Family of Chaos (10) (Patreon)

Life was so much easier when Hurricane didn't know the truth. Easy to pretend she was a pony when she had no reason to suspect otherwise. But now that she knew—how long until the next disaster? Would the ancient curse collapse all at once, plunging Ponyville back into chaos? Or maybe it would erode more slowly, with every new day a looming threat to everypony around her?

The young dragon did an acceptable job as a host, despite his age. His food was good, and the library had comfortable guestrooms for visitors like herself. He was either too polite, or not observant enough to realize the variety of strange events around the library were probably her fault—a cart of books just happening to tip over, dislodging a display he'd been carefully arranging for most of the day.

Something similar happened in the kitchen, with a slight bump dislodging every single glass jar of spice on the rack, leaving all ruined in a messy pile on the floor. 

She heard no screams of terror echoing through the windows that night. She could only hope that meant Ponyville suffered no great catastrophe because of her presence.

She spent hours tossing and turning in the guest bedroom, waiting for a relaxation that never came. Exhaustion eventually served the same purpose, albeit with far less of the inherent comfort.

There might've been something soothing about returning to the same vision, even if that memory was one of flight, terror, and confinement.

Even that comfort was taken from her. Instead, Hurricane was... somewhere else. An ancient village, or what was left of it. Little remained of the Equestrian landscape, or the structures its residents had built here. Each were twisted into strange shapes, curving into sculptures of glass or static liquids or stranger things foreign to this fragment of creation.

No two were alike, just as the gradual diffusion of colorful gasses blending and flowing through the air around it weren't alike. 

"You have to admit, it is far more interesting to look at," said a familiar voice. Someone floated through the air nearby, drawn to the village entrance by her presence. 

She didn't see him like the ponies described—not a creature with mismatched limbs. That appearance was the result of taking a shape down from higher spaces and crushing into something lower. It was a physical manifestation of the Draconequus's inherent, unstable truth.

Hurricane Force saw him as something else—mathematics, memory, and personality. Discord was effulgent, at once similar to her and alien. Two beings could arise in the same source, yet arrive at radically divergent destinations.

His greater power was intoxicating. Greater age, or—something else. Her view was unclear. But for all that kept them together, she found one critical element crucially absent, a void within his essence like a gaping wound. 

"Day after day marching in dull obsequious, identical blobs of muscle and metabolism. But this—finally this dull reality has something worth existing! Something... real."

Hurricane was not in control of herself, exactly. This was the past, and she was its prisoner. This version of her would not even recognize that name.

She moved through the village, searching for its inhabitants. "Ponies can't live here," she said, indignant. The observation was an obvious one—chemical bonds could not even exist at some of these temperatures. Other patches of the village had no air, or were charged with enough ionizing radiation to liquify genetic material.

"I admit I was... needlessly wasteful, at first. But I adapted the remainder quite effectively. They're still here, can't you see?"

She didn't see ponies. But if she broaded her search, she saw. Some were among the sculptures, others liquified, or warped into shapes so strange that they couldn't exist in this reality. Except here, where Discord decided those laws ought not apply. 

"You're speechless at my genius. As you should be—for what you see before you is only my first foray into a brave new world. We've colored meekly between the lines for long enough. Now, we will create what we choose. Equestria will serve as an... adequate starting place."

"We can't." She retreated from his presence, past the tortured effigies that had once been living ponies. Part of her wanted to help them—but she couldn't, not with Discord here. If he realized her desire, he might take away the opportunity out of spite, and destroy them beyond recovery. "This isn't our world, it's theirs."

"Possession is the only test of ownership, sister. We're here, and free to do anything we wish. What's one planet against the universe? A canvas, and we are the painters." 

As he said it, he gestured at the mountain overhead, and it changed. The terrain curved over, warping through higher dimensional space until it overlapped with the village, its spatial coordinates intersecting at random. Some structures fell, and some of the residents faced rapid, painful collapse. Others were spared, for now.

She shuddered, retreating further. "We were winning their trust," she whispered. "What will the ponies do now? You're attacking them."

He laughed, low and rumbling. "Attacking? Of course not. The earthquake is not an attack. Neither is the tsunami, or the hurricane. The universe is a dangerous place. Sometimes, things die. Fortunate for life that it is so good at reproducing. New individuals will rise, adapt to the new circumstances. I will even help them along. You could too—you must have had ideas. There are so many improvements we could make to the design. Your mass extinction, my innovation."

He waved, and a single pony appeared in front of her—a young stallion, hovering in the air. He'd been a miner, judging by the outfit and dust. Yet by holding him, Discord's magic kept him alive. The chaos all around them would rip the poor creature apart otherwise. "I can see this one enjoys being below the earth, for example. This body plan is inadequate for purpose. Wouldn't you rather reach the richer minerals far below the crust, young pony?"

"Don't," she said. "You have to fix this, before the princesses find out."

"Oh, I'm counting on them noticing," he said. "Now tell me sister, would you still love them if they were a worm? Perhaps a very, very large one." 

The pony began to scream, his body twisting and expanding and losing all suggestion of the creature he'd been.

Hurricane woke with his anguished cries fresh in her ears. There had been no relief for the poor little pony then, none she was brave enough to provide.

But for Equestria at large, she knew how that story ended.

Even so, Hurricane rushed to the window, staring through the side of Twilight's library at the village of Ponyville. This place wasn't all that different from the one she saw in vision. Ponies had some electricity now, trains, and a regular weather schedule. But little else had changed from that ancient day.

Her brother's handiwork was nowhere to be seen. The village homes were exactly where they had been the night before, and the ponies before her still had the correct number of limbs. It was only a memory.

"Oh, good. You're up." Spike appeared in the doorway, wearing the same little heart apron he had the day before. "Twilight probably won't be back until tonight. Best not to hold your breath for royal visits. You know how politics can be."

She nodded weakly at the dragon. Though she never chose those positions, simply living as long as she did often meant she landed in them by process of elimination. "Guess so, yeah. Did she say if I could leave the library in the meantime?"

Spike shrugged. "Why couldn't you leave? Do you get lost easily or something?"

He spun in place, shuffling out the door. "Breakfast is downstairs. At least make sure you're full before you go out.”

She did. The dragon's cooking might not be amazing, but he was at least well meaning. He took his responsibility as host seriously.

"Anything interesting happen in Ponyville?" she asked, while they ate quietly next to the window. "Seems like a peaceful little town."

The dragon nodded. "Oh yeah. Most of the time it's a peaceful life, every day the same. Then an ancient monster breaks out of his stone prison and turns the whole town upside-down. Literally, in some places. I think most ponies are trying to forget how scary it all was."

She winced, pushing her cooling waffles around on the plate. "How many... how many casualties were there? Once the Elements got rid of him, and put everything right? How many ponies died?"

The dragon fell silent, looking down at his plate. "I didn't hear about any. Seems like it was mostly psychological damage. Remembering what he did to you, and how little you could do to stop him. I'm sure Princess Luna is working overtime on all the nightmares."

No one died? Discord could do far worse than kill, of course. He could probably make a pony not exist so completely that no one even remembered they were missing. But that was an awful lot of effort for a village full of “insignificant” creatures.

Had trapping him in stone tempered him?

Better not to think about that. If she did, she might want to find his statue and ask. No matter what her intention, Equestria would see that as trying to set him free.

You're on your own, brother. You wanted to fight them, now you got your wish.

The dragon was still staring at her. Hurricane looked away, awkwardly. "I'm glad everypony got to go home to their families, at least."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Didn't you say something about being here for... chaos magic? Last night. You were cursed or something. Was that Discord's fault?"

So maybe the dragon wasn't the best listener. For once, Hurricane was thankful. The less she had to explain, the better. "Definitely. I don't remember all of it very well, but it's his fault. Couldn't just leave ponies alone."

She cleaned her plate, then stood. "Thanks for everything. I think I'll go out for a flight. Be back around..."

"Before dinner," Spike supplied. "The last train from Canterlot gets in at five. I'd bet my wings that Twilight's on it. But as you can see, I don't have any."

He waved her off, starting on the dishes as she left.

Hurricane didn't go far. She had nowhere to go anymore—no factory to run, no friends waiting to meet her. Ponyville was new.

She could at least take a few flights around the village. She judged it the way she might any potential client for the old weather factory, counting the acres of farmland and orchards and the yards of ponies who might want to keep their turf healthy.

It was a little bigger than their usual clients—the sort of place that could afford to organize its own weather team. Maybe they would outsource an interesting storm or two over the course of the season, but that was all.

Maybe she could find herself a position on the team—or with one of the local courier services. Her life might be unraveling from the inside, but that didn't mean she had to make herself a burden for Twilight.

She resisted the urge to fly up to the dense clouds and find out. For all she knew, she might be turning to stone by evening. Ponies had done worse to her before.

She saw the train coming long before it arrived, puffing its slow way towards Ponyville from the distant heights of Canterlot. However tempted she was to fly over and board it, everypony would probably be much safer if she stayed well away. 

I don't know how my powers work. I could be putting everypony aboard in danger just by flying there.

So she fluttered back down to the library when it was time, landing on an upper balcony and slipping inside. 

Spike was back in the kitchen, though he hadn't made anything this time. Several paper boxes holding steaming food were already waiting. He lowered one cover as she walked in, pretending he hadn't been about to eat any. "Welcome back, Hurricane! Thought I would order pizza tonight. Been craving that warm, melty cheese. Just give it a few minutes, and—"

The bell rang from downstairs, and an exhausted unicorn spoke. "Home. You here, Spike?" 

"Upstairs!" he called. "Just getting ready for dinner."

Tired hoofsteps trudged up the stairs, before Twilight peeked into the kitchen. Her mane was swept back, and her empty saddlebags still seemed to weigh her down. She looked away from Hurricane as soon as she saw her. "You're here, good. You'll want to hear the news."

"That bad, huh?" Spike asked. “Should I get the girls, you think? I ordered enough for everypony."

"Yeah, I think so," she muttered, slumping into a seat across from Hurricane. "That would be great."