https://youtu.be/uE8EhJ9gS28?t=19

~ IN THE BEGINNING ~

Neither the beginning of time, nor the beginning of recorded time. But here, tonight, on a young world, under cold skies, in a period so far gone as to be lost to history, the beginning of the story...

The frozen wastes of the planet Equus.

Snow fell hard upon the mountains, dusting the tops of the great stone edifices in white. Carried by flurries of wind the silver flakes howled through the valleys and massed on the slopes, gathering its strength like a mustering army. In the light of the setting sun, the fresh snowfields glowed a hearty red, deepening to the colour of blood as the shadows grew thick.

A maroon reindeer, young but exceedingly tall and well-built, stood on a high and treacherous path, staring out across the peaks, a deep frown upon his face. Across his strong body he wore a fur-lined red cloak, and a single mighty pickaxe was hooked onto a harness he wore.

‘What was it we used to call this place?’ Sint Erklass thought to himself as looked upon the mountain range. ‘The Dragon’s Teeth? Not an entirely unjust title, methinks. Stained in blood, the mark of carnage, like the Draconic Lords of old. Maybe that mark will yet stain us all.’

He shook his head, seeking to banish such cold and unwelcome thoughts. He hadn't come here to muse.

Snorting, breath misting in the frigid cold, he carried on, nimbly making his way along the crumbling path, at times glancing out across the mountains, instinctively searching for life that was not there. This land lay at the heart of the world, and yet was a wild and desolate place, almost uninhabited. Many nations encroached on its borders, from the remnant of the Dragons and myriad Diamond Dog warren kingdoms to the nascent Griffon Alliance, but although these polities all but encircled this place, few of their peoples had yet to venture here.

It was rumoured to be a cursed land, after all. Haunted, forsaken, the winds carrying on them the cries of ten thousand lost souls, and more...

‘Long memory,’ the Great Stag thought to himself, grimacing. He had heard many stories from the Age of Wrath, even though he had come into this world after the worst was past. These lands had seen more horrors than the living could remember. ‘Let us hope that the horrors have also passed into memory.’

Eventually, he came to the entrance of a cave. It shielded from the storm in the rocky walls of a deep and narrow gully, relatively sheltered, though the snow still swirled all around. Again, Sint glanced over his shoulder, to where the sun was but a dying ember on the horizon. Then he turned back to the cavern, dark as the blackest heart, its depths a shadowed mystery. A draught blew through it, the twisting caverns of stone warping the wind’s breath into mournful, wailing moans.

“Faust?!” he called into the crying dark, advancing a few paces into the dripping, dismal stone. “Faust, are you in there?!”

There was no answer for a moment, but then, quite suddenly, the sounds were silenced, and the darkness seemed to still itself, as does a flame when sheltered from the wind. Then, a tall figure stepped out of the deeper shadows, gliding towards him with an alien, bipedal gait. It wore a hooded cloak, so Sint couldn't make out its features, but he possessed some slight idea of who it was, or at least what it was. Little as it was, that probably made him the foremost expert on this giest than any other being on Equus.

“Spirit,” he said, scowling. “Is Faust within that cavern?”

The figure didn't answer him for a long moment.

“Answer me, thing!” Sint snapped. “I have come to speak with Faust!”

The figure tilted its head beneath the hood, and the shadows once again began to whisper and breathe. Except this time, their cries formed actual words, soft, sibilant, and more felt than heard.

°She is within.°

The spirit raised an arm from within the folds of its robe, and pointed into the cavern with a single tapering digit.

°Finishing her work.°

Sint shivered, and looked back at the cavern entrance. “Her work?”

°Ask not of us,° the spirit replied, the darkness sound almost disdainful. °Our purpose is not to enlighten thou... Guardian Of Joy.°

Sint glared. ‘Not your purpose here, thing? I trust not your ‘purpose’ here. If it were up to me, you'd be gone from this world and as far away from Faust as possible.’

He didn't say any of this aloud, of course - only fools cast insult at that which they could barely comprehend. Fortunately, he was distracted from further anger by a second figure that emerged from the cavern, a glimmer of magical starlight shining upon her horn.

Sint choked back tears at the sight of her. No monstrous spirit this, but a fellow being of flesh and magic, the sound of her hoofsteps striking against the spirit’s sorrowful moans like lighting lashing back the dark of a storm.

And then she came near enough to discern her face, and his tears flowed freely.

“Faust… oh, Faust...”

Faust, the beautiful Faust, looked so very worn and tired, her glorious red mane faded in its lustre, her eyes ringed with woe and lined with cares. The magical aura around her horn seemed faded and sickly, and the pearlescent feathers of her wings were dry and brittle. Time had no sway over the life of an Alicorn, but sorrow and grief did, and the burden of a heavy heart had exacted much of time’s toll in its stead.

“Dearest Sint Erklass,” she said quietly, and despite her diminished state her voice was much the same as he remembered, soft and gentle, and yet still easily heard over the wind. “So, thou hast come to say goodbye.”

Sint cast a glance at the spirit, which now waited silently. It ignored his scrutiny, all attention turned upon the being that had summoned it into this reality.

“I have come to dissuade thee from this foolishness, dear Faust,” the Great Stag said after a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I trust not this giest with whom you have bargained.”

Again, the spirit said nothing, and Faust sighed.

“My beloved friend,” she said, her tone soothing. “Thou and I hath shared many dangers, many joys, and thou hast learned as much as thou has taught me in turn. Yet there are things thou still knowest not, and are better off not knowing.” She glanced at the spirit. “This being… my new friend, in a way… shall be my guide in the ways of the realms beyond, and I shall learn where my betters and their kindred failed. Maybe I shalt find enlightenment... or mayhap, there will be no enlightenment at all. Either way, I shall know.”

“And what of our duty to defend what remains of this world against the dangers without? What of Kontagion, or the Krampus?” Sint demanded. “We cannot be certain of their whereabouts. To say nothing of the other, nameless horrors that fester and lurk in the dark places of the world.”

“Yes, there will be perils,” Faust agreed with a sad smile, “but I leave it to those who shall come after me to decide the future of the Old Race’s lost chimerae. They are all the inheritors of this earth, and deserve the right to shape both its destiny and their own.”

“I fear the younger species will not have the power to stand against the darkness, not like the great dragons of old,” Sint said mournfully. “And if the old evils come again…”

“Thou art young, Guardian of Joy,” Faust said, cutting him off, but not unkindly, “but thou are strong already, and thy power and that of others will only grow as the hurts our world has suffered dim in memory, and life’s joys grow to replace them. I promise, when thyself art old, this world shall shine with light and life as never seen, and all this sorrow will seem but a dream. Though I have no power of foresight, I know in my heart, friend Sint, that this will come true; thou shalt face the Krampus, and overcome it, just as our fellow thinking, feeling beings will discover their own potential, and exceed it. Take heed, though. There are more ways to defeat a foe than the spilling of blood. Thou mayst find, that the only way to destroy thine enemy is to make peace with them.”

Sint snorted involuntarily. “Forgive me, my dearest friend, if that seems impossible to me.”

“I pray it is not,” Faust replied. “Thou knowest, as I do, that they were once noble beings who sacrificed much for a good cause, a just cause. Mayhap that nobility will live on in some way. In this resides Kontagion’s last great chance for himself.”

Sint nodded, though his expression remained doubtful. “And... what of the Fallen One?”

“Ah, yes,” Faust said. Her expression became downcast. “That matter, the oldest of wounds. Time heals all, or so they say… and yet, time destroys everything in its course, wears down mountains to pebbles… it is that which slays all in its path.”

°Or the companion,° the figure interjected, addressing both for the first time, °That walks with us through the long years... And reminds us that they are to be cherished and not cast aside.°

Sint ignored the interruption, and Faust merely shrugged.

“As you will, spirit,” she said.

“The Fallen One hath not yet been banished in entirety from the world,” Sint rallied again. “Thou hast said as much! What is there for us to do if he should return?”

Faust sighed. “For him, I leave mine legacy, and may Equus not find it wanting.”

“We shall need you, Faust!” Sint insisted.

She shook her head. “My work on this world is finished, Sint Erklass. To thee, I make a gift of the future, and to them whom I leave behind.”

Sint looked over her shoulder into the dank cavern. “Thou… whilst leave them there?”

“For a time,” Faust said. “The magic that hath made them will keep them, protected from the ravages of time, suspended potentialities within the weft of the spell, sleeping until their quickening, when the moment is right.”

“‘Until the moment is right’?” Sint repeated, dubious.

°Their kindred will discover two of them... in due course.° the spirit spoke. °Then shall their time be nigh… and their destinies unfold... as is intended.°

“Only the two?” Sint asked, frowning. He turned to Faust again. “What of the third?”

Faust smiled, a bittersweet picture, and Sint felt his heart ache at her anguish.

“Her destiny, like mine own, is of solitude and sacrifice,” she said quietly. “Until such time as the world is ready, she will be the secret watcher, the last line of defence for when the foe returns to torment our peoples once more.”

She said nothing more, and Sint sighed, wishing she’d confide in him. But in his heart of hearts, he knew that she never fully would. Faust, for all of her countless positive qualities, was in the end an enigma unto herself.

“As ever, Faust,” he said, as sincerely as he could, “thou hast my word that I shall look out for thine daughters, and protect them as my own.”

“Thou has always kept thy word, dear Sint,” Faust said quietly. “I know thou shalt do the same here.”

She dipped her head low, one knee bent in a moment’s supplication. “I thank thee, Guardian of Joy, for thy once and future service, and thy constant friendship.” Then, standing, she looked to the spirit. “And now, Spirit of Possibilities, we must depart.”

°So it is,° the spirit said. °And not soon enough…. For it is long past the time... That we should have departed.°

“Forgive me,” Faust said, nodding her head. “But there is always time for one last farewell.”

The spirit said nothing, and Sint could only watch as Faust approached it. He felt a moment’s conflict churn within his breast, and yet found himself unable to deny his friend and mentor her chosen path.

“And if I should need thy guidance once more?” he asked finally, lamely.

Faust smiled as a soft light began to envelope both herself and the spirit. “The third is the one who knowest best mine wishes. It is her place. She is the Scribe of their destinies, Sint. Trust her.”

“I swear it to thee,” Sint said, his voice raising as the light enveloped the two, brightening until they could not be seen.

°Look to see us no more, Guardian of Joy,° the spirit said, its voice of wind and shadows raised until it seemed to emanate from mountain’s very heart of stone. °Never again shall we grace the paths of this world.°

And then, they were gone.

Sint Erklass, Guardian of Joy, closed his eyes and wept.

…Thus did he begin his path, and so, too, was he to meet the end at many a crossroads.

I am in a dream.

I don’t know when it began, or whose dream it was.

…Would I like to wake up from this dream? Yes. I’m terrified.

My soul cries out, yearning to know it is real, to burst forth and scream, “I AM!”

It’s as if I wish to blot out pain, make it so nothing in existence is more true or steadfast than I.

But as with all births, or even rebirth, would my awakening be merely a departure, from the hushed safety of oblivion into an eternally perilous world?

Please. Though Hell might be other people…

I don’t want to be alone.

~ CENTURIES LATER ~

What was once Adlaborn, homeland of the reindeer...

Ashes swirled in the air as the Queen trotted slowly through a dead forest, settling like grey snow on the living and the dead. Branches cracked beneath her hooves. Bodies, charred and smouldering, surrounded her, and she breathed it in, the scent of burnt flesh, smoke, ash and charcoal filling her nostrils. A twinge of something like sadness flared through her mind, and was swiftly drowned in The Light.

‘I should not feel this way.This was a necessary sacrifice, however regrettable. He would never have understood what we have to do, in order to achieve, at last, the true Harmony we have long sought.’

She took another breath, looking around, and almost subconsciously, a soft smile lit up her face, her eyes aflame with something unreadable.

‘Do you see me now?’ she thought. ‘Do you see me now, that I have laid waste to your friend? That I have cast down what he built? Am I unworthy now, mother?’

Queen Celestia, Sol Invictus, First and Only of Her Name, shook her head, before taking another breath. Behind her, she could hear the crunching of another set of hoofsteps, and she turned slowly, casting a gleaming eye on one of her many Guardsponies, an ugly, elderly greenmane of a pegasus, standing at attention.

“Captain,” she said. “You have a report?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Captain said, bowing low and pressing his forehead to the sullied earth. “I bring the word of your Sword. Her task is done. Sint Erklass is dead.”

Celestia nodded slowly, and deep within her mind, felt a touch of relief that her own presence had not been required to deal the final blow. That, would have been… too much, no matter how necessary, how vital. And after all her trials and sacrifices, she was entitled a moment of sentiment. Yes, sentiment, that’s what this was. Not cowardice, or regret…

Those whispers of doubt melted away under The Light, and she drew herself up proud, as a conqueror should, her armoured raiment blazing bright as the break of day.

“Then we have completed our work here. We shall withdraw the division immediately and install the new garrison to ensure Adlaborn remains pacified. Return to Her Ladyship and inform her troops that they are granted three month’s leave for their successes.”

The Captain smiled crookedly, and saluted. “The survivors will be most grateful to hear that, Majesty.”

Something sad and broken underscored his words, but Celestia said nothing, turning away to her own thoughts. She heard the pegasus depart, but paid it no mind. Unless relevant, such little things were beneath her notice.

‘This distraction is ended,’ she thought, her thoughts clear. ‘Now, our attention must once more fix on the primary threat. I will finish what I started a long time ago. Retaliation. Witness me, Mother. Witness me burn the human race, as I have burned Adlaborn and the Guardian of Joy. Witness me tear down a broken world and rebuild a new one. A better world. Witness me build Harmony as it always should have been.’

Her face twisted into a scowl. For an instant, her mane flared, no longer a wispy gossamer of daybreak pastels, a spectrum of light beloved by all, but a brightness so burning as to make black spots dance before the eyes of any who might have beheld it.

‘And when you witness it, you who betrayed me, I hope you feel the pain I felt! I hope that you weep bitter tears at what you helped create! I hope you DROWN IN THEM!’

I am the Scribe, the arbiter of What Must Be.

It is a lonely vigil. Yet it is the reason for which I am made. Every action I take and do not take, no matter the feelings of others in the matter, is done with that purpose in mind. I have observed the world change, and done nothing. It was not my Place.

But this… is not what was intended. It is wrong. Not anticipated. Deviant. I feel this world’s pain. And there is good in it. Pain is not to be cast off. Pain is a warning. Pain is a statement, a state of mind.

…Yet why would there be such suffering in this world, enough to reach me, bury itself in my nerve endings? That is not natural. It is not a growing pain, it is a pain that speaks of a mortal wound. Only malevolent, hateful intent could spread it thus.

What is happening is not what was intended. So I will act. In accordance with the plan, to restore the plan. It is why I exist, and to that end, all courses must be viable. All courses, no matter how difficult.

I am awake.

Author's Notes:

Hello everyone, this prologue was crafted thanks to our efforts on a rough process of looking over various ideas regarding history and lore. Thankfully, after varying efforts, something was reached and thus this nugget was made. As for what comes next… we’ll see what happens. Until next time all.