This fanfiction is a loose retelling of an actual blog created by the Candlekeeper, called Hurt/Heal. This fanfiction contains foul language, violence, (fanservice), and decent amounts of blood. If you are under the age of 13 you should not read this.Read at your own risk.
Begin Chapter 21
‘...Prodigy must die. Prodigy must die. Prodigy must die,’
The chant is no longer my own. It was once mine, but no longer. I myself was chanting it, then the voices of what I assume are the damned took it up for me. I can hear them still, chanting the war cry for Discord’s revenge. Prodigy was the one that had not listened. I have no idea why he wouldn’t listen to anyway so obviously trustworthy as Discord.
‘No Sea...you have...to listen...Discord...he...will...you...He...doesn’t...care...you,’ I hear Sea’s voice, incredibly faint against the chant being screamed in my head. Still, it is audible, but it is fragmented. It’s not like I really care that I can't hear him. He left me to rot in Hell. He can go live up with his angels and just leave me alone.
Charging along the flat, barren plane towards the Lunar camp allows me to see for miles. This amazing visibility allows me to see something that breaks the perfection of destruction. Almost impossible to see, a blue blur on the horizon, about three clicks to my north from my estimation. That’s not all though; the blur is getting closer and has started to take a shape. I continue to charge, thinking maybe it’s just a wandering soldier, separated from his platoon. At least that’s what my optimistic side thinks. Part of my mind knows exactly who it is, but I try to find some other explanation.
The optimism works until I see that the blue pony is baring down on my position at alarming speed. We are only about a mile apart now, I can see an unruly mane sitting on a head, turquoise with light blue streaks. That mane belongs to a pony I know all too well. Now there is no doubt in my mind that the blue blur on the horizon is Prodigy. I sneer at the thought of seeing him again, then I am reminded that I have been tasked to kill him. This brings a smile to my face; he will come to me like a lamb to the slaughter.
Now we are only about half a mile apart, the distance between us depleting fast. I wonder what he will do when he reaches me. Will he try to slit my throat? Or will he lay down at my hooves and beg for forgiveness. Another more realistic part of my mind wonders how he could survive a Muerte Curse right to the face. It’s impossible, that spell has a one hundred percent kill rate. It has never failed in the past, and it shouldn’t have failed when I wanted to finish of Prodigy.
These wonderings make the distance seem shorter, and before I even know it I am only about fifteen feet away from a very bloody, dirty, cut up Prodigy. Most of the blood doesn’t appear to be his. ‘What did he do?’ I wonder, ‘Blow up some ponies and stand too close to the blast?’
“Bluelighting!” Prodigy tries to boom out, but his gravelly voice makes him sound rather unintimidating, “You have committed crimes against the heavens. For that you must be punished. The sentence the angels have given: death. You have twenty seconds to pray to a god of your choice. After that prepare to be eradicated.”
“Pfft, stop using your big words Prodigy, and just fight me Prodigy,” I hurl back, “You think you can scare me with your formal talk and you speaking of angels. Like you have the approval of Heaven. What do you take me for a fool? No Prodigy it is you has committed many crimes, and it will be you who will taste my blades,” I levitate my blades, “En garde!”
“Very well then, Blue. If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you will get.” With the he draws his knives and spins them around with his magic with a flourish. He was always the flashy type, I suppose. “Blue, you really don’t want to do this. Trust me...just come peacefully and I’ll make your death quick. This way it isn't going to be very clean. Rethink your choice.”
“Hmmm...Just give up and die at your hooves. Nah that’s not gonna happen,” I retort, “And if I may correct you. It will not be me who is going to be kicking the bucket, but you. Now stop babbling and attack me, you useless lump of fur.”
I can hear Prodigy audibly sigh, as if killing me is like some sort of chore. ‘The nerve of him,’ I think to myself, ‘Putting off this fight as if it is not important. I’ve been waiting for revenge for almost a year. He shall suffer for his indifference.’
After a second hesitation I charge, knives brandished. Prodigy hardly looks up as I grow closer. When I near him I bring my blades down and spontaneously he raises his own blades and parries my blow. He lashes out with his own blades and now I’m staring a very angry looking Prodigy right in the face. It appears that bloodlust is in his eyes. He then goes on the offensive slashing and hacking. I can barely block each strike with my own blades; his offense is quite aggressive. Then he starts to take up some sort of chant. It starts quietly at first. “My name is Silverheart. You killed me once. Prepare to die.”
I banish this as him being thrown into some sort of hysterical rage. He is insane after all. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s talking to himself. I have very little time to think about such things as this little chant with Prodigy’s blades flashing in my face. Then the chant continues, louder this time, “My name is Silverheart. You killed me once. Prepare to die. My name is Silverheart. You killed me once. Prepare to die. My name is Silverheart! You killed me once! Prepare to die!”
I continue to block his continuously stronger strikes. I know it’s only a matter of time I mess up and he kills me. As I look at him his entire presence seems to flicker. His body almost looks like it had lost it’s picture. It flickers to a very strange picture and holds there for a few seconds. It appears to be a pony looking much like Prodigy, but last time I had checked Prodigy does not have wings and does not have a pure black iris. Then he flickers back to normal Unknown. The chant continues.
Then after being on the defensive for so long, I grow weary. I make a sloppy block and he sees it. He takes advantage and hits me right in the face with the flat of his blade. I stumble back and try vainly to raise my blades to block his next strike. I fail and I feel one his blades connect with my front leg. It leaves a long slash. It doesn’t appear deep, but for some reason the cut is screaming with pain. “My name is Silverheart! You killed me once! PREPARE TO DIE!”
The pain sends me down onto my knees. I try to rise again, but can’t. It’s almost like the blades have sapped all my energy. Knowing that the blades are cursed that very well may be. “Please...Prodigy...spare me...have mercy...” I barely manage to choke out the words, “What can I do for you? Just say it. I’ll do it. Just spare me, please!”
“Begging now are we Blue,” Prodigy responds, “Truly pathetic. Also, no there is nothing you can do to stop me from ending your existence. You see you ripped out my heart when you left me for Sea. If you had just stayed with me, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. If you hadn’t left me maybe I wouldn’t have killed all those ponies in my fit of rage. Maybe I wouldn’t be here ready to kill you today. You see you’ve done much to me, mentally and physically. You destroyed my mind at the foundation. This led to a chain of events. Then it lead me here. Then I have my eye slashed by the piece of garbage Grovyle. Do you wish to see it Blue? Hmm do you want to see what you have done to me?” Terrified, I shake my head no. “Well too damn bad.”
He raises the eyepatch covering his damaged eye. I see a mess of scar tissue and blood. Somewhere in the mess I see the electric blue that used to be the iris. It makes me want to be sick, but I cannot muster the energy to do so. He lowers his eyepatch back down. “Now you see what you have done to me. Now prepare to die Blue. It’s been coming to you for a long time.”
I think of all the options I have left. Many zoom through my mind at the speed of sound, none of them sound promising. Finally I choose one that I would only use in a severe situation. “Prodigy you wouldn’t just kill me. Why would you do that when I’m about to do this?”
“Do what? What are you planning you witch?” he responds coldly. “Oh nothing just this.”
I lean up and before Prodigy can even react, I use the little magical energy I have left to bring his head closer to mine. “What are you doing? Stop this now!”
“Oh Prodigy, you think what I’m doing is bad? It isn’t at all.”
Before he can say anything else I thrust his muzzle into mine and lock him in a kiss. His argumentative struggles are muffled in my mouth. He tries to pull back, but cannot. My magic holds him firm. Even in my weakened state I can keep him right where I want him. Then I send out my magic to grab a single blade. I will need to do this quickly. I raise it up, not letting Unknown see it (whom is still trying to get away) and bring it up to his chest. The tip of the blade floats just an inch of his coat. Then I plunge it down. Prodigy’s muffled cry of pain bursts out. I loosen the magical force on the back of his head, and he falls. It wasn’t a killing blow, but I shall soon deal one. I raise my blade and prepare to plunge it down when I hear him cry out, “Wait!”
I stop, the blade is only inches away from his face. He had only startled me, and I’m about to plunge the knife the rest of the way when he says, “Why Blue? Why Blue, just answer me that,” he says, “Why is it that you need to kill me so badly? Why is it that you need to be the one to do it? If you wanted me dead you would just wait. I would have probably fallen in battle eventually. Killed by a mob of soldiers. So answer me. Why do you want me dead so badly?”
This was not expected. I had always thought that Prodigy had a heart of ice and a soul of black. This emotion came completely out of the blue. I did not believe he could muster such feelings. Now I must answer the question I can barely answer myself. “Because Prodigy, my name is Bluelighting. You killed my husband. Prepare to die!”
“If you kill me then I have one last thing to say,” he looks me in the eye and says, “ ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.’ John 3:16.”
When he finishes speaking the line or scripture I am completely at a lose. ‘No...He couldn’t have kept it. He didn’t,’ I think to myself.
“Oh yes I did Blue,” Prodigy says, almost reading my thoughts, “I kept that Bible you gave me all those years ago. You always wanted me to believe, but I just wouldn’t. Despite this, I read it. I read all of it. I can recite it front to back. I memorized the word of prophets, disciples, and God. I didn’t read it for faith though. I read it for you. I wanted you to think I was trying, I wanted to convince myself that I was trying. When you left me I was left with only three things: a golden cross, a Bible, and a fractured heart. You broke me Blue. You broke me down to the lowest level. My soul was broken. The pony you see in front of you. The pony that has killed so many and left many widows and motherless children in his wake. That pony is your creation, and you will have to live with that for the rest of your miserable life. So go ahead kill me, it won’t give you any satisfaction. I guarantee it.”
I fall backwards in both physical pain and mental pain. This was supposed to be an almost routine thing. We were supposed to fight, then I would overpower him and send him to a bloody death. Instead I’m struggling to stand, choking back tears and emotion. I cannot let it continue on like this. “Prodigy, it may not give soothe my soul in any way, but you being wiped off the face of the earth will make this planet a better place. Now, no more mercy. Now I ask you to pray to your god of choice and prepare to meet the darkness.”
“Darkness…” He murmurs, “What a wonderful thing. It can soothe the soul or destroy it. It can heal the mind or drive one insane. It can appear almost out of nowhere. It is eternal. It is forever.”
Thinking he’s been driven insane by the weight of his own imminent death I prepare to strike down my knife. Still, he continues, “Darkness, the last thing you see. The last thing before you take your last final breath, pain and remorse souring it. The last thing that you will sense before you live out your last second of your masochistic life. You are but a short candle on the existence of the all ruling darkness. I’ve seen every second of it. I may not have lived it, but I see the memories of those that have before me.” He looks up at the sky, “Darkness, so tantalizing. Something that ponies resort to when their problems have become too great. Those who fear death will also fear darkness, as they wish not to see what they will see in their final conscious moments. I do not fear death, Blue. I embrace it. I would recommend you do too. As it will soon descend on you if you do not make the correct choice.”
Then I hear a gunshot. I quickly turn around. I see a pitch black pony with a single white strip going down his mane standing with a pistol wedge in his mouth. Standing there with a ice cold expression on his face is the one and only, Bunker Guy.
End Chapter 21
Orginal Blog Creator- The Candlekeeper
Fanfiction's title inspiration- Guildmaster Grovyle
Main Supporter- Seaswirl10
Template Creator- Meester Tweester
Special Thanks to the Bluelighting, Seaswirl10, Guildmaster Grovyle, and The Bunker Guy for letting me use their usernames and OCs in this chapter.
Thanks for Reading