Sisters of Willowbrook
by Starscribe
First published
After decades of preperation, an ancient cult finally manages to summon two of their dark gods into Equestria. Instead of almighty Alicorns, they arrive as a pair of helpless fillies. To get home, they'll have to play the part...
Magic is real, and Derek is on the verge of unlocking its secrets. It doesn't matter that his best friend doesn't believe any of it, he'll still go along to his first real spell. Unfortunately for the two of them, the magic works a little too well.
Soon they're taken to a strange new world of supernatural horses, a world where intrigue and spellcraft are interwoven to an inescapable prison. An mysterious cult dedicated to the worship of the ancient Alicorns has finally brought two of the ancients back from banishment. Their spell didn't quite work out; they definitely expected the Old Gods to be a little... older.
If the two former humans want to have any hope of seeing their old world and old bodies again, they'll have to make quite an impression to their secret worshipers, or else find themselves at the mercy of the same Alicorn sisters who took over Equestria all those centuries ago.
That's only where their problems start. Growing up as a little pony in a town like Willowbrook might be the greatest challenge they've ever faced.
Updates on Saturdays. This story was edited by Bitera and Sparktail. Cover by Zutcha.
This story was commissioned as a Patreon reward.
Chapter 1: Foundational
Sister Iris Vale, sworn witness of the Nightmare's divine curse, had never been more nervous for a ritual in her life. It was a good thing her hood and cloak were so dark, or the other members of the sisterhood might have noticed her furtive posture, her tucked tail and folded ears.
But in the gloom of Cyan Mines, maybe they were really no braver than she was. She adjusted the dark robes, helping her horn find the opening meant for it in the hood. It would do no good to cover her entire reason for being here.
This might've been a mine once, but there were little signs of that left anymore. There was an ancient cargo elevator, old enough to rely on the regular motion of a counterweight up and down an empty shaft instead of unicorn magic. A few pale scars on the ground marked where once rail had been, for the workers of times past to push carts of ore.
She slowed in the line as she passed into the cavern, the largest single room she'd yet seen. It was high enough that it obviously connected many layers of light granite, without much in the way of reddish ore veins that the old miners were after.
Iris was not here to lead this ritual—she was scarcely lofty enough to even attend a service so important. But she had. After today, the world would never be the same. And it would partly be because of her. “Should you stumble, your life is forfeit."
Watcher's voice was old and thin, far more like a corpse than an actual pony. He sat atop a stone platform, body wrapped entirely in dark cloth. Only his eyes were visible glittering from within, and a horn that must've been longer than his head. It protruded like a thin saber, and glowed brighter than the candles.
They hadn't skimped on the candles. Hundreds of them were scattered around the room, filling every patch of ground not meant for the ritual. Well, that and the snack tray. Couldn't get wax on the canapés.
"All find entry," called the Watcher, voice thin and wispy in the echoing darkness. "Gather beside the gulf. Mind your hooves to not be swept within.”
Iris somehow managed to weasel her way to the front of the crowd—possibly thanks to her age. Past two dozen ponies in dark robes, she found the thing Watcher warned of, the “gulf.”
From further away, it resembled only a particularly dark patch of stone, sloping violently down into a crevice maybe wide enough to stick her hoof. But the closer she got, the harder it was to ignore how unnatural the “gulf” was.
Even standing close to it made her feel strange, like a blanket of heavy wool was tossed over her whole body. The entire world felt suddenly muted—candle flames lost their color, the crimson strata of the mine all blurred to brown, and her very heart seemed to slow.
A single circle in white chalk ran around the opening, warning the watching ponies of where they shouldn't go. Even so, Iris could make out a few stray threads of cloth, clinging to the damp rock. Like somepony had already gotten too close, and learned just what this void would do.
Iris took a few steps back, or tried. But the crowd had already closed in around her, and she found only the glares of frustrated ponies, blocking her retreat.
You just don't want to be here yourself. Maybe she wasn't as clever as she thought, getting up front. She'd be right beside the opening when the ritual began.
"So we begin our sacred conclave," said Watcher, his voice growing louder and more confident by the second. "Who will witness for the dead?"
"I will witness," Iris said. Her voice was joined by many others, many far more confident than she felt. She would have to lean on that strength, beside a swirling abyss of ambivalence.
"Your testimony is taken," Watcher said. "Equestria cannot be returned to its proper order in a night. Blood cries from the stones at our hooves. Their will cannot be frustrated, only delayed. But through our labors, the ancients will return, banishing the false sunrise."
"So it will be," Iris recited. There was nothing new here—she knew the truths she had come to witness. When the world was put right, she would rise to rule with the old order. Ponies could dream of worse goals.
Being up front did have one advantage, anyway. Iris was right beside the gulf, so she could watch as a group of several ponies walked past it, each one carrying a corner of a heavy... dome? It looked to be made of solid glass, all the way through. Maybe crystal? Either way, it was no wonder none of them had horns or wings emerging from their robes. Only earth ponies could bear such a load.
The group walked all the way around the opening, then shuffled until the dome covered it directly. Iris could still see through it to the opening, though there wasn't much to see. Was that light flickering from the other side, maybe a trickle of strangely-herbal smelling smoke?
A second later, and the ponies deposited the great dome over the gulf, then stepped back to rejoin the crowd. "So long we have waited for the stars to be right. So long we have waited for this world to align with the great darkness below.
"Today the cold will be drawn and bound," Watcher called. "The old oaths will be spoken again. Join me brothers, sisters. Tonight we will rescue an ancient god."
Iris joined the crowd, packing in around the dome. Horns lit up from around the circle, but the coven was made of more than just unicorns. This was no mere parlor-trick, like unicorn levitation. Real magic cared far more about will than it did about biology.
"By ancients banished," the chant began. "Now returned. By ancients banished..."
Things would be different this time, and Derek knew it.
It wasn't just a hunch, not like so many of the other times he'd gone out in to the Nocturne Forest to explore. This time he was prepared.
"I hope we don't have to hike much further," Charlie called, trailing a few steps behind him. Bold of his friend to be the one to complain about the long walk, given how much better shape he was in. But Charlie didn't believe. "Tell me we don't have to go all the way to the falls. You know we're gonna hit traffic if we don't make it onto the five before rush hour."
Derek stopped walking, turning to glare back at his friend. It didn't have much weight—Derek was lengthy and pale, and his back stooped under the weight of his pack. Charlie hadn't helped him carry any of the heavy equipment.
As Charlie caught up, the difference between them became clearer. He was a full head taller, with sleeves that frayed at the edges of his shirt. His skin was deeply tanned, and he had only a bottle of water slung over his shoulder, mostly empty now.
"I found something incredible here," Derek said. "This is it. Proof of things we don't understand. You'll see, then you'll realize how real it all is."
Charlie shrugged. Despite his greater stature, he was no bully. Not back in school, and not now that they'd both moved on. "Maybe I'll see that. Don't take this the wrong way, Derek. It isn't that I don't want you to be right. It's just that everything I've ever seen tells me there's no such thing as..." He waved a dismissive hand. "Well, any of it. There's no extra dimensions, there's no crystals, there's no aliens and magical water cars and MK Ultra. Nocturne Forest is serene and mysterious and it could be a great workout if we wanted it to be, but there's no magic here."
Derek hoisted the heavy pack on his shoulders. It clanked and clattered within, packed with the trappings of his spellcasting. Or so he hoped. "I know, you want something measurable. You'll get it. I was here two days ago—if I read Orion's position right, it will still be here. You'll see it, and be completely blown away. Mark my words."
Charlie shrugged again. "Guess we'll see when we get there."
They walked together in silence for several minutes, following the old trail. This one wasn't technically on any of the maps they could get from the ranger station. In places it thinned to a mere suggestion, more like something used by the hooves of wild deer and other animals. But Derek kept his GPS app handy, and occasionally glanced at the course plotted there for reference.
It was less than an hour before they finally reached the place locals called "hidden falls". And it was no wonder why it was hidden—it was really only ten feet up, formed by a sudden depression in the rock and a pond collecting water below. Anything more spectacular would probably have overflowed with a steady pressure of tourist traffic.
The water was clear, with only a faint green fog of moss and algae along the outermost rocks. Given the sweat and soreness dripping down Derek's back, he was eager to jump in. But that wasn't why they'd come.
"Hidden falls," Charlie said, leaning on one of the many large chunks of fallen granite cliffside, looking out. "Scenic. I could take a girl out here. But magical... that's where I doubt."
Derek hefted the backpack off his shoulders, then stretched. "I know it might not look like much, but that doesn't change anything. It's magical, just wait."
His hands shook as he fished around in the backpack, drawing out what he would need for the first test. Test for him, and demonstration for his friend. A tightly wrapped bundle of sage, specially prepared to produce a lot of smoke.
He held up a lighter in his other hand, then walked over to the water. He stood directly beside it, holding both up for Charlie to see. "First question: what happens if I burn this?"
He lit the bundle, then blew into it a few times to put out the flames and get the whole thing to smoke. A thick plume of white trickled up from the bundle, overpowering the "moving water" scent with sage's distinctive bite.
"That's a stupid question. It w—" Charlie trailed off, taking a few steps over to stare. His mouth hung open as he watched, waving one hand through the vapor.
Instead of rising, the smoke drifted sideways, forming a clear stream over the water as though it were trapped in a pipe. It didn't flow into the vacuum created by the trickling waterfall, but pooled about ten feet over the water's surface, right in the center.
"Okay, but... what?" Charlie finally asked. "What is it doing?"
Derek cleared a patch of ground with his boot, then set the bundle down to keep smoking. It did, gradually darkening the space above the water. This little demonstration also served to illustrate his target. "It's letting us see a current of air. There's a vortex right there, pulling everything in."
"That's your idea of magic?" Charlie asked, indignant. "Don't get me wrong, that's kinda cool, but there's... there's an explanation. You can't expect me to see some funny smoke and believe in your hobby just like that. I think maybe your patients might be getting to you a little, you know? Magical thinking."
Derek nodded towards the opening. "I understand why you would believe that. It's easier to think I must be completely wrong. So why don't you throw something in? If smoke has some other explanation, try something bigger."
Charlie selected a rock from the water's edge, clearing the mud away with a thumb. Then he threw it, right at the spot.
It passed through the smoke, drawing a little trail behind it down into the water. But almost the instant it had passed through, it went zipping back up, bringing a little water with it. It shot through the opening, up into the air... then began to fall again.
Soon enough the rock was orbiting there, a little moon for an invisible sun. Flying in midair, right before their eyes.
Charlie pulled out his phone, pointed it directly at the strange object, and started recording. "What are we looking at?" he asked. "What could make it do that?"
"You don't believe in my 'hobby'," Derek countered. He tried very hard not to sound smug. But after years and years of doubt, that was a challenge too difficult to overcome. "You won't believe it when I tell you."
"There's an explanation, there just has to be. Maybe the rocks are magnetic, and there's, uh..." He hesitated, then started moving down the water. He didn't actually step inside, keeping the camera focused on the strange manifestation within.
"There's no explanation you can think of. Just don't get close to it yet, okay? I don't know what that would do."
He set to work, removing a few old wooden boxes from his stuff. He balanced the first one from his backpack, flipping it open. A dozen different drawers were within, each one containing crystals of different types. He selected one, then held it in one arm towards the opening in the sky. He felt the heat instantly, as it glowed bright orange in a sudden, incandescent burst. Perfect.
While Charlie filmed, Derek removed the rest of his raw materials. His spellbook came last, an ancient tome on yellowing paper easily twice the size of a phonebook. He balanced it delicately, flipping through ancient pages. The print within was uneven, faded in places and smeared in others from an original printing. Yet there was more here than anything he'd read in any college textbook.
"So what's your explanation for it?" Charlie asked, a few minutes later. He'd circled all the way around, crossing the stream and back to get a view of the other side. "You tricked me into throwing that specific rock? It's a magician thing, I just didn't know the rock was planted." He took a few steps away, to where the forest proper began, then dug in it with his boot, kicking aside small stones in his search for something a little bigger.
"It's a vortex," Derek said. "This is exactly what the occult community of Shipton has been waiting to see. It's an immensely potent source of magical energy, so strong it has bizarre effects on objects, people, and plants."
"A vortex," Charlie repeated. He hefted a much larger rock this time, the size of his fist. After turning it over in one hand, searching for who knew what, he threw it as hard as he could, laterally.
It smacked straight through the vortex, knocking the smaller rock out of the air as it went. Instead of settling into an orbit, this rock seemed to turn in the air, blasting straight back at them. Charlie dodged, and it hit the bark of the tree beside him like a gunshot. Splinters of wood rained down around him.
"Damn! Okay, okay! You don't have to... hex me, or whatever. That could've broken my head open!"
Derek winced, turning away from his friend to return to his work. He stuck the little shard of crystal into the wand he had prepared under the light of the full moon, then secured it with a few drops of superglue. Only when it was dry could he began to trace in the mud beside the water, imitating the shape of the diagram in his book.
"I didn't do that. I can't do anything with the vortex, yet. But that's why we're out here. I'm the one who found it, so the power it brings will be mine. Maybe even enough that you change your mind."
Charlie raised both hands, defeated. "Alright, alright! Maybe there's something to all of it. I'm willing to see it through, anyway. So long as you're sure it's not all..." He waved one hand. "Like, demonic or whatever. Is that where the magic power comes from?"
"Doubtful." Now that he was started, Derek didn't need to take his attention from his work. "But that is the first thing I want to find out. We talking demons, we talking somewhere more useful? Before I get any power out of that for our own purposes, I have to find out."
Charlie untied the sweatshirt from around his waist, settling it on a nearby rock before hopping up. He looked down, watching closely. "I'm not admitting I believe you yet. God, you should be the one trying to convince me. You're the one with the degree. Were you actually at Hogwarts that whole time?"
Derek didn't laugh. But seeing Charlie's familiar cheerfulness was enough to help him relax. Right in front of them was a hole to somewhere else, and his best friend barely seemed to care.
"No, that was on weekends. Just don't get too comfortable—when the sun goes down, I'll need your help. It takes two people to make this ritual work, and they have to know each other well."
He didn't have a girlfriend, or that would've been better. Charlie did, but it shouldn't interfere too much. Charlie's relationship was new, but they'd been friends for years. Almost thirty years now.
"I'm not sure how I feel about that," Charlie said. "Magical rituals and religion..."
Derek didn't look back to see Charlie's expression, but he didn't have to. "You were just lecturing me about skepticism, you can't back out now! Besides, you can't tell me you're not a little bit curious. We have to find out where that goes."
Charlie grumbled, but didn't argue. As good as an admission as Derek was likely to get from his old friend. He'd never admit he was wrong, not without having the truth beat into him.
When night finally fell, Derek would do exactly that.
Chapter 2: Fellcraft
Charlie wasn't sure what he had expected to find in this trip. An opportunity to bring his increasingly-distant best friend back down to earth, maybe. A nice Saturday away from the pressure of the city and the vicarious stress of his patients. Sure.
But evidence, even fleeting circumstantial evidence, that his friend was right, that hadn't been on the agenda.
Charlie sat and watched as his friend prepared for his “ritual.” Of course he'd seen most of this crazy stuff before. Pretty rocks, bits of rare plants, and that oversized book he kept slung under one arm even when it made what he was doing more difficult. Derek didn't want to let it out of his sight.
"Is this like... Wiccan?" he finally asked. Hours had passed, and the various ingredients Derek brought were arranged at points around the spring. He'd used a string to do it, so their positions were all the same distance apart. A circle connected them, drawn into the mud everywhere except where the water broke it. There, the string settled onto the surface.
Somehow, the thread floated, exactly where it needed to outline the circle, even with the water flowing over in a steady current. It seemed impossible, but just like the other manifestations Charlie had seen so far, it also might have a reasonable explanation. Maybe the string had a sturdy wire core, and Derek had secured it in the mud hard enough that it could seem to resist the current. Maybe there was an almost invisible net hanging from above, or bubble of aerogel, or...
He'd thought about so many different ways to explain what he saw, but nothing felt satisfying.
"Wicca is a religion," Derek said. "And I admit, I've done some research. There's something poetic about its connection to the ancient druidic faiths. But I didn't find the magic very convincing. It reminded me too much of church. Spiritual, you know. Good feelings, but no healing amputees."
Derek straightened, brushing the mud off his knees. He wrote in the mud with the end of a stick, with a bit of glowing glass at the end. Or maybe that was a rock? Charlie still hadn't figured out how it managed to light up only when it was near the water's edge. Magnets hidden in the mud?
There were lots of ways this could be faked. But every explanation he came up with had to contend with one fact, stronger than any magic trick. Derek had no reason to lie to him.
"Anyway, this is different. You'll see in a minute. As soon as the last bit of sunlight is gone, we can start. Any doubts you have, they'll be over."
Charlie rose, scooping his sweatshirt up off the ground and tugging it on. As darkness fell, he began to feel the chill of the oncoming night. It was a good thing Nocturne Forest wasn't locked up at night, or they'd be spending the night in the car again. "How did you even find this? The vortex, I mean... people come out here all the time. They swim, they would've noticed."
"It's new," Derek agreed. "I don't know exactly when, but I found it dousing last weekend. It's more power than I've ever found in one place at once. Anyone who gets within fifty miles will be able to detect it instantly, see?"
He removed something from around his neck—a metal chain, as thin as jewelry. A chunk of amber wrapped in wire hung on the end, the ugliest necklace Charlie had ever seen. Yet when Derek held it out, it didn't fall limp the way it should. The necklace curved violently towards the center of the pond. When the man took a few steps, it pivoted like a compass needle, never wavering.
"And this didn't creep you the hell out? None of this did?"
Derek replaced it around his neck. "Everyone needs a hobby. You go to the gym, and I... I think there's more out there."
He held up the book in his other hand, turning the cover towards Charlie. But he couldn't read it, it was too dark. Charlie hadn't actually expected to still be out here. He didn't have any flashlight beyond the one in his phone.
"It's natural, it follows rules and patterns. Feelings are part of it, but it's more... laws. Repeatable results. I don't care if it all just seems like hedge-magic to you. It's proof! There's things we don't understand, Charlie. Tonight, we're going to find another one. See things most people never will. And hopefully, get enough power stored to explore this 'hobby' for the next few years."
He reached into a pocket, removing a fist-sized rock. It was mostly clear, though it had little imperfections, lines of metal and glittering facets.
"That's not a diamond," Charlie said, staring. "I know your practice makes you good money, but not that good. That would be worth, like... millions."
Derek chuckled. "I wish. A diamond this big could probably keep enough magic for a lifetime. This is just quartz, the purest I could find. Specially prepared. Opportunities like this don't come around often. You've gotta help me."
The more he shows me, the surer I can be this is real. Every drop of the unexplainable was another chance for the mask to slip. He had no choice but to help, if only for his own sake. Charlie had to know if any of this was real.
"And this is totally safe? We're not going to blow up. There's no sea monster in the pond? Sasquatch isn't going to rip our arms off?"
"Safe. I'm reasonably certain there are no cryptids here. And if there were, they wouldn't care what we're doing. This isn't their area."
You sound like you're insane. Maybe looking for proof was the wrong angle after all. Maybe what Charlie really needed to do was find the cracks in this deception, and help Derek realize it. Unless he'd been duped too. Charlie took another look around the clearing, scanning for the glint of hidden cameras. But he saw no reflections, not the eyes of wild animals, and not conspicuous lenses poking out between the trees.
"This is an easy ritual," Derek said, pocketing the gemstone. "We're just going to open the vortex a little wider and see where it goes. If it looks safe, I'll pull some of the energy back. Hopefully without collapsing it, so we can harvest this place again. But if not, I'll just try to keep it open as long as possible."
More insanity. How could he tell a therapist they sounded insane?
"Sure. Just so long as I don't have to do any mushrooms or anything."
"Nope. Just hold the other end of this." Derek held the wand towards him, crystal in his own fingers. "Oh, and put the phone down first. If you've got anything electronic on you, it might... I have no idea. Just put it down."
"Fine, but I'm still recording this. Just tell me how far away to prop up my phone."
Derek's brow furrowed, and he looked like he might refuse. But then he pointed. "A few meters away from the circle should be enough. But Charlie, you can't show this to anyone else. The community doesn't want this widely known. You have to promise me not to post that video anywhere."
"Sure," Charlie said. He found a low branch, then used his wallet to keep it balanced, rear camera facing the pond and the collection of small objects there. It's not anyone else I want to see this, anyway. When this does absolutely nothing, I need proof to show you later.
He could keep ignoring that little voice in the back of his mind, even as it grew louder. The voice that began to accept there might be some truth to some of what Derek said. All he had to do was see this through to the end.
"Once we start, you can't let go," Derek said. "I'm honestly... not sure what will happen if the ritual gets disrupted. There's more power to play with right here than I've—" He trailed off, looking away. "Ever had to work with in my entire life."
Charlie nodded, then stood in the indicated place. He gripped the stick with both hands, feeling increasingly silly. "Okay, Derek. But if I find out this whole thing was a LARP, I'm not inviting you to Friendsgiving this year. Just so you know."
Derek propped his oversized book at his feet, using a rock to weight the pages open to a specific selection. Then he started reading.
The words were lost on Charlie's ears, like fragments of a language only related to the ones he actually spoke. The little rock began to glow, letting off a trail of sparks that drifted down from a spot above the pond. Charlie would've thought they were traveling along a thread, except they didn't actually follow the same path. They wandered slightly as they moved, but all ultimately settled on the stick. With each one, the glow intensified, from a tiny speck to a bonfire.
At what point did the insane things Charlie had seen add to more than just a trick? "This can't be real!" he called.
That was probably a coincidence too, right? All around the pond, the wind began to billow. Not blowing past them, down from the mountains—it circled. Leaves and dirt and pebbles were swept up around the clearing. It lifted his jacket on his shoulders, ripped the leaves right off the nearby bushes.
Derek looked up from the book at their feet, if only for a moment. His eyes were wide, as though he were nearly as surprised as Charlie himself. But he didn't stop. He didn't reply, just kept reading.
Then Charlie saw the hole. It started small, a crack in the sky directly surrounded by sparks and smoke. There was something on the other side, a window to a room that shouldn't be there. Instead of trees and dark forest, Charlie saw stone and glass, illuminated by flickering firelight.
It grew wider by the second. As it did, the glow from the crystal on Derek's “wand” lit up like a stadium light, forcing Charlie to close his eyes.
He needed to let go, needed to turn and run. But hadn't Derek said this would be worse if they stopped now? They'd let the magic rampage out of control.
Magic. Charlie could think of no other word. Derek was right.
Over the roaring wind, he heard something else, something that he had dismissed at first. Derek's single voice reading unpronounceable gibberish was joined by others—older, younger, male, female—an entire chorus.
Finally, Derek stopped. With his voice, the light went out, letting Charlie open his eyes again. The pond was still illuminated, though not by the wand anymore. The opening persisted, several feet across now. Water streamed up from the pond below, carrying bits of underwater plants. Lily pads ripped up by the roots, flowers torn to petals before scattering through the opening.
"Can you end it?" Charlie yelled, over the voices. "This is insane! Close it!"
Derek nodded. All the smugness, all the control he'd been projecting during the trip in, that was gone. Charlie only saw terror.
Good.
"I can..." Derek began. "There should be a way to stop... there has to be."
He let go of the wand with one hand, scooping the book up with the other. He lifted it to read, flipping through a few pages—and it ripped right out of his fingers. The book tore itself apart, pages streaming through the opening in the sky at random.
Derek made a single, terrified gasp, not quite a word—then the wand went yanking sideways too. Charlie let go reflexively, trying to let it get pulled away from him. But his fingers didn't come loose.
The twig should've snapped, pulled away into a dozen different pieces. Instead, it yanked the two of them across the pond. Charlie's legs dragged through the mud and water, as though he was in the grip of a steel cable.
Derek dragged along beside him, screaming and struggling for every foot. But it made no difference. In less than five seconds, they'd made it to the center of the pond.
He barely even had the time to scream, before getting yanked up, out of the water, and through the hole in the sky.
His entire world was pain then, so intense and all-encompassing that it quickly overwhelmed him. In his final instant, he was dimly conscious of a glass barrier high above, and many shadowy forms looking down. Then the blackness overwhelmed him.
Iris knew something was wrong when the gulf finally began to open. But it wasn't anything she saw in front of her that set her off—it wasn't even the profound sense of weakness she felt, as her spellcasting and proximity to this hideous place drained every drop of strength she had.
No, the first clue that something was wrong came when Watcher's voice began to falter. His ritual chanting was always so confident, a single will so strong that he could move spiritual mountains entirely on his own.
The others didn't notice. But when his thin, off-key repetition faded from the chorus, Iris noticed. She trailed off herself, letting the spell continue around her. When she stopped chanting, her own magical contributions stopped too. The magic stopped draining her, and suddenly she could think clearly again.
How long have I been here? she wondered. It wasn't just her horn that felt drained. Her muscles ached, her throat was rubbed raw from endless chanting. Compared to some, she was in better shape. A few of her brothers and sisters had collapsed into their robes. She saw no sign of motion from within.
Could they be dead?
But there was little time for her anxious mind to wander. In front of her, the ground began to shake. Inside the dome, something strange was happening. Water poured up from somewhere invisible, collecting at the top of the glass and filling the wrong way.
It wasn't clear either, but frothy white, filled with chunks of rock and torn plants. Like it had been ripped right out of a lake.
Then light exploded through the opening, overpowering every candle and glowing horn in an eyeblink. Something big appeared in the wet dome, smacking up against the glass with two quick bumps.
A spiderweb of cracks appeared on the dome, spreading almost in slow-motion. This vessel was meant to trap a spiritual entity, not a physical assault. We weren't ready.
Iris had a second to think, and she used it. She dropped flat to the ground in her robes, covering her face and horn with her forelegs.
Then the dome exploded. It went off like a bomb in that small space, making Iris's ears ring with sudden pain. But that was nothing compared to what followed.
Chunks of crystal glass as big as a hoof went blasting past her in all directions, splashing dark water behind them. A few smashed into her forelegs, tearing through flesh as they went. One or two pieces more cut through her robe. But for her, the pain was nothing compared to some of her brothers and sisters.
She heard wet, meaty sounds as many ponies were blasted back from the point of impact. Screams of pain and terror filled the small space.
Iris moaned in quiet agony, though hers was a small pain. She'd done far better than many of the others. All things considered, she had little reason to complain.
The next hour or so was a blur for Iris. She had been near the front, after all, and most exposed to the magical shock. She barely managed to stay conscious as their coven struggled to take stock of such a spectacular failure.
They had to carry her into a nearby cavern, adapted into a makeshift medical area. Not a terribly sanitary one—the air was thick with dust from the explosion even now, and smelled of rust and mildew.
But then they got something down her throat, a vial of healing draught. Her world cleared, the fog around her mind lifted. She felt a sharp pop from each ear—burst drums healing from the potent magic. Her robe was torn, cut away in places.
She looked down, and found both forelegs heavily bandaged. A wooden splint was attached to her left leg, wrapped tight in white bandage.
"What... happened?"
The cavern was packed, every makeshift cot filled. Against the wall, pony-shaped lumps were covered with stained cloth. Creatures had actually died!
"Fear not, sister," said a familiar voice. She tensed, and realized that the Watcher himself was nearby. Not the one tending her, that was a robed initiate without the blue and black stripes that suggested higher elevations of witness.
"All knew the price that service to the true gods might exact. They went with confidence that their spirits might be taken into eternal service, rather than their bodies. So did I, and so did you. Yet we were spared."
No I wasn't! Iris thought, furious. I was just paying attention.
Iris scanned the room around her, growing more indignant. Just how many of her friends were dead? How many were in treatment, like her?
There were some familiar outlines, recognizable horns and wings, or in some cases, just unprotected ponies where robes had to be removed for treatment.
Yet she didn't make it nearly as far as taking stock of the coven's membership, before she realized there were some ponies in here who shouldn't be.
They were so small that a single cot had been used for the both of them. A heavy cloth was spread beneath them, damp from the moisture of soaking fur and manes.
A pair of little ponies, so small they didn't even have cutie marks. So small they curled up together in a single, shivering ball. Neither had bandages, or other sign of injury.
Watcher noticed her gaze, turning towards Iris. While she couldn't see his expression, she could hear the anticipation in his voice, the eagerness. "Not the old gods we expected, perhaps," he said. "Yet they may be more than they appear. Our ritual was not entirely in vain after all."