I’m slowly drifting to you…
The stars and the planets are calling me…
A billion years away from you...
M83, My Tears Are Becoming A Sea.

The snow fell upon the mountainside, dusting the tops of the great stone edifices in white. In the light of the setting sun, slowly disappearing behind the hilltops, the snow was stained with a deep, bloody crimson, lending an ominous air to the twilight hours.

Upon one ancient path amongst these mountains, there stood a young but exceedingly tall and well-built maroon reindeer, maybe in his mid-twenties. Across his strong body he wore a fur-lined red cloak, and a single stylised pickaxe was hooked onto a harness he wore. He was staring out at the mountains with a deep frown upon his face.

What was it they used to call it? Sint Erklass thought to himself as he looked upon the mountain range with a solemn expression. The Dragon’s teeth? Not entirely unlike them, methinks. Stained in blood, the mark of carnage, and still here despite all the long years that have passed since the horrors began, despite the years that have passed since it ended. He let out a mournful sigh. Maybe that mark will yet stain us all, after all.

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

He trotted along the old mountain path, still glancing out at the other mountains in the range almost instinctively. This land was far from inhabited. Different nations surrounded it, to be sure: from the remnant of the Dragons to the many small changeling hives to the nascent Griffon Alliance. But, whether for fear of what had transpired long ago in these mountains, or out of a desire to settle in more temperate lands, none of them had yet ventured here.

Long memory, the Great Stag thought to himself, grimacing. Even now, he knew, these mountains were rumoured to be cursed land.

He wondered if it was so far from the truth after all. He had heard many stories since his youth, even though he had come into the world after much of the worst of what had once happened was already over. These lands had seen more horrors than the living could remember.

Let us hope that the worst of that time’s atrocities have passed forever, he mused, but even as he thought it he felt a twinge of foreboding.

Dark things were on the horizon. They were always on the horizon, waiting for their time to return and threaten the light of day.

And that, he thought, is why I must not let Faust complete the journey she has undertaken.

Eventually, he came to the entrance of a cave. The snow still swirled all around him, but this place was relatively sheltered. The cavern, though, was dark, and nothing of the inside could be seen.

“Faust?!” Sint called out into the wind. “Faust, art thou in there?!”

There was no answer for a moment, but then a tall bipedal figure stepped out of the cave. It wore a hooded cloak, so Sint couldn't see its features, but he knew who it was, or at least something of what it was, which was likely more than any being on Equus.

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

The figure didn't speak to him: it almost seemed as though it hadn’t acknowledged his existence.

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

The figure tilted its head beneath the hood, the first sign that it had even heard him speak.

“Guardian of Joy,” it spoke, its voice a soft whisper.

“I will not ask again, spirit,” Sint hissed at the thing in response. “Where is Faust?!”

It pointed to the cavern with one of its arms. “She is within, finishing her work.”

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

“Thou may ask her about such things yourself when she emerges, Guardian of Joy, and she may, in turn, answer thee,” the figure said, and even with its alien cadence it was difficult to miss the dismissive tone. “It is not mine purpose here to explain these things to thee.”

Sint glared at it. Not thine purpose here, thing? I trust not thine ‘purpose’ here. If it were up to me, thou wouldst be banished from this world forever.

He didn't say any of this aloud, of course – who knew what powers this thing had? Fortunately, he was distracted from further anger by the second figure to emerge from the cavern.

Sint choked back tears at the sight of her. Faust, the beautiful Faust, looked so very worn and aged, her glorious red mane faded in its lustre, her eyes ringed with woe and lined with cares. Time had no sway over the life of an Alicorn, but woe and care did, and had exacted much of time’s toll in its stead.

“Dearest Sint Erklass,” she said quietly, her voice soft and gentle, and yet still easily heard over the wind. “So, thou hast come to say goodbye.”

Sint cast a glance at the figure, who now waited silently. It simply ignored his scrutiny.

“I have come to dissuade thee from this foolishness, dear Faust,” the Great Stag told her after a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I trust not this… this creature with whom thou hast bargained.”

The figure seemed content to ignore Sint’s diatribe. Faust, however, simply sighed.

“Mine most beloved friend,” she said, her tone soothing. “Thou and I hath shared many dangers, many joys, and thou hast learned much as the years have gone by. Yet there are things thou still knowest not, and thou art better off for it.” She glanced at the figure. “This being shall be my guide in the ways of the realms beyond. From it, and the travels it takes me on, I shalt learn where mine betters and their kindred failed. Maybe I shalt find enlightenment... or mayhap, there will be no enlightenment to be found. Either way, I shall know.”

“And what of Kontagion, the Krampus, or even the Fallen One himself?” Sint asked. “We cannot be certain of their whereabouts… or their disposition. And that leaves aside the possibility that worse things yet, other evils in other lives, will arise.”

“Yes,” Faust agreed with a sad smile, “the threat of the last Chimerae cannot be disputed, but it is no longer mine place to defend this world against them.”

“No longer thine place?” Sint repeated, aghast. “But Faust -”

“Mine time is over, mine oldest friend,” Faust said gently, her soft voice somehow cutting his louder exclamation off with ease. “I leave it to those who shall come after me to decide the future of the Old Race’s lost children.”

“I fear we do not have the power to stop them, not like the great dragons of old,” Sint said mournfully. “If they come again…”

“Thou art young, Guardian of Joy,” Faust said, cutting him off, “and thy power will only grow as the hurts our world has suffered dim in memory, and life’s joys grow to replace them, so that when thyself art old, all this will seem but a dream. Though I have no power of foresight, I know in my heart that thou shalt face the Krampus, and overcome it. Take heed, though. There are more ways to defeat a foe than to spill their 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?”

“Ah, yes,” Faust said. Her expression became downcast. “That matter, the oldest of wounds.” She began chuckling, though there was little mirth in it. “Time heals all wounds, or so they say… and yet, time destroys everything in its course, and even the mountains are laid low before its ravages. Some might call it the greatest foe of all.”

“Others might call it the companion,” the figure interjected, addressing both for the first time. “One that walks with us through the long years, and reminds us that they are to be cherished and not cast aside, for they will not be again.”

Sint ignored the interruption, and Faust merely shrugged.

“As thou prefer, spirit,” she said. She paused. “Thou art worried he shall return.”

“He hath not yet been banished in entirety from the world,” Sint said. “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 thee, Faust!” Sint insisted. “Not… not whatever safeguards thou hast placed. It is thy wisdom that will save us when darkness returns!”

“It is not mere safeguards that I have left, Dearest Sint,” Faust rejoined. “I have left mine children: three of mine own kind, made as I was made, and empowered to act as I was.”

Sint’s eyes widened. “Thine… thine children?” His mind raced, the implications settling over him. “But… surely, then, thou must remain, to teach them if nothing else will sway thee!”

She shook her head. “Mine work on this world is finished, Sint Erklass. To thee, I make a gift of the future, and to them whom I leave behind. It is their time, and yours. Not mine.”

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

“For a time,” Faust said. “The magic that hath made them will keep them, protected from the mould and the damp, suspended as they are until the time is right for them to be revealed.”

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

“Their kindred among the lesser ponies will discover two of them in due course, many years hence,” the figure interjected, addressing both of them again. “And from there shall their destinies play out as they are intended.”

Sint was tempted to question the creature’s knowledge of the future, but something else caught his attention.

“Only the two?” he asked, frowning. He turned to Faust again. “And 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 he knew that she never fully would.

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

“I trust thee to keep thy word, dear Sint,” Faust said quietly. She looked to the figure. “And now, spirit of possibility, the time has come for us to depart hence.”

“So it has,” the spirit said. “And not a moment too soon.”

Sint watched as Faust approached the spirit. He looked conflicted for a moment.

“And if I should need thine guidance once more?” he asked.

Faust smiled as a soft light began enveloping her 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 echoing ominously around the mountainside. “Never again shall we grace the paths of this world, and on none of the paths that await thee shall we be found.”

And then, they were gone.

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

Many years later…

Ashes swirled in the air around her as she trotted slowly through a dead forest. Branches cracked beneath her hooves. Bodies, charred and smouldering, surrounded her, and she breathed in, the scent of cooked flesh, smoke and charcoal, filling her nostrils. A twinge of something like sadness flared through her mind.

Adlaborn, the home of the Reindeer kindred, had been burnt to the ground, rick, cot and tree.

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?

And then Celestia shook her head, before taking another breath. Behind her, she could hear the crunching of another set of hoof-steps, and she turned, seeing one of her many Guardsponies standing at attention.

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

“Yes, your majesty,” the Captain said, bowing. “Your Angel sends word. Her task is done.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “Then we have completed our work here. Move the division out.” She gave him a small smile. “And tell them that they are hereby granted three month’s rest leave for their successes here.”

The Captain smiled, and saluted. “They will be most grateful to hear that, your majesty.”

Celestia said nothing, and turned away from the Captain. She heard him trot away, but paid it no mind.

This distraction is ended, she thought. 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. And when you witness it, thou who betrayed me first and most, I hope you feel the pain I felt! I hope that you weep bitter tears at what you helped to create! I hope you DROWN IN THEM!

This was not what was intended.

My purpose is to ensure the plan does not deviate. That is the sole reason for which I was born. Every action I take and do not take, no matter the feelings of others in the matter, is done with that purpose in mind.

This was not what was intended. It is deviant. It is wrong.

And so I will do what I must. I will act in accordance with the plan.

Nothing will stand in my way.

Edited on 13/04/2020.

When I started this story, I had left the “proper” Spectrum main story, SPECTRUM, a few months prior. At the time I left, I wrote the following in a blog:

“There’s a lot of complex feelings I have attached to Spectrum. Bluntly, more complex feelings than a fanfic about magic cartoon horses warrants or deserves. And, I think, over the years I’ve done this sort of thing, there’s grown a very real and irreconcilable difference between what Spectrum is and what I want (or need) it to be to satisfy my admittedly rather demanding self. And I can’t go on dealing with that disconnect, not when it causes me more distress than it warrants, not when I have so much going on in my life.”

The fact is, I was wrong. That difference is not irreconcilable at all.

And thus, now, all these years later, I’m updating this opening author’s note to say this.

Initially made up purely of my own work from SPECTRUM (painstakingly extracted from old drafts of the various google docs), this story and the wider Reduxverse as a whole is a complete universe, with a separate (if related) continuity to other versions, and its own path to follow.

I hope you enjoy this version of the story. And, to quote the first trailer for FFVII remake:

The reunion at hand may bring joy. It may bring fear. But let us embrace whatever it brings… for they are coming back. At last, the promise has been made.