There is no true gift in life, not even life itself, for the life given to us, is the life which will be taken. And the warmth within us will be replaced by the cold around us. Nothing lasts forever, that which we do for ourselves will be taken to our graves, but that which we do for others will last on for an eternity. Sometimes the darkness may seem over whelming, but know this, there is light in a smile, a spark of life in an honest heart and most of all there is hope in a dream. Even when peril closes in around us and the world is filled with hate, a single candle will outshine the darkness, one dream will light the way.
Chapter one
The bright candlelight flickered meticulously across the canvas tent, greedily consuming whatever darkness it found with an unquenchable thirst. The soft yellow light forming itself over the expanse of floor and into the rest of the camp where it was soon drowned out in the bleak dusk making way for the coming night.
The forest green tent was small, barely enough room to sleep in, let alone live. The only fixings being a small cot in one corner, a wooden desk and an adjacent stool which shifted clumsily on three legs. Dreary is the word which could be used to describe the impromptu shelter, calling the shelter cozy would have been met with a disheveled grunt from those who had to sleep there during the cold and windy winter nights.
Once again the candle flickered, this time illuminating the table on which it sat. There it found itself crossing across and between several dozen books, untidy stacks of paper, a lump of stale cheese lying on a tin plate and an ash tray overflowing with cigarette buds. Curious shadows graced the sides of the tent, silently dancing in glorious light, illuminating here, now there, with their never ending serenade.
But the fire soon found a new target on which to play: a stallion, sitting upright on a wooden stool, hunching over ever so slightly to perplex over the papers before him, a look of dismay and mild frustration in his eyes. He was well built for a colt of his size which was no surprise considering he was a member of the military. Light brown hair covered his entire body starting from his hooves and continuing upwards, only stopping at his neatly kept mane and his short tail, which were of a much darker shade. Unreadable blue eyes sat behind thick framed lenses perched upon the colt's strong snout, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. A black military outfit graced his body, gold trim reigning from the edges and various pockets decorating the embellished uniform. Several ribbons filled the upper left of his coat, varying in coloration and standing out against the jet black.
One could tell from looking that the outfit was meant to be primed and pressed, although it's current state heralded far from that idea, laying torn and wrinkled in several places, mud rising high on the fabric towards the bottom.
But at the moment the colt had bigger concerns than the condition of his clothing.
The colt slowly moved his hoof to scratch his strong chin, not caring about the dust settling on his course fur. His furrowed eyebrows perched low on his brow. Concentration was not his strong point yet hundreds of facts poured into his brain. Racking his thought pattern. It wasn't that the colt was dull, far from it, but he was more of a quick thinker than a deep one.
'What does this all mean?' the thought rang over and over again inside his mind. 'There has to be some sort of connection, a conspiracy perhaps? Some form of coup? Or,' He took a drawl from his cigarette, 'I'm trying to create a bigger picture with two different puzzles.' A smile formed on his lips, 'Yeah, that's it, I'm just blowing this way out of proportion.' He rolled his eyes.
For the past few weeks the colt had been investigating the reasons behind the war in which he now fought, sure there had been an official statement: defensive invasion, but that wouldn't suffice, it just didn't make any sense as to why his government would act so brashly and swiftly without provocation, as if this war had been planned from the start. That, coupled with the mysterious circumstances surrounding the war just didn't add up.
He stared with a piercing gaze at the book which lay before him, naively hoping that it would reveal some form of information, anything he could use to justify his suspicions.
Once again, the light flickered.
A sigh escaped his wrinkled snout: 'High command, the eclipse and these elements, where is the connection? There has to be answers in here somewhere.'
The stallion's hoof suddenly moved from it's resting place upon his chin and down towards the table, furiously slamming the wooden boards, overturning several books in the process.
The sound of clattering books grabbed the stallion's attention, he opened his eyes, the fury which they had contained was replaced with concern, some of these books were hundreds, if not thousands of years old. And many of them were highly classified files which were not for his eyes, and the act of reading them could be punishable by death. Needless to say, it would do no good to soil them upon the dirt.
He bent down towards the cold earth to retrieve the fallen volumes, letting out a sigh as his back released the pressure which had built up from remaining stationary for so long.
He started to place the books back upon the table, the light once again making its way towards them.
His hoof moved towards the final album, an old leather-bound journal of some sort, one of the older books in this collection. Examining the journal he noted that dust settled in crevices upon its cracked binding and its pages were yellow with age. 'This looks interesting' the stallion thought.
Book in hand, he once again settled himself upon the wooden seat, making a mental note to find a cushion.
Placing the book upon the desk he was surprised when it opened upon it's own accord, turning to a certain page. The colt stared upon the volume quizzically his dirt-ridden hoof finding it's resting place once again. The colt let out a sigh 'Well, why not." he thought as he proceeded to lean over and process the words which were contained within this seemingly ancient work.
He decided to start with the page on which the book had fallen upon. The stallion didn't believe in fate, he didn't have that luxury, but he knew that right now he could use any ally that made itself apparent.
His eyes darted back and forth upon the amber pages, the style of writing wasn't the easiest to interpret but it was far from impossible.
He apprehensively allowed himself to let out a light chuckle. The ideas in this book were laughable, if not fanciful at best. And the meager descriptions hidden within each verse made its impression vague.
The light flickered once again, this time not only illuminating the surrounding area but also a spark inside the colt's mind. As if a great fog was lifted everything suddenly became clear. The stallion's pupils retreated and a horrified expression graced his features.
Only a single word escaped his lips: "No."
Outside the fragile tent commotion wound down as watches were switched and hundreds of soldiers returned to their respected tents to prepare for the harsh cold and darkness that was night.
A cold chill slowly crept through the canvas tent and down upon the thick cloth which covered the brown colt. A shiver ran down his spine. Even in the sub-zero temperature he was hard pressed to tell whether it came from the icy wind or from the information he was now obtaining from inside this wretched book.
His eyes glazed over with a mixture of fear and sickness,
If what he was now reading was accurate and true, than everything he knew was a lie, or at least a guise to some greater picture that was yet to unfold.
'Maybe I'm not seeing the ambiguity, or perhaps this is some sick work of fiction, a cruel joke created by a delusional mind.' Those thoughts formed in his mind, but in his gut, in his heart he knew that he lying to himself.
He tried grasping to some from of hope but that was to no avail. Knowing what he knew know he wondered if there was ever going back to the way things were, before this war, before this cold, before this…hell. But a single terrible thought wrestled him away from those beliefs and kept nagging at the back of his mind: 'What if I'm just a pawn in this cruel game?' An even more horrible and malicious thought suddenly tugged into him; 'What if I'm not?'
The brazen colt shakily stood up, gripping the wooden table, causing the hot wax from the almost extinguished candle to shudder lightly.
He coughed into his hoof, noticing that his throat was dry, as well as his constitution.
Reaching for the tin canteen beside his cot he took a long swig, allowing the freezing water to pour down his throat.
The information he had been processing over the past few hours swirled inside his head, turning his mind into a whirlpool of dread. He had read the dreaded book cover to cover three times, hoping for clarity, which he got, but only in the from of maleficent truths.
The colt let the canteen fall from his hoofs, making a soft thud as it hit the frozen earth, the remainder of it's contents spilling out and soaking into the ground, freezing almost instantaneously.
Retreating towards his cot the brown stallion sat upon it's rough fabric, leaning over and placing his head in his hooves. 'This is all wrong, nowhere in my darkest nightmare did I dare think this was the truth…' the colt's thoughts trailed on, leaving only a deeper sense of dread in his heart.
The candlelight began to flicker quickly as it neared it's solemn end, the shadows it once created now retreating back towards their dying master.
The colt stared at the light's demise, letting his eyes to focus on the increasing darkness.
He knew something had to be done, and he couldn't stand idly by to let this darkness take over the world. Everything he ever fought for would be lost, only darkness would remain. The revelation that he had discovered wasn't pretty, but neither was the world he fought for. Even if the odds were only a million to one, there was still a chance. 'There is still…' He paused, quickly shunning the thought forming in his mind, but he reproached this action, slowly allowing the thought to complete itself. With undeniable determination in his voice he half said, half swore: "There is still hope."
Picking himself up the colt stood on three legs, holding the book in his free hoof,. He then placed the journal in his satchel, watching as the journal disappeared into the pack. 'I can't won't be able to do this alone,' he thought with little enthusiasm, 'But who can I trust?'
Certain parts of the book described corruption that infiltrated deep into high command, any one of the superior officers, any one of his friends, could be dangerous. Any previous relationships he had formed had practically become void in one fell swoop, darkness lurked everywhere, especially in broad daylight. Nowhere was safe, every pony, every soldier could be a part of this conspiracy, for all he knew he could be the only pony who was uninformed.
'No', he thought, 'It'll do no good for me to dwell on assumptions like that, this country still has good ponies in it, ponies I can trust.'
But the thought still lingered in the back of his mind: 'What if I really am alone?'
He shook his head slightly, dispelling any concerns. 'I have to think logically to narrow down my list of who can be trusted. A plan such as this would only be kept by the higher-ups, it could spell disaster if word got out among the common rabble.'
He started walking around the small tent, listing off requirements for any future compatriots: "I need an ally who is a lower ranking soldier, someone stout and steadfast but trustworthy, rebellious and brash. A soldier who is devoted to his country and not to his government, I need some pony who is…absolutely crazy…" he stopped with sigh, letting his eyes droop to the ground.
Truthfully he didn't know any low ranking soldiers at all, being an intelligence officer made no great effect on his social life. There was his old partner, Blackbell, but they hadn't spoken since the war started, being transferred to different divisions after the initial strike for purposes still unknown.
He knew he only had one option, one pony he could count on: the Prince, Erik Machiavelli. Even though Erik was his greatest and most loyal friend, could he trust this pony? Was their comradeship merely a guise for appearances?
Pawing the ground he gritted his teeth, his brows furrowed in resolution, reprimanding himself for such thoughts. "No," he said "if there was ever a pony who would decline to take part in this evil, it would be him, he's the loyalist pony I have ever met, and the bravest soul I've ever seen. All this time I've been looking for a soldier with a death wish, when in reality what I need is someone with the will to live, the will to keep on fighting no matter the odds, and the resolve to do what has to be done even if it means making the ultimate sacrifice." The stallion grabbed his satchel and headed for the door, a new determination rising within him. "I never thought this was going to be easy, even though I never expected it to stretch this far, but hay, I'll die all the same if it means I can thwart this plan for another second, and I know he will too."
With that the colt left his tent, looking back at the quivering light one last time. "I will not let my flame burn out, there is still hope, where ever there is light, there's hope."
He smiled to himself as he removed his gaze from the tent and proceeded to walk through the frozen camp.
The colt looked up at the sky, the clouds causing a dreary overcast, from the nippy air he could determine that it was sometime after midnight. Picking up his pace the colt started trotting to keep himself warm, the cold beginning to seep into his uniform.
He made his way through the aimlessly strewn tents of the camp, no organization apparent in the placement of the shelters. He could here shivering ponies behind the green canvas, many of these soldiers wouldn't last the night.
'What a horrible and useless fate for ponies so brave.'
Trotting at a brisk pace he came to the first wooden cabins after 5 minutes. He could see light streaming from the windows and grey smoke rising into the sky from stone chimneys. He looked on in disgust, inside officers were sleeping comfortably while the ponies who fought and suffered were slowly dieing off from the freezing winter. True, he was ranked high enough to reside in one of these houses, but instead preferred to live among he men he died with.
The stallion trotted through the freezing night air for a few more minutes before coming to a makeshift wooden wall, reaching 15 feet in the air, cruel barbed wire garbing the top. Icicles hung on the sides of the wall , which added to it a menacing yet oddly beautiful look.
He made his way to the gate, wind howled through cracks in the entrance which was made of various planks and lengths of rope, it looked as if a volley of gunfire would knock it over, which was probably true, all things considering.
As the stallion made his way towards the gate he could make out a soldier pony standing watch. The disheveled mare was bundled in her military uniform and several layers of rags, she sat by a pitiful fire that was only big enough to keep her and maybe a single other warm.
She had a white coat and a long blond mane, not in accordance with proper military fashion. Her eyes were a dark blue and rosy cheeks decorated her face.
He had seen this mare around the camp before, but knew very little about her.
As the colt approached the mare she perked up, un slinging her ill maintained rifle which had until now, been draped over her shoulder.
The weapon was a little shorter than she was and was constructed of wood and steel. On the front was a strap which made it easier to hold and underneath the receiver was a small switch which a pony would move to fire. All in all it was an unimpressive yet efficient weapon, standard for nearly all branches of the military.
"W-who goes there?" the watch pony said, her voice barely making a sound due to the cold. She coughed twice, clearing her throat.
"Captain Damien Prescott, 4th division, special tasks squad and military intelligence."
The colt said, revealing his name with the usual militaristic flair. "I'm here to deliver a message, would you be so kind as to let me pass through?"
The blond mare looked like she had seen a ghost, nearly her entire face flushed, her blood rushing to her cheeks. "Oh, uh, I'm sorry sir. But I sort of…" the mare started, "Can't let you through. Orders from the top you see, no ponies in the compound till daybreak…New security procedure." She said, albeit painfully, to at Damien.
"I am well aware of security protocols, miss..." Damien paused, stretching out his neck and raising his eyebrows.
The mare stuttered him before realizing his question. "It's a…my name's Heartache. I mean, Private Heartache." After saying this she averted her eyes from the captain, her face turning redder despite the freezing temperature.
"Ah yes, Private Heartache. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, if it wouldn't be too much trouble could you please stop pointing your gun at me?" Damien said with a playful smile.
Heartache's pupils retracted, a frown appearing on her face. "Oh, uh, Sorry sir," she gulped. Utterly embarrassed she lowered her rifle, slinging it back over her shoulder and dropping down to four legs.
Damien chuckled. The timid mare shuffled her feet, unsure of what to do.
"As I was saying before private, I am well aware of protocol but I have a terribly important message that needs to get to command as soon as possible. So if you can, you know open the gate, I would be very appreciative." Damien lied.
He hated playing with other ponies emotions, especially someone as innocent as this mare, but the task he had to perform was much to important to worry about such trivial things.
"Um, of course captain," said Heartache, "it's the least I can do for you
after all, err…I mean you are you are a captain and stuff and I…"
Damien smiled and rolled his eyes.
Heartache stopped talking, her mouth agape, staring at the Stallion in front of her. She silently swore at herself, and closing her mouth turned around. "I'll just get the gate for you…"
Heartache knew she could get in trouble for letting people into camp this late at night, she was in deep enough trouble as it was with her continuous blunders around camp, and this might be the tipping point before they try her for insubordination. 'But,' she thought. 'Captain Prescott is very handsome.' As a matter of fact she had had a crush on him for the past few weeks. She blushed, she never had a colt friend before.
Heartache walked over to the wooden gate and tapped on it with her hoof, dislodging snow which was nestled in it's the door's crevices.
A slot opened and a pair of black eyes looked at the mare. A gruff voice called out: "What is it private? You know your orders, no pony in or out."
"Well yes, but you see Captain Prescott has a very important message for command." Heartache squeaked.
"Captain, eh? And I suppose this can't wait till morning?" the guard pony half-asked, looking past heartache and directly at Damien.
"Of course not soldier," replied Damien.
The guard pony grumbled, "Well just hand the message through the slot."
"It's a spoken message."
"Than tell me."
"It's a classified spoken message," said Damien, his eyes widening.
The pony inside the gate sighed, he hated coy ponies like this one. "Alright then, stay put."
Damien walked closer to the door, smiling at Heartache as he moved past her. She turned her head away from him, her mouth slightly ajar.
An awkward silence followed after the guard left, during which Damien caught Heartache stealing glances at him. Although he usually wasn't interested in relationships he had to admit, she was pretty cute.
After waiting five or so minutes subtle noises could be heard from the other side of the door. The sound of vague mumblings and moving boards broke the silence of the night. Finally the gate swung open, revealing three soldiers. One was the guard from before but the other two were dressed in fur lined winter coats, a far cry from the uniforms worn by regular soldiers.
These were, undoubtedly, royal guards. Highly trained ponies who showed excellent skill in combat and strategy. Their ranks were equal to that of a Sergeant Major, and although they had better equipment, Damien still outranked them.
The two royal guards were huge in comparison to normal soldiers, which was plain to see from the black eyed guard pony standing next to them. The two colts were a dark grey color and their manes were not visible under their dark ushankas.
Heartache cowered behind Damien, her legs trembling slightly.
"We're here to escort you through the camp," said one of the guards in a monotone voice. His stern eyes focusing on Damien.
"I'm quite sure that won't be necessary…" started Damien.
"It's not an option, orders from the top." cut in the other guard.
Damien stopped to think for a moment. Orders from the top? This couldn't possibly be good. What if they had discovered the missing files and this 'welcome party' was here to bring him to a cell?
"It's for your protection of course," said one of the guards," dangerous ponies have been seen sneaking into camp lately."
"Yes, of course." replied Damien. Although he was still wary of these pony's true intentions. He would go with them to central, he decided, but not giving them the benefit of the doubt would take the trip to the Prince's cabin by himself.
"Right this way," said the two soldiers in unison as they turned and walked into the compound.
Damien, against his better judgment, took a step into the gateway, which was shortly followed by another. He looked after the two guards in front of him. Remembering something he turned and smiled at Heartache. "Thanks." he said with a wink, trotting into the compound, the makeshift gate closing behind him.
Heartache sighed happily, staring at the spot where Damien had been standing just moments before.
'He talked to me! He actually talked to me, and winked!' she squealed in excitement, holding her hooves against her chest she fell backwards into the snow, her cap falling off and her golden mane spilling across the ground. Heartache smiled, rolling back and forth in the snow with a look of happiness plastered on her face.
A few moments later she woke up from her daydream, only then noticing how cold it really was. She reprimanded herself, this was no way for a soldier to act. Sitting up she giggled, but stopped when she noticed a strange object sticking out of the snow.
Turning over onto her belly she stood up and walked over to the item, eyeing it she extended her hoof and reached for the article. After removing the item for the snow and brushing it off she realized what it was.
A leather bound journal.
With a sudden gasp she figured that it must've belonged to Captain Prescott.
He had probably dropped it by accident while standing there.
A curious look spread across Heartache's face as she examined the cover of the book. Was this a personal journal? It didn't seem to have any writing on the cover, in fact, it didn't seem to have any marking on it at all, although it did look pretty old.
'Maybe it's Damien's diary.' She thought, but after laughing she dismissed the thought. A full grown stallion keeping a journal? That would be silly.
Heartache was tempted to take a peek inside and was going to do just that when It finally dawned upon her: this was probably the classified intelligence that Damien was supposed to deliver. She was once again tempted to take a look at the journal's contents but decided against it, after all, she didn't want to betray the Captain's trust.
Heartache had a slight moment of panic when she realized Damien didn't have his information, but realized that when he noticed that it was missing he would probably back trace it to…
"Me!" Heartache accidentally yelled out loud. She looked around and blushed, hopefully no pony had heard her. "I'm going to see him again!" She whispered, sitting back down by the fire with a smile on her face.
"For now I'll just have to make due with you." Heartache said while she held the book close to her chest, closing her eyes she started to drift off into sleep, unaware of the dangerous journal she now possessed.
The two stern soldiers followed closely behind Damien as he approached the main command station. What used to be an old hospital before the war had been commandeered and transformed into an impromptu yet useful HQ.
Multiple craters and bullet holes pock-marked one side of the building, (The military's artillery was known for its accuracy) changing the once cozy looking structure into a mere skeleton of its former glory, only a few tarps and hastily thrown boards covering the exposed area in some effort to keep out the cold. And although this was the central hub for all orders in the area, hardly a soldier could be scene, save a few guards stationed by the main door.
"Tightened security, eh?" scoffed Damien, leaning over to look into the eyes of his escorts.
His comment was met by an ungrateful snort.
Damien ignored this.
"Well here we are Captain, command central, as promised." stated the Royal Guard. "Will there be anything else?"
"I think I can manage," answered Damien.
"Very well Captain," said the guard pony with a salute. Then turning to his comrade: "Let's get out of this cold."
Damien returned the salute and watched as the two burly ponies disappeared into the night. He waited for a minute and after giving the HQ a once-over trotted off, heading towards his friend's lodging.
Light shone out through many of the command post's windows, casting an eerie silhouette onto the ground and illuminating the Captain as he made his way past the dismal building. Damien took one last look at the command post before continuing on.
Several buildings dotted the area around the hospital, some of which had been preexisting architecture, while others had been constructed using whatever materials had been handy.
Damien made his way to one of these buildings, it was a small, yellow, cottage, constructed before the war. He hadn't been here save for a few occasions but he knew the building well, this was prince Erik's quarters.
Damien leaned against the building, trying to catch a glimpse of the interior, the lights were obviously on but the shutters were closed, rendering any thought of looking inside useless.
Damien placed his hooves back upon the ground, his hooves crunching against the fresh snow. Taking a minute to stop in front of the door, Damien took a breath and sighed, knowing that the moment he went inside things would never be the same ever again, that he wouldn't be able to go back to the way things were. He has traded his ignorance for a purpose, that would be the price he had to pay in order to stop what was about to happen…what was happening.
This was it.
With a final mental push forward Damien walked up to the door. He knocked on it's wood three times stepped back, waiting for a response which didn't come. Setting his jaw he moved his hoof forward, rapping on the door a few more times.
He was met once again by silence.
Damien held back warily for a moment, unsure of what to do. But though ironically: "If I'm going to go up against the entire military complex I might as well step into my friends house without worrying about waking him up."
'Aw, hay,' Damien thought, reaching for the iron handle. He had no idea if it would be locked and in a deep corner of his minds he was secretly hoping that it would be.
*Click*
Nope.
Taking a deep breath Damien forced the handle the rest of the way down, he closed his eyes, grabbed his resolve and put his weight against the wooden door as it swung open on its hinges.
With great difficulty he opened his eyelids, half expecting to see a firing squad poised to shoot, but he was greeted with an empty room, half relieved and half worried. Where was the prince?
The cabin was much larger than Damien's meager tent but still pretty small in comparison to the other officer's dwellings. Erik had decided to make his own way in the military, and, like Damien, had opted to live a more Spartan life style as opposed to one of luxury. He was, after all, only a First Lieutenant (a rank lower than a Captain.)
A single bed sat in one corner of the small room and a table at the other. In the back of the cabin was a large mahogany desk, the only piece of furniture indicating that this was an officer's dwelling. There was a swivel chair behind the desk, it's back facing towards the doorway.
Damien took a step into the cabin, closing the door behind him. He instantly regretted his decision.
It only took a few seconds to notice he wasn't alone. Feeling a sense of dread creep down his spine Damien realized that the chair was occupied, although he couldn't see was sitting in it.
"Erik? Is that you?" Damien stuttered, taking a step backwards, towards the door.
A chill traveled through his body when the answer was not from who he expected.
"No Captain Prescott, I am afraid that he couldn't be present tonight." said a stern yet calm voice passively.
The chair slowly turned around as Damien saw who the voice belonged to, although, in his gut he had already known. An air of a recognition hitting Damien as he saw the colt sitting before him.
"What did you do to Erik?" growled Damien, tensing his muscles.
"Me? I haven't done anything with the prince, as a matter of fact he is at command central. Quite safe I assure you." the stallion said slowly.
"If that's the case, what are you doing in his quarters?" asked Damien, already dreading the stallion's response.
"That's funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."
"I'm on a…friendly visit," said Damien, backing towards the door without loosing eye contact with the stallion before him.
"Are you now? In the middle of the night? That is quite a story."
"Uh, yes…well you see, I'm…I really must be going…" Damien said, reaching for the door handle in the process. Finding it with his hoof Damien applied pressure, putting his weight against the door. It didn't budge.
His mind flashed as he made a swift realization…The door had been locked from the outside. Sweat started to form on his forehead.
The stallion behind the desk allowed a grin before reprimanding himself, a malignant grimace returning to his features. He slowly stood up, revealing the gun he had been concealing.
"Don't play coy with me captain." The stallion said. "We both know the real reason behind this visit."
Damien slowly removed his hoof from the doorknob, turning to face his captor. This had been a trap all along, a set up. Why had he been such an idiot to fall into a snare like this? He of all ponies should've known better. But what had happened had happened and there was no changing that. One can't dwell on failures, you have to make do with what you've got. Damien realized that statement, as well as his inevitable fate, and if he was going to die here, he would get some answers first.
Damien swallowed. "So," he started, "You're a part of this…conspiracy? Another pawn in this screwed up game?"
"Oh please captain, don't insult me with a title like that. As a matter of fact you are, indeed, looking upon none other than the grand architect himself. This conspiracy that you have uncovered, it is all my doing, it is my…masterpiece." The stallion said with an embellished bow, not taking his stare off the Captain.
"Is that so?" Damien gave a short chuckle, "I got to hand it to you, I never expected you of all ponies to be behind this."
"I know, it's quite shocking." said the stallion. "But don't you see? That's the point, hiding in plain sight. You would know about that, wouldn't you captain?" asked the stallion, running a hoof under his eye.
"I suppose I would…" Damien said, glancing sideways at a window while conversing with the stallion who held him at gunpoint.
The other pony saw this, reaffixing the weapon onto his captive, "Don't even think about it, armed guards are positioned at every entrance. There is no escape."
Damien knew it was a death wish to rush towards the window in his position, and he wasn't entirely sure if he would, given the opportunity. Besides, there were still questions that needed answers. He turned back towards his captor.
"Since the founding?"
The stallion smiled.
"I need to know, how long have you been planning this?"
The stallion chuckled; "For much longer than you would believe."
"Try me."
The stallion sighed. "I can't tell you the exact date, but I can tell is that it started long before you were born."
"I figured that much."
"You do catch on quickly for a soldier, albeit you were always the bright one. But I suppose any pony could have deciphered my plan with the information you've acquired, although I'm not sure many could have gotten their hooves on it in the first place. That is your talent, is it not? Espionage? And I assume that journal came in handy too."
"How did you know about the…"
"Oh, come now Captain. You seriously think I don't know about the journal? Come now, I was the one who wrote it after all."
Damien was shocked, the journal was much too old to be written by this stallion. He rose his voice in protest. "But that's…"
"The stallion cut him off before he could finish. "Details, details. You must learn to expect the unexpected. Our destiny's are not set in stone. You think you can know everything? You give yourself too much credit."
Damien shrugged this off, instead changing the subject. "So this conspiracy, how many ponies are involved? A hundred, a thousand?"
The stallion burst into laughter. Damien failed to see what was so funny, it annoyed him, like he was missing something.
"You truly want to know Captain?"
Damien narrowed his eyes.
The stallion took this as a sign to go on. "No one and every one."
Damien stared at him, confused.
"Have you not seen the bigger picture? Every pony has a part to play in this plan: you, me, even your friend the prince. All along you have been working for me. And against yourself unknowingly. This plan stretches farther than even you can see, you had your part to play, but now your usefulness has run it's course."
"You think you'll get away with killing me?"
"And why shouldn't I? Granted, I wasn't expecting you to figure this all out, but there are others who can take your place, in the end, you are just another pawn."
A bead of sweat rolled down Damien's face and his breathing started to become unsteady. It was true, he was just a pawn, worthless…
"Are you afraid of death Captain?"
Damien looked up to see the gun pointed between his eyes, confused by this question.
"You shouldn't be. Everyone dies someway or another, it's an inevitable fact of life, and life is cruel."
Damien glared at his executioner, not wanting to believe what he had just heard. Defiance apparent in his eyes as Damien hung his head and muttered, "You're wrong."
"Am I Damien? Am I?" The stallion said, his voice rising. "Or perhaps we live in different universes, I cannot control what god see as just. Look around, what do you see?"
Damien looked up. "I see a world worth fighting for."
Now the stallion laughed. "A world worth dying for? This world is dying, Captain. Since the moment the universe came into existence we have been set on a course of inevitable doom. Everything is working towards this end, everything unwittingly destroys. Even we are, simply put, agents of destruction, trying to convince ourselves we can stop this madness. One day everything, will be ashes, that is the horrible truth, that Captain, is the only truth. For too long we've been living out a horrible, painful existence our only reward being a quick death. Life is pointless, evil, tell me I'm wrong, tell me what is worth fighting for.
"Hope," replied Damien.
The stallion seemed to be taken aback by this statement, but then countered. "Hope…hope is an illusion for the weak. A lie we tell ourselves for the sole purpose of believing I can…we can make a difference."
The rage curdled inside Damien. How dare he? How dare this stallion denounce the only thing Damien had left to hold onto? He stared the stallion down, resolution in his eyes. "Then I will continue lying to myself! In a world of darkness, the only light is hope, the only truth is fate."
"You are a fool Captain."
"Than I will die a fool." Damien said through gritted teeth.
"And I suppose even after death you think you can make a difference?"
Said the stallion.
"Actually, yes."
"What do you mean by that?"
Damien chuckled, shacking his head. "After I die the Prince will want to know how, he will look into this," Damien said firmly, "the end of my journey will be the beginning of his, it's a wonder that you didn't for see this."
"Perhaps he will seek vengeance., but I doubt he'll find any evidence of your demise."
Damien was confused by this statement.
The stallion saw this. "As a matter of fact, every record of your existence is being destroyed as we speak, your history is being replaced with false events and allegations, the Damien Prescott that once was will have never existed. You'll be nothing but a ghost."
Damien didn't know how to respond, the reality of the situation becoming apparent to him, every aspect of his existence would be gone before the nights end, only memories would remain. Only memories…
Damien tensed his muscles in determination, his eyes boring through the stallion in front of him.
"That won't stop the prince, he's smarter than you think, he will get to the bottom of this."
The stallion took no time to respond, "The prince may be smart but he is also naïve, he'll fall into our traps and stray off the true path, we'll be watching him every step of the way."
"Why not just kill him?" Damien said flatly, of course he didn't want his friend to die, but he had to get answers, he had to get closure.
"Because Captain, everyone plays their part. And your friend the prince has yet to play his."
"You won't get away with this."
"Oh but Captain I already have, didn't I make that clear to you? You can't win, the game was rigged before you started playing, it's easy when you have all the right cards. And Captain, you're luck's run out."
"But…why?" said Damien his mind lurching. "Why did you betray us?" We trusted you, all of us, what do you have to gain from this madness?"
The stallion sighed, dropping his head, "Sometimes it's not about what I want, it's about what has to be done," he looked away, "What will be done. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. No other has the will to carry out this task, this is my burden to bear, it is not one I chose willingly but it must be done. You can not know because you do not see that this world is an evil place, and I must put a stop to all the suffering. I have come to terms with my charge and who I am…I know what I must do."
"And I suppose you think your plan is going to work?"
"I suppose so."
"And I also suppose you're going to kill me now."
The stallion let out a sigh "It's nothing personal Captain, it's what has to be done…For the greater good."
The stallion held out his pistol with both hooves and took aim, Damien thought he could see a glint of sadness in his face.
But there was still one query that had to be answered. "Before we end this, I have one last question."
"And what would that be Captain?"
"I've figured out every aspect of your plan, the plot, the eclipse, the darkness, but there's still something that doesn't make sense to me…"
"I'm listening."
"The elements of harmony, where do they fit into all of this?"
The stallion shook his head knowingly.
"I'm afraid that's a story for another time. Now," said the stallion taking aim," find your peace."
Damien relaxed his body, excepting his fate. It was now clear that this stallion would carry out his plan effectively if he wasn't stopped. And there where ponies who could stop him, ponies bright and strong enough to have what it took to put an end to this madman's scheme, if only he could send them a warning, set them on the right path.
At that moment Damien noticed something odd, at first he couldn't put his hoof on it but than it clicked. His saddle bag, it weighed significantly lighter than before. Thinking back he could distinctly remember putting the journal in his bag, but that meant…
"So there is such a thing as fate…" Damien said under his breath.
"What?"
Damien smiled, his determination laden eyes boring through the stallion in front of him.
"There is still hope!"
"What are you-"
The stallion didn't get to finish, for at that moment Damien lurched forward in a suicide charge.
His hooves clopped against the wooden floor as he closed the distance between the two ponies.
Damien was quick, but the stallion was quicker. He took aim at the charging pony…and he didn't miss.
Inside the green canvas tent that once housed Captain Damien Prescott, decorated war hero of the military and friend to many, a single shimmering candle slowly flickered. The light began to fade, growing ever smaller before going out completely. The darkness filled the room and finally emerged victorious.
End chapter 1
Well there it is, my first chapter. It took a quite while to write and even longer to edit, but I think it was worth it. This is my first Fanfic so please point out any mistakes and don't be afraid to add someone constructive criticism. But most of all I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm currently looking for someone to help me with editing so if you have any experience with writing stories please email me at:
Thank you for reading!