Dim found a rare sight in the dark of the night; an open kebab shop. He didn’t expect to find one in a place such as this, the last one he had enjoyed had been in Liverypool. Abbeyford-upon-Avon hadn’t struck him as a place that might have an all night kebab shop, but then again, there were the veterans of the engagement in Windia. No doubt their pensions went farther here in this coal dust ridden shithole than it would have in one of the bigger city-states. Here, one might be able to live like a very destitute prince—given the number of veterans to be found in The Kingspony.

Before starting his long walk, a kebab sounded ideal. A little wheat-meat, some veggies, and some kind of exotic curry-like sauce. The lithe figure paused near the doorway to the shop, sniffing, and eddies of freezing mist whorled around his fetlocks. For a brief second, Dim’s tongue was visible, a glimpse of bright orange that appeared ribbon-thin.

“I would murder somepony for a kebab,” Dim whispered to himself. “Then again, in the past, I have murdered somepony and used the payment to buy kebabs… so maybe… I have murdered somepony for a kebab?” Noxious, drug-fueled laughter spilled into the night and Dim turned to face the door of the shop.

A kebab would be ideal.

For Dim, it was looking into a mirror. The ponies behind the counter were the Kathiawari ponies of Windia. Their fine, pointed ears all perked when he entered, and their well chiseled, well defined features weren’t too different from Dim’s own. Said to be natural mystics with curious connections to magic that was quite different than the magic of Equestrian ponies, Dim could not help but wonder how this might have influenced his own blood.

His own features were just more exaggerated, due to inbreeding. With each encounter, with each meeting, it was becoming harder and harder to deny; his bloodline had roots in these ponies, and his own awakening mysticism might be nothing more than the strange Kathiawari magic he was only just starting to learn about.

The mare staring at him might have been a member of his own family, minus the heterocromia that Dim possessed. Her hide was a rich, smoky grey, her mane black, and her ears had the fine points that he possessed. It took him several moments to even realise that she was an earth pony.

“Hoi, halloo!”

Cringing, Dim stood there in shock. She talks like a disgusting primitive.

“Care for a kebab, Spooky?” the mare asked, and she gave Dim her most radiant smile.

It was a tragedy almost worth weeping over. She was a perfect, exquisite creature—even for an earth pony—but her voice, her voice had been ruined. It took Dim several moments to try and recover his battered senses. He removed his hat, still in shock, and then gained a keen awareness that the ponies beyond the counter were all staring at him. So caught up and distracted was Dim that he failed to notice the other beauty around him; the orange tile floor, the tile mosaics on the walls, the painted ceiling… he stood in an extraordinarily beautiful space, which he was blind to.

“Hoi, yer a pointy-headed pointy head!” the mare shouted.

“Er, what?” Confused, Dim struggled to deal with reality, which didn’t like him at this current point in time.

“Oh, a foreigner pointy-headed pointy head.” The mare laughed, a vibrant sound full of life. “The Grittish, they call us ‘pointy heads,’ ‘cause the ears. Only yer pointy headier, because you’ve got yerself a horn too, hoi!” The mare paused, and then her smile turned coy. “Hoi, yer handsome, ye are, care to sample my wares? I have an all-ye-care-to-eat platter of delights I keep betwixt my thighs, just waiting for the right customer! Promise to marry me and I’ll strap my feedbag to yer face, so I will!”

The stallion behind the counter rolled his eyes and let out a snort.

For a moment, Dim was tempted—a strange feeling indeed. He hadn’t even touched a mare since… fleeing his home. Even stranger, he was not repulsed by her being an earth pony. She seemed jubilant, full of light and life. Vivacious? Darling Dark could never be described as vivacious, only drug-addled. For the very first time, Dim began to consider that he might yet still find love, or if not love, perhaps romance? But who would accept one such as he?

This mare, this innocent, vivacious creature, she would flee from his very shadow if she actually knew who and what he was. His brief moment of hope was now utterly crushed, and he felt some of his old ennui creeping back into his life. Hanging his head a bit, his ears drooping, he found that he could no longer look the beautiful, distracting mare in the eye.

“A dozen kebabs, please. With that spicy green peanut sauce if you have it.”

“Hoi, I know exactly what yer after!” Behind the counter, the mare bounced and clicked her hooves together. “Aloo! A dozen kebabs dragged through the green death and make it snappy, chappy!”

Ears sagging, Dim marveled at the mare and her exquisite beauty that could be his at the cost of a promise. There was no way he could give her the life she deserved. Sure, he had fantasies about having a keep, about establishing himself, but those were just fantasies. Just like all of his fond dreams of knighthood, of noble deeds, and having Darling as his beloved princess. It was all just fantasy, worthless, meaningless fantasy, and he had been a fool to dream.

No, if he took her, she would wither and die from his toxic touch. She was better off here, in this industrial wasteland, where she would no doubt marry some disgusting primitive that was unworthy of her beauty, her grace. Such rare beauty that would be squandered, lost, buried beneath an avalanche of huffing and puffing atop her back, followed by foaling more times than was wise. She would no doubt age before her time, such a pity for so perfect of a flower, a flower doomed, cursed to destruction by the fruit it would bear.

The most beautiful and graceful of apple blossoms were destined to become fat and rounded. Such was the tragedy of life, in that beautiful perfection did not last. It was a tender blossom that held so much promise, such perfection, only to be slain through metamorphosis, cursed to continue life. A blossom was such a fragile, fleeting thing.

“Hoi, you okay, Spooky?”

Lifting his head, Dim looked the mare right in the eye. “No, but I’ll get over it.”

The moors seemed vast, empty. No dangers presented themselves to Dim, though he was well prepared for danger. The wolves howled in the distance, but they were too far away to be concerned about. There were no woods here, no trees, as it had all been clear cut a long, long time ago.

Surrounding the town was farmland, but the land was ill, made sick by the pollution, and the crops were a bit withered. Farmers had a long walk to reach their fields, and there appeared to be no farmhouses dotting the countryside. Everypony lived inside the city walls, where it was safer, with safety being relative.

As he walked down the path, heading for the standing stones, the henge, he thought of the mare in the kebab shop. What happiness could be found in her no doubt honeyed kisses? That extraordinary creature was a mare conditioned to subservience—as evidenced by her desire for marriage—but she still retained a certain fire, a certain vim, a vigour that could not be cast out. She was bold, brash, and straightforward about what she wanted. After she had served him, she had trotted away with her tail flagged, revealing everything she had to offer.

He had been tempted.

What that mare had to offer would make a dead pony cum and Dim could not help but feel that he was passing up the opportunity of a lifetime. He would mourn this fantasy when it died and he had the chemicals to hasten its departure. By the light of the dawn it would be burned from his mind, no doubt, replaced with knowledge and power.

The henge seemed like a serene place in the faint, scant light of the moon. Dim moved among the stones, rubbing his body up against them, and observing their curious tingle. What secrets they must hold… what great power. These stones were tall, mighty, and the henge was mostly intact. There were a few trees around the henge, trees that had not be cut down for firewood or building material.

With his magic, he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a small glass vial. It bothered him that he couldn’t quite shift into an astral perspective on his own, that he needed help, but such was the cost of knowledge. He pulled out the stopper, which doubled as a dropper, and filled it full of liquid.

With careful, precise movement, he placed the first few drops directly upon his horn. Then, before he was overwhelmed, he put some in his left eye first, gritting his teeth at the burn, and then his right eye. This batch of lysergic acid diethylamide was strong, potent, and began to take hold almost right away.

While putting the glass vial away, the standing stones exploded with astral fire, which burned in a peculiar silvery-rainbow light. These stones were not like the others, and the stories that the locals told proved true. These stones held power. For Dim, it was like spiking pure coca extract directly into a vein on his leg. His body felt alive, full of life, and the pain of his twenty mile hike fled from him.

Many of the trees also had riotous auras of colour about them. Dim was standing in a special place, a sacred place, and he felt a curious sense of peace as his mind began to reach down, seeking out the chalk and the magic it contained. Something about the chalk and the salt… the magic far below seemed purer somehow, stronger, undiluted. The magic felt clean, though Dim could not say how or why. The magic above the chalk, above the salt, it was like breathing dirty air—you knew it when you breathed it and when one filled one’s lungs with clear air, the difference was noticeable.

The stones contorted, changing shape as he looked at them, growing taller, more imposing, or maybe Dim was growing smaller, it was impossible to tell. Overhead, the stars grew brighter, they pulsated and throbbed, each of them blazing with astral light. Dim could hear the light they produced, it sang to him a sweet, comforting song that almost made him feel sleepy.

Then, it began raining stars, and Dim felt a pang of panic. One by one, the stars came blazing down, streaking from the sky above, and the tiny twinkling motes joined him in the circle of standing stones. Hundreds of stars came down, all gathering, clustering together, swirling as they took shape.

“Princess Luna?” Dim gasped in astonishment.

But no, he was mistaken. This figure was taller, more terrible, and she had a horrendous glow. As more and more of her took shape, Dim had trouble looking at her, so bright she was with astral fire. She blazed like the sun, searing his retinas, but much to his own surprise, there was no pain, no discomfort, no harm was done to him.

“What are the stars, but tiny, distant suns?” The booming voice caused the stones to tremble and there was a peculiar rumbling in the earth. “I am the cosmic light and my power is near-infinite. You will exhaust yourself should you keep running from me. Should you flee into the stars, know that I will find you. I am an uncountable, unconquerable number of suns that span entire galaxies.”

“Princess Celestia…” Dim gibbered the words, then fell down to the ground in terror.

“My poor, wayward foal, come home to me—”

“No, no, NO! This is a trick!”

The wise, stern alicorn shook her head. “This is no trick. Come home to me. Let me heal what your mother has done to you. Please, I beg of you, let me restore you.” The warm voice was pleading, and almost seemed sincere…

“No!” Dim howled and he covered his face, hiding his eyes from the terrible, stark beauty of the alicorn before him. “If I come home, you’ll destroy me! As it is, your sun burns me so! I am cursed with wickedness.”

“No, my darling foal, your blood is still polluted with a poison most terrible, most vile—”

“It’s a trick!” Dim screeched. “Everything is a trick!” While he spoke, another alicorn drew shape beside Princess Celestia, and he beheld her while squinting out from between his forelegs in terror. This one was smaller, more pink, and Dim did not know her. She too, had a terrific radiance that was too terrible to behold.

“Come home to be restored.” The stones trembled from the terrible majesty of Princess Celestia’s voice. “There is still time, Dim. You can still be saved before the wasting poison claims you completely. Please, listen to me and trust me!”

“NEVER!” Dim wailed, fearing the light, but fearing Princess Celestia even more.

“Dim, my beloved foal, pull yourself together.” Princess Celestia’s voice was commanding and carried with it a strong compulsion to obey. “Danger approaches. Terrible danger. Do what you must to survive it, and know that I will forgive you. Your foes are terrible and there are many. I will do what I can to aid you.”

And with that, Dim felt his body flood with warmth, with strength. His head began clearing, and looking at Princess Celestia’s astral projection, he saw it flicker. He came to a hazy understanding that something was happening, changing within him. The smaller pink alicorn beside Princess Celestia stepped forwards, and before Dim could protest, she lept inside of him, a most curious sensation indeed.

“Come home to me, Dim, while you can still be saved. Much has happened. The Dark Spire is gone and House Dark is no more. I couldn’t save all of you, but I am determined to save one of you. Come be my champion, Dim… I have seen into your heart.”

“No,” Dim whimpered, shaking his head as tears poured down his cheeks.

“I can cure this poison and give you purpose. Trust me. I can restore you back into the light. I’m begging you, let me help you.”

Dim felt his voice crack. “I can’t trust anypony.”

“Be ready, Dim. The danger that approaches is of the worst kind. Remain steadfast, and do not give into the darkness. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but know that I love you, and that I believe in you.” Princess Celestia extended one wing, and touched Dim on the cheek while his body was lifted up off of the ground, held in bonds of starlight. “Luna and I will do what we can to aid you in the coming fight. Prepare yourself!”

“I… I want to believe,” Dim said, his voice cracking as his forelegs were pulled away from his face. The glory of Princess Celestia’s visage was too much to bear, and he could feel it searing his soul, burning away the darkness within him. “Can I be saved?”

“Do you wish to be?” Princess Celestia’s face became that of a stern schoolmarm.

Shaking his head, Dim responded, “I don’t know.”

“For now, survive.” The princess’ commandment rang out like a bell. “There is no sin in doing what one must to survive. I will forgive you anything this night, but only if you return home to me.”

Ears drooping, Dim nodded. “I will do what I must.”

Author's Notes:

The next chapter promises to be unpleasant. Be warned.