large absorbent pad, a roll of gauze bandage, and some bandage hooks. I lay the pad gently over the trio of wounds, then struggle to wrap the bandage around my torso as I hold the pad in place.

"Here, let me help."

I glance up. The unicorn is walking back from the manticore with my knife in his mouth. 

"Uh, ok, I guess," I respond as he dropped the knife on the ground next to me. "If you wanna just hold this pad here so I can wrap this up..."

He just looks at me with his even expression. Closing his eyes, he takes on a look of concentration.

"Uh, were you going to help or-"

My words are cut off in a gasp as his horn is enveloped in an ethereal green glow identical to the bolts of energy that blasted the manticore away from me. At the same time, the pad and gauze are surrounded by the same light, and are pulled from my suddenly slackened grip. The pad slips through the air and presses itself gently against my wound. At the same time, the end of the bandage is placed against the pad, and the roll rapidly orbits my torso, quickly and securely holding the pad in place. Lastly, the clips are snagged through the fabric, finishing the wrap. The glow fades, and the unicorn opens his eyes, then checks his handiwork. I just gape at him in wonder.

"How did you do that?" I ask, amazed.

The unicorn looks up at me, cocking an eyebrow.

"Haven't you ever seen a unicorn use magic before?"

"Magic?" I ask, utterly bewildered.

"Guess that's a no then," he responds with a shrug. Looking back at the defeated monster, he continues on. "I don't know what you did to anger him, but you sure did a number on him. Surprising, considering you don't seem to have magic of your own. Even the toughest ponies would think twice before taking on a manticore." He shakes his head, then gives me an approving smile. "Brave of you. Still, you did a lot of unnecessary damage. I repaired most of it, but-"

"Hold the phone, you WHAT?" I asked, shocked out of my stupor. I look over at the beast. Sure enough, its leg where I stabbed it is bandaged, and the tendon I had severed is somehow restored, with fresh, if raw and naked skin covering it once again. It's tail had been folded back in the correct position, the cracks in the armor filled in with some sort of red paste, and had been splinted. "That thing tried to KILL me, and you patched it up?"

"Of course I did," the pony states, matter-of-factly. "You barged into it's territory, and it defended itself. I can't fault it, and it wouldn't have survived if those wounds went untreated. And since you failed to kill it, I saw no reason to let it suffer."

I gawk at him, then shake my head and turn my attention to splinting my ankle.

"Ridiculous," I mutter, wrapping a pair of sturdy sticks to either side of my ankle. "Completely fucking ridiculous."

The unicorn's face hardened.

"If you think I made an error in judgement," He began, anger evident in his normally calm voice, "I could always wake him up and let you guys go for round two."

I gape at him, then turn back to my ministrations with a huff, grumbling under my breath.

"That's what I thought," he affirms with a small smile. Igniting his magic once more, he lifts another bandage roll out of my kit, this one with a crescent-shaped plastic implement that allowed the caregiver to lock the bandage in place as he wraps it. Placing the pad attached to it against the wound on the back of my head, he carefully winds it around my head, avoiding my eyes and ears, slips the bandage under the implement, then reverses the direction of the wrap and continues. Once finished, he secures it with the Velcro at the end and admires his handiwork.

"That's some useful stuff you had there," he says appreciatively. "We could definitely benefit from having tools like that in the Wilderness Rangers ECP."

"Wilderness Rangers?" I inquire, confused.

"The part of the Equestrian military I enlisted in. We're a sort of border patrol and emergency rescue unit."

"You're a soldier?" I ask, suddenly wary.

"Yes," he began, with a small, proud smile and a knowing look at me, "and I can tell from your uniform and bearing that you are too." Noting my tension, he continued, "No need to get nervous. I'm not going to take you in as a POW. Equestria takes a stand of peace with almost every known nation. Our military is just a self defense and emergency response force. Still, I have to ask, what is a soldier of an unknown race doing so close to the Equestia-Gryphonus border?"

I hesitate, wondering how much I should tell this pony. Before I can even respond, however, my stomach clenches painfully. So painfully, in fact, that I curl into a fetal position as a reflex.

"Hey, what's wrong?" the unicorn asks from somewhere above me, concern in his voice. "Are you ok?"

I just groan and shake my head, eyes screwed up in pain. It feels like my stomach is on fire. More than that, I feel the wash of a similar burn work its way outward from my stomach, seemingly working through my veins.

Dimly, I'm aware that the unicorn soldier is muttering above me, but I can't make out what he's saying. The pain makes it impossible to concentrate. It fogs my brain in a dim red cloud, and strangles my breath to agonizing gasps.

The ground seems to drop away as a feeling of floating comes over me. I feel as though I'm flying through the cosmos once again as the red haze overcomes all else. Even my sense of time is lost, and all I'm aware of is the searing, aching pain as even my bones seem illuminated from it.

--

I'm not entirely sure what happened. One moment, the strange creature sitting on the ground was perfectly alright. The next, he collapsed over and curled in on himself. He barely responded to my attempts to rouse him, and simply screamed with what I could only guess to be absolute agony.

This whole business, along with that weird comet and silent explosion, had me uneasy. I couldn't shake the feeling that this creature and the light were somehow connected. If that were true...

I straightened up, and weighed my options. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew I couldn't leave him like this. So, firing up my horn, I sent a narrow-band magical ping outward in the direction of Everfree Command. Within 10 seconds, a return ping touches my horn, giving me the ok to begin my message.

"Recon 22 to Command, transmitting code E-43. Class-1 unknown found 12 clicks east-south-east Echo Gulf border. Subject had an altercation with a manticore, and sustained injuries. Injuries treated, but subject appears to be suffering from odd symptoms, and is unresponsive. Envenomation not suspected. Request permission to return with subject to Outpost Gallop for further treatment and questioning. How copy?"

The response was not long in coming. A soothing voice sounds in my skull, transmitting through my horn.

"Everfree Command copies all. Request granted. Authorization code for entry to Outpost Gallop is Charlie-Charlie-Mike-fife-niner. Major Storm Tide requests status updates hourly. How copy?"

"Copy all, Command. Recon 22 out."

Cutting the transmission, I focus on the task at hand. Reaching through the fabric of magic, I unceremoniously dumped the creatures shirt, overshirt, care kit, knife, and the odd metal hand device back into its pack, then yanked the zippers shut. I couldn't make heads or tails of the odd straps and buckles on the pack, so I simply tied it to my back with a few cords from my saddlebags. I then draped the odd armor over the soldier and levitated him beside me. 

I took a deep breath, then broke into a run, focusing carefully to avoid tripping, as well as to avoid causing any more damage than necessary to the groaning creature above me. Within a few bounds, I come across the old forest road and gallop down it, away from the border, and deeper into the forest that had been my home since my birth.

Hopefully, with some luck, I can save this creature from whatever painful fate awaits him...













> Precipice of Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4

The Precipice of Darkness

I'm not sure how long I've floated through this red fog. The pain has been making it impossible to tell. It feels like days since I've seen anything but the bloody haze before my eyes. Days since I've felt anything but the pain that seems to emanate from my very bones.

It's unlike anything that I have ever felt before. It doesn't feel like fractures or breaks in the structure holding my body in its shape. It has none of the splash of pain or dull throb that remains after a sharp blow. It's devoid of the queasy feeling of something sliding through flesh. It lacks the ache of the cold coming from overexposure. Absent too is the blinding, attention-grasping sear of exposed skin over flame. 

The feeling within me is none of these things. 

It is simply pain. 

And not merely physical pain. Deep within my core, something stirs. Things better left buried seem to crawl up from the vaults I had banished them to. Old doubts whisper themselves into my brain. Freshly scabbed wounds of the mind crack open and bleed once more. Long-scarred memories echo with a ghostly pain, reminding me of the times in which those wounds had been etched upon my soul.

Through the red haze, I notice small flashes of light, snatches of distant memories. Though they are indistinct, for once my insatiable curiosity is not forefront in my mind. My urge to confront the unknown is replaced by one thing.

Terror. 

No...

No, please...

Don't make me.... Don't want....

But no matter how much I will it otherwise, the broken images of my past seem to grow in intensity and stability. My eyes ignore the commands I send them, staying painfully open, to the point I that I start to wonder how my optical organs don’t pop out of my skull.

"...traitor..."

"...inhuman..."

"...friendless..."

"...loser..."

"...failure..."

A chorus of accusations, of venomous words... of abhorred, undeniable, unquestionable truth begins in my head, whispering at first, then growing steadily louder, pausing only as splashed images of my past whirl past my eyes, painting pictures of my truth and legacy that scream of my failures, as a friend. As a student. As a son.

AS A HUMAN BEING.

The scenes scream past, and snatches of conversations pierce through the discordant cacophony of my flaws.

...a teenage boy stood in his room, holding report card reading straight A's, holding back tears and shaking with fury as his father hollered at him in a drunken rage.

"...doesn't matter how good they are! You'll never amount to anything. You were born shit, and that's how you'll die! SHIT!"

... a much younger boy, rather fat, struggled to lift himself up as he hung a foot off the ground from a pull-up bar. Numerous other kids laughed at him and poked his stomach, calling him names and urging him to give up and cry.

... a young man, much more similar to my current self but still somewhat fat, sweated profusely as he ran in formation with several other men, all wearing the same uniform. The man stumbled and tripped head over heels, sending half the formation down with him. A short, muscular man stomped over and proceeded to shout at the downed trainee until he was red in the face.

"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE BUT MAELSTROM, START PUSHING. SAY THANK YOU, MAILMAN!"

"...Thank you Mailman!" the training flight groaned as they pushed themselves up, glaring at the now considerably shamed young man.

... a very young boy cried on the ground, shielding his face with his arms as several other boys kicked him. They all stepped back, and one spoke out angrily.

"You aint no fwiend of mine. Fwiends don't tattle on fwiends no matter what, twaitor."

He kicked the downed boy one last time, eliciting a pained scream from him, then turned and walked away, the others in tow.

... the same young boy, still crying, now was wrapped in the arms of his mother, who gave him a warm, gentle smile as he wailed about what had happened.

"Shh, shhh..." she said, holding him close in a warm embrace. "It's ok, honey. You did the right thing. And, if Mikey did that afterward, he doesn't deserve to be your friend. Never be afraid to do what you know is right. You'll always have people to back you up."

The boy pulled back and looked up at his mother, tears still in his eyes.

"Will you back me up, mommy?"

"As long as you do what you know is right."

"Promise?"

The mother smiled.

"I promise."

A door slammed somewhere, and both mother and child flinched as the boy's father strode into the room.

"Pah. Dumb kid." He growled as he knelt down, an air of drink about his as he roughly grasped the boy's chin in his calloused hands as he inspected the several bruises on his face. "Maybe if you were a little tougher, not afraid to fight back, you wouldn't look like a goddamn punching bag."

"Dear," the mother began, a plaintive tone in her voice, "please mind your language. He doesn't need to hear that."

"You shut up, woman." he barked back, his face flushing with anger. He pushed the boy aside roughly as he stood up, causing him to begin crying again.

"My god, you're pathetic," the man said, shaking his head. He pointed at his wife with a glare. "And here you sit defending him and cuddling him like a damn baby. It's your fault he's so weak. You both aren't worth my fuckin' time. Don't even know why I friggen married you.." He turned and strode out of the door once more.

The boy's mother scooped him up once more.

"It's going to be alright. I know it doesn't seem like it, but daddy loves you..."

They boy was too busy crying into his mother's shoulder to notice the hitch in her voice, or the trail of silver tears upon her cheeks. 

... the chubby teenager walked into the living room, snow on his shoulders, to find his father pouring over an unorganized stack of papers. He walked right past him, angling for the hallway to his room.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?" the older man barked, looking over at the teenager's back.

"Well, nowhere now." the boy replied acerbically, turning to face his father.

"You watch your mouth, boy," the father snarled, getting to his feet. "Come over here."

The boy complied, his hatred for the man before him evident in his every movement.

"So," his father began, smugness evident in his voice, "got beat up again, didn't you?"

"No," the teen said, a little too fast.

"Don't you try lying to me. You think I don't know you?"

The boy glared at him, then lowered his eyes to the ground.

"Yeah, I did. So what?"

"So grow a pair of balls and fight back, you little shit!" his father growled, poking him in the chest. "You are completely worthless, you know that? Your grades have dropped, you can't defend yourself, and you've got no friends to back you up. I don't even think you know what a friend is anymore."

"Shut up, that aint true!" the boy yelled, glaring into his father’s triumphant face.

"Then how come I haven't ever seen any of them?"

"Maybe it's because I don't want them to think less of me because my father is a no-good drunk!"

The man's seasoned face turned from smug to furious in an instant, and his open palm whipped up, connecting with the teenager's husky face soundly. 

"Don't you fucking dare talk to me like that again, you little piece of shit," he growled. "Do you hear me?"

The teen stood for a moment, head turned to the side, face contorted in shock and rage. He faced his father, and his countenance turned feral as he yelled out and swung at his father's face.

The blow connected squarely with the elder man's nose, and a resounding crack sounded. Blood spurted from both nostrils as the man's hand flew to his nose in utter disbelief. It came away spotted with blood, and he gawked at the teen, who looked just as disbelieving as he stared at his fist, which bled from split knuckles. 

The man stood speechless for a moment, before a wicked grin came over his face.

"Now we're talkin'," he said, then punched the youth in the gut. The teen doubled over the fist, unable to formulate a response as the man's elbow crashed down on his head...

... the same young boy again, but a little older, no longer crying, with a horrified look on his face, beheld the same old living room he'd tread through all his life, the same chandelier that gave it light, and the same table he'd always eaten at occupying the center. 

What was different about it was the chair resting on its side.

...The rope that hung from the ceiling.

...And, at the end of it, the boy's mother, eyes closed, body pale blue, and the faintest trace of her old, warm, assuring smile upon her lips, in haunting repose.

"...Mommy...?" the boy whispered, his voice hollow as he leaned against the door frame for support. "...Mommy, this isn't funny. Please come down from there."

But the body of his mother did not move. It did not open its eyes, or smile, or raise its arms invitingly to scoop up its son in a warm embrace as it always had. 

The boy fell to his knees and crawled to his mother, his wide, terrified eyes locked on her face. He reached up and gently touched her bare foot, recoiling at the frightening coldness.

A door slammed somewhere indistinct, and the father entered the room. He stood speechless before the scene a hand over his mouth, his eyes inscrutable.

"Daddy?" the boy said, in the same hollow tone. "Daddy, help Mommy! She won't listen to me."

The father looked down at his son, and something at last was evident in his eyes.

Pain. Much like the red haze that filled my eyes now, the man struggled against a pain that was incomprehensible. It lingered in his deep blue eyes for a moment before they closed, a single pair of tears forming at their corners.

Then the eyes opened once more, and the pain was gone, replaced by anger.

"Mommy is gone." he growled, voice as unsympathetic and sharp as steel. "She gave up because she couldn't hack it. She gave up, because she was weak. She couldn't handle her problems, let alone the problems of a family. Maybe if you... If WE'D had been stronger, she'd still be alive."

The child just cried, holding fast to his mother's lifeless leg.

"That's what happens when you're weak." he continued "People die. People die, and you can't do a damn thing about it! So stop being weak. Stop being weak!"

Despite his harsh words, his hands were extraordinarily careful as he lifted the body of his wife up and loosened the noose from her neck. He laid her gently upon a nearby couch. The boy followed, releasing the ankle and grasping the grave-cold hand of his mother's husk. 

The father's face contorted as he slapped the hand away. 

"SHE'S GONE, DO YOU HEAR ME?" He roared, moisture rolling down his face. "Holding her hand won't change that! It's time you toughened up." 

The child just cried. The man snarled, then bent down, scooping the child up roughly, and, after one, last, anguished look at his wife, strode from the room. The child simply screamed and reached for his peacefully smiling mother, not comprehending the fact that his mother would never again hold him with her caring, loving embrace.

...no...

...no.

...No.

No.

NO.

NO!

I scream noiselessly as my last, most horrifying memory fades from my mind, my own mother's dead face burned into my sight as the indescribable pain rages through my body.

And my timeless torture wears on.

--
Elsewhere, as time moved apace
--

I jumped as the creature lying on the bed I stood next to gave an unearthly howl of pain. I looked over at him. He seemed the same as ever, though, as experience has told me time and again, that in and of itself meant nothing. 

The run through the forest to their destination had been uneventful, barring the occasional moan and scream from his unconscious baggage, with nary a rabbit to peak its head from its hole. The arrival to Outpost Gallop had been considerably more interesting, for, even after the proper Authorization Code had been given, the Outpost Watch had taken an additional 20 minutes to cast multiple charms of detection and revealing upon myself and the unconscious creature. 

I could hardly blame them; changing activity had been becoming alarmingly frequent as of late. In the immediate aftermath following the anomaly last night, four Ever free outposts, including Gallup, had been attacked, and  Recon and Scout units had reported sightings of changelings throughout the forest. Evidently, they were as curious as we were of whatever was out there. They also didn't seem to want us to find it.

Still, the added security had worried me. The creature was in a bad state, and I wasn't confident at the time that security superseded preservation of life. But the creature's condition hadn't changed, and, in fact remained much the same for the past 4 hours. 

The outpost's doctors, meanwhile, had been wigging out trying to learn more of the creature I had brought them. Evidently, it wasn't just my knowledge of fauna that was incomplete. The doctors were just as lost as I was. The closest they had heard of to whatever this thing was were the larger primates like chimpanzees, which were exceptionally rare, only located in very isolated pockets in the Monkey jungles on the southern continent. 
This creature's flat, hard, toeless, almost hoof like foot and strong legs, however, pointed to a more terrestrial lifestyle than the arboreal chimp, although, considering the fact that it wore armor over clothing, that may just have been a shoe.

The doctors had logged everything about the creature, from its shape and musculature, to vital statistics, to behavioral patterns based on my reports. Apparently, it was similar enough to ponies to be considered a possible pony subspecies.

I had immediately scoffed at the idea. There was no way whatever this thing was could be considered a pony of any kind. Still, I couldn't help but feel curious myself as I watched over the odd creature. Its lined face bespoke a lifetime of hardship and struggle, and the scar on its cheek betrayed an accident of some kind, or perhaps a battle wound. If its earlier fight with the manticore hadn't made it obvious enough, it was clear to tell that he was a warrior. 

Perhaps he'd had a little too much hardship. I'd seen faces like his on ponies that’d come away from battles with more than just physical wounds. I myself was no stranger to the fact that the mind sometimes carries the heaviest burdens.

My thoughts on the matter were abruptly cut off as I felt a pressure surround my horn. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut as an image of an old earth stallion with light blue fur and a close-cropped, white-streaked blue mane and matching tail appeared in my mind. Golden armor encased his body, and a scar crossed his patched right eye. 

"Major Storm Tide, sir!" I acknowledged, snapping to attention and projecting a mental salute.

"Captain Shadow," Storm tide acknowledged my salute with one of his own. "Your report on the unknown is ten minutes overdue. Did something happen?"

"Quite the opposite, sir." I replied, evenly, bracing myself for the inevitable berating I was about to get. "The creature hasn't had any significant change since the doctors wired him up. With respect, I didn't think you'd want to hear about a lack of change."

"I asked for hourly reports, Captain." Stormtide replied, his scowl becoming more pronounced. "When I give an order, I shouldn't think that I would need qualifiers." 

"No sir, you are correct." I said, bowing my head. "I was wrong to make that assumption, and it won't happen again. Please forgive my error, sir."

Though the formal request for clemency was standard practice within the Equestrian Military, I was still sincere in my endeavor not to repeat the mistake and my apology for circumventing a commanding officer.

Storm Tide seemed to recognize this, and his face returned to its usual grouchy crunch.

"Apology accepted, Captain Evergreen Shadow. Ensure it doesn’t happen again. Now, please report."

"As I had mentioned previously, Major, there has been no change physically. All vitals have remained stable."

The Major nodded, taking the information in stride.

"Also, his unexplained absence in the fabric of magic remains."

Looking over at the unconscious creature, I test this by reaching out with my own power, grasping the creature's armored front... paw? Sure enough, I can grasp it and raise it from the bed, but there is no sensation that flows through my magical connection. Even empty air would have given me more to feel. It was as though I held in my mouth a ball with no taste, substance, weight, texture, or smell, yet I could hold it aloft.

The commander, for his part, seemed unimpressed.

"You're preaching to the choir, Captain Shadow." Storm Tide said dismissively. "I know as much about magical theory as I do of high society fashion. And I'm about as likely to feel anything in the fabric of magic as a rabbit is to become General of the Armies." 

"True enough, Major," I chuckled lightly.

"Anything else to report?"

"Other than that, sir, the subject has continued talking and groaning while unconscious. The doctors suspect battle-trauma."

"Well," the commander said with a mild shrug, "I wouldn't be surprised. Many soldiers have battle-"

"Sir, I disagree."

The commander stopped mid-word, and then looked at me with mild curiosity.

"Continue, then."

"Sir, there were points, when the doctors weren't around or when they were too busy discussing their notes, that he would mutter something that wasn't quite in tandem with battle-trauma. More than once I heard him muttering something about, 'Mom,' and, 'my fault.' More than once, he seemed to be begging, both for something to stop, and for a second chance. I think this goes much deeper than simple battle trauma, sir."

The commander's scowl had shifted into a pensive frown as he listened to my words. He held a gold-shod hoof to his chin as he mulled over what I had said.

Finally, his good eye met my own eyes once more.

"I need your honest answer on this, Captain: do you think this is indicative of something that might bring harm to anypony around him?"

His golden eye bored into my own emerald eyes as I took a deep breath.

"Sir, I cannot say. Some ponies with battle-trauma become dangerous at certain triggers. However, most of them are able to overcome their reactions to those triggers. I suggest we hold off on making a decision for now. He didn't attack me after I had saved him, so he most likely isn't a danger."

Storm tide held my gaze for a moment after I had finished, and then sighed, and it seemed as though the weight of his years bore down on his aged shoulders.

"Very well. When and if he awakes, I'm assigning you to keep an eye on him. Monitor him, help him acclimate, and once he's ready for travel, bring him to Evergreen Command so we can debrief him."

"Understood, sir!" I state with a salute.

The Major groaned and held a hoof to his head.

"This couldn't have come at a worse time. First it was the dispute with the griffins, then the changelings start increasing their raids. Now this anomaly makes things that much worse, an unknown and potentially hostile creature appears out of nowhere, and from what Intel has been passed down, Princess Celestia is getting the Elements involved."

"Sir, do you think this situation warrant's their involvement?" I asked, concern rising. Everyone knew the track record of the Element Bearers. They had saved the world as a whole several times, and have averted crises in various parts of Equestria countless more. However, by the same token, their actions had led to near Discordian levels of pandemonium nearly as often as they had averted it.

The Major scowled once more, though it was as much a look of consternation at the logic behind my meaning-laden words as it was grimace of reprimand at my questioning the orders of the higher-ups.

"Captain, it doesn't matter what I think. By extension, it certainly doesn't matter what you think. Princess Celestia gave this order, and Captain-Commander Shining Armor backed it himself." His voice and grimace softened somewhat as he continued. "I understand your concerns, Captain Shadow, I really do. But there is no denying that, if things do go awry with whatever is going on, it would be best to have the Elements there to set everything back into harmony."

"I understand, sir." I said, swallowing my misgivings. "Forgive me, sir. I stepped out of line again."

"No," the Major replied, waving a placating hoof. "I agree with you on this one, Captain. However, orders are orders. Your apology is accepted; just ensure that you don't express your misgivings when and if you meet the Bearers."

"Of course not, sir."

"Very well, carry on. I need to make the arrangements for the Bearer's arrival." I saluted, and he returned the gesture. Just before I terminated the connection, however, the Storm Tide stopped me. "Actually, one last thing, Captain. How are his wounds healing up?"

I was taken aback by this.

"Actually, truth be told, we haven't looked into them. He had bandaged them pretty well before he fainted, so no one bothered to remove them, for fear of aggravating a wound. In any case, I wouldn't think that they would heal any faster than if a pony were to be wounded in a similar way."

The Major frowned, clearly displeased that the doctors had taken more of an academic interest in their patient than as a proper patient.

"Sir, would you like me to check up on them?"

"Please do," Storm Tide responded, obviously irked. "Just make sure that there isn't any sign of infection or poison. We still don't know what is keeping him unconscious and in pain."

Opening my eyes, I move over to the bedside. Cradling the body with my magic, I frown slightly.

"That's odd..."

"What is it Captain?"

"Remember how I had said that I didn't feel anything from him through magic? Well, all of a sudden, I'm feeling something from him. It's faint, but it's there."

It was hard to describe what I felt. Like a mild tingle in my bones that flowed through the connection. It echoed with a hollow resonance that cast melancholy notes in my mind.

"Maybe that's a good thing," Storm Tide responded. "It might mean he's past the worst of it." 

"Maybe..." I muttered as I unwound the bandage wrapped about the creature's waist. "Anyway, let’s check... that... whoa..."

"Captain?" Storm Tide inquired. "Captain Shadow, respond. Is everything ok?"

I just sat there, mouth agape, as I stared at his side. In a flurry of magic, I undid his head wrap, unlocked it, and removed it.

"Major...?" I started, drawing a deep, steadying breath. "Major...you are not going to believe this."

--
Meanwhile
--

As I float through my own personal hell, writhing in my misery and pain, forced to relive my failings again and again, I beg for a release. I beg for a second chance. I beg for death to take me in earnest this time. I beg for anything that would free me from this torment. 

Please… Please make it stop. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just please, don’t make me watch this anymore.

“… Anything, you say?”
 
Amidst my torment, through the murmured accusations and the screams of my past, the voice comes in, clear as day carrying a light British accent. It sounds sympathetic enough, but is laced with the smooth overtones of an actor, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s male or female. Not that I actually care at this point. Focusing on the voice lessens the pain somewhat, though, at the back of my mind, the murmurs and screams continue.

“Strong choice of words. I wonder, know you the ramifications of such a bargain?”

I don’t care.

“Any port in the storm I take it?” the voice asks. “Looking at these memories, I can’t say I blame you. Seems you’ve been through quite a lot, and have done much to try and forget about it. Such a shame that these walls you’ve built up fell apart like this.”

Help me…

“Perhaps I will,” the voice responds, a teasing note tingeing it. “Or perhaps I’ll let you learn from your own history some more…” Almost as if on cue, the images and voices of my past intensify, relaying a feeling of emptiness even as a girl hugged the shoulders of a boy with a black eye, who sat on a lonely curb, arms around his own legs…

NO!

“Seems to me you don’t particularly like that idea,” the voice scoffed. “Very well, then.”

The image, the red haze, the murmuring and the pain are all banished instantly, leaving me standing in what appears to be a forest of barren trees lit by a violet moon in an otherwise empty black sky. 

I am not alone, however. Before me stands another pony, as tall as I am, and it, too, sports a horn. However, this one seems very distinct from the armored pony that rescued me from the manticore. Instead of green, its coat is a blank white. Its mane and tail, however, are iridescent, such that, even in the pale violet light, they reflect a multitude of colors, and both are cropped quite short. In fact, the mane looks like a style often seen on businessmen.

Its iridescent mane and tail, however, is not the feature that holds my attention. Indeed, I doubt very much that they would even if they were a constant solid rainbow, so long as those eyes stayed the same. Whereas the unicorn before had clear, emerald green eyes that sparkled with life, the eyes of this pony are completely devoid of life or soul. Perhaps it’s merely an optical illusion, but the pale, sickly green of these eyes don’t even seem to reflect the moon’s light. Besides that, the pony doesn’t seem to need to blink, which is more than a little disturbing. Despite the smile on the unicorn’s face, the emptiness of those eyes is so unsettling that I almost wish I was back in my torment.

Almost.

“Uh, thank you for bringing me out of that,” I say awkwardly, but sincerely enough. Regardless of this pony’s peculiarity, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, to use an oddly appropriate turn of phrase.

The pony’s smile widens, though the expression, or lack thereof in the pony’s eyes, remains.

“You are welcome.”

An awkward silence stretches on for a moment or so, as we stare at each other.

“So, uh… Where do we go from here, Mr. Pony?” I ask, more than a little uncomfortable.

“Mr. Pony?” it says, with a flat laugh. “That’s a first. No one has ever called me a stallion upon our first meeting.”

Realizing my error, I stumble over myself in apology, but the pony beats me to it.

“No need to apologize. To be fair, I really am neither, though if I need to be either, I can. And, as for what to call me, for the time being, you may call me Amseal.”

“’For the time being?’”

“Well, you don’t expect me to give out my real name the first time we talk, now do you? Honestly, beings these days have no sense of propriety or privacy. But that is neither here, nor there at the present time. What matters right now is how to go forward. And, of course, there is the matter of your payment.”

“Payment? For what?”

“Why, for services rendered, of course! You can’t just go around saying things like ‘I’ll do anything,’ and then welsh on it after. Unless you’d rather go back to your own past?”

I flinch as the forest seems to swim, the edges of my vision taking a red cast as a distant echo of deranged murmuring begins in my mind once again.

“No, PLEASE NO!” I shout, falling to my hands and knees before the still smiling Amseal.

“I thought not,” Amseal said, and the horrors of my past once again recede. Breathing hard, I rise once again to my feet as Amseal continues. “Now then, for my payment, I want you to leave the Everfree forest. Continue eastward out of it until you come upon a town called Ponyville. There you will find a library. Try not to talk to the head librarian there, if you can help it. Speak with the assistant, Spike. Ask for the books,  Basic Magical Theory and Applications, The Encyclopedia of Spells, A Beginners Guide to Spellcraft,and Academia Arcana, v.1. Oh, and while you’re at it, pick up a copy of Supernaturals while you are at it. Once you have those, use the currency I will place in your bag to rent a room somewhere in Ponyville.”

I nod to all of this as he speaks, taking careful mental notes, but wondering at the use of books on magic. Also, ‘Ponyville?’ No disrespect to whomever named it, but come on. That’s like a human naming a city Mantopia, or Peopolopolis. I shove this aside as Amseal continues on.

“Find a job, acquaint yourself with the locals, and study those books. Take rigorous notes, and, when you are done with them, exchange them for new books. Study as much a about magic as you can, but expand your horizons on this world.” Amseals smile, and the look in its otherwise soulless eyes, turns a bit too knowing for my liking, and I immediately wonder exactly how much he knows of me. “Something tells me that you might have need of all of it. Stay there and continue working, studying, and getting to know the locals. Then, once you feel you are ready, go to the city of Canterlot, and seek out a pony named Screwball to begin the second part of my payment.”

“Wait, second part?” I ask suspiciously. “You’ve done one thing for me.”

“Oh. I guess I forgot,” Amseal says as he bends down, closing his eyes for the first time as his horn begins to glow with a sickly violet light. “Well then, here is your other service.” 

“What are you-” I begin, but my words are cut off as his horn touches my chest. Cold energy blasts through my sore body, and I gasp as the forest around me is obliterated by white light. My fingers, scalp, and chest begin to itch furiously, though I can’t move to scratch them. My bones seem to hum with the same cold energy that pored through the horn. I clench my teeth, not in pain, but just because it is so damn uncomfortable.

“By the way,” Amseal’s voice says, breaking through the blanket of white that swiftly seems to be fading, along with my sense of everything else, “I’d suggest that you come to grips with the truths of who and what you are. You’ll find that who you are can be your greatest asset and weapon. Take care of yourself, Maelstrom. I’d hate to think of you defaulting on your payment due to death.”
And finally, after what seemed like an eternity of turmoil from this day, I fall into a fitful, and mercifully dreamless sleep.

--
Elsewhere in the Everfree
--

"Twilight, PLEASE tell me we're getting close," Rarity griped for what had to be the billionth time that afternoon, having just stepped into another mud puddle. She scratched at several spots of dried mud on her pristine white fur. "I'm not sure how much of this I can take. If I don't get a bath soon, I don't think this mud will ever come out!"

"Rarity, you just asked that five minutes ago." Twilight replied, several strands of hair popping out of her already frazzled mane. "If make me stop to check the map every time you step in a puddle, we AREN'T going to get there AT ALL!"

Rarity looked rather affronted by her friend's caustic reply.

"No need to snap," she muttered under her breath with a sidelong glare at their purple navigator. "A simple yes or no would have sufficed."

"Aw, quit yer whinin', Rarity," Applejack growled, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temple. "Y'all are givin' me a headache."

"I am not whining. I am complaining," Rarity asserted, nose held high. "Would you like to hear whining?"

Rainbow Dash dove into a bush while Twilight and Pinkie ducked and covered as Rarity inhaled a lungful of air. She abruptly choked, however, when she noticed a death glare aimed at her from a certain yellow Pegasus.

"Don't. You. DARE."

Rarity backpedaled quickly with an awkward smile plastered on her face.

"Eh, heh, heh, so silly of me, I believe I WAS whining. I do apologize, Applejack, darling."

She held the strained smile until she felt the burning sensation on the back of her head dissipate.

"Ok, now that's over," Twilight said irritably, getting to her feet, "maybe we can make some progress."

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, extricated herself from the bush as the others restarted the march.

"Phew, dodged that bullet," Dash said, shaking herself off before zooming back to the others.

So far, they had suffered several other setbacks, including patches of poison joke that blocked long stretches of the old forest road, requiring long detours of bushwhacking, much to Rarity's unending consternation, as well as several stops so Fluttershy could check in on some animal friends she had recently been tending to, the obvious necessity breaks, and a moment when Rainbow Dash took issue with a rather brash young minotaur who said she looked like flying fruit-pop.

So, it was understandable that everypony's nerves were starting to frazzle. Well, everyone, that is, except for the ever bubbly Pinkie Pie, who, as usual, was doing her best to keep the smiles pasted firmly on the ever more irascible faces of her best friends. Bouncing between them all in her usual gait, she rattled off a number of ideas to keep the spirits up as they trudged on.

"Oh, Oh, OH! I know, how about we sing a song! Let’s see, what should we sing about....?"

"Gah, Pinkie..."

"OOOOOOOOORRRRRR, we could play a rousing game of I Spy! Let’s see, I spy with my little eye something purple!"

"Pinkie...." 

"Drat, how'd you know it was you, Twilight? Ok, I spy with my little eye something... green!"

"... Um... Pinkie Pie?"

"Oh, of course it isn't you, Fluttershy, silly pony!"

"Pinkie, darling-"

"You're right, Rarity, there is too much green in here. Maybe I should pick something else."

"Consarnit, sugar cube!"

"Oh, did you want a turn Applejack? I could help you, ya know. You could pick a rock, a daisy, a cloud, the sky, a bush-"

"PINKIE PIE!"

The bubblegum earth pony abruptly halted her bouncing as four sets of irritated eyes and one stern Stare turned to lock onto her. Gravity seemed to take a vacation as her sudden stop left her hanging in midair, which she corrected quickly, quailing under the combined weight of their looks.

"Look, Pinkie," Twilight began, breathing deeply to regain a modicum of calm, "I know that you are trying to help. I know that you are trying to put us in a better mood. But right now, all of us are a little irritated at the way this trek is going. Right now, we need to focus on getting at least to the old castle, and we still have at least another two hours! So, for once, COULD YOU PLEASE STOP BEING PINKIE!?"

Pinkie looked like Twilight had just slapped her across the face.

"I just wanted to make things better...." Pinkie said tremulously, her sky-blue eyes beginning to water. "Everyone was g-getting so mad at each other." Her tears began to flow in earnest now. "All I w-wanted... All I wanted w-was to m-make sure everyone was happy..."

At this, the angry expressions were wiped away from the faces of Kindness, Honesty, Loyalty, and Generosity. All were replaced by shocked looks that quickly turned penitent. Magic, however, looked stricken at what she had done. Her hoof flew to her mouth, violet eyes wide, and she crumbled to her knees. 

"Oh, Pinkie..." Twilight whispered, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. "Pinkie, I am so sorry. I didn't mean that. I just got so angry, I..." She shook her head, at a loss for words . Her own tears formed at the corners of her clenched eyes as her guilt and shame crashed over her.

Pinkie noticed this, and wiped her eyes, attempting to hitch a smile on her face.

"Oh, Twilight," She began, walking over to her friend, "It's ok. I understand what happens when somepony gets frustrated. We do things we don’t think about. Sometimes it hurts others. But I accept your apology.” Reaching her dejected friend, she threw her forelegs around Twilight Sparkle and pulled her into a tearful hug. “Just stop being all frowny, Twilight. All I want is to see you smile.”

Twilight hugged her sugary friend back and sniffed heartily with a slight hiccup. Pinkie looked around at the other Elements.

“Well?” she said, extending one hoof from Twilight’s shoulder invitingly. “What good is a group hug if the group that needs a hug won’t get in on it?”

Rarity, AJ, Dash, and Fluttershy all gave a warm smile as they walked forward together and embraced each other. Twilight, at the center of it all, once again felt blessed for having met these wonderful friends, who accepted her, even when she behaved so irrationally.

“Thanks, girls. And thank you, Pinkie, for being such a good friend.” She looked down at the ground. “You’ve all been there for me, even when I cross the lines, or go over the deep end.”

“The good outshines the bad, sugar cube,” Applejack said sagely, awkwardly jockeying her hoof around to pat Twilight on the back comfortingly. 

“And even if it didn’t” Rainbow Dash interjected, “We’d still be there for you, no matter what. You’re our friend, and nothing will change that.”

“Because friends can look past the bad,” Fluttershy added quietly, “and see each other for the goodness they have within them.”

“Besides,” Rarity intoned, “it’s not as if we haven’t acted the foal, darling. We didn’t believe you during your brother’s wedding, when you had the sense to see that ghastly imposter for what she really was.”

“Yeah, but,” Twilight began, intending to remind them that she didn’t actually have any evidence at the time, but she was cut off by Pinkie Pie hugging her tighter still.

“No buts, cuts, or coconuts, Twilight,” she said. “We all make mistakes. What matters is getting past your goof-ups and moving forward. Like my Granny Pie always said, ‘It’s not how many times you fall that matters, it’s how many times you roll on the ground afterwards!’”

“Uh, Pinkie,” Rarity said, her eyebrow quirking at the randomness of the statement, “I believe the expression goes, ‘It’s how often you pick yourself up afterwards.”

“Well that’s silly!” Pinkie exclaimed, meeting Rarity’s incredulous look with an equally incredulous look. “If you’re on the ground already, why waste the opportunity to roll around a few times?”

“Because you’d get dirty…?” Rarity asked tentatively, shuddering slightly at the thought.

“There is that,” Pinkie Pie said, a rather devious grin slowly forming on her face as she tensed her legs, “But that’s part of the fun.”

Rarity saw the plan forming in her head, and her eyes went wide.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

With that, Pinkie pushed off hard, throwing everyone’s balance off and sending them all to the ground, laughing as they did so. The tension of a few minutes ago washed away as they all enjoyed a couple of rolls around the muddy forest floor. Well, not quite all. Rarity, for her part, squealed in terror as she landed in the mud with a splat. She attempted to pick herself out of the muck with as much dignity as she could muster, but failed spectacularly as a pink blur tackled her back into it once again.

“No way, Jose!” Pinkie shouted as they both crashed back into the mud. “I didn’t see any rolls!” With that, she proceeded to roll over in the mud, dragging Rarity, willingly or not, with her.Rarity wailed in dismay as she was covered in thick mud. 

Sensing her danger, Pinkie quickly disentangled herself from her captive and darted away, giggling and snorting merrily. Rarity, meanwhile, rose from the mud, looking menacing as she dripped green-tinged mud and her eyes burned.

“Pinkie PIE!” she roared in a most uncouth fashion as she charged after the pink menace, flinging balls of mud off of her towards her target as she ran. The rest, laughing at the absurdity of it all, quickly got back to their hooves and raced after them. Last to rise was Twilight, still somewhat downcast at her outburst, but nonetheless determined to take her friends advice and move forward. Taking a deep breath of the fresh forest air, she charged after her best friends as the moved deeper into the forest.
Sometime later, during which they had run a good portion of the distance between themselves and the Everfree Castle during Rarity’s pursuit of muddy vengeance, they finally slowed to a more manageable trot, panting. Somehow, through their wild run, they hadn’t encountered any more obstacles or distractions, and were all in good spirits, chatting with each other and laughing intermittently. Even Fluttershy seemed more relaxed, considering her terror of the forest.

After a half hour of walking thusly, Twilight had Rainbow Dash fly up through the treetops to see how close they were to the castle. After several minutes, she returned.

“It looks like we are pretty close, about three miles out from it, based on the mountains and clearings I saw.”

“Could you point out on the map about where we are?” asked Twilight, fishing out said map from her saddle bags and unfurling it. Rainbow Dash did so, indicating a spot some distance west-south-west of their destination. “Ok, that’s good enough then.”

“Um, good enough for what, Twilight?” Fluttershy inquired timidly.

“Well, three miles is within my range for accurate teleportation,” Twilight answered confidently, studying the map carefully. “And, as long as I have a good idea of my orientation relative to my destination, I can teleport myself accurately to that destination.”

“Uh, sugar cube?” Applejack began, her misgivings plain in her voice. “I notice y’all said ‘myself.’” 

“Well, I have teleported other’s before,” Twilight answered, rolling up the map and looking over at her wary friend, “But I haven’t five other ponies before, and nowhere near my maximum range. But I’ve studied the theory well enough, and teleportation is one of my specialties. We should be fine. Worst case scenario, I’m off by a couple thousand feet and we have to hoof it that far to the castle. A thousand feet is still better than three miles.”

Oblivious to the looks of doubt and worry on several of her friend’s faces, she ignited her horn, drawing on the ambient energy to fuel the spell. The magic here felt different than anywhere she had ever been; it was wild and willful, and she had to concentrate carefully to ensure that it did not backlash on her. 

She cast out through the magical fabric towards her destination, which was easier than she expected. Having been there once before, she was able to locate the haunting notes of sorrow and ancient magic that she had felt as she fought Nightmare Moon two years prior.

Anchoring her will to her destination securely, she then reached out and intertwined her own will with that of her friends. Gritting her teeth from the strain of their emotions, thoughts and wills barraging her own, she allowed the magic she had gathered to flow into them, using herself as a conduit. When they were sufficiently charged, signified by a blinding purple glow, she simultaneously reached towards her destination as she pushed away from her current location.

All at once, she flew through space at what seemed at once both a snail’s pace and faster than thought itself, disappearing in a blinding flash with the other Element Bearers. Almost simultaneously, another flash before a ruinous castle signified the reconstitution of several ponies, most of which were by now highly nauseous.

“Ugh….” Applejack moaned, falling to her knees and appearing rather green in the face. “I don’t care if walking a thousand miles is the alternative, I never wanna do that again.”

Rainbow Dash had darted for the nearest bush and was busy retching into it. Rarity had remained relatively poised, having dealt with magical effects herself, though she too, looked somewhat woozy. Pinkie, meanwhile, was giggling drunkenly as she wobbled on her haunches, her eyes spinning like tops as she mumbled, “Let’s go again! Let’s go again!”

“Oops, sorry about that everypony,” Twilight Sparkle said, looking around at her friends, forgetting that a lot of ponies experienced teleportation sickness. “But look on the bright side! I was right! We all made it safe and sound.”

Not really getting any positive feedback from her friends, her smile faded as she looked them all over. She frowned as she observed them carefully in turn. Something wasn’t quite right. She counted them all carefully. Then she did it again, a growing look of panic overtaking her features. Her eye spasmed, a number of hairs popped free of her mane, and her ears began to twitch. Despite her rapidly deteriorating appearance, her voice was unnaturally calm as she gave voice to her frustrations.

“Oh, horseapples.”

--
Elsewhere...
--

Bon Bon tapped her hoof impatiently against a root as Lyra Heartstrings groaned, stretching her back as she stood on her rear hooves. Bon Bon had never quite understood Lyra's habit of standing like that, and more than once wondered about it aloud. Lyra had always responded vaguely of some sort of back condition, but never really elaborated on it.

"Are you done yet, Lyra?" She asked, looking around the clearing nervously. She didn't like just standing here. It always felt like something in the forest was watching them. Which was most likely the case anyway.

With one last pop of her back; Lyra set back down on all fours.

"Why are you so worried, Bon Bon?" She asked, honestly confused. Next to Twilight Sparkle, Lyra was one of the strongest unicorns in Ponyville, and was more than capable of handling anything in the forest. Bon Bon herself was an expert in both Ponijitsu and Equarate, so there really wasn't a whole lot to be afraid of. 

"I don't know. I just got a bad feeling about this, ya know? I'd rather just get to the castle, grab whatever is worthwhile, then get the heck outta Dodge. Something about the forest seems more... off than usual."

Lyra cast out with her magic, trying to sense anything nearby. Despite the forest's natural hostility to outsiders, she didn't feel anything nearby of note that could be dangerous. Still, she didn't really want to deal with Bon Bon's incessant whining, so she shrugged, and turned to the far edge of the clearing. Bon Bon quickly followed suit.

Before either of them had made it more than a few steps, however, a bright flash of magenta energy burst out from the edge of the clearing they were walking towards. Bon Bon cried out and dropped into a Ponijitsu attack stance and Lyra ignited her horn, both ready for a fight. 

Before either one could react further, however, a streak of yellow and pink barreled out from the flash of light, which faded out of existence. The streak meanwhile tumbled end over end at high speed straight between Lyra and Bon Bon, who both rose from their stances as they looked on. It continued until it slammed against a tree, stiffening out into what was unmistakably a pony on its head, its back and legs splayed out along the lower trunk before toppling over.

Lyra and Bon Bon raced over to the dazed pony, who turned out to be none other than Fluttershy, whom both had met numerous times. 

Bon Bon looked over at Lyra.

"Isn't this the pony that started that whole Parasprite thing not too long ago?"

"Yeah, looks like," Lyra responded, watching Fluttershy's eyes spin. She tapped her lightly on the cheek. "Hey, Fluttershy, are you ok? Say something!"

"Rubber baby buggy bumpers!" Fluttershy said, her timid voice very woozy, before promptly fainting.

The two conscious ponies looked down at the prone Fluttershy, then at each other. Bon Bon's face went flatly annoyed.

"Told you I had a bad feeling."
> Healthy Dose of Psychosis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5

A Healthy Dose of Psychosis

The sun was beginning to set far to the west when the air above the untamed Everfree forest was disturbed. Those who possessed the knowhow and a decent amount power and skill could, though an effort, detect the pulls and pushes in the fabric of magic that signified the spells of another. Even in the Everfree forest, where magic was unchecked and often dangerous, one could still feel it when a magical being altered the flows and ebbs. 

Even the strongest and most knowledgeable, however, would not have been able to feel Amseal as he almost literally slid into existence out of nowhere, his disconcerting smile still very much intact. It wasn’t so much the fact that he was good at hiding his use of magic, which was still true. Rather, it was because he operated completely outside it’s influence that his presence and actions were cloaked so well. He might have appeared equine, but he was vastly more alien than the being that he had just talked to.

“Well,” Amseal said aloud, talking to no one in particular, “I can’t say I’m particularly impressed. Humans always seemed so weak to me, despite their propensity for chaos and violence. One would think that such a brutish creature would have adapted to be stronger at the very least.”

Dispassionate contempt aside, Amseal couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of twisting the human bit by bit until he finally snapped and started butchering everyone in sight. Still, that certainly wouldn’t help the plan. And speaking of which-

That line of thought was put on hold briefly by a wrenching, agonizing spear of pain in Amseals back as one of his vertebrae popped out of place. The smile on his face never wavered, but his eyes contracted slightly, and a single tear of crimson blood ran down his cheek.

“Oh how I detest this form,” Amseal said cheerfully. Twisting his foreleg in a way that should mean he would never be able to walk again, he placed his hoof on the offending bone and violently jammed it back into place. As the pain lanced up and down his outwardly immaculate form, his unnatural smile widened.

He waited patiently for the quaking waves of agony to subside. As he did, he let his mind wander, pondering his next move. It was clear that this human had a unique potential that had yet to be unlocked. Hopefully Amseal had remedied that. It was integral to the plan that Garth master his gifts as quickly as possible. For his plan to succeed, Amseal needed all the power he could muster from the strongest beings he could find. Speaking of which…

Amseal turned his lusterless eyes towards a city upon a lone, distant mountain. His eyebrow twitched in irritation. He hated that city. The opulence of those who lived there disgusted him. He very much doubted that any of them would retain their sanity for more than an hour if they found that their wealth and possessions were gone.

Worse still, each thought themselves superior to all others solely based on their uncommon wealth, fabulous possessions, ownership of commodities, or even their birth. In reality, all were equally worthless in Amseal’s eyes. Few, if any, had any discernible talent or notable power. They’d all find out how little their precious claims meant.

Still, there were a few beings of note that lived within Canterlot. Most prominent among them were the Alicorn sisters, though they held no interest to Amseal. Many years ago, Luna might have been a possible candidate, but that time had long since passed. 

There was, however, one who lived there that DID interest him a substantial amount. 

With that in mind, he dipped into his reservoir of power and slid once again into nonbeing, leaving not a trace of him behind.

Several hours later, just below the trees…

Captain Evergreen Shadow snored loudly in his bunk. It’d been too long since he’d last slept in an actual bed, and he was making the most of it while he could. Granted, outpost bunks were hardly the most comfortable beds, but when you had spent weeks in the field, sleeping on beds of leaves that hardly did anything to alleviate the cold, hard ground, even a prison cot would be a welcome change. 

Outside, it was fairly still, save for the regular two-pony patrols. The evening was quiet and warm, the sun had just fallen below the horizon, and the guards were at relative ease. Still, the gate guards were immediately wary when a rather ragtag-looking group of ponies approached the gate. 

“Halt!” barked an armored unicorn mare from the palisade ramparts. She bore the insignia of a private. Surveying the travel-worn ponies, she shouted, “Who goes there?”

A bearded yellow pegasus stallion wrapped in a dusty grey traveling cloak stepped forward.

“I am Morning Ray,” he called up to the guard. Gesturing back towards the rest of the group, he continued, “I speak for my people, the Trotcantern tribe. We seek shelter for the night.”

The mare was taken aback by this, and glanced over at her pegasus partner, who had been manning this station for a lot longer than she had. He shrugged.

“It happens from time to time,” he explained. “A roaming tribe will pass through once in a while. If they need to travel through the forest, they will occasionally ask to stay at an outpost to avoid the nocturnal predators.” Walking over to a nearby table, he flipped through a thick tome, stopping at a specific page. “Just ask for their tribal seal. I’ll cross reference it.  If it checks out, we’ll let them in.”

The mare nodded, then turned back to the elder Pegasus.

“Advance and present your tribal seal.”

The Pegasus nodded, then rummaged through his saddlebags. He fished out some sort of trinket, and held it out. The unicorn guard activated her horn and grasped it gently in her magic. Lifting it over to her, she examined it. It appeared to be a round amulet made of a single maple leaf made of gold stretched over a gnarled branch tied by vines into a circle. The indent of a hoof mark encircling a silver sun was clearly visible on the leaf.

After she described the amulet, her partner gave a nod when he read the Trotcantern log. They checked out alright.

“Stand back as we open the gate!” She called down. “Be ready to submit to a search.” Morning Ray did as he was told, moving back to join his tribe. 

Within the outpost, a trio of unicorns lined up beside the gate as a pair of earth stallions slid the bracing log aside and swung the gates outward. The trio of unicorns immediately ran out to meet the wanderers, casting about them with soft-glowing incantations designed to detect spells of concealment and spells to reveal magical camouflage. However, finding nothing, they deemed the travelers to be free of deceptive illusions, and allowed them to move into the camp.

The unicorn gate guard ran down to meet the tribal chieftain as the gates swung shut with a boom that resounded through the forest.

“So, Chief Morning,” she began, giving the elder pony a respectful salute, “What brings you to the Everfree? Passing through on a trade route, I take it?”

“Close enough,” Morning Ray rumbled with a nod. “We’re traveling to Appeloosa to trade with the Buffalo tribes. From what we understand, they recently ran across a cavern of rare Heartstones in one of their ancestral caverns.” He stroked his grey beard, a thoughtful look upon his wizened face. “I know they don’t like trading with outsiders, particularly the Appeloosans, but we have a few… Artifacts of our own that may interest them.”

“’Artifacts?’” the guard asked, frowning. She glanced over at the lead scanner, who shrugged. “What artifacts?”

As Morning Ray waxed eloquent about how his tribe discovered artifacts seemingly of Buffaloan make near some ruins, his tribesmen went about setting up camp, pitching canvas tents and starting a few cooking fires, all under the watchful eyes of the Equestrian soldiers. At the unicorn guard’s request, the tribal elder walked over to a tarp-covered cart and fished out an ornate but weathered staff. The white wood appeared to have been sun-bleached, and seemed to shine in the moonlight. It was adorned with strands of many-colored yarn woven in an intricate fashion. Feathers and beads hung at the end of many strands, although many strands floated free and featherless, perhaps losing their accoutrements to the passage of time. Adorning the top was a bleached buffalo skull.

Noticing the unicorn regarding the skull with trepidation, Morning Ray explained that ancient Buffalo witchdoctors would craft these staves and cap them with the skull of the previous witchdoctor of the tribe, then plant the staff at the entrance of their village with the staves of past witchdoctors. According to Ray, it was a tradition meant to honor their holy men as well as a means of warding off evil spirits. The Trotcanterns had found this particular item in a canyon within the Eerie Desert, at the site of an ancient Buffalo village, long since consumed by the passing of ages. 

“We found this and many other artifacts there,” he finished, replacing the staff in the cart. “By all rights, they belong to the Buffalo tribes, as treasures of heritage. Most of the staves there were ruined, and a lot of what we were able to salvage isn’t in the best condition. Still,” he added with a sigh, “We figured that these items would be appreciated by the descendents of those who made them. It seemed better than letting them turn to dust in a long-forgotten ruin.”

“And, meanwhile, you hope that they will be grateful enough to share their heartstones?” the young guard guessed with an accusatorily raised eyebrow.

“Well, it only seems fair,” Morning Ray said, a slight bit of defensiveness creeping into his gravely voice, “I mean, I would figure that they would be grateful to have relics to remember their history by, not to mention the effort we made to bring them that far. To let that go unrewarded would be downright inhospitable.”

“And what if they don’t? What if they take offense to the idea of a strange tribe of ponies poking around something that may well be a site of great importance to them, one that they perhaps might have WANTED to remain untouched?”

Seeing the root of the unicorn’s trepidation, the old chief guffawed. 

“I understand where you are coming from. However, we have a long-standing relationship with the buffalo tribes. They asked us to keep an eye open for artifacts of theirs on our travels. Trust me when I say that we wouldn’t dare do anything that would intentionally cause a grievance.”

Appearing somewhat mollified, the unicorn nodded. 

“Well alright then,” she said, bowing to the old earth pony. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions. I’ll let you get back to minding your tribe. I’ll let the quartermaster know to provide you with whatever your tribe needs, given fair recompense, of course.”

“Of course,” Morning Ray replied, bowing back. “And thank you for your hospitality.”

With that, he turned and strode towards the cook fires. The unicorn guard, meanwhile, made her way back up to her post, all the while fighting a nagging feeling at the back of her mind.

“Ok, what’s on your mind?” her partner asked.

She jumped at the sudden break in the silence since the end of her conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re biting your lip and your brows are bunched up. You always do that when something is bugging you.”

“I do not!” she stated indignantly.

“Do too,” the Pegasus replied simply. “So let’s have it.”

Biting her lip unconsciously again, she threw a covert look at the tribe, particularly at the weather-worn chief.

“I don’t really know, to be perfectly honest,” she said. “But something about them… something about him isn’t right. Why didn’t we hear about them from anyone? How is it that none of the patrols saw them?” She pawed the ground nervously. “For that matter, his story didn’t add up. He mentioned that the buffalo tribes don’t like trading with outsiders, but mentioned that some of their artifacts would interest them. When I brought up the fact that the buffalo might take exception to the idea that strange ponies going through sacred grounds, he suddenly changed his story, saying that his tribe has a close relationship with the buffalo tribes.”

“Maybe it was a simple memory slip?” the Pegasus said, with a joking tone, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes as he gazed at the chieftain, military precision entering his posture for the first time since the unicorn had met him. “Old age does have a tendency to make one forget certain details…” 

“It does. But something like that seems a bit more than a minor detail.”

“No arguments there.” 

“So what should we do?”

“Well, they haven’t turned hostile. Until then, we can’t do anything other than watch them.”

“Understood…”

“But perhaps you should wake the captain, in any case.”

The unicorn nodded, and turned. She hadn’t even taken a step, however, before she noticed a guard on the ground rush from the medical tent to the officer barracks. She sighed in relief. At least she wouldn’t be the one to draw his ire for being awoken so early. Cheered by this, she set off at a trot, down the ramp from her position at the gate towards the barracks.

Chief Morning Ray, in the meantime, casually walked among his people, looking about casually. Each sweep of his gaze ensured a good look at the outpost, giving him a feel for the layout and positions of its guards. He eventually came to a stop in front of a olive-bodied, golden-maned earth pony mare with a cutie mark of three hearts who, under pretext of stoking a cook fire, was actually tapping the ground intently with her forehoof. Beside her, one of the few unicorns in the group, a silver stallion with a blue mane, appeared for all the world to be asleep, propped up against a log. His cutie mark was that of a stone cracked in half and filled with crystals; a geode. 

Sitting down next to the pair, he rolled his shoulders as a young colt poured him a bowl of potato and mushroom stew. He took a sip of the rather earthy-tasting gruel before turning to the mare.

“So?”

“I’m not picking anything up.” She said quietly, gazing at the flickering flames as she continued her tapping. “I’m not getting a sense on any unusual magical frequencies in the earth. That might mean that whatever fell out of the sky isn’t here.”

“Or…?”

“…Or, it could mean that whatever it is, it isn’t touching the ground, or is being surrounded by a sensory blocker. I think the former is more likely. I’d be getting some sort of bead on it if a sensory disruption field was blocking it. At the very least, I’d feel the field, which would tell us where it is.”

“Well, it has to be something,” the unicorn beside them said softly. His lips barely moved as he talked, making him seem to the casual observer to be sleep-talking. “Because I’d know if it wasn’t blocked and not touching the ground.”

“Hmm…” Morning Ray took a few more sips from his stew. “Far Strider, how many guards populate the compound?”

“Thirty-eight, from what I can sense. Seventeen are in the barracks, four in the kitchens, three in the med tent, four manning the gates, two at each, the one that just ran from the med tent to the barracks, and the four that scanned us when we came in. Four are also patrolling the perimeter walkways. I guess I should say one at this gate, since that unicorn went over to the barracks as well.”

“Heartsteel, can you get a read on any special abilities?”

The unicorns face tightened slightly. The air about his horn shimmered with a very subtle silver glow for split second as a faint ripple expanded outward from it with indiscernible speed, then was gone. 

“There is a unicorn in one of the barracks with a great deal of stored power, and certain… quality… that I can’t quite identify. He seems to be the strongest here. I’m getting another one in the other barracks, not quite as powerful. I get the smell of brimstone… perhaps fire? Or explosions? A Pegasus on the catwalks smells of ozone, a lightning affinity. A couple of earth ponies have the sturdiness of boulders, rock affinity, obviously. The head doctor has a numbing feel to her, along with an energizing effect. Other than that…” His face tightened again, then he opened his ruby eyes for the first time, bemusement upon his face. He sat up and turned to the mare. “Far Strider, how many did you say were in the med tent?”

“Three. Two at a table, one on a cot. Why?”

“Because there are two beings on two cots.”

Silence seemed to echo outwards from the unicorn.

After draining the last of his stew, Morning Ray broke the silence, signaling to the blank-flanked colt who had brought him his stew. The youth skidded to a stop before him with a salute. Far strider stiffened, a look of worry crossing her face.

“What can I do, chief?” the sky-bodied, golden-maned unicorn colt asked, focusing intently on the old stallion.

Pulling the youth in close, he took on an exaggeratedly conspiratorial air. “Aethergold, could you go for a walk around camp for me? I need to know what goes on around here, and you’re just the stallion for the job.”

Looking around furtively, he leaned in and gave the chief a sly grin. 

“You can count on me, sir! I’ll get the lowdown on everything about this place.”

“Good.” Morning Ray said, clapping Aethergold on his shoulder. “Pay extra attention to the doctor’s office. If you see anything strange, let me know, ok? And don’t let the guards know. They won’t hurt you, but this is top secret, ok?”

“I won’t let ya down chief!” With that, the young unicorn scampered off.

The old chief straightened as he watched the youth disappear into the night.

“You’ve raised a fine young lad, you know, Strider,” he said. He gave the worried mother a reassuring grin. “I’m sure his father would be proud of the stallion he’s becoming. And you needn’t worry so much. You know as well as I that the Equestrian military wouldn’t harm a child.”

“I know that,” Far Strider replied, sighing deeply, “but it’s hard to convince myself of that. I know he can fend for himself well, but I still worry.” She smiled ruefully. “Mother’s instinct and all.”

“I understand, my dear,” the grizzled stallion said gently. “Don’t worry. We aren’t here to pick a fight. We just need to identify whatever it is that fell from the sky and leave at dawn. We’ll bring the party back to the camp, report to Elezar, and set up a trap. Eventually, they will have to move whatever it is. That is when we’ll acquire it for ourselves.”

“But, if something should happen,” Far Strider began, a tone of desperation tingeing her voice, but Morning Ray cut her off.

“I make you this promise, Far Strider,” he vowed, “that should the worst happen, one way or another, Aethergold will be taken care of.” 

Neither pony broke the other’s gaze, until, at last, a single tear formed in the mother’s eyes. She closed them, and smiled, knowing that the words were true.

Silence reigned for a time, as many of the tribal ponies moved about, tasking themselves to keep busy with the cook fires and ensuring the tents were set for the night.

“Do you think Elezar will uphold his end of the bargain?” Heartsteel asked, speaking for the first time in what seemed like ages.

“I’ve known him for years,” Morning Ray replied smoothly. “There’s no reason why he wouldn’t.”

“None that we know of, at any rate,” Heartsteel grumbled. He shook his head. “I still don’t trust him. No one knows what happened that night with him and Aethersprite. How do we know-”

“Because I say so!” the old chief snapped quietly, causing both Heartsteel and Far Strider to flinch. “Are you saying you don’t trust me? After everything I’ve sacrificed to keep this clan together? If so, you can leave. I don’t need disloyalty at such a critical point.”

Mare and stallion shared a look, then glanced back to the wizened old stallion, who seemed to collapse in on himself, his calm, self-assured aura crumbling. 

“I’m sorry, Heartsteel. You didn’t deserve that. I know you have only ever had the best interests of the clan in mind. But I need you to trust me, one more time. I know it’s hard. I had trouble following my own sire’s commands. But I promise that I won’t lead you astray.”

Heartsteel said nothing.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps, when you lead the clan, you’ll understand… son.”

“Hmph. And perhaps, when I lead the clan, we won’t have to deal with whatever kind of eldritch abomination Elezar is. And we’ll have you to thank for it. Father.”
--
In the medical tent
--
Through sheer force of will, I pull myself out of the enveloping darkness of my mind, and force my eyes open. I instantly regret it as I get both eyes flooded by light from a lamp directly overhead. I groan at this, and squint as I attempt to sit up.

“Woah now, slow down,” says a calm, soothing female voice to my right. Through the blanket that covers me, something pushes me back to a prone position. “Don’t push yourself too much. You’ve had a rough day. Just take it easy.”

“Well, could you get that light out of my face, at least?” I ask, squinting, trying to see through the glare at whoever pushed me down.

“Just a minute. I want to run a few tests first.” 

I hear a pair of desynchronized footsteps that seems inordinately sharp-sounding, and I have the weirdest sense of…

… oh shit.

“Doctor Patchit, the subject’s heart rate is spiking. Should I sedate him?”

“No, he just needs some time to adjust.”

No.
Nope. 
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m dreaming. That’s all. Just a really weird dream.
Uh huh.
Yup.

Dreaming.

I’ll just wake up any moment now. 
.
.
.
Any moment.
.
.
.
Ok, I’ll just give myself some help. Pulling my right arm out from under the covers, I reach over and sharply pinch the opposite shoulder. I even dig the nails in a bit. It definitely hurts, but I don’t feel any different.

“You know, it helps, I could stick you with a morphine shot.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Holding my hand up to shield my eyes, I open them, and search for the voice. Finding it, I realize that all the earlier stuff hadn’t been a dream. Well, at least the part where I was conscious. Because, once again, I find myself face to face with a talking horse. Or rather, another talking unicorn. 

Alright. Two possibilities. One, I’ve lost my mind. Two, those blue walnuts made me high as fuck. Three, I died, met Death, Life, and Fate, was given a second chance, and sent to a world of MAGIC FUCKING UNICORNS to find a conveniently ambiguous way home without knowing anything about this place. AT ALL.

The first is highly probable. The second is fairly improbable, since it highly revolvs around certain elements of the nigh-impossible third to be true. But the fact remains that I have a talking unicorn waiting for a response and, insane or not, I had manners.

“At this point,” I start, trying to prevent hysteria from coloring my words, “I don’t think it will. There is a possibility I am high right now, and I don’t think morphine will mix well with whatever it is.”

The red bodied unicorn frowns at this. A clipboard and pen behind her are enveloped in pink glow that matches her mane, and the glow that surrounds her horn.

“Nurse, I didn’t see anything in the report about any sort of intoxication, did you happen to-“

“Fuck lady, let a guy entertain his fantasies, would ya?” I groan at her. My hand claps itself over my eyes.

“Well,” says a voice to the left, which I can only assume belongs to ANOTHER unicorn, “actually, he did have these in his pack, ma’am. I wasn’t sure what they were, but Peppercorn scanned them, and they don’t contain any stimulants, depressants, hallucinogens, or toxins.”

Removing my hand, I glance over to the source of the voice. It’s not a unicorn this time. This horse doesn’t have a horn. However, the turquoise equine before me is almost stranger, in that the damn thing has wings. What. The actual. FUCK.

One of said wings gently nudges a couple of the blue walnuts. Well damn. I was hoping they were hallucinogenic. 

It would be easier that way to explain talking unicorns and horses with wings.

“Odd,” says the unicorn. Irony? “I’ve never seen anything like these before. Do you mind I take a few of these for documentation?”

Oh, wait, she’s talking to me.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

She looks at me with an odd expression. 

“Look, you are going to have to calm down.”

Ok. That. That right there. THAT TEARS IT.

I sit bolt upright, ignoring whatever residual injuries I might have as I point a finger at the rather shocked-looking red unicorn doctor.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Ok, look here lady. In the past forty-eight or what the fuck ever something hours, I’ve been shot at, blown up, and DIED after saving someone I barely know from getting killed. I FUCKING DIED. But guess what? My day didn’t end there. I met DEATH HIMSELF. And Life herself. I MET FATE. I MET MY OWN WORST GODDAMN FEAR. Do you have any idea what that is like? Oh, and how’s about this: they work up the goddamn NERVE to tell me that my death was a MISTAKE. That IT WASN’T MY TIME. But that’s alright, they say. You can put it right, they say. All you have to do is walk through this portal to a place you know nothing about, full of jack knows what all, and find your way home. What’s that? Directions? A clue? Pfft, you’re a fucking man. Grow a pair and grab a compass, because you’re on an adventure to find your DICK and your own way home. Oh, and as a welcoming gift from this world, here’s a FUCKING MANTICORE. Oh, wait, was that too much? Oh. Here’s a talking horned horse, I hope THAT makes things better! Oh wait, NO I DON’T! Here, take a nap and relive your worst goddamn memories on repeat, with the volume cranked up to motherfucking eleven! And if life aint enough of a bitch, here is a winged horse and ANOTHER unicorn, who’s got the BALLS to tell you to CALM DOWN. Lady, if you went through all that, and someone told you to CALM DOWN, and you didn’t tell them to GO FUCK THEMSELVES WITH A HOTSAUCE-SOAKED CACTUS, I would seriously question your sanity. That said, I do have a shred or two of decency left. So, with that in mind, and with the utmost respect, FUCK YOU.

My voice having cracked several times during what had to be the finest verbal tirade of my life, I promptly lay back down, slam my eyes shut, and wish a long, slow death on the cosmos itself.

Breathe in.
Breath out.
Breath in.
Breath out.

I sit back up.

“Ok, for what it’s worth, and I know it probably won’t be worth much after that, I apologize.”

“Meh,” the unicorn shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“What.”

“Besides,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard me, “if you’ve really been through all that in such a short span of time, I can’t blame you for losing it like that. I’m not hurt, so no blood, no foul.” With that she trotted over to my side and held out a hoof.

I stare at it for a second, the blind fury draining from me as I look into her bright eyes, then shrug.

“Eh. Can’t argue with that I guess.” I grasp her hoof and give it a shake. 

At this, her smile is replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. 

“What?” I ask, confused by her confusion.

“What are you doing?” she inquires uncertainly, looking at my hand.

“Uh… handshake?”

“What now?” 

“I thought that’s what you were going for?”

Now it’s her turn to go, “Uh… Hoofbump.”

“What now?”

At this, the winged horse, which I had assumed had been shocked into silence, bursts into raucous laughter at our mutual awkwardness.

I’m not sure what’s worse: culture shock or being laughed at by a winged horse with hyper-saturated color and a tattoo of a winged heart on his butt.

“Ok, like this, bro,” he says, walking over to the doctor, who raises her hoof. Raising his own, he clacks the underside of his hoof against hers.

“Ok. I get it now. So it’s like brofist.”

“Bro what?”

“Bro… oh never mind.”

“Well, good to see you’re up,” says a familiar voice. From behind one of the walls, the same green unicorn who saved me from the manticore strides towards my bedside. Looking over at the red unicorn, he continued, “Looks to me like he’s good to go, doc, and not a moment to soon. We need to get him to command, ASAP.”

Wait, what?

“Captain, that’s a bad idea. He just woke up. I’m not sure how much residual damage he sustained. It’d be better to keep him off his feet until we are sure he’s good to go.”

Time out a second.

“We don’t have that kind of time. Something’s come up.”

Hold on.

“Captain-“

“ALRIGHT, DO I GET A SAY IN THIS?”

The captain and the doctor both look at me, startled.

“Look, I appreciate you guys saving me, and I promise I’ll pay you back, but I’ve got a lot to do, and a very short time to do it, so, if you’ll excuse me…”

With that, I throw off the covers and swing my feet out of bed. For whatever reason, my boots and pants are still on, but my shirt and ABU blouse are nowhere to be found. All that covers my torso is the blood-soaked bandage.

“So where are you going, then?”

Um…
.
.
.
Fuck.

“Actually, I don’t know. But I have to keep moving.”

“Well, I know where you can start,” says the captain. “You can come with me, help us learn about you, what you are, where you come from, and how you got here. In return, we could help you with… Whatever it is you are doing.”

“Captain, with all due respect, you know nothing about who I am or what I am capable of. You have no reason to trust me, and no way to confirm that my interests are not aligned against your own, or those of your nation. Given that, I in turn, cannot trust you, because you made that claim without knowing anything about me. As an officer of your respective military, it is your responsibility to put the safety and well-being of your country and people before all else. Thus, your offer to help me do ‘whatever it is I am doing’ is void by the simple fact of my existence.”

“An impressive deduction,” The captain replies, his emerald eyes piercing my own. “But fallacious. If what you said in your little speech is true, and if by chance you ARE dangerous, then it is in the best interests of my nation to help you return wherever you are from.”

“How do you know I wasn’t lying?” I respond, matching his gaze.

“Between the trigger that set your speech off and the desperation in it, it’s very apparent that you aren’t. As for your being dangerous…” At this, his stern look softens, and his eyes become sympathetic, “I don’t believe that you would purposefully harm an Equestrian who hasn’t wronged you or harmed you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Call it an intuition. Besides,” he concludes, smiling softly, “most of us prefer to give a potential friend the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, how can I trust you?”

“Because an Equestrian will choose Harmony over conflict any day.”

I don’t know what it is, but something about that rings so true that I’m inclined to believe him.

“Look, whatever you are is probably vastly different from us ponies, both physically and culturally. But I promise, you can trust me when I say we will help you.”

“If you knew me, personally,” I say, pain coming into my voice, “you’d know exactly how much you are asking of me with that simple request.”

“Then I’ll prove my own trust in you when I say I’ll trust that you will not harm any innocent ponies if I let you walk free. But you have to come with me now.”

“I guess I’ll have to, for the time being.” Standing, I walk over to him, and hold out my hand. “In my culture, it’s tradition to seal an agreement by shaking hands. Shaking empty hands proves the two parties show trust in each other by casting aside their weapons.”

“Then, perhaps that is something I will adopt to show my trust,” the captain says, placing his hoof in my hand and allowing me to give it a firm shake before parting.

“Ok, so let me get my effects, and we can be off.”

“That reminds me,” the unicorn doctor says. “I was going to ask this when you woke up, but you kinda sidetracked everything.” From out of my pack, surrounded by the pink aura and POINTED DIRECTLY AT MY HEAD, my pistol rises. “What exactly is-“

“OH SHIT, NO! PUT IT DOWN!” I shout. Startled, she proceeds to drop it straight to the ground. I guess one of them had managed to cock the damn thing when they were looking it over, because as soon as it hits the ground, the gun snapped off a single round, which by some miracle did nothing more than drill a crater right between my feet. Everyone in the room jumps at the report, but no one jumps as high as myself. Somehow, I launch myself high enough to latch onto the ceiling lamp with a white-knuckled death-grip.

“JESUS H. CHRIST, WOMAN! DON’T TOUCH THAT AGAIN!” I shout with the decorum that befits the situation. The lamp, on the other hand, lost its grip on reality at that precise moment.

As well as its grip on the ceiling.

Both of us came crashing down upon the cot, which collapses upon itself until all three of us hit the floor. All in all, not a very fun time.

Crawling out of the wreckage, I stumble over to the gun, cock back the slide, catch the chambered round, and release the magazine.

“Ok, quick lesson. This is a gun. It is a very dangerous weapon, and shoots a copper-jacketed, 9 millimeter-diameter lead bullet at a shit-ton of feet per second by utilizing a controlled explosion. That bullet can penetrate light personal armor and soft tissue with relative ease. Best-case scenario, that bullet goes straight through you without touching any bones, leaving a small entry wound and a significantly larger exit wound. Normal case, it strikes a bone and ricochets, causing significant internal damage. Worst case, you die. This weapon features a detachable box magazine that can hold 15 rounds. The controlled explosion that launches the bullet also reloads the gun. This means I can shoot it 15 times while only needing to pause to reset my aim. This thing is REALLY FUCKING DANGEROUS. So, if you please, DON’T FUCKING TOUCH IT.”

Looking over the incredulous ponies, my gaze comes to a stop on the doctor, who seems to have dislocated her jaw at some point.

“By the way, doc. I think that,” I say, jerking my finger at the hole in the ceiling where the lamp HAD been, “proves that I am good to go wherever I damn well please.”

Grabbing my pack, I turn on my heel and head for what I can only assume is the bathroom.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a code brown to take care of before we move on.” 
--
Canterlot
--

Canterlot was always busy. As the Capital of Equestria, there was always work to be done. As such, it was always alive with the movement of thousands of hardworking, diligent ponies. Even deep into the night, ponies would bustle from building to building, ensuring that the workings of the country moved apace.

Not only was Canterlot the seat of government and a constantly moving city for the bureaucrats and buisnessponies, it was also a mecca for culture and art, as attested to gravity-defying, almost magical architecture. Home to many theatres and art museums, it was also host to many beautiful botanical gardens and zoological parks. One place that contained elements of all four was the Canterlot sculpture garden and maze. Statues and busts depicting epic heroes, evil creatures, and masterful magicians adorned the park. Grand fountains topped with tributes to harmony dotted the vista. At the center of it was the Canterlot Hedge Maze. 

And at the center, reflecting over the thousands of years of his existence was Discord.

Taking the form of the draconequus, the most cobbled together and chaotic of all the creatures of this so-called world of perfect harmony, Discord was known to most as the spirit of chaos itself. Few existed now who knew the truth behind his existence. 

Not that it really mattered.

Looking over what had been his home for the last few millennia, he wondered for a moment what had drawn him here. Time and again, he found himself pondering the oddest thoughts as he was pulled towards this spot. Perhaps it was that, after staying in one place for thousands of years, one starts to call it home.

A frown came to his face lopsided face.

No. A home was for the ordered mind. 

Chaos had no home. Not a world of harmony.

So why had Celestia brought him back? Oh sure, she said that it was for constructive purposes, but they both knew better. Chaos could not be constructive. The idea was so ludicrous that he almost laughed.

Almost.

He felt more like raging. Freeing him but putting him in chains of guilt was cruel, even by Celestia’s standards. Forcing him to turn his back on his own nature, by making him choose between it and the one friend he had…

That was evil.

Oh, he had no doubt she thought she was doing good by making him reject himself, but then, that is the great cruelty of power. It blinds one to the negative aspects of their actions. 

Oh, she’d pay eventually. They’d all pay. On that day, they’d rue the day they made The Embodiment of Discord reject his own reality.

And on that day, Death would pay for turning Life against him.

A storm of pure chaos roiled within him.

And from on high, Amseal smiled. This was going to be far too easy.