A/N: I know that I shouldn't be starting anymore stories...but I couldn't resist. I love both of these series so much, and want to share the characters with everyone. I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on this!
"Stronger bonds must be woven."
The voice is an echo of the past, drifting in on the wind. It catches in the leaves and the bright blue flowers at Zecora's hooves, aging them from buds to blooms in mere moments.
The zebra nods, even if she doesn't fully agree or understand. There is no bond greater than that woven by heart magic, and the spirits themselves have blessed those six mares with eternal friendship.
"If you tell me what I must do, then I will try my best for you. Twilight Sparkle is a smart mare, and I know that she will listen. The only mystery is how the others will fare," says Zecora, gaze shifting from tree to bush to open air, searching for the familiar shimmer that marks a distortion in the Veil.
There is none.
"Their friendship will be tested like never before. In it's current state, it will shatter and the Elements will be lost."
Zecora's ears twitch, unease settling in her chest like a heavy stone. The spirits are seldom wrong, never wrong, always right. Even though Zecora doesn't recognize this strange, musical voice as one of the three who visit her most frequently, she knows that it would never lie.
Cannot lie. Is always bound to tell the truth, even if it is only in whispers and broken segmants of a warning.
"They are stronger than they look," says Zecora, she takes a few steps forwards, deeper into the Everfree Forest. "Twilight's strength no longer comes only from books."
The wind picks up. Branches shake and tremble, clattering together. Birds take flight and the flap of their wings is loud and frantic, as they struggle to get away from the sudden ice-like surge of magic. One by one, each and every flower wilts.
Eyes are on Zecora's back, cold and unforgiving.
The zebra spins around, expecting the forest to remain empty. Instead, a young stallion stands before her, half hidden by the shadows of a large cyprus tree. His mane is as dark as the night sky, but his pelt reminds Zecora of freshly fallen snow.
"They must find each other anew," insists the spirit. As though the sound is off, his mouth quits moving before the words are finished being spoken. "Send them through the Veil, lest the Dark One take them early. They are not strong enough."
Zecora's heart pounds in her chest. She shakes her head, takes a step backwards. "No! Equis needs them here! They must not go!"
The world flickers. Something growls, low and deep. The stallion is directly in front of Zecora, frozen breath ghosting over her muzzle. Another lapse in reality and he's gone, leaving behind nothing but a layer of frost on the grass.
His words ring through out the forest, a whispered warning that only Zecora can hear.
"Secrets begets lies, until each mare is woven deep, trapped in a spider's web. Lies begets a burning anger, until there is no more trust, and they drown deep beneath the violant waves. Only trust begets friendship, and only friendship can save Equis. Renew their trust and hope will be found."
-x-x-x-
Purple eyes, made of slowly melting ice and all of the mysteries of dusk. The world around them shimmers and warps, a small tear in reality. A glimpse of the Fabled Lands.
"I cannot tell you his name, nor the meaning of his warning. It is not in my powers. Not this time, my friend."
There is no body for the voice to come from, but Zecora knows that it belongs to the eyes staring at her. This spirit is a friend, is familiar, is someone that the zebra mare will trust with her life. And yet...the words seem ominous and untrue.
Spirits may speak in riddles, but they never deny one their name.
"Amaranth, you must tell me more. Otherwise, I will not send them to a foreign shore," says Zecora, and her ears twitch backwards as she shuffles from hoof to hoof.
Another shimmer. More eyes - this time reflecting running water and sun-kissed leaves, the sort of blue that isn't often seen anymore. A pure, clear color.
"My friend, you must trust us for just a little bit longer. There are things going on that you do not understand and that we are forbidden to tell you," says the new spirit, and there's a strange lilt to her words, like she is from long ago and far away.
Uneasy, Zecora paws at the ground with one hoof. The golden bangles around her fetlock knock together, but the soft jingle is drowned out by a crash of thunder high above. Through the thickness of the tree tops, no storm clouds can be seen.
They are there, though.
A storm is coming.
"Make me understand! Why must they leave this land?" insists Zecora, and when was the last time that she argued with the spirits like this? That she demanded an answer from them?
She thinks that, just maybe, it was the very first time she bled while doing their bidding.
More eyes, right in front of Zecora. Warm sunshine and sweet honey, small and gentle. The voice that belongs to them is young, that of a filly. "I'm sorry that we can't answer your questions, dear friend, but I have one thing that I can tell you."
As if angry, the purple eyes blink out of existance. Then the blue ones vanish, too.
"We have asked you to do much over the years, my friend. Things that we should never have asked of any pony, let alone one that has already lost so much. You have to remember though," says the voice that belongs to those honey gold eyes. "What is lost will always be found. This is more than just Equis that is in danger. It is everything - and though it isn't right for us to ask you to bleed again, I fear that we must."
-x-x-x-
The storm comes in fast and it comes in hard. Everything is muted and gray, rain pounding down hard on Zecora's back as she stands on the hill over looking Ponyville. As is expected during the course of weather like this, the streets are empty and the blinds are drawn.
It looks as close to a ghost town as the zebra has ever seen it, and the words of the spirits echoes in her mind.
What is lost will always be found.
A strong wind blows, catching Zecora's cloak and whipping it around her.
Only trust begets friendship.
She drags one front hoof through the damp earth.
I cannot tell you his name.
Does it again and again, until the sygil is woven deep in the earth.
Only trust.
A circle. Two lines. An X at the end of one of them.
You must bleed again.
Thunder rolls. A flash of lightning. Black eyes, staring at her. Blood, coating foreign soil. Voices, loud and angry, soft and mournful, pleading for help from someone, anyone, and no one is answering.
Only trust begets friendship.
Zecora dances, and the sound of her bangles clacking together is lost in the raging storm.
Only trust.
Lightning, everywhere. Too much to be natural. It lights up the city as though the sun is shining and Zecora knows that, where ever the bearers of the elements may be, they are watching it.
Trust.
Another clap of thunder, and Zecora stills. The rain stops. There is no sound, save for her own ragged breathing.
"There is no trust," pants Zecora. "Not anymore."
