The Slitherroots Woods lay cloaked in a perpetual twilight, where the twisted trees whispered secrets only the wind could carry. Through this shadowed expanse strode two alicorns, their forms draped in the veils and insignias of the Academy. Scholars often braved the Slitherroots in search of its mysteries, for the woods held more questions than answers. Yet, these two moved with an air that set them apart—no Protector shadowed their steps, though peril loomed in every thicket. They walked unguarded but unafraid, their confidence born of the rare Sapphire rank of the Protectors, the pinnacle of Harmonizer achievement.
The elder of the pair, a Fulmenian whose aura seemed to draw light from the gloom, broke the silence. His voice carried the warmth of a summer breeze, tempered by the weight of many burdens. "I must admit, Naegissa, your agreement to join me was unexpected," he said, his tone both welcoming and measured. "Two minds will serve this inquiry better than one, and I value your insight." There was a subtle gravity to his words, a reflection of the significance of their undertaking—and the vast knowledge he already possessed.
The younger alicorn, a Pythonian with a gaze as sharp as her words, glanced at him sidelong. "I needed to escape the suffocating halls of the Academy," she replied, her tone edged with both honesty and reservation. "But I also have questions—questions that only you might answer." Her voice, though calm, carried an undertone of calculation, like a blade hidden in its sheath.
Raybarn nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. "It seems our goals align more than I anticipated," he said, his expression betraying a flicker of curiosity as his sharp mind turned over the puzzle of his companion. "Ask what you will, and I swear to answer as truthfully as I can. But know this, Naegissa: my curiosity about you is no less keen."
The path twisted ahead, roots clawing their way out of the earth like the fingers of the damned. Naegissa's gaze lingered on Raybarn for a moment before she spoke, her words deliberate, their edges cold. "Tell me, what conclusions did the alicorn you visited draw? And who are they? If their insights touch on our research, it is only right to share them with all who seek the truth." Her tone held the chill of distrust, though she wrapped her question in the guise of collaboration, a subtle armor for her motives.
Raybarn glanced at her, his expression unreadable in the dim light filtering through the branches above. "The alicorn I consulted values their anonymity," he said evenly, stepping over a root as if the forest itself sought to hinder his stride. "But they illuminated a key distinction—there is, indeed, a divide between astral and divine magic. The implications are significant, though we have only begun to scratch the surface of their meaning." His calm delivery belied the complexity of his thoughts, though his steps never faltered as they pressed deeper into the treacherous heart of the woods.
The Pythonian showed no trace of surprise, as though the revelation of the distinction between astral and divine magic was a mere formality to her. Perhaps she already knew. "Alright then," she said, her tone steady but laced with a quiet sharpness. "What do you truly make of all this? The spirits, their elusiveness, the unknowns that seem to multiply the deeper we delve? And more to the point, why did you [i]really[/i] ask me to come with you?" Her words carried the weight of understanding, as though she had pierced through the veil of his pretense. There were others Raybarn could have enlisted—any number of scholars—but he had chosen her, and she would know why.
The Fulmenian tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting like embers under the dimming light. "What do I make of it?" he repeated, his voice touched with a grim edge. "Not much, if I am honest. In all my years as a scholar, and even beyond my days within the Academy's walls, I've never encountered a magical signature like this." His gaze lifted to the darkening canopy, where the sky's faint glow began to surrender to the approaching night. "And as for why I brought you…" He paused, the words lingering unspoken for a moment too long. "You've been in my thoughts ever since I stumbled upon a clue—one tied to this mystery. Yet curiously, I cannot recall where the clue came from, nor the exact details of what it revealed. My memory…it fails me in this." His gaze returned to her, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. "I wanted to spend more time with you, to see if that might stir something loose."
He let the statement hang in the cool air, then added, "Have I answered all your questions? If so, I'd like to ask mine." His voice softened, almost a plea wrapped in courtesy.
Naegissa offered a brief nod, stepping gracefully over the tangle of roots that snaked across their path. The forest seemed to press closer around them with every step, the canopy thickening and the undergrowth darkening as the light bled away. Silence stretched between them until Raybarn spoke again, his question cutting through the gloom.
"Naegissa, do you know more about the spirit than you've told us?" His voice was steady, but the words carried a subtle force, as if he sought to pin her down. "You questioned Feyn and me about a Protector who supposedly encountered the spirit…but I don't recall any account of such a meeting. Why?"
A flick of her ear was the only sign that the question had struck a nerve. Though the reaction was fleeting, it did not escape his notice. Still, when she answered, her voice was calm, devoid of any tremor or tell. "No," she said, her tone measured and deliberate. "I merely wanted to confirm certain things, particularly regarding memory. I've noticed gaps in my own recollections, too."
Her words lingered, the weight of unspoken truths settling heavily between them as they continued deeper into the labyrinth of shadows and secrets that was the Slitherroots.
The last note in Naegissa's words rang false to Raybarn, a discordant string plucked in the quiet of the forest. If her memory were truly clouded, she wouldn't have phrased her questions so precisely, so deliberately. Suspicion gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, and he resolved to press further, to pry loose the truth hidden beneath her calm exterior. Whatever enigma surrounded the spirit seemed bound to this alicorn walking beside him, and he would unravel it.
"I've noticed something peculiar," Raybarn began, his tone measured but probing, as his wing brushed thoughtfully against his chin. "There are gaps in my own memory about this case, details that slip away like sand through my paws. It's happened too often to dismiss. I suspect the magic surrounding the captured spirit may be to blame, twisting our minds in subtle ways." He let the words settle before continuing, his voice lower now, as though sharing a secret with the shadows themselves. "But there's one memory that lingers, vivid and inexplicable. It came to me after I left the Guild Inn in Alykarn—a detailed image of an alicorn, strikingly similar to you, standing near some enormous, monstrous creature."
He halted abruptly, his gaze turning sharply to Naegissa. She, too, stopped, her ear swiveling toward him. Her expression remained neutral, but the air between them grew taut, the silence fraught with unspoken things.
Raybarn took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he pressed on. "Nerath spoke of your parents once," he said, his voice carrying a note of challenge, "yet I find I cannot picture you having any. And what troubles me more is this: Nerath remembers details that Feyn and I do not. She insists we were informed, but my mind holds no trace of it."
As he mentioned her parents, a shiver ran down his spine, a chill that had little to do with the forest's deepening gloom. Something in the air shifted, and his senses prickled with an instinctive wariness. Naegissa's posture stiffened, her head lifting slightly as her gaze locked with his. For the first time, an emotion broke through her icy demeanor—hurt, raw and unguarded—before she buried it again beneath a new frost.
"Bringing up my parents is unkind," she said, her voice carrying the faint tremor of grief, though she quickly smothered it. "Rude, even."
Raybarn inclined his head, his voice softening. "You're right, and for that, I apologize. But the connection between these memory gaps—yours, mine, and Nerath's—it troubles me deeply. I wonder what you make of it."
He resumed walking, but her voice cut through the chill air, stopping him in his tracks. "Was this investigation merely an excuse to ask me these questions?" Her tone carried the sharpness of accusation, but her words sounded more like a statement than a query. She had already unraveled his intentions, it seemed.
Raybarn turned back to her, meeting her gaze without pretense now. His expression was open, though his resolve had not wavered. "Yes," he admitted, the single word heavy with both regret and determination.
Naegissa let out a sharp huff, her breath steaming in the cold air. "You do realize," she began, her tone as frosty as the winter winds, though irritation flickered beneath the surface, "if I truly were tangled in this conspiracy, dragging me out here alone would be a grave mistake? It wouldn't save your precious son." Her words cut like shards of ice, though her composure seemed to fray at the edges, emotions threatening to spill free.
Raybarn met her gaze steadily, his calm demeanor unshaken. "You underestimate me," he said, his voice carrying the weight of countless seasons of wisdom. "Feyn is no longer in Alykarn. I saw to that. And if fate takes me here, it will change nothing. As we speak, a communication crystal is making its way to King Fulmen. Should anything happen to me beyond my control, my findings will reach his ears regardless, my suspicions about you included." His tone was measured, his words as firm as iron. He had anticipated this, planned every step, leaving no room for error.
Naegissa's ears flattened, her usual mask of cool indifference slipping as her anger churned beneath the surface. She averted her gaze, casting her eyes downward and letting out a sharp, audible sigh. But the tension in her frame betrayed her struggle to maintain control. Raybarn watched her closely, his keen eyes noting every crack in her composure, every tremor of emotion she tried to suppress.
Then, without warning, Naegissa's ears snapped forward, her expression shifting to one of sudden alarm. "Behind you!" she cried, her voice no longer cold but sharp with panic.
Raybarn began to respond, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Do you really think I'd fall for—" The words died in his throat. A prickle of danger crawled up his spine, and instinct overtook him. He leaped to the side just as something struck the spot where he had stood an instant before.
He turned sharply, his heart pounding as his gaze darted to the source of the attack. When his eyes landed on the figure that had tried to strike him, they widened in shock, his calm composure cracking at last.
The clearing yawned wide before him, the gnarled trees bending as though in supplication to the nightmare that now stood revealed. At its center was what seemed, at first glance, to be a Virtusian alicorn. But no, Raybarn's instincts screamed otherwise—[i]this was wrong[/i]. This was no alicorn, not anymore. His breath caught as recognition clawed its way to the surface of his mind. "Pyvern…?" he murmured, his voice trembling under the weight of memories surging unbidden. The nights in Alykarn's Guild Inn returned to him, the warmth of shared drinks, the haunting confessions of visions that tore at the Virtusian's soul. Raybarn had offered comfort then, and guidance—pointed him to places of healing.
And yet here stood Pyvern, a specter dragged from the depths of oblivion. But the alicorn was no longer the one Raybarn had known. His body was a grotesque mockery of what had been. Jagged blue and purple crystals erupted from his flesh, sheathing him like a cruel exoskeleton. What once were eyes had become orbs of searing azure light, hollow and unseeing, oozing streams of obsidian ichor that streaked his cheeks like corrupted tears. His wings hung in tatters, the delicate webbing torn and pierced by crystalline shards that jutted grotesquely, as though his very bones had transmuted into crystal and rebelled against their confines.
The air vibrated with a magic signature so potent, so otherworldly, it clawed at Raybarn's senses. It was the same essence he had detected from the spirit in the laboratory, but now magnified, grotesquely swollen beyond anything he could have predicted. It pressed down on him, an invisible weight that made every breath an effort.
Before he could speak, Naegissa's voice slithered through the frozen air, sharp and cutting, yet deceptively calm. "Ah, if I recall correctly, you wished to meet my parents, didn't you?" Her tone carried an eerie mirth, and with it came a wave of unnatural cold, a creeping frost that seemed to drain the warmth from the clearing. Shadows lengthened and deepened around her, as though the sunlight itself recoiled from her words.
Raybarn shifted, instinctively positioning himself so he could keep both Pyvern, or whatever he became, and Naegissa in his sight. But his dread deepened as two more forms emerged from the shadows behind her. They moved with unnatural grace, alicorns in shape but stripped of all that was Equesteran and alive. Their bodies glimmered with a crystalline sheen, their forms rigid and unyielding, their eyes devoid of any spark of existence. These were not creatures—they were sculptures of death, animated by some foul sorcery beyond Raybarn's understanding.
Naegissa placed a hoof under one on each of the crystalline alicorns' chin, while they draped her of their wings. She stood between them, a queen amidst her grim courtiers. Her expression was serene, her voice silken with mockery as she delivered the final blow. "Well, here they are…Raybarn, this is Mom and Dad."
Her words settled like a shroud over the clearing, suffocating and final. The crystalline figures stared ahead, unblinking, unmoving, yet their very presence radiated menace. Raybarn's heart thundered in his chest, the cold sinking deep into his bones as he faced the abyss, staring into a horror he could scarcely comprehend.