“Stories have to be told; stories, need words. Without words, they grow pale, sicken, and die. When they die, we cannot remember who they were about, or why they were so important as to merit becoming stories at all. They become lost and we are the lesser for it. Stories are where memories go when they are forgotten, and anyone worthy of remembrance deserves to have their stories told. For we are all naught but stories, in the end.”

~Book of Eternity: Author unknown.

/ / / The Frozen North, 11,930 A.C. / / /

Cold. A fitting word to describe the ancient and unyielding spire that arose from the darkened gale-swept plains that surrounded it. Sturdy and as unbreaking as the rock upon which it was constructed, built to be a lasting sentry in a land that offered so little to those few that remained. The few who still held true to a duty long since forgotten by most through the ages. A duty, a solemn promise made at the side of a fading light, that all it held dear would forever be.

So it had been and so it remained. For countless generations, more years than many deities cared even remember, the guardians stood firm. Forever vigilant, forever waiting. They lingered here in this monolith of crystal, awaiting the day the Timeless Heart would thaw, bringing about fulfillment to all things.

Under the eye of this stormy night however, their wait would come to a sudden end…

/ / / / / /

Blackened. Shapeless. Concealed away in the darkness brought by the raging storm a dozen cloaked figures continued a perilous climb. They scaled the mighty frozen jewel with not aid of rope nor tackle, their mere physical prowess and mental fortitude being all that was required.

These twelve, masters of combat and the finest warriors their lands had left to offer pushed ever higher, a thousand strides they had ascended, yet not even one dared falter. A misstep from here, would surely spell doom to any unfortunate enough to take it. Still they persisted, their final goal within sight, a single glowing orifice carved into the side of the grand structure.

At such length by then was the group's exposure to the elements, fur clumped together in solid lumps under cloak and armor, hampering motion and adding to the ever growing risk. Feathers lay flat along their wings and chests, frozen into unmoving layers that bound already useless wings. Wings that would have been helpless against the torrent of icy winds howling around the spire.

It was of no avail, even as the world itself seemed against their presence here. For these twelve were Griffons, proud warriors of the mountain realms in the far distant east. An entire lifetime spent training through trial and experience had hardened each of them against the harshest punishments nature could hurl their way. The cold little more than a mild discomfort, serving only to further motivate the mind in its efforts to will the flesh.

Steadily they climbed, claw and talon digging into any hold no matter how miniscule. They would not be denied this, not on the lives of their flocks would this honor be kept from them. The call had sounded, they had answered. The great lords of old had stirred, waking, clawing back the shroud time had draped over them, ready to take up the task unfinished.

Drawing nearer the group slowed their pace, a dim glow penetrating the howling blizzard to reveal a shallow balcony, the only discernible feature to be found along the icy exterior. At this height, or otherwise.

With a near imperceptible motion the leader signaled a stop, a subtle flick from his tail was all the information the warriors needed. In a silent flurry they took up a readying formation, six Griffons to a side and with bated breath, they waited. They waited, for the order to attack…

/ / / / / /

Steadfast and agitated, words that well befit the stallion peering out upon the lands from his perch. The lone balcony serving its purpose once more, providing the tower’s occupants a singular portal through which to observe their surroundings, a window upon the world’s soul.

For hours now the pony had stood there, never once moving in his vigil over the land. Either failing to notice or simply uncaring as strands of black mane froze in place while the wind battered him. His cloak meanwhile, hardened into a shell that clung to his body. Though the gaze of the stallion was steady, his mind was consumed in worrisome thoughts as a deep feeling of dread festered within his core. There were no words for this feeling; something was simply, wrong…

/ / / / / /

With deliberate, almost painfully slow movements, blades were drawn and final positions were assumed. The howls of the wind drowned out any sound as the Griffons tensed, all their patience and toil, was about to see fruition…

/ / / / / /

“Here I find you yet again, young Sombra.”

Upon hearing his name the stallion in question glanced back over his shoulder, nodding in respect as his elder approached, joining in his watch over the outside.

“How many nights now has it been, keeping up this solemn watch?” the older stallion queried cheerfully. "Finding you here has become, predictable."

Sombra turned his eyes back to the swirling clouds of snow beyond the threshold, the thickness of them obscuring the world below in white. “Admittedly, I seem to have lost the count. Though rest assured my vigilance shall not waver,” Sombra replied, his brow furrowing as he leaned into the rail slightly, peering into the dark void. “There is malice on the wind these nights. Cold, a darkness, something unfamiliar to me and yet, I almost recognize it.”

The newcomer gave a sigh as an acknowledgment, the sound poignant and regretful. “War, young one, is often of that nature. Foreign concepts to those whom do not seek them,” there was a lingering pause to the pony’s somber words as he moved to join the other in gazing out over the abyss. Sombra hardly seemed to notice, his focus elsewhere. “There will, however, forever be those that seek it. Regretfully I foresee that in time, you too will come to understand them.”

Sombra managed to tear his gaze from the nothing at these words, eyes narrowing slightly as they found the pale green crystalline form of his teacher. “I do not fear this, war, Amethyst,” he said, chest puffing out as he bristled in youthful ignorance. “It is merely that, even now the Alicorns march their armies to meet the Griffons. Worse still, we received word that the Dragons grow restless within their mountain hoards,” he shook his head, not comprehending the reason of the situation. “After so many millennia of peace, why? Why, Amethyst do they choose to once again bring about such bloodshed?”

Amethyst Song simply looked away, his own thoughts taking him to places he tried so hard to avoid, but the evidence spoke for itself. “That, Sombra, is a question to which I have no answer,” he said, finding the truth leaving a tinge of doubt within his thoughts. “My only hope is that they be able to find one for themselves, before too much damage can be done.”

“Then why do we not intervene? Surely the Knights could turn the tides if properly placed?” Sombra asked, his tone seeking more from the older pony, the burning impatience of youth betraying him. “We could bring about a swift end to this conflict.”

“Perhaps many generations past, my pupil,” Amethyst said, cinching tighter the heavy cloak resting over his own shoulders. The ice gathering in his mane causing the old stallion some discomfort. “Presently, there are simply too few of us Knights left standing. To involve ourselves now would be to seek naught but death and ruin. No, our place is here, at the side of the Heart. To keep it and the secrets it carries safe.”

“I grow weary of this waiting,” Sombra complained with an annoyed huff as he found himself gazing out into the angry night once more, a scowl set firmly upon his face. “It makes me feel so, useless.”

Amethyst worked his jaw a few times, his ear flicking in the wind as he thought. He wished to say something more to this promising new heir to their cause, perhaps something inspiring forged through his own experiences managing this task which had been bequeathed to him. It would seem the right thing to do, after all, his own time here was soon drawing to a close. Perhaps a metaphor? A cautionary tale of how this never ending cycle within which they were all trapped was doomed to repeat itself?

Or perhaps it did not matter either way Amethyst decided after a moment of mulling it over, his gaze peering through the mess of snow and wind, occasionally catching a glimpse of the distant dome of translucent energy that surrounded the citadel. So long as it helped to keep Sombra centered on his path.

Some number of minutes passed, the silence interrupted by nothing but the howling wind, or the ruffling of their robes as the fabric rippled violently with the gusts. It hung in the air, thick and palpable as a stone wall, neither pony having found the right words to continue.

Amethyst after a time was first to break the spell, humming a faint tune before turning to his charge. “Do you remember, when you first came to the Knights?” he asked slowly, waiting for Sombra to nod before he continued, nostalgia clear in his tone. “You had wandered the wastes for weeks, lost, cold, and alone,” the elder edged closer, gaining the Unicorn’s full attention. “You were searching for some form of higher purpose to your life, direction where there had been none. Then, on the twentieth day, when the strength had finally left your body and you knew that you could go no further, you made a request of Fate.”

Sombra nodded again, though he hated being reminded of his past. There were nearly always lessons hidden within the old stallion’s lectures. “I asked for direction, to show me a meaning for my life,” Sombra said somberly. He steeled himself against his own arrogance, forcing himself to listen, taking any amount of wisdom he could glean from the words. “For, no matter where my travels took me, I never truly felt complete. Not after...”

“Indeed, though it was not Fate that answered you, was it?” Amethyst queried, a gleam in his eye that went unnoticed by the other pony, even as he glanced back at his teacher. “No, you were assisted by another force. One which sought to show you your true path,” he stated as he turned from the balcony. The warm illumination from the hallway within highlighted the frosty breath swirling from his nostrils as he motioned back inside. “The Heart, Sombra. It sought you out, sensed your incredible potential for good, your compassion, your will to protect those that cannot protect themselves.”

Casting one last glance at the storm beyond the threshold Sombra turned to follow his elder into the warm confines of the tower. The enchanted air within returned the heat to his flesh, his cloak crunching faintly as he moved. “I fail to see such qualities, true enough I have fought in the name of others. Though if only to fill my own purse with coin and my belly with bread,” he said, an ashamed look hinting in his eyes.

Amethyst smiled, traces of faint memories playing through his mind. Times when others had come, drawn by the same longing sense of needing more, to find that which they were meant to be. “And yet no innocent ever fell by your blade. Only the tyrants and the thugs of your realm met with its judgment,” Amethyst said, assurance adding to the weight of his words as they continued down the corridor. The passage opened up into a vast inner chamber lined with glittering pillars that pulsed with a gentle pattern of light, reaching to the vaulted ceiling overhead. “What better proof is there to be found of your character, Sombra?”

Sombra merely grunted in acknowledgment, the words having as little effect now as they did in the past. He hated this talk, had heard it so often that his mind had grown numb to the words. Words that had once haunted his dreams. He was no protector. With a scowl he looked away from the image staring back at him from the crystalline wall, the face distorted and unreadable. Yet the eyes still seared into him with disappointment and disdain.

“I know that you doubt yourself, Sombra,” Amethyst said gently, turning to look his companion in the eye as he placed a hoof over the pony’s chest. “But know that the Heart sees through us all, it knows our deepest emotions, sees our greatest transgressions, and brings our truest colors to light. That, is how I know you belong, that you have found your true path. For it looked within you and saw a stallion of quality, a pony with a good heart,” he finished, pressing down to indicate the life-giving organ beneath. “I also know that your story, has just begun.”

“My story?” Sombra breathed out quietly, a touch of confusion lining the edge of his words. The Unicorn found himself slowly becoming more and more confused, face scrunching in thought as he processed what his ears had told him.

/ / / / / /

Silent as an owl gliding towards its dinner, the Griffon leader Phalyndil made his way over the railing’s edge, his second close behind. The pair moved as one, each drawing a small crossbow from beneath their cloaks and choosing a target. His was to be the elderly stallion, Master had granted the honor of killing the sage to him alone.

The hen to Phalyndils’ side, Shindrah, brought her own weapon to bear. Her sharp eyes settled over her prey. The Griffoness was eager to prove herself in the coming battle, not only so that she might grow the worth of her flock as a part of Masters’ hoard, but perhaps catch favor with Phalyndil as well.

Despite the terrible toll the last few hours had dealt his body Phalyndil found energy for a brief smile, his beak curling along one edge as he caught a glance of his fellow warrior. She was coiled like a bear trap and twice as deadly, needing but the slightest touch to send death into whatever stumbled upon her.

Had it been any other under his wing, Phalyndil might have shown concern, such open displays of eagerness and excitement often stemmed from a deeper lack of self discipline. Control however, was not something he deemed the young Griffoness to be lacking. She had flown with the best of them and survived when many of her betters had not.

Placing his first bolt into the slot on his crossbow, Phalyndil held his breath as he lifted the weapon with deliberate care. He knew full well that each projectile was precious and irreplaceable once fired. These were not just any simple steel arrows, he knew. A grand smith would have toiled nearly a week to forge even one, containing such exceptional materials as they did.

He eyed the back of his target’s head, aligning the shaft with the perfect path to send the polished onyx tip through near the top of the pony's neck. Phalyndil marveled at how light Master’s creations were, how the glow of the crystal around him seemed to slide off the gold runes laid into the stone head, or how the silver fletching shimmered like firelight from within.

Shindrah suppressed her breath, a talon caressing her weapon’s trigger as she lined up her own anti-source bolt, ensuring that its path would be true when the time came to send death into the younger Unicorn. Their attacks needed to be simultaneous, Shindrah had done battle against wielders of magic before and knew the consequences a mistake would bring.

Chancing a final glance over his shoulder, Phalyndil took heart at seeing the last of his kin slide silently over the rail and take positions at his back. Their own weapons were drawn and ready for the coming battle. Heart pounding at the inevitable plunge before him the Griffon eased into a more stable stance, inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling, calming his aim as his talon began to take up pressure. Halfway across the large chamber before him his prey took pause, hushed words drifting past his ears as they spoke. Motionless…

In that single moment, Phalyndil was home. His father's crossbow was cradled in his talons as he lay prone in a field, watching the grass sway and dance in the breeze, a straw target off in the distance…

He pulled the trigger…

/ / / / / /

It was nothing but a feeling, some little voice that Sombra had learned to trust very early on in his life and it had saved him many times. Which is why he reacted without question when it told him to move, why he interrupted Amethyst with a burst of telekinetic energy that erupted between them, pushing both ponies away from the death that passed so close it severed hairs from hide.

The pair of crossbow bolts that missed their marks had not even embedded themselves within the far wall when the next pair of Griffons stepped forward, moving into the room past Phalyndil and taking aim. Not wishing to lose the element of surprise they too let loose with Master’s fury.

With the sound of bolts striking crystal echoing in his ears Sombra rolled to his hooves, nearly losing an eye as the next projectile sped towards his face, instinct alone saving him for the second time. Throwing his weight to one side, the crossbow bolt missed its mark, sailing past his head and joining the others in the wall a heartbeat later.

Judging by the pained cry, Amethyst had not been so lucky. Chancing a sidelong glance Sombra spotted the elderly stallion, crumpled and bleeding where he fell. But still moving, cradling a pierced shoulder.

Satisfied that his mentor was at least alive Sombra turned instead to the threat that had, until a moment ago, approached completely undetected. Practiced eyes scanned his would be assassins in an instant, past experiences warning of the situation he now faced. They were far too close, Sombra realized as his horn began to glow despite the mounting futility of the act.

There were perhaps a dozen, difficult to see with the ones in the middle purposefully splaying their wings, hiding their fellows from view. He needed more time, Sombra realized, his heart growing heavy in his chest. He would not be able to react quickly enough if-

The Griffons’ tactics paid off, a third pair of the warriors wheeled into place, weapons leveled, shoulders set. The voice in the back of Sombra’s head whispered from the dark, telling him to place down his shield and survive, that he could live if he just saved himself. The glow from his horn grew bright, the spell nearing completion. The Griffons pulled their triggers again.

In a cloud of Sombras’ magic the crystalline floor beneath Amethyst sprang to life, lighting up in brilliant colors as its surface began to boil like heated water. In the time it took the bolt to reach its target the liquefied crystal surged into the air and wrapped around the wounded pony, hardening into a protective dome.

Deciding to berate himself later Sombra instead chose to focus solely on the Griffon directly ahead of him and turned to face his enemy and, immediately wished he had not. Another bolt was already streaking towards his face, with but a heartbeat to react, there was little he could do. There was but one chance for his survival, with all the speed he could will from his muscles Sombra continued his turn, hoping to twist out of the way.

It was too late. The wickedly sharp stone head sliced along the side of his neck, delving deep into the soft flesh with ease as it passed. The bolt continued on, nicking his shoulder, its trajectory carrying the bolt towards his partially exposed side. Though the hit may not have proven fatal it would still likely have pierced his ribs, had it not immediately ricocheted off something hard hidden beneath the pony’s cloak and lodged in the torn fabric. Something, metal.

Pain burned across Sombras’ neck, the sound of his own blood spattering the crystal floor reaching his ears as he staggered backwards onto his haunches. One hoof struggling to find purchase and push him back, the other pressing firmly over the wound. Thinking quickly Sombra fell to his side before using his magic to propel himself across the floor and out of sight, seeking shelter behind the dome still covering Amethyst.

His momentary safety secured Sombra took the moment to retrieve the arrow that had very nearly claimed his life, the chill in his heart only growing colder when it was discovered that the magic from his horn held no effect upon it. Pull as he might, the bolt remained snagged in his cloak’s thick canvas.

With a pained grunt of frustration his free hoof firmly grasped the shaft and tore it from within the folds of fabric. Sombra knew the weapon he faced even before his eyes lay sight upon it, not many a weapon could so easily slip through magic, nor so readily dismiss its commands.

Held within Sombra’s hoof was an anti-source bolt, of an impressively high quality, he begrudgingly admitted. He turned the bolt over under his eye’s scrutiny, noting the gold carefully set into the onyx head, the stone’s own natural magic resistant properties being multiplied tenfold by the conductive metal. Though a true rarity in the world, Sombra had indeed faced such a weapon before and had only just survived to tell about it.

The sound of another bolt striking the crystal shield jarred Sombra from his observations, the protective structure splintering with jagged cracks. A second shot shattered the front portion of the dome. Revealing the empty interior…

/ / / / / /

Phalyndil was furious, not that he would ever allow such an emotion to influence his presence on the battlefield, he felt it just the same. This travesty however, would not go unpunished. No he would see to it, Master’s will would be done! That bastard of a Unicorn would die, his seeming precognitions aside. The worm would meet his end, at Phalyndil’s own claws if possible.

Nocking his next arrow into place, Phalyndil stepped into the room proper. His eyes scanned the space as his flock mates did the same, the group moving towards the center of the chamber. Towards their prey, towards victory infinitum.

/ / / / / /

Sombra huddled closer to the backside of his cover, the meager protection offered by the crumbling structure dwindling away with every step of the approaching Griffons. Working quickly despite the blood soaking his hooves, Sombra finished tying the strip of cloth torn from the cloak around his neck and cinched the knot tight. The wound was deep, but nothing that would kill him before the approaching enemy could.

The pony eyed the far wall as he worked, not once taking his gaze off the blurred reflections showing the intruders advance. He snorted, angry with himself for how complacent he had become during his time here, thinking this place safe from those who would intend harm. He hated how easily they had eluded his detection, sneaking about like a band of thieves in the night. Most of all, he hated how much Amethyst had been right. That he would be needed here more than anywhere else.

Sombra watched them; he watched them move on carefully determined paths, always in pairs, and always within the peripherals of their leader. He noted the subtle shifts in behavior, actions dictated by the slightest movements, the briefest bob of a head, an elbow dipping imperceptibly, or the subtle twitch of a tail. More importantly, he watched them begin to flank him, separating, dividing…

/ / / / / /

Phalyndil freed his breath, calming his quickening pace as he neared the hiding place of the cowering pony, the scent of blood that tinged the air called to the predator within. He was nearly there now; the side passages to his right hardly an afterthought even as his senses declared them to be empty. One final pace was all that remained, surely they would all be remembered in the songs of their flocks for generations to come.

His talons tensed, cradling the crossbow ever so marginally tighter, the deadly bolt poised to take the life from whomsoever it struck. He eyed this small piece of Master’s will, the moment of realization that it had been entrusted to him fresh in his mind from the days before. It would remain one of the proudest times of his life for as long as he lived.

Confident that the Magicus Suntar would make short work of the magic caster Phalyndil took a moment to ensure the positions the rest of the group had taken. His fellows moving along the far wall with the intent to encircle their prey, tightening the noose around the stallion before the enemy could make its escape. To Phalyndil’s shame they had already lost their element of surprise, only the overwhelming speed of a blitz flight would save the Master’s plan now.

At the last moment before rounding the crumbled remains of the crystal barricade Phalyndil tensed the powerful muscles in his legs, leaping high into the air and sailing beyond its edge. His wings flicked, deftly spinning him around for a clear shot. His talon tensed over the trigger, slowly taking up the twelve pounds it would require to send death into his target…

/ / / / / /

Sombra flinched, the twang of the bow being released signaling his end. His life flashed across his eyes as a blinding flare of white light filled his sight, the warrior’s victorious cry fading away as though through water. Just like that, it was over.

Then just as quickly, the light faded and Sombra felt the cool stone beneath his side once more. From somewhere far across the room, the sound of the fired crossbow bolt striking the bare floor reached his ears, and he smiled…

/ / / / / /

Phalyndil’s prideful smile faded from his beak as he landed, confused as he stared at the spot from whence his prey had vanished. He stood there dumbly for several seconds, blinking away the spots from his eyes as he worked out exactly what had transpired. The crossbow in Phalyndil’s talons fell to the floor as he stared at his last shot, buried to the fletching in the crystal floor, wasted.

It was then the warrior understood, as his senses calmed and he took note of where they all stood. Backs to the wall, and their sole means of retreat firmly blocked by the sage whom had escaped Master’s wrath, and those who had come to his aid…

/ / / / / /

Sombra groaned as he rose to his haunches, his eyes meeting those of his mentor. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, accepting an offered hoof that pulled him up. He glanced behind Amethyst, scrutinizing the assembly of creatures that had gathered in the narrow hall. The other Knights of the Heart.

“Apologies, Sombra,” Amethyst Song offered appeasingly as he gestured over his shoulder at the others. “It required more time than I would have liked to prepare everyone,” he said, taking note of Sombras’ wound. “What of you, can you fight?”

“I can,” Sombra confirmed, his magic releasing the clasp holding the cloak about his shoulders. The folds of fabric fell away, revealing the large scabbard hidden beneath. With a confident nod Sombra set his shoulders and took his place beside his elder, the blade at his side slowly floating out to join them.

They had a chance now, Sombra thought as he glanced around at the small group of creatures that had slowly grown to be his friends. If they fought together and held true to each other, they could win. Though the Knights came from many walks of life from around the world, just like him their paths had led them here, to this moment.

“Then let us not be rude, I think we have left our guests waiting long enough,” Amethyst stated simply. He stepped forward as the others followed suit, drawing weapons and readying spells of their own preferences.

With a surprising strength in his voice, the elderly stallion addressed the intruders. His tone firm, yet respectful. “There is no need for further violence; your plans have been thwarted. Lay down your arms with a promise never to return and you may leave…”

/ / / / / /

Phalyndil could hardly believe his ears, did the doddering old fool truly think that any member of his kind would surrender to prey? It nearly made him laugh! The very idea was ludicrous, if anything it made him desire the pony’s blood all the more, driving his determination to inflict Master’s will upon them all.

He stepped forward, drawing his sword with the mounting hunger for a fight boiling in his veins. His determination soaring as he felt every Griffin move forward to join him in the trek back across the room. This would be their hour! “For Infinity’s end!” He bellowed, and as one, they charged…

Well here it is, the epic has begun, again...

Thank you to all those who have been waiting patiently for this, and to all you new comers, we hope to make it worth your while.

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Thanks for the interest! ~Dollars