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Yoshimon1 said:
We’re a Trailblazer! Some darkness just means we’ve gotta blaze a trail through it to reach the light again!
Whether this is a trick or not, the door calls for you — or at least, for your cutie mark. And besides, you are not afraid of the dark! You raise a hoof, and tell Moonflower that you will try to open it. She nods.
Then, you reach forward, and touch the glowing barrier. The world shifts. You pass through the door, and it passes through you. Suddenly, the stars are gone. You are somewhere else, encased in the same red glow.
Your heart drops. You recognize this place, but wish you didn’t.
Moonflower: “Whoa! Where are we now?”
Thousands of snowflakes rest suspended in the air, frozen in time. Behind fallen pillars and broken beams lie the ruins of cold stone walls, giving way to the gloomy sky above. In the middle of the room, a single crimson runner cascades down a short stairway to a lone, angular seat.
The High Throne of Midgard.
You glance back to Moonflower, and find that she is stuck on the other side of the door you just came from, peering in from without. It seems that only you were allowed through after all.
Still, you decide to answer her question, and watch as unmistakable worry flashes in her eyes. She quickly shakes it off.
Moonflower: “This is just a dream, but… be careful!”
You nod, feeling strangely… confident, despite the painful memories. You turn your attention back to the throne by the far wall — to the source of the darkness you sensed. As you approach, you begin to see something appear upon the royal seat.
Or, rather, you only now begin to perceive it: a ghostly figure, vaguely pony-shaped, yet somewhat different from the smoky inhabitants of Dark Abode. Faceless. Your eyes struggle to focus on its form, as though it devours the very light around itself.
And while it seemingly has no discernible features, you somehow know exactly who it embodies: none other than the false king, Empyrius.
But before you can try making any sense of this, a new sensation washes over you. You feel as though you are spoken to — that it speaks to you —, but there are no words. And, surprisingly, you do not sense even a hint of malice.
Rather, you feel… watched. No, observed. There is familiarity. It recognizes you as well. Then, you feel… uncertainty, or perhaps curiosity? Something between interest and wariness. You think you understand. It wonders… what you will do.
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