The Nameless War: Chapter 33: Darkened Rainbows

Disclaimer

Hmm....it's been a while, eh. Anyway, you know the jist of this by now. This fanfiction is full of terrible, terrible things. If you are under the age of 13 or whatever, turn around and read something happier. If you aren't, or you just ignored this disclaimer, read on at your own risk.

Begin Chapter 33

(Unknown’s POV)

You never know when things will change for the better. Or the worse. Usually, the latter. War isn’t sunshine and rainbows, but at least it’s ordinary. One side fights one or more other side, and they proceed to kill each other until one group reigns supreme. The trouble is: people always complicate war. They give them flashy names, they give them complex inner workings. They talk about battles of ideals, and how these two ideals clashes and lead to conflict. That is a terrible way to look at war. War isn’t complicated, it doesn’t care about ideals. It’s simple, horrific, and destructive. That is what it is, and that is all it ever will be. Muddling it with complex analysis and ideological nonsense hides what it is.

The rain finally dampens as Guildmaster and I finish our gravedigging. I sigh and lean my shovel against a tree and stare off at the vastness of the graveyard. It is frightening how large something like this can become. Two years, and the death toll still rises. I have no idea how many have perished in this war. Too many, and I know I’ve caused plenty myself. We all have. No one has clean records anymore. We are all slayers. We all bleed. Guildmaster turns back to camp without saying a word. He has other duties, I suppose. I’m not angry about him leaving me alone in the graveyard, but I don’t really want to be alone. I shake my head. What sort of thoughts are those? I can imagine Blue laughing at me. Mocking me about my fear of being left alone surrounded by the graves of the dead. I can hear her: “What, Silverheart? Afraid that they will rise from the grave and seek their revenge? What sort of warrior are you? Pathetic.”

I dismiss this thought and push through the ranks of stone and wooden markers. I make my way to the center of the fresh graves and sit down in front of it. The ground is still soft and mud will probably end up all over my hindquarters, but I could care less. I look at the grave, Snowdrop’s grave. The inscription I wrote still as fresh as a young dove’s wings. She was my biggest failure, my most daunting mistake. I failed to protect her. I couldn’t save her from the malice and wrath of Bluelighting. It’s all my fault. All my fault. I look down at the ground and see something that wasn’t there before. A small white flower with white dropping petals. A snowdrop. The flower that she was named for. I look around, trying to find the pony that placed the small sprig there. I see no one. It’s strange...I don’t remember seeing this gift here earlier. No pony has come out to graveyard yet. Why would you? I’m still wondering who could have possibly laid the flower there when I hear a voice. A voice that sends chills shooting up my spine and causes ice to form in my blood. “Looking for me, Silverheart?”

I slowly turn to see the pony that haunts my nightmares and my waking life. The one soul that could set off such a gut reaction in me. Standing before me is Bluelighting. She smiles coldly at me. “I see you are mourning the lose of your “pwecious” Snowdrop. Isn’t that cute? It seems that you have a heart after all. How interesting.”

I leer at Bluelighting. “How dare you speak about her? How dare you show your face here? Who do you think you are!?”

Bluelighting emits a half snort, half laugh. “Who am I? I’m Bluelighting. But to you? I don’t know. Have you given me some degrading and terrifying nickname. Something that reminds you of my lack of moral and horrendous disrespect for the lives of others. Something like...Oh I don’t. Bluelighting, Slayer of the Innocent. Hmm, I like that. It has a very nice ring to it. Makes me sound like some sort of villain you read about all the time in novels.”

She brushes past me and looks at the grave. She plucks up the snowdrop and smiles wickedly at me again. “Isn’t that what I am, Silverheart? I’m just a hero gone wrong. A villain in this little story. I am the darkness to your light. I am the ice to your fire. We are truly opposites, aren’t we?”

She hovers the snowdrop in front of her. “I’m not here to attack you, Silverheart. I just want to talk. Friend to friend.”

I glare at her. “We are not friends.”

Blue laughs. “Aren’t we? Well, we used to be at least. You used to be miserably in love with me. Isn’t that right?”

I meet her magenta gaze. “That was a long time ago.”

Bluelighting chuckles for the second time. “Not nearly long enough to be forgotten. The cross around your neck was a gift from me. It is a bit strange that you would keep such a gift. You still care about me, don’t you? You still think that there is some scrap of me that you can save. You think you can be my knight in shining armor and scare away the darkness choking my soul. Well, let me put those little qualms to rest. There isn’t anything left to save. You know that. Or at least part of you knows that. You should wake up and smell the roses, my friend.”

I flinch when she speaks the word “friend”. She continues speaking. “You have grown soft. If you hadn’t changed your tune, we could have allies. We could have ruled this broken world. We could have been GODS together. We could have owned it all.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to rule over anything. What’s the point in that. There will just be more lives lost. In the end, what does it matter? Does it matter who rules the world at any given point? We just slip back into our old self-destructive ways. We are gifted at being fickle. Don’t you see that, Blue? You gain nothing by ruling and building an empire. Your reign could last for one thousand years, and your kingdom could stretch across the entire plane of existence, but it wouldn’t matter. Every ruler eventually falls, all buildings crumble to dust, and all empires fade and are lost in time. You legacy will always remain, but your empire will be turned to ash and be trodden upon. Eventually, after time heals the wounds you have left, you will become a half-remembered memory. A dark time that only legends can tell of. That is what everyone and everything becomes in time. Ashes, dust, and specks of your history blown and scattered by the winds of time.”

Blue narrows her eyes. “Hmpf. Are you trying to discourage me from my goal? It won’t work. I already have my heart set on it. Nothing, not even you and your insane ramblings can stop me.”

I tilt my head to the side questioningly. “I’m the insane one here?”

Bluelighting eyes me down again. “You are insufferable. Anyway, I just came here to warn you. To warn you that I will build an army that will destroy your little camp here. That I will end your silly Solar Empire. That I will blot out the sun itself and darkness and chaos will swallow the lands. Beware, my old friend. Your judgement day approaches ever nearer. And no trumpets will be blowing at the Pearly Gates as you are thrown down to Hell.”

Bluelighting cackles and disappears in a shower of magenta sparks. I am alone again. The snowdrop that Bluelighting had left was bent and dirtied. I pick it up and lean it against the grave, trying to make it look as it once had. I look out at the setting sun. The clouds had parted just enough to see the end of the day and that start of the night. The first night in a few years that Celestia will raise the moon. Alone. I mutter something to myself. “Go Bluelighting. Ride, and build an empire. An empire that will end in dust. As all do.” 

                                 *   *   *

I turn and head back for the camp, leaving Snowdrop’s grave and all the others behind me. When I reach my ramshackled tent, I see a slip of rugged paper pinned to the front of it. I pluck it down and take a look at the chicken scratch on its rough surface. It reads: “Meeting. Now.”

I throw the note aside and take my sweet time getting to the command tent. When I enter, Guildmaster and Candle are sitting on opposite sides of the table. Guildmaster won’t even look at Candle, and Candle seems too engrossed in his map to even care. Then, I see a pony that I have never seen before. He’s ragged, scarred, and has obviously been through better times. He smiles crookedly as I enter and stands. He speaks in a very gravelly voice, as if he has been gargling rocks for fun. “Hello, I’m Crimson.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Crimson? Just...that? You don’t look very crimson to me.”

This causes the strange stallion to smile. It’s not a particularly happy grin, and appear to be him more or less bearing his teeth at me. His eyes are filled with malice. “I have heard a lot about, Prodigy...right?”

I nod confirmation, and the stallion continues speaking. “You have been a small fascination of mine for the past two years. I have been seeking you out all this time, and well, here we are.”

I look at him as if he’s out of his mind. This is probably due to the fact that he IS out of his mind. I don’t interupt, I’d rather not come off as too rude. “Now, I have taken note of everything you have ever accomplished in this war. All the lives you’ve taken, all the structures and alliances you built, and all the things you’ve burned to ashes. You are quite the pony. You raided the Lunars’ camp alone and lived to tell the tale. You wiped an entire army off the map in one brilliant stroke. You. You one simple pony has shown excellent prowess in destruction. Yet, you have created as well. You allied with the Solars and helped in their defeat of the Republic. Very interesting. I wonder if you are torn between the need to create and the desire to tear things down.”

I sneer at him. “I did not come here to be psycho-analysed by the likes of you. Why are you here?”

The stallion’s eyes light up. He turns back to the table, and I finally notice that through all the grim he has a yellow coat and an orange tail and mane. He looks at Candle and the Solars’ leader finally jostles. “Um, yes. Crimson here has come to us alone. He has asked for protection. Protection for himself and the pony he has been guarding for two years.”

I look at the strange pony. “Who is he guarding?”

This time, Guildmaster responds. “Rainbow Dash...He’s protecting her.”

I roll my eyes. “And who, pray tell, is that?”

A raspy voice, full of snark and brashness. “That’s me!”

I turn to see a once-cyan pony standing behind me. Her tail is frayed and her mane is an absolute dirty mess. They appear to be multi-colored, but the vibrancy seems to have drained out of them. She is in worse shape than her accomplice and grime covers her whole body. I raise a single eyebrow. “A rainbow that dashes, huh?”

Guildmaster glares at me. “Crimson, we would be happy to bring in this mare and you in. I just have a few questions. Do you have any other ponies with you, or are you alone?”

Crimson just shakes his head. “I am simply alone...Dash and I have been walking across this destroyed town for two years now. We’ve been looking for her friends. We’ve only been able to track down one, and it was far too late by that point. Twilight Sparkle had been slain already by the time we got there. It was a pointless endeavor.”

The cyan Pegasus sniffles. “Poor Twilight...and it was hardly pointless, Crimson. I had to know where she went...At least I know what happened to her now.”

Crimson just shakes his head. “It isn’t important, Rainbow Dash. What is important is helping out the Solar Empire. Rainbow Dash here is one of the best fighters around. I should be paying her to protect me. However, as it stands, I am her protector. When I found out about the power of your faction, I knew I had to come to you. You seemed like a just cause. I figured if any group would help us, it was this one.”

Guildmaster nods, but Candle still seems too engrossed in his map to even care about this entire conversation. Guildmaster sneers at Candle, but simply shakes his head. He then turns back to Crimson. “You thought right, Crimson. We would be happy to bring you in. I trust that you will uphold your promise and swear loyalty to the Solar Empire. If not...well, we don’t tolerate traitors in our ranks. We will punish such turncoats with the utmost severity. You have that promise.”

Crimson shivers. Fear flickers across his eyes for just a moment. Then, he nods. “Fair enough, Guildmaster...Where is your leader, Celestia? Shouldn’t she be at this meeting as well?”

Guildmaster just sighs. “Celestia is a bit indisposed right now. She’s going through a bit of a rough time right now. She also has to raise the moon tonight. She needs rest. I am currently sitting in as acting leader by her request.”

Guildmaster looks at Candle, as if expecting him to challenge his right to demonstrate such authority. Candle doesn’t even look up. He doesn’t make so much as a noise. Guildmaster gives an almost smug smile. “As I have such authority, I personally welcome you into the Solar Empire, Crimson. Do you have any sort of concerns, Candle?”

Candle once again doesn’t respond. Guildmaster nods. “And do you have any, Prodigy?”

I shake my head. “None.”

Guildmaster gives a small nod in my direction. “Perfect. Follow me, Crimson. I will show you and Rainbow Dash to your tent. We have a few vacancies now. I hope you don’t mind staying in a already used tent…”

Guildmaster leads Crimson away and shoots a look back at Candle. One full of anger for the distraught leader. He nods at me as if he wants me to follow. I look at Candle and sighs. I follow the trio of worn down ponies out of the tent. In silence, Guildmaster leads us to an empty tent, one that housed a couple we were harboring. They had fled from Ponyville during the beginning of the war. The husband joined our cause. But the during the final battle, he was ripped to pieces by a horrible spell casts on him by an enemy unicorn. His wife, choked with grief, hung herself from a tree to be with her beloved. Not all casualties are gained on the battlefield. Guildmaster settles Crimson and Rainbow Dash into the tent, not speaking about the bloodstained past that this housing quarter had. After a few moments, Guildmaster reemerges from the tent. He nods to me and speaks one word in a brisk, hard tone. “Follow.”

He leads me out of camp, out onto the war torn battlefield. Misery and death still litters the field. Bodies that were too mutilated to move. Blood stains the ground, tears and anguish. The true reality of war. I see Tweester wandering the field, jotting down notes, and taking down the original photo. He’s gone delusional in all these years. Still documenting the war effort, taking pictures. He should know by now that the newspaper no longer run in Canterlot. So many ponies have had to come in aide of the war effort. Is is no longer a regional war. Ponies from the far North to Manehatten have all come to fight in this miserable war. Canterlot is no exception. There isn’t enough ponies to work the newspaper printing facilities, nor are their enough to read it. It was discontinued a year and a half ago, yet Meester remains on the field, the loyal journalist that he is. We skirt around him, not wanted to engage in conversation with him. If he sees us, he would most likely run up and try to interview us.

Eventually, we find ourselves in the middle of the battlefield. The spot in which Luna was finally struck down. The air around this spot seems cold, and the ground is stained black, like a permanent shadow. Luna’s body was removed long ago, buried in the mass graveyard. I did not oversee the ceremony as I usually do. It was hastily thrown together, and was done quickly. I didn’t see it. Guildmaster prods at the ground and sighs. “So much death, Silverheart. So much destruction. And for what? Pride? Land? No...fickleness. To see who is the best, who is the most popular. To see who can make the most allies, and who can make the most enemies. Pathetic.” Guildmaster kicks away the sword of a fallen combatant and sighs…”I have something to give you.”

I look at him curiously, and he pulls out a small note. “This came for both of us...This morning.”

He hands it to me and I unfold the crumpled paper. There are two sentences scrawled out on the paper in shaky writing. “I will snuff out the sun. One year….” I look to the bottom of the note, one word is printed there. My breath hitches. The last word on the paper reads: “Blue.”

Credits

Original Blog Creator- The Candlekeeper

Writer- UnknownProdigy

Fanfiction's title inspiration- Guildmaster Grovyle

Main Supporter- Seaswirl10

Template Creator- Meester Tweester

Special Thanks to Bluelighting, Candlekeeper, Meester Tweester, Crimson something something (I don't know how to spell it), and Guildmaster Grovyle for letting me use their usernames and OCs in this chapter.

Thanks for Reading!