Father Time has his way 3 [RGRE]

>You're forced to kneel in the sand, your arms held tight by these beasts weird hooves. There's a sword against your liver, and an axe held against your neck.
>Still, if these Minotaurs sought to kill you, they'd have done it already.
>You try and throw off their grip, try and twist out of the ropes binding your wrists behind you.
“Get your hooves off me, you damned dirty cows!”
>Weirdly enough, they did let you go, though the two of them nearest you still kept their weapons pointed squarely at your chest.
>You glare at the two of them as if to challenge them even as you desperately do not want them to stab you.
>Ahead of you, you hear some man laughing. Well, probably not a man, you were apparently in ancient Greece after all. Bit sandy for Greece, but you could roll with it.
>Turning to that laughter, you see a figure step off a wooden throne. Once again, it was another Minotaur. His fur was greyer than the hunting party that had found you, one of his horns broken. He looked aged, tired.
>And amused.
>”First I've heard a captive say that. Usually, it's 'Let me go! Don't hurt me! Ahhhhh!' or something.”
>You shrug, which causes you to wince as the sharp bronze axe at your neck slightly cuts you.
“What can I say? We eat cows where I'm from.”
>”We are not cows. We are Minotaurs.”
>You turn to the one of the two younger Minotaurs who spoke, the one that was still pointing his sword at you.
“A cow on two feet is still a cow.”
>You might have deserved that punch. But being punched full force in the jaw by some Arnold looking motherfucker with hooves instead of fists hurt like a bitch.
>Falling into the sand, you try to reach up and rub your stinging jaw, but your hands are still tied behind your back.
>You spit some blood into the coarse sand and smile a bloody smile.
“You know I'm right.” You mock.
>The older Minotaur chuckles again and pulls you back up onto your feet, the two guards stepping back away from you for a moment.
>”You've got balls... Whatever you are. You'll make a good warrior slave.”
>It takes you a brief moment as your head and vision are still spinning, but you cotton on to what he just said.
“Oh fuck.” You gurgle, your tongue lingering on a now loose tooth.
>”Send him to the pits. We'll see how long this strange beast lasts in a fight.”
>Once again hooves are wrapped around your arms and you are dragged through the sand. You spit out a broken tooth and hang your head low.
>You were going to die here, plain and simple.
“I'll make bolognese out of the lot of you!” You shout.
>In vain, you try again to wiggle out of the grip around your arms, desperately glancing into the great expanse of the desert and wondering how even if you could escape you'd survive. You had almost died of thirst by the time these Minotaurs had found you.
>Luck was something you were in short supply of after all, or you wouldn't have woken up in this strange place three days ago.
>Eventually you were carried into a large tent with two Minotaur guards outside. Inside where other strange creatures. A tiny technicolour horse, something that looked like a griffon but small, even a bipedal lizard
>Most of them looked terrified as you and the Minotaurs stepped inside.
>You were dropped like a sack of potatoes, and your bindings were quickly cut off.
>You turned around and flipped them off as you stood up. They reached for their weapons.
>For a few seconds, you wonder if getting your death over and done with now would be a better idea. Instead, you spit into the sand.
>Another punch collides with your gut, and you double over as the two of them leave.

~#~

>You lean up on the bed, scratching your bare chest and the hairs upon it.
>Another dream. This one was less foul than the one you had had the night before. That one had been... Trippy. This was simple.
>And almost certainly about Nergüi. Good. At least you had stopped dreaming about your deaths over and over again.
>You shake your head, clearing your mind of such thoughts. Hopping out of bed, you're glad once again not to have to use that armrest that used to be beside the bed, and scratch your balls as you made your way into your bathroom.
>Go to the toilet, have a shower and shave off that disgusting beard. You really had some bad habits in your early twenties, and not keeping clean shaven was one of them.
>When you had done that you start to put on some actual clothes, glancing towards your new packed bag.
>Your old one was probably destroyed by falling from the sky, hopefully not killing anyone wherever it landed.
>Would you be sued for that, or would Luna?
>You shrug to the empty room just as you finish buttoning up your shirt.
>And sure enough, as if the two of you had talked about this the night before, there is a knock upon your chamber door.
“Come in.”
>A thousand times before this had happened, but for once the princess stepping into your room wasn't Celestia, or an overexcited young Candance, but Luna. The short alicorn running a hoof through her plain light blue mane.
>An action that to you seems like if you were to run a closed fist through your hair, but hey, you weren't a horse.
“Morning.”
>”How we wish it wasn't.”
>You chuckle. It turns out the Princess of the Night was a night-owl. What a surprise.
>For quite a while now you, at least since you had gotten the Head of household job fifty years ago, had learnt to be an early riser.
>The dark rings beneath the Princess' teal eyes showed that she had not learnt that. Might never learn that. Then again, you hadn't much decent sleep last night either.
“Ready to go?”
>”On yet another trip with you? Yes, please.” She says sarcastically.
>You poke her in the snout and laugh as she scrunches up her face.
“Just teleport us right to Labyrinthia, we go tomb raiding for a bit, undergo a bit of character development and be back by the end of the week.”
>Luna winches and seems to look anywhere but your face.
>”About teleporting...” She says carefully.
>Oh come on.
“What?”
>”Well... We were testing it last night. After nearly killing you by getting our destination wrong, we figured we had to make sure. And...”
>Oh come on!
“Let me guess. You weren't any more accurate?”
>”We were not. Teleporting inside mountains, beneath the Earth, in space. We might be able to survive this, but we doubt that you can teleport yourself out of bedrock, or survive for very long in the aether.”
“You would probably be correct.”
>Sighing, you glance out of the window in your room.
“Then how are we to get to Labyrinthia?”
>”We shall fly.”
>You turn back to the Princess of the Night.
“Or... We could just ask your sister to teleport us there?”
>Luna's expression... Darkens for a brief moment before she sighs and nods.
>”That would be much quicker.”
>Did she not wish to turn to her sister? Or did she just not want to teleport?
>You hated it with a passion, but you figured it wasn't so bad for the caster.
>The two of you grab your things and make your way to Celestia, who after your brief explanation agreed to teleport the two of you to the capital of Labyrinthia. From there, the rest would be up to you two.
>After yet another unpleasant time in the void between thought and reality the two of you appeared in a grand sandstone city, Knossos. Silken banners stretched across the streets, and the smell of spice and iron was thick in the air.
>You and Luna took a second to orient yourselves and catch your breaths, even the Princess complained about the teleport for once.
>”Is that how it feels for you every time?” She asks as she dry heaves, nearly throwing up into the sand beneath your feet.
“Every time. I think I can taste my sense of linear time.”
>Once that was done, you prepare for yet another Hotel, and once again discuss the plan.
“Somewhere in the desert, my tomb sits. We go to my tomb, go back a thousand years and...”
>Your voice trailed off.
>”You don't exactly know how you remembered your past life do you?”
>A false smile grows on your face.
“The things required for me to remember this life was so esoteric that I doubt they are easily reproducible. Maybe. So we'll just have to wing it.”
>”Brilliant plan Anon. Why don't we just wing this whole trip. We love travelling across the world because our damned sister insisted you need...”
>Luna took a few deep breathes to calm herself.
“It worked last time.”
>”And will it ever again? Do you need to remember everyone you ever were? Is Brightsmile not enough?”
“No. I will remember them all.”
>”And what? When you die, you'll just have to repeat this all over again.”
>You growl beneath your breath as the two of you move through the shadowed streets of Knossos.
“You don't know that.”
>”Neither do you.”
>You turn to the alicorn.
“What else have I got? This is the closest I've ever come to knowing why I am here! I cannot just... Forget that I am here and have been for at least a millennia. I have to see this through!”
>”No. You want to. You want to try and do the impossible and search externally for meaning to your own existence, when you should know by now that you will not find it!”
“Big words coming from you. You who will never truly fear death. You who gets to watch the world go by, content you shall never have to face the dark! Can you even be killed?”
>Luna growled.
>”And are you so different? You're immortal as well Anonymous.”
“I have died at least twenty times. Most of them I was sure of their realness, and the finality of their death. That's hardly what I would call immortality.”
>”Oh woe is me, 'I get to live forever at the cost of forgetting a few memories, isn't life sooo hard' I was banished for a thousand years for something we didn't even do! Our own Sister threw us aside!”
>The two of you had kept walking and had found yourselves outside of a hotel.
“I...”
>What could you say?
>You sigh, running a hand through your hair.
>”And because we can't teleport, we are stuck here with you!”
“Luna... Let's just... Let's get some rooms.”
>Luna again runs a hoof through her hair.
>”Right.”
>And she barges through the curtain of beads that made the front entrance of the hotel. With another sigh, you follow after her.
>Luna is at the desk, talking to a six-foot Minotaur about a room. It was strange to once again be around creatures your own size. At least height wise, there was no way you were as thicc as they were.
>Even the Minotauress behind the counter had broader shoulders than you.
>Luna glances at you, nods slightly to the desk, and makes her way sullenly to her room. Thoughts and apologies rush through your mind, but they fade like so much of yourself has before, and you just make your way to book your own room.

~#~

>The two of you barely speak to each other as you eat breakfast. You hide like a coward behind a Labyrinthia history book, she... Just does as she wants, and that apparently is to eat toast in silence.
>Part of you wants to say something. Desperately searching for something to tell the Princess of the Night. But you fear speaking will only break the silence and bring each of your wrath's upon each other again.
>It's not like only she had grievances. She had killed you before after all. She also broke your ribs, cut your face and chained you up. Oh right, that was 'Nightmare Moon', not her. What fucking...
>Breathe.
>Breathe.
>You calm yourself, returning to the history book for a few seconds.
>And you cannot help yourself.
“Did you know this whole desert used to be a maze?”
>You don't even need to look up from your book, you can hear the Princess of the Night roll her eyes.
>”We were aware. The clue might be in the name.” She says drolly.
“Apparently the wind and time have eroded it into this desert.”
>”Yes. We have visited this place before.”
>Now you do glance up, looking her in her azure eyes, quietly asking her to continue for a moment.
>She sighs, and though she tries to hide it there is a ghost of a smile on her lips.
>”We visited to collect you as the ambassador for the kingdom, but also to show off our power compared to this new nation. Raising the Sun and Moon made it clear Labyrinthia shouldn't try and fight us.”
“What was I like?”
>”Like you are now. Defiant. Rude. Personable, but withdrawn. Less obsessed, mellower with age. More... Melancholic at the time, but you hid it well.”
“And yourself?”
>Luna's smile grows strained, breaks a little under the question.
>”We... Hide our own suffering well. Celestia's perfect little sister.”
>You wince a little.
“How long before my death was this?” You ask, careful not to call it before her banishment.
>She ignores your attempt at tact.
>”Three... Maybe four years before our banishment at most. You were essentially removed from the capital because you didn't have a true son, and it was feared you might seize power should either of your adoptive brothers die, or become Kingmaker for one of their many children.”
>You question her a little, not too sure on the details of this past life of yours a thousand years ago.
“I was a slave, right? Originally?”
>”That was the myth we were told. The three of you had changed your past to suit your needs. Whatever made the masses worship you more. So your adoptive brothers became prophesied heroes, and you became the slave that rose from nothing to become King by quick wit and genius.”
“I suppose you have a far dimmer view of my intelligence?” You challenge, with a smirk.
>”You clambered onto the roof of a castle to challenge an evil demon with the power to kill you with a thought. And then were surprised when you died. Forgive us if we hold such stories in doubt.”
>You chuckle.
“You were the one that killed me. And hey, my plan worked didn't it?”
>You mentally punch yourself for what just past your lips as Luna looks down back to her toast, all joy in reminiscing about the past gone from her face.
“Sorry. That was ill-mannered of me. It has still been a while since I've actually been the head of Celestia's household, and my manners have slipped...”
>”We don't know the you that served Celestia. I knew the you that once ruled this place...”
>She gestures to the whole room. You doubt you once ruled a hotel's bar.
>”And a far younger you.”
“We are the same person. I've just got a little more... Experience.”
>A few memories rush through your mind. Pleasant ones. You looming over Gleamshine, she sweating slightly from...
>”Are you?”
>The question makes you pause.
“You're wondering if the... God, this is hard to put into words.”
>”If the Anon we knew died when he remembered who you are now. Yes.”
>You consider it. Seriously think about it. It was a question you yourself struggled to answer sometimes.
>All you can respond with is a shrug.
“I remember everything I did before. Parts of my life as a card cheat and Butler have been lost to the fog of memory and age, but I certainly remember you coming to get me from that hospital bed. I half remember diving into the Central Park lake.”
>”We suppose that is a question without a real answer.”
“I could write a treatise on the concept of the self if you want. But I figure that we both want to get back to Canterlot sooner rather than later.”
>”Do I?”
>Her question to herself puzzles you.
>You wait for her to hopefully explain her introspection.
>”What is there for me? I can't raise the moon. I can barely teleport myself safely. I can't go into Ponies' dreams yet. I'm too weak to help Celestia rule. And maybe I'll never be stronger.”
>You look at her. In your dream of the death of Nergüi, she had looked far more like her sister. Taller, with a flowing mane of stars and void. This pony could be mistaken for any other. Doubly so, since she was using her illusion to hide her wings again. She was short. With a simple mane and tail of teal or light blue.
>”Maybe that's why sister sent us away. So we can try and do something over then fail at being her equal. I mean, it didn't work for me a thousand years ago, why should it work now?”
>You want to hug her and tell her it will get better, but you aren't sure it would. But you have to say something.
“She didn't send you away. You read her diary. She wanted nothing more than to have you back. Has been planning for a thousand years to get her sister, the one that she loves, back.”
>”Then why am I here?”
>You almost smile, so used to asking that question yourself, it was funny to hear someone else ask that of you.
“Do you want to find out?”
>You open the book up to a certain page and slide it across to her.
>”The tomb of the three kings” it reads.
“I think it's time I saw my own dead body. A thousand years after the fact, but it's there none the less.”
>Luna looks down at the page, and you can see a twinge of sadness as she reads the words written on you. Forgotten as simply the Minotaur brother that had no true children.
>Then she looks back to you.
>”It says it was lost to the sands. Buried beneath the Earth.”
“I know. We'll have to find it out there in the wastes.”
>”We won't be able to.”
“We'll hire some locals. It says that some of them know its rough location. We'll take care of the rest..”
>”Are you sure? Do you need to know about this version of yourself? You remember his death do you not?”

>Your mind lingers on what you had said on that dark bench in your dream. That remembering that dead king of this country would not only be for your benefit. But also hers.

“I think it would be good for both of us.”

~#~

>You grip what is little better than a fire poker in your hand.
>The roaring Minotaur charges at you, swinging a rock on a rope. Hardly the most delicate of weapons, but crude in its effectiveness.
>It forces you to keep your distance, to stay light on your feet and to duck and dodge constantly, much to the contention of the crowd who were shouting at you or the other Minotaur to get it over with and kill each other.
>Each great swing tires out the Minotaur more and more. You at least still have your reserves of strength. You haven't eaten well for a week, only had the barest rations of water. You smell like shit and sweat from sharing a cramped tent with four other animals.
>But you still have endurance.
>You cannot hope to charge in and slay this animal now, but you just have to wait him out.
>You duck beneath the return swing, the boulder sailing over your head and the Minotaur half roaring half mooing in fury.
>He's built like a brick shithouse, you're almost skin and bones by this point.
>But he swings too far, overcommits, and is nearly taken off his feet as the rock sails behind him. He yanks on the rope harshly to get his weapon back under control.
>He turns this motion into an overhead swing. Powerful and would easily kill you if it connects.
>But a simple hop back is enough to get you away, and even though your eyes are stinging from sand being thrown into your face and eyes, you aren't as screwed as he is. He slowly drags the boulder through the sand towards himself, unable to heft it up by the rope alone, and you take the opportunity.
>Charging forwards, you jump onto the boulder and then towards him.
>You can see the brief moment of indecision on his face. To keep his hands on the rope and not let go of his weapon, or to drop it.
>His indecision cripples him as you jam the poker into his shoulder, only by using the momentum behind your jump and the adrenaline in your veins can you pierce his thick hide and flesh.
>The beast and you fall into the sand, the Minotaur on his back screaming, and you standing atop him.
>You look away from your foe, and towards the Tribal chieftain.
>From the other prisoners, you knew he was Chief Chadvargüi, of the Long Hooves. Apparently the leader of less than 300 tribal Minotaurs. But he held the power of both your and your opponent's life in his hooves.
>As the Minotaur continued to squeal and scream in pain, mostly from you twisting the poker in his shoulder, you spoke to the Chief.
“You've got your blood.” You spit out.
>The Chieftain laughs.
>”No need to kill a fine warrior. Congratulations strange beast. You're on full rations now.”

>And that first victory soon beget many others. At first, only in what it would be charitable to call an amphitheatre but was really a few wooden posts in the sand wherever the tribe settled for a few days. You fought against other strange beasts and slaves that the Tribe captured, or against some of the more daring tribal warriors.
>Then, after enough victories, you fought as a warrior in their tribe, against the others in the desert and steppe.
>But it was not only your fighting ability that grew with time but your ability to plan such fights and battles. The Minotaurs at first fought only in wave tactics, crashing against their enemies with no regard for reserves, formation or barely for their lives. More intent on raiding the enemies camp than making sure their foe couldn't regroup and reorganise.
>Bless them, they took “Bullheaded” to its logical conclusion.
>You changed that. Basic tactics that you half-remembered from history classes or posting on a Tibetan monastery shitposting forum now put into practice.
>It was all a bit convenient, and how the fuck these tribes had lasted so long without learning how to even raid effectively you had no idea.
>But then again, they insisted that the Sun and Moon were somehow raised and set by two magical ponies, so maybe there's high lead content in the drinking water.
>And apparently just a few hundred years ago the world was under the savage control of a chaos god.
>Sometimes, it's hard to tell if this is just a fever dream or you really did end up in another world.
>You could have lived the rest of your life in semi-comfort as a valued but not overly important member of a tribe of Minotaurs. An advisor, paid in gold, food and water, maybe even the odd concubine. That should have put you off, but after about two years you figured you weren't going to be snapping out of your coma dream anytime soon.
>And when in Rome, do as... Minotaurs do.
>Or do Minotauress', you weren't picky.
>But then, Chadvargüi had to adopt you. Just had to make you one of his family. And then die.
>Chadvargüi had seven legitimate sons, and about 16 illegitimate ones. And you, the adoptive one. All of whom had a shot at taking over the rule of the tribe. All of whom knew that only one could rule. Only one would be allowed to live, for any brother was a threat to that rule.
>Including you.
>And so, only four years after arriving in this strange world of mythical and talking beasts, you found yourself trying to fight for your lives against Minotaurs that considered you their brother.
>At the start of the week, there were 23 honed warriors, not including yourself, in line for the 'throne'. Near the end of that same week, there would only be three. And the other two Minotaurs wanted to kill you first, then each other.
>Family reunions fucking suck.

~#~

>You keep your sword trained on your last two brothers. You had already slew Hastur and Chagatai in self-defence, two more would be no great addition to that list.
“I don't even want the throne guys.” You stress again, insisting that they let you leave for parts unknown.
>Khuchtei wielding his great axe turns to you
>”Our father made you our brother Anonymous. Like or not, only one of his sons may live.”
>”Brother. Anonymous is not our brother by blood. Let us kill him, then we can decide which of us may rule by vote.”
>Fucking Gaikhaltai, always trying to talk his way out of trouble.
“Fuck's sake guys, I don't want to kill you.”
>”Nor I you brother. But succession demands...”
>An idea rushes through your head.
“Fuck succession.”
>Alright, it wasn't exactly a great or well-formed one, but it was an idea.
>”I'd rather not.” Gaikhaltai said with a wry grin.
“Think about it. Sure, it made sense for there to be a single chieftain back when we ruled a mere three hundred Minotaur and their slaves. But now we are a clan of four thousand. You saw how difficult it was for your... Our father to rule. And what if we expand?”
>”Expand?” Asked Gaikhaltai greedily.
>You smile
“What is to say we can only rule the Long Hooves? I say we take it all.”
>”All?” Khuchtei asked.
“All of the sands and ruins of the maze. All of the Minotaur lands and its people beneath a single banner. Beneath our banner.”
>”None have united the land of Labyrinthia since the fall of the Old Kingdom.”
“None alone. But together...”
>You turn to Khuchtei.
“Your strength.”
>You turn to Gaikhaltai.
“Your cunning and wit.”
>Finally, you lower your sword to point to your chest, bearing it if they so wished to strike you down.
“And with my... Well, planning I guess, we can rule Labyrinthia.”
>Khuchtei looked down to his axe.
>”... I do not want more of my kin's blood on my hands”
>”Khuchtei? Surely you don't trust this slave pretending to be Kin?”
>”It is enough Gaikhaltai. If I kill him, I shall simply have to kill you too? Do you want that?”
>The weaker brother of the two of them considered for a moment, perhaps weighing his chances of simply cutting down his far more martially fit brother and killing me quickly. But you saw the hesitation in his shaking eyes. Eventually, he dropped his sword in the dry dirt beneath him, the first of us to actually throw aside our weapons.
>”You're right. Damn thee. Let us all rule together, or die together then.”

~#~

>”The tomb of the three kings?”
>The Minotaur guide breathed out.
>”None have seen it for three hundred years. It's buried in the sands.”
>You tap your forehead, just below your obligatory Laurence of Arabia turban.
“I have a few leads on where it might be.”
>That was a lie of course, how could you hope to even possibly remember something that happened after another version of you died?
>The Minotaur looks the two of you up and down, squinting as he looks at Luna's back as if he might peer through the illusion.
>He turns to one of the Minotauress'. She was far more heavily armed than the guide, with two wicked looking curved blades at her shapely hips, and bronze lamellar armour covering her.
>”Hey, if he says he knows where it is, I ain't complaining about the work.”
>She shrugs as she says this.
>The guide turns back to you.
>”We'll take the job.”
>You smile and shake his hoof, as Luna looks cautiously at the three warrior Minotaurs glaring back at her.
“Don't stare; it's rude.” You whisper to her as you let go of the guide's hoof.
>She opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again.
>”We'll leave tomorrow.” Said the guide.

~#~

“We'll leave tomorrow.”
>”Are you mad brother? Our full force shall not be ready until at least the end of the week. We've only fifteen hundred against...”
“If we wait for longer, the other tribes shall continue to join the alliance against us. As few as we are, now is probably the closest in parity our forces shall have against one another.”
>”They are double our number. We can still call upon another thousand warriors. If we wait...” Gaikhaltai insisted.
“If we wait how many more tribes will align against us to keep the status quo? How many shall flock to his side? No. Now, while he is still getting his camp in order, we strike when he doesn't expect us. Let Khuchtei continue his campaign against the smaller tribes in the east. We shall destroy this alliance before it can truly form and force them to bend the knee to us.”
>Gaikhaltai considered. In truth, you yourself weren't entirely sure if this was the right decision. You were used to being the one urging caution when your brothers wanted to fight far-flung wars without lines of supply or with little gold on hand.
>But whereas Khuchtei only begrudgingly followed your orders, usually when he had already failed in just throwing himself against the enemy, Gaikhaltai usually easily saw the wisdom in your words.
>”Can we win? We've bested the odds before, but this is two to one.”
“Fifty-fifty. The army we're facing is not a coherent single unit like ours, but a loose alliance of tribes, all of whom are really just looking out for themselves. They set up their latrines upriver from their drinking water, barely remember to set watches and most are more intent on raiding our camp than winning a battle.”
>”I hope you are right.”
“Tell the men an inspiring speech. That's what you are really good at.”
>”I hope that's not all I'll be remembered for.”
>You shrug.
“Depends if we win this fight or not. So, fifty-fifty.”
>Your brother lightly punches you, nearly launching you off your feet.
>”I hope your as chipper to die now as you shall be on the battlefield.”
>Gaikhaltai picked up a bronze sword and threw it easily at you.
>You snatch the blade out of the air with both hands and fully realise what he just said.

~#~

>You pull the wrap over your face as sandstorm begins to pick up around you. The wind and dust roaring, scratching and tearing at any bit of exposed skin. Luna desperately kept up a forcefield around her, but in her weakened state, it was unlikely she would be able to keep it up for long.
>Once again, you were glad you alone seemed to be fully dressed in this universe.
“We best find shelter!”
>Your not sure if your shouts can be heard over the wind. You can barely see more than a few metres around you. Only just making out Luna because she was near to you.
>”What?” You hear above the sand.
>Fuck it.
>You pick up the pony into your arms, much to her contention, throw what loose clothing you had over her.
“Come on. Keep up your shitty forcefield; let's see if we can't find some of those maze ruins to hide in.”
>She struggles for a few seconds in your grip, but eventually resigns herself to your 'imprisonment' and her horn lights up again.
>Desperately wanting to rub your eyes free of the sand, instead you walk forwards, trying to find something to hide in.
>The entire world seemed to come alight with a low orange almost red haze
>Through the sand and dust, you can make out shadowed shapes moving through the red. The Minotaurs you assume.
>Luna focuses more, and the hail of dust and sand abates a little around you.
>Blinking your eyes free of the sand, you start to lose the others into the dust.
>Their shapes and shadows gone, you and Luna are alone.

>For how long you walked through the storm you could not say. But it was long enough that the Orange glow seemed to be slowly fading to a blood red. Soon enough it would be dark, and if the storm did not abate...
>The desert grew cold at night. A bitter harsh chill that ate at your strength least you set a fire to huddle near. Your strength was already leaving you, for you couldn't eat in the dust clouds, least you wanted to eat mostly stone and sand. Not very appetising. Most of your water had been with the Minotaurs, and what little you two had in your waterskins might run out, especially if you needed to wash your mouth out to get rid of the sand.
>Still, you walk. Your feet sinking into the rolling sands.
“Just a little further...” You lie to Luna, still in your weakening arms.
>It had not escaped your notice you might die in this storm. Luna... She would survive. An immortal alicorn, probably at worst she'd go hungry for a few days. But you were flesh and blood. You were weak. Eighty years of living had not prepared you for this. Perhaps no amount of living would.
>And what would happen to you? The you that had lived two lives so far? Would there be a third? Or would you return to that stranger, the man you were a few months ago, and the man you were over fifty years ago?
>”Anon...”
>You look down to Luna.
>”Let's sit for a while.” She whispers. How you can hear her above the roaring wind you don't know, but it sounds like a good suggestion.
>You walk a little further to reach a small clump of sand standing up out of the rolling expanse and lie down, the Alicorn goddess still in your arms.
>Staying as low as you can, trying to use the small hillock as cover.
>The two of you hold each other closer as night draws in.
>For a moment, the thought crosses your mind that Luna should find comfort in the night.
>But this is not her night. It's her sister's, as it has been for a thousand years.
>You lay there, struggling not to shiver as the Blood red sand around you cools to a deep purple haze.
“Can you magic us up a fire or something?”
>Luna tries. Honestly, she does. And fire does shoot out of her horn. But the fire fades quickly, with nothing to fuel it beyond her magic and torn apart by the wind.
>”Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” you whisper.
>”Don't fall asleep.” Luna pleads.
“Why not?”
>”We... We aren't sure you shall wake up.”
>It was only sand. But maybe if the two of you slept you'd be buried in it. That was not a nice thought.
“If... If I do go, it shall not be here.”
>”We hope so.”
>You stroke her mane, mainly to do something with your shaking hand.
>God it was cold.
>You want to distract yourself from the cold.
“When did we first meet?”
>A strange question to ask normally, but your life was pretty fucking strange at this point.
>”Hmm? Oh. We met during some grand ball or something to greet the ambassador of Labyrinthia to Equestria. We talked for a bit.”
“Want to remind me?”
>You grip her tighter as the temperature continues to drop. She isn't much warmer than you are, but she's got more insulation than you.
>”...Why not. It was about one thousand and eight years ago...”

~#~

>You really could do without the pomp and circumstance. You know it isn't for you, or even really for the ambassador. It's for her, as it always is.
>But the bugles finally stop playing, and the strange Minotaur ambassador could finally stop standing there awkwardly.
>”Thank you.”
>And that was that. There was no long speech, no desperate need to talk about how splendid the drapes looked or chit chat about whatever came to his mind. You could tell by the look he had shared with you that he considered all this ridiculous.
>Well, he was a king of savage Minotaurs. It was likely that the closest they came to such ceremonies was wrestling or not killing each other.
>Their King and Ambassador was strange. He clearly wasn't a Minotaur, the lack of horns and hooves gave that away. Most of his fur, or rather hair you suppose, was on the top of his head. Carefully groomed, swept to the left. He wore a small circlet of iron, a simple thing that even your sister would have thought was a little modest for royalty. She hated the finery and crown she had to wear but realised the power in such trappings of rule.
>Their king seems to actively hate it. He wore a simple shirt of dark blue silk atop black trousers of what you think was Minotaur leather, which was... Interesting for him to wear as their king. Though you suppose unlike you and Celestia who ruled by consent of the people, he and his brothers had forged their throne in bronze and blood.
>The court pars, some going into their own groups to talk amongst themselves, others clinging to your sister to bask in her presence, like moths to a flame.
>The Minotaur king all but ignored by the ponies, he instead walked towards you, snatching a glass of wine from one of the servants as he passed.
>”So... You must be Princess Luna.”
“We are.”
>He smiled. A strange smile, you could see his canines. His teeth were strange. They had a weird mishmash of teeth in them. Some flat, some sharp, some thin.
>”I've heard about you from my people. I didn't initially believe that the Sun and Moon were actually controlled by two ponies here, but turns out, here you are.”
“Here? How could you not know?”
>Your tone was hardly diplomatic, but few ambassadors or courtiers bothered to talk to you.
>You expected the bull to be offended by your question, but instead, he merely laughed it off.
“I'm not from around here. Here, being the planet. I'm from another world.”
>Ah.
>The King of the Minotaurs is insane. Maybe that's why his brothers exiled him.
“... Right.”
>He laughs again. A low thing that starts in his chest, rather than the polite giggle you were used to hearing.
>”Hey, no skin off my back if you believe me or not.”
>He takes a swig of wine, emptying the glass in a single gulp.
>Once he finished his glass you could see he was about to simply drop it onto the floor, but his manners won out. He saw that you saw his action.
>“Sorry. I'm used to Minotaur manners. And they are nearly non-existent.”
“Of course.” You say drolly.
>”So... God, this is boring.”
>Oh, he was just coming out and admitting that talking to you bored him? That was at least honest.
>”I mean, look at them all. As if they've never seen your sister before.”
>To your confusion, he was pointing at the rabble squabbling for your sister's precious time.
“Oh. Yes. Well, she raises the sun. One can expect a certain level of admiration for that.”
>He chuckles. It's a nice chuckle. Deep and sonorous.
>”The sun and moon have apparently moved long before you two appeared a hundred years ago. And it does happen every day.”
“Your blasé dismissal of our abilities that ensure all life on the planet survives is most appreciated.”
>He gently pats you on the head. A bold move, even from one monarch to another. You should take those strange appendages for that.
>”You might have the rest of them tricked, but I know better. Come on. One King to a Princess. You can admit you're just taking credit.”
>His words are harsh and accusing. They seek to belittle you, to take away your purpose in life and to destroy who you are.
>But his tone is light. His voice is full of jest. His smile far too wry and his eyes seem to share that same smirk he wears.
>Perhaps you ought not to destroy him.
“And you, Triarch Anonymous? Did you truly unite the clans and chieftains of the Labyrinthia plains and deserts beneath a single banner, forge a nation from the sands and dirt? Or were you merely lucky?”
>His smile seems to grow. He enjoys being challenged.
>”Who could say?”
>What an infuriating non-answer.
“So why are you here Anonymous?”
>”In the cosmic sense?” He asks back sarcastically.
“You ought to know what we meant.”
>He chuckles again.
>”Indeed. Well, my Brothers and I are ageing. Their Children are growing up, old enough to have roles in the governance of the realm. Old enough to look to our thrones and wait with bated breath.”
“And your children?”
>The question seems to wound him.
>”I... I have and shall have no children. I am not one of them. For all their talk of us being brothers, I've always remembered that.”
>He looks into his empty glass still in his hand. There aren't tears in his eyes or any shaking in his voice. Even his smile barely broke.
>But you can tell this has hurt him.
“We...”
>A princess does not apologise. Remember that.
“We were not sure you were not simply a strange Minotaur.”
>”No. Just a man.”
>A man? What manner of beast is that? Well, you suppose he is that beast.
>He coughs, perhaps to pretend to clear his throat, but more like to distract himself from the images your question no doubt has brought to his mind.
>”As far as I know, I'm the only one of my kind here. There shall not be another like me. And with that, my Brothers and my nephews fear I may try something desperate or dangerous to keep the throne. If my brothers die before me I become the most powerful and experienced leader of Labyrinthia, and I alone would choose who replaces me.”
>He swaps his empty glass with a full one a passing servant carries on her head. You cannot help but notice the polite thank you and the genuine smile he sends the servant. An oddity, one did not typically talk to the help.
>”If I did so, I would only piss off anyone I didn't choose. With our new nation needing an ambassador with the power and intelligence behind them to act alone thousands of miles here, and with my ever-growing threat to the succession looming, I agreed to be sent here.”
“It is nice to know our great nation is seen as a place to exile.”
>”Not exile. Merely... distract.”
“Are you sure there are no other... Mans like you?”
>”There are no men like me. Only me.”
>He tries to perk himself up, plastering a falser, larger smile on his face.
>”But my legacy... What a legacy that shall be. The strange alien from another world that came to Labyrinthia and forged a nation out of hundreds of Tribes. I won't be forgotten, at least that I can be sure of.”
“Worst comes to worst, sister and we shall outlive you. We might even remember you.”
>He chuckles again.
>”There we go. I'm immortal as long as you are.”
>He raises his glass, and a small smile threatens to grow on your own face. You fight it off. That was below your dignity.

~#~

>With your arms still around the small Alicorn, you kick your feet to push off the sand collecting on your body.
“Why does every story about me end depressingly?”
>You direct your question more to the Storm than Luna herself.
>”Sorry. We... The story hardly gets better as time moves on.”
“Right. You... You go mad.”
>”Nightmare moon...”
“Let's not do this now.”
>”Agreed.”
>The sand still roars around you. Every few minutes you have to drag the two of you out of the sand, to prevent yourselves being buried within it.
>The energy had almost been taken from you. Three days walking through the sands, now having to stay awake at least till this storm died down. Luna had to drop the forcefield for similar reasons. Perhaps the two of you could sleep in shifts. But if you did, you weren't sure you could stay awake alone.
>You needed Luna just as much as she needed you.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally punched Princess Cadance in the face?”
>”No?”
>A grin grows on your face, replacing the sombre grimace hidden beneath your face wrappings.
“So... Once in a blue moon, I used to go drinking with the staff. This was back when I was still doing my job as Celestia's head of household. Must've been about... 14 or so years ago? Anyway, Celestia didn't want Cadance on her own in the castle, so she followed us to the pub...”

~#~

>You open your eyes. And immediately blink them clear as light seems to shine directly into them.
“Are we alive?”
>You feel something sharp scratch against your cheek, and you wince at the scar on your face reopens.
>”Hmm? I guess so.” Luna replies.
>You sit up, shrugging off some of the sand still clinging to your clothes. As you do so, you can smell your ungodly awful odour. You hadn't properly washed in three days, maybe you should have expected this.
>You look to a new dawn. A blood red sun just cresting the horizon, its light pushing the stars aside. You spot lizards moving across the sands, sitting with their backs away from it on black smooth rocks poking out of the ground.
>You look across the bleak landscape, the soft sands moving likes waves in the low wind, the horizon only broken by the odd black smooth rocks. The ancient ruins of the great labyrinth that gave this country its name.
>You glance to the sun, placing your hand on your brow.
>She had put some real work into this one. Though her design had always amazed you. The way the light bounced off the sands, the beams scattering against the glass like horizon.
>With a brief sigh, a content smile on your face, you check your waterskin.
>Hopefully, what was left was going to be enough. Hopefully, you could find your guides. Hopefully, you could find your own tomb somewhere in this great expanse of sands and dust.
>And with it, get your past back.
>You shake the skin, and the water within that half-filled container sloshes about.
>You were no desert wanderer. You had no idea how much water that actually was. Was it enough to get you there? Was it enough to get you back?
>Time to find out.

~#~

>The sun bared down upon you. Celestia's great eye boring into your clothes and what little skin you exposed to the dry air, cooking them slightly.
>It had taken nearly an hour of the two of you wandering through the sands, but you came upon what you had privately feared.
>There was a large hillock in the golden sand, freshly formed. Already you knew what was buried inside, for a single decaying hoof slowly being covered in flies stuck out. The skin looked almost bleached already beneath the oppressive star above, though it is more likely the unfortunate Minotaur had suffocated in his sleep, unable to stay awake and fight off the storm.
>You mutter a quiet, half-forgotten prayer in their tongue, an errant memory floating around in your head, then begin to uncover him.
>”What are you doing?”
>Luna looks at you appalled, but you have your reasons for grave robbery.
“This is our guide. Not only do we need what little water he has on him, but if he has a map of the landscape it will make the difference between life and death in this place.”
>She wants to argue. You can hear it in the way she shifts her weight on her hooves behind you, the way you can almost hear the argument form on her lips. But eventually, she lowers her head, focuses, and lets her horn glow.
>You stop digging as the sand simply falls away, and the body is uncovered. It is a foul thing, cracked and dried out already, sand filling his lifeless cheeks and covering his soulless eyes.
>”I know not of Minotaur funeral custom, but we should try...”
>You pull out the sack still strapped around his broad shoulders and look inside. Sure enough, three filled waterskins, some bread and the map. The bread and map were covered in sand, but you would hardly complain.
>You remember what Silvertouch had once told you of his want to be buried here, in the sands of his homeland.
“Here is as good a place as any for him.”
>Luna silently nods her head, and the sand begins to pile upon him again as you stand up, watching the desert devour his body.
“Hardly knew thee.”
>Perhaps you should have been more compassionate, but you yourself had died a hundred times before. You remember at least two.
>You throw his bag over your shoulder, then walk away. Luna follows only once the Minotaur has been completely buried.
>With the map in your hand, and knowing which direction is east only by the grace of the still rising sun, you try and read the writing.
>It is not your own language. The strange scrawls barely resembling words or letters that you understood.
>You knew it once though. Once, you were their king. Once, you had even taught it to others.
“Can you read this?”
>Luna trots closer towards you and takes the map from your hands. Now alone, you notice her wings again.
>She tries. An honest try. She even mouths a few words. But after nearly a minute she shakes her head.
>”Sorry.”
>You sigh. You had visions before. Perhaps... Perhaps you could force one.
“Luna... I need to go to sleep. Right now.”
>”... Okay.”
“I know that you were once the princess of the dreamscape. Can you make me dream?”
>”We can not... We... I'm afraid.”
>That was not quite the answer you were either hoping for nor expected.
“Surely you have done it every night?”
>”A thousand years ago perhaps. When I was whole. What am I now?”
>You once again take her in. The weakened princess, no taller than the average pony. Her mane a simple light blue, not the flowing field of aether and Stars you saw in your dreams.
“You're still the same person. Pony. Whatever. Still Luna.”
>For a moment, she cannot say anything. Simply looking at the ground. You'd be annoyed at her identity crisis we're it not a problem you were well used to yourself now.
>”I...”
>She takes a deep breath, and steels herself.
>”We can try.”
>You nod your head. The two of you walk through the desert towards a great oily black stone wall, an ancient remnant of the once great maze that made up this kingdom.
>In the shade of this relic you sit down cross-legged, your head level with her own.
>She starts to point her horn at you, insecurity and fear clear on her face.
“I know you can do this Luna. Just... Get me to dream of the Anonymous you can remember. The one that can read this language.”
>Luna gently places the map in your lap as she starts to really concentrate.
>”Just... We've done this before. A thousand times over.”
>You shoot her a confident, consoling smile, though it is hidden beneath your face wrappings.
“What's one more?”
>She nods her head, aims, and...
>You are gone.

>You pat your chest, wheezing and coughing. Shivering. Somehow you are freezing and boiling at the same time. You clutch your abdomen, feeling for the hole that should be there.
>You desperately tear away the restrictive clothing. And confirm. That gaping chest wound that the mad goddess of the night gave you is gone.
>A barking laugh escapes your lips as you look up, all fears of the void and your death leaving you in those breaths.
>Until you see her.
>She looked different than she just had. Gone was the blue steel armour. The shadowed mane. The fangs and fury.
>Apparently along with most of her height.
>But you recognised that face. Those eyes. That glowing horn.
>You flinch away from the mare that had just killed you.
“You!”
>A gauntlet of emotions rush through you. You want to strangle her, you want to flee. You want to kiss the ground and thank it for being alive, you want to know why you are in a desert and not on the roof of a castle.
>”Anon?”
>Far from the domineering and wroth tone of Nightmare Moon, this was meek. This was broken. Not even the madness of Luna in her last days. This was a pony devoid of even that strength born from envy and madness.
“Back! I will not die!”
>You stand and move to punch. Do the things you desperately wish you had done to that mad goddess on that castle roof, rather than meekly stand there and get shot in the gut.
>She flinches, jumping back. The action confuses you. Even Luna, not Nightmare Moon, would not have been so meek and mild to flinch from a punch. She would have kicked you before you had the chance, or bound you in her magic. Anything but cower like a beaten dog.
>It makes you pause.
“What... What happened to you?”
>”Anonymous?”
“I am asking the questions. I deserve that much after what you did to me!”
>”What... What did we do to you?”
>What? How could she not know?
“What? You fucking... You tried to kill me!”
>The answer does not reduce the confusion and fear on her face.
>”What?”
“We were just there! I tried to talk you down from wiping out all life on the planet, you shot me through the chest.”
>Nightmare Moon's expression changes rapidly. From confusion, to remembrance, to realisation, all within a few seconds.
>”What is the last thing you remember?”
>The question cuts you. You remember a sunrise. A letter burning its way through your shirt. Celestia looking away.
>Letting go.
“I... I died? Didn't I?”
>”I am not Nightmare Moon, Anonymous. You are a thousand years in the future, temporarily held here so long as I keep this spell up.”
>You look to the still glowing horn, and the beads of sweat dripping from her brow.
“So long as...”
>You pat your chest. This was your body, but it was not you. Gone was the age and wrinkles, the scars of decades of fighting in Labyrinthia.
>And you realise. You had let go. Ready or not, you had gone.
>Your life, your memory was held by a thread, by the magic of the very mare that had killed you.
>So long as that blue light shone, you were here. Should the light fade, so would you.
“How... How am I here?”
>”That is a long story. There is another... Another version of you here. We need to read a map, written in Minotaurian, and we thought he could dream enough of your past life to learn the words we need to seek. We did not seek to bring you here instead.”
>You pat your chest again, and a phantom itch and pain sear your fingers as they touch your bare chest.
>A thousand questions and desperate pleas are born and die on your tongue in moments. To somehow keep the spell going forever. To not let you fall asleep and go into that long dark again.
>But this was not you. You were on a castle roof having watched your last sunrise.
“What is the place you seek?”
>Nightmare Moon's face turns to the map fluttering in the wind sat upon the sands.
>”A place called the tomb of the three kings.”
“My...”
>A thousand years.
“My tomb?”
>”There is... There is a lot to explain, and we don't truly have time.”
“You...”
>Take a breath.
“You are going to kill me again. When that spell ends, so shall my life.”
>It wasn't a plea. It wasn't an admonishment or an attempt to bargain. It was merely a statement of fact. One you were trying to fully realise in your mind. That you had not escaped your death on that roof, and that the dark was coming for you.
>”I didn't kill you. It was Nightmare...”
>She shakes her head, then pushes the map towards you with her hoof, her eyes pleading with you even as she strains to keep the spell going.
>”Please.”
>You look to the map, the map of the great Labyrinthia basin, mapping out the great sands made from the eroded maze that once sat here even before your time.
>And with a heavy heart, you point to the words you recognise, in a tongue you had learnt as a slave here, a lifetime ago.
“Here. I'm guessing...”
>You look around, trying to remember the land you ruled, that you would only return to in a coffin.
“If you are where I think you are, another four days on foot travel. Maybe five or six.”
>You look down at your temporary vessel, one so familiar yet so different to your normal body.
>And then your gaze turns to your murderer. The strain is clearly now, the sparks and bolts of energy cracking against her horn.
>She would not be able to keep the spell up for much longer, and you would come to the dark.
>You cannot let go of yourself, or the intense betrayal and anger you hold for the mare that is about to kill you again.
“You killed me, Nightmare Moon. With my last breath...”
>And the spell breaks.
>And you are gone.

>You splutter, desperately touching your body as you awaken to confirm it was there.
>Feeling the sun on your skin, the sand scratching at you and seeing light again, you were assured you were back from that awful place.
>Far from dreaming of your past life, you had entered a terrible void, without light, heat or sensation. Worse even than that place you suffered to exist in whenever you were teleported.
>You turn to Luna, who looks as white as a sheet.
“Did you see what I dreamt?”
>She slowly shakes her head as tears form at the edges of her eye, but she sniffles and pulls them back.
“So that was a waste of...”
>”I know... We know where it is.”
>Oh.
>She places her hoof on the map, pointing to a circle with strange letters beneath it.
>”Here.”
“Are you alright?”
>Luna stares into your eyes, desperately searching for something in them. You try to look understanding and sympathetic, but that only seems to distress her more.
>”We... We are fine.”
>She helps you to your feet, more careful with you than she had ever been before. You notice your bare abdomen showing.
“What the?”

~#~

>Three days more of walking through this great sand sea, and you were close to breaking.
>The oppressive heat of Celestia's sun, usually a comfort to you, burned every exposed part of your body. Forced you to drink constantly. Every step through the soft grains of sand a struggle. Staying upright, not falling down the massive dune hills around you.
>Food and water both running out. Luna did what she could with her magic, but it seemed that days in this infernal place and that dream spell had drained her. She could not create out of nothing, instead simply lighting fires to keep the two of your warm during the frigid nights.
>Searing heat and freezing cold cycled just as frequently as the sun and moon, and both were draining you of your strength.
>But you still had water. You still had food. You still had purpose. You would not stop.
>You would not stop.
>You were not even sure death would stop you now. You had to find this tomb. Had to go back and remember who you were.
>That was why you could not throw away those two scrolls in your backpack. Scrolls to travel back in time, and the recording crystal that was heavier than it looked.
>The plan was simple, a variation of what had reminded you of your last life. Once you were at the tomb, you would travel back and record yourself, then travel back again and play this recording to the first living thing that found you. From your dreams, you knew it was Gaikhaltai, one of your once adoptive brothers. Remind him of who you were, and you would remind yourself.
>You hope. You hope beyond hope.
>It had worked for you hadn't it?
>”Can we have some water?”
>You turn to the weakening voice of Luna. She would not die here in the sands, even if you did run out of water or food.
>She was immortal, invincible. She might grow weak, but she would not die.
>Some dark part of you wondered if this was reason enough to deny her water and keep it for yourself.
>After all, you would die without it.
>But you were not a monster.
>Reaching into your backpack, you pass her a waterskin. She doesn't even reach out with her telekinesis, not willing to risk burning the calories.
>Noticing this, you pop off the cork and gently pour the water down her throat, watching her drink it. She closes her eyes.
>When you think she's had enough you pull the waterskin away and close it again. She nods, and the two of you turn your gaze back ahead.
>To your surprise, something other than endless sand or the odd black rock breaks the horizon.
>Two silhouettes stand out against the pure blue sky. Minotaurs, given they were standing up on two legs. You couldn't make out much more from this distance.
“Travellers.”
>Hope dares to leak into your voice. Maybe they have food or water they might be willing to trade with or sell you.
>”Maybe.”
>You can tell she isn't so optimistic. You were still days away from the tomb, it would not hurt to try.
>Holding up your right hand and open palm to them, you begin to walk towards them.
>Luna carefully follows a few steps behind.
>As you approach the two figures, you see that they have spotted you. And are coming towards you, sliding down the dune hill.
>The closer they get, the more you can make out of them.
>Two female Minotaurs. They both wore tattered rusting metal armour that nearly shone like gold in the sun. Barely a few bronze scraps remained.
>As the two of them reached the bottom of the dune, they drew their weapons.
>One of them drew two wicked blades, and you recognised them as the two guides that had disappeared in the sandstorm.
>They looked gaunt. Their skin and fur burnt from days under the sun. The skin around their eyes and their lips cracked, looking more like stone than flesh.
>Half mad with thirst, they charged the two of us.
>You roll away, skidding across the sands as one of them reached you, nearly disembowelling you with her swords. She kept swinging, smashing the blades into the sand where you had just been a moment ago.
>Her bloodshot eyes screamed of madness born of starvation and thirst. The desert cooking away any humanity in them, leaving only beasts caring for their own survival and little else.
>Their terrible shouts and screams filled the air. As the first continued to try and kill you as you kept rolling in the sands, the other rounded on Luna, not even caring or noticing she was an alicorn.
>all thought of past lives, of purpose and even the heat of the desert bleed away with one overwhelming thought.
>Survive.
>Other lives of yours had been fighters. Nergüi being one of them. But you were not yet him. All you could do was keep rolling.
>The Minotauress jumped, hoping to plunge her blades into your flesh. You forced yourself to stop rolling, only narrowly missing the attack.
>Scrambling to your feet, the mad beast swings her blade out of the sands upwards, nearly cutting you across the face and throwing sand into your eyes.
>Blinded for a moment, you can only stumble back and hope to miss the next attack through sheer luck.
>You feel your wraps of clothes covering your chest pull and tear slightly, but when you finally open your eyes you cannot see any blood nor feel any wounds.
>The two of you stand at the edge of yet another dune hill, metres away from the crest of it.
>without wasting any time on thinking, you charge her. She weighs a lot more than you, even half dead from starvation, but the sudden shock of you actually fighting back catches her unaware.
>The two of you fly over the edge and begin to plummet and roll in the sand, tumbling over each other and kicking up dust.
>The two of you reach the bottom of the dune, and you both look up to see her two swords slowly skidding their way down. But for now, you were both unarmed.
>She was larger and stronger than you though, and every punch and near gouging with her small horns threatened to end you there and then.
>All you could do was duck and dodge, keeping out of her reach or maybe throwing sand into her eyes to distract her, if only for a moment.
>But it isn't enough.
>A stumble, losing your footing for just a second in the loose sand allows her to connect an uppercut, smashing her hoof into your jaw and nearly launching you off your feet from the force alone.
>Blood dripping from your mouth, you try and crawl on your hands and knees towards the still tumbling swords.
>You feel her hoof on the back of your neck, and you wheeze and gasp as your vision darkens and it gets harder to breathe.
>Thorough the approaching darkness, you can just make out the two swords finally within reach. The weight on your neck lifts, and as you gasp for air you see her hooves in front of you.
>You can see her pick up a blade, leaving the other unnecessary one on the ground.
>Somehow with her hoof she lifts you up by the neck, so she can see directly into your eyes.
>Her shaking, mad, bloodshot eyes stare into yours, and a manic smile only grows as she places the sword against your gut.
>You will not die here.
>You spit, blood splattering into her right eye. Just after you head butt her right in the centre of her forehead, narrowly missing her horns.
>Her skull is thick, and you nearly knock yourself out doing so, but she does drop you and stumble back as you are dropped to the sands.
>Quickly, your hand grips the hilt of the second sword, and through your probable concussion you stand up.
>She charges again, lunging with her sword as you stab forwards.
>You stare into her eyes as she ends up pierced on the end of her own blade.
>She pleads silently for a moment, then drops to the floor as you let go of the blade.
>Your chest hurts.
>You look down slowly, only to discover to your own horror that she made true with her own attack. Though hasn't gone all the way through, the long wicked blade sticks out of your chest, and crimson ichor begins to drip onto the golden sands.
>You fall to one knee, your shaking hands touching the wound and the sword.
>It feels cold. Everything feels cold.
>A sound from the top of the nearby dune draws your attention for a moment. You look to the top of the hill to see Luna, battered, but alive.
“Help...”
>And then you fall back, a growing pile of blood beneath you and the sands catching your fall.
>You try to hold onto consciousness for as long as you can, shaking in the desert heat. You can hear a ringing in your ear and little more. Your already blurred vision begins to narrow and darken.
>You can just make out Luna's blue legs standing by you, and feel the static of magic begin to envelop you, but it is already getting hard to stay awake.
“I won't...”
>And your head slumps back. Your breath coming quicker and quicker even as the shadows lengthen.
>You will not let go.

~#~

>Dreamless sleep is a welcome sight, but waking up reminds you of what happened.
>You barely open your eyes, squinting to try and take in your surroundings.
>The moment you try and awaken, you can feel a pain in your gut.
>It screams at you, tearing at your abdomen.
>Once you can open your eyes more than a slim crack you glance down.
> You're not wearing your clothes above your chest. However, there are several bloody bandages wrapped around your abdomen.
“That...”
>Your voice is incredibly hoarse, perhaps from your dry mouth, or perhaps because some of your lower intestines might be missing.
>”You're awake.”
>You slowly and painfully turn your head to the voice, nodding at Luna as she stands over you, checking your bandages with her magic.
“Aye...”
>”You...”
“What... How bad is it?”
>You gesture to your abdomen.
>Luna winches, her snout scrunching up.
>”You lost a lot of blood. Your humours are unbalanced.”
>Humours!
>Your eyes widen in fear that she may have done some complete medical quackery and probably done more damage, but the slight wry grin on her face shows the truth.
“Cunt.” You admonish with a grin.
>”None of that. You got stabbed pretty hard in the cut, so... Eating and drinking may be difficult. You're alive for now but if we don't get you to a surgeon soon...”
>You try to sit up.
>Your in the shade of one of the great black walls that once made up the country size maze, but the great expanse of the sand sea is clear to you. Stretching from horizon to horizon.
“Can you teleport?”
>She shakes her head.
“Then that isn't an option.”
>She protests.
>”If we start walking towards the nearest village we might.”
“No.”
>”No?”
>You glance towards the setting sun, the amber disk dipping below the horizon as if it was melting.
“We can only go forwards. If we look back, we are lost.”
>”Anonymous! If we keep going you will...”
>You stop for a moment, seriously to consider what it was best to do.
>That you were close to death you could no longer doubt. You could feel it in your blood and chest
>Of fever or delirium you had no trace. You had withal, a sense of exhilaration and vigour, though you realised it's temperance and short-lived nature. For surely even any drive in purpose or will could not overcome the weakness of the body
>Your senses seemed all alert; You could feel the air across your mostly bare chest as a ponderous substance; You could hear the silence.
>But these surely would fade in time, and soon
>Your options were simple. Risk turning back, with still the same chance of... Expiration on route, risk dangerous surgery or magical healing in some podunk desert village. Perhaps lose all ability to continue, and be content with what you knew
>Or, you could overcome. You were merely days away from your own ancient tomb. From that final resting place of what you believed was your first life in this world
>You could make it. You would still have that same exhilaration within your now to drive your forth. And should you expire...
>Should you die, you would have tried. You had been many things across many lives, at least as far as you knew. And across all these lives, all these Anonymous' that had lived in the last thousand years few had quit. But more than that, you had never quit. You didn't shy away from remembering yourself, or even learning that you were this... Immortal.
>All fear of forgetting yourself had faded. You would die. Here, on a surgeon's table, a thousand miles away in a decade's time bemoaning that you had never tried, your death was inevitable.
>The where, the when, the why was your own to pick.
“We have to keep going.”
>Luna protests again
>”You cannot be serious. We... I don't think you should or can keep going.”
>Her eyes plead with you. Beg you to reconsider.
“We need to keep going. I can't do this alone Luna.”
>”We... I don't want you to die here. I don't want to be on my own in this desert.”
>You try to sit up, and wince as you feel something pull in your abdomen. The hole in your chest widening ever so slightly.
>You are genuinely touched by her concern, but it isn't enough to sway you.
“We can't give up.”
>”You won't be. We get you to some healing, we can try...”
“There's a good chance I shall die en-route. We are two days away from the tomb. Four from the nearest civilisation. I will die doing what I set out to do.”
>For a moment, Luna looks not to your eyes but to the hole in your chest covered by the bandages she made.
>”I don't want to be responsible for it again.”
>You catch what she means.
“Tough.” You try and say with a smile. “Help me up. We can walk at night.”
>”Anon.”
>She pleads, but she does help you up, pushing her head beneath your armpit and lifting it up to let you stumble onto your feet. You fall into her, gripping onto her coat tightly to try and stabilise yourself.
>When you are upright on two feet, you take a few halting steps, Luna helping you.
>Then you gently push off of her and try again. You manage three before you almost fall forwards. You don't want to get sand into your open chest wound.
>She rushes forwards and you fall onto her back. You pat her back for a moment in gratitude before standing up again. Your chest is screaming at you, but you grin and bear it.
“You might have to help me walk.”
>She chuckles lowly and allows you to keep a hand on her as she levitates your supplies and materials onto your and her backs. She even throws a poncho over your body.
>You watch the amber sun bleed into the night's sky, and you know it is going to be a cold one.
>You're not afraid you tell yourself.
>True or not

~#~

>You place a hand against your gut. It's unnaturally warm, almost searing your hand. Even whilst covered up by bandages.
>The two of you had survived the cold night, walking as quickly as you could with a gaping chest wound. You knew you weren't going to sleep until.. Well.
>The stars and moon are beginning to fade and set as the sun rises once more. You keep taking halting steps, the only sound breaking the silence being your occasional groans of pain or rapid breaths to collect yourself.
>Until, all of a sudden, Luna breaks the silence.
>”I'm a fake Anon.”
>The statement surprises you, seeing as it came from nowhere.
“What? I'd...”
>You wince as a bolt of pain shoots through your chest, causing you to lean more heavily on the Princess of the Night, but then you continue.
“I'd dare anyone to say that to the Princess of the Night.”
>She looks down at the ground, then glares fiercely into your eyes. No, not fiercely. As if she is searching desperately for something within them.
>”Am I her Anonymous? I last raised the moon over a thousand years ago. I...”
>She looks down at the ground again and doesn't look back up as she continues, the two of you still limping through the sand.
>”I... I hated Celestia. All those years ago. So jealous of the praise she got, so jealous of the worship. I knew intellectually she always hated it, but... I still loathed her.”
>”Maybe I still do. In a way. I am grateful for a second chance, but I haven't done anything to deserve it.”
“A Thousand years in the moon isn't enough?”
>”A punishment... A punishment isn't redemption. So I knew, all those years ago, that these feelings were wrong. That I should love my sister. That it shouldn't bother me that ponies ignored me. So I constructed this... Aspect of myself, to shunt off these ill feelings.”
>”Awake, I was as I had always been. Cool, collected, hard-working, aloof.”
>She looks to you again, then straight ahead.
>”And in my dreams, I'd get what I wanted. A moment's notice. Recognition for my talents. Everything my sister got in spades.”
>You aren't sure if you should interrupt her.
>”But... It wasn't enough. Try as I might to shunt off these feelings of loathing of her and myself, they leaked into reality.”
>”You...”
“I?”
>”You were... more neutral than most. Even other foreign ambassadors preferred talking to Celestia. Preferred seeing her during the day was their excuse, but I... Thought? Knew? I thought it was because they hated me. You... Sort of tried to not care about either of us.”
“From what I remember, I didn't really like the assignment.”
>”Perhaps. But all that envy... I couldn't hold it in my dreams anymore. I had allowed it to fester, to grow. And then I let it consume me.”
>”I became Nightmare Moon. Or that's what I told myself. That there was some... Other me that hated Celestia. That hated everyone. That hated me. But...”
>You lean into her, partly for comfort, partly because you can feel that chest wound open a little more.
>”It was me. I... I am Nightmare Moon. I always have been.”
>For a moment, the two of you limp in near silence. You're unsure of what to say.
>”All that damage, all that hatred. All those crimes I committed; they were all just envy. My Envy. I tried to bring about eternal night. I banished Celestia. I... I killed you.”
>A profound silence falls across the desert plains. You pull the princess to a stop. She looks into your eyes and says.
>”That was all me. And now I'm not even that. Now we are...”
>She glances away, then turns back to you.
>”And here we are. At the end of envy. There's nothing else. I can't raise the Moon. I can't dreamtravel. I can't even heal you or teleport you. I was nothing more than envy. And now I am nothing. A failure.”
>You kneel down, a painful thing to do in your current state, and stare into her blue eyes.
“You are who you have always been. No different name or face or height or time can take that from you. Draw your strength and will from a different place now.”
>Her eyes begin to shake, pleading for you to tell her from where.
“Friendship. Duty. Family.”
>A broken smile appears on her face as tears form at the edges of her eyes.
>”Are you my brother Anonymous? I would like that very much.”
>The question makes your heart stop for a moment. But the moment passes, and you smile a genuine, heartfelt smile.
>You cannot even remember if you had ever had a sister before. But you weren't throwing away your chance.
“As would I. Sister.”
>You hug her, holding the alicorn tightly. For a moment, she doesn't know what to do. But eventually, she wraps her own wings around you and places her head on your shoulder.
>After nearly a minute, you move to break the hug. She squeezes you for a moment, then allows you to use her to help you stand back up. Turn around, and continue ahead. Towards your destiny.
>And soon enough, you came upon the ruins of your own tomb. A few stone pillars barely peaking out of the desert. A sunken entrance hall of sandstone.
>Luna focuses, and the dust and sand is swept aside, revealing the ancient and lost ruins of the tomb of the three kings.
>While she does this tremendous act you glance down to your chest. You cannot help but notice the blood leaking onto your outer clothes. The hot pain of the wound, nor your growing temperature and fever. Sometimes, you'd see shapes at the edges of your eyes you knew where not there. As best as you could to keep the wound clean, an infection had taken hold. You...
>You were gone.
>But not yet.

>Eventually the sand was swept aside, and you saw the grand entrance. You lean against a pillar in the sand, clutching your abdomen. A few deep breathes to keep you conscious, allow you to grit your teeth and bear the pain.
“Shall we?” You ask, gesturing to the entrance. Luna looks back, and for a moment you're afraid she's worked out just how weak and close you are.
>But she simply nods, and uses her telekinesis to push aside the great stone door.
>Haltingly getting to your feet, you limp over towards her and the door and step inside.
>The tomb is dark, shadowed. There are no convenient thousand-year-old torches that somehow still work, so instead, you lean on Luna again both metaphorically and literally as she uses her horn to light the way.
>Sketches and etchings cover the hall. Of hunt and battle. Of feasts and worship. Of what looks like three Minotaurs being crowned, with a single golden crown split into three.
>The two of you come into a grand chamber, and within it are three nondescript sarcophagus's. They were each made of the same Sandstone as the walls of the tomb. You make for the centre of the three.
>You stumble, even as you lean on Luna, and you can feel the wound in your chest open just a little more. A little more acid and blood seep into your clothing. And the smell...
>Luna tries desperately to keep you upright, but you fall forwards onto the steps leading up to the coffins and scream as you fall onto your wound.
>It hurts like nothing else you had ever experienced in either of your lifetimes.
>You were close. But you were not yet gone.
>Rolling onto your back, you let Luna pull you back up onto your feet again. If she is worried, or afraid, her face isn't showing it. You hear something drip onto the floor of the tomb, and you can be pretty sure what it is.
“Is this...”
>You stumble up the stairs and grip the edges of the coffin. Sure enough, even you can read the name inscribed upon it.
>Nergüi
“Here I am.” You whisper.
>You turn and nod to Luna, who reaches into her pack and draws two scrolls. With the aid of them, she should be able to cast the spell, even in her weakened state.
>Hopefully you'd survive the trip, even in your own.
>”When?”
“Day of my funeral.”
>You read the inscriptions, searching desperately for a date. And sure enough, you can find one slightly later the one that was clearly the date of your death.
>A thousand years to the day? Isn't that funny.
>You tell her, and she prepares the spell.
>One trip. One chance to remind your brothers who Nergüi was. Who you were.
>”Ready brother?”
>You nod at Luna. And she casts the spell.
>All is white.

>The two of you find yourselves outside. Perhaps the years had moved the tomb slightly.
>Luna quickly casts a spell to hide her wings as you shakingly get to your feet.
> You're in a great crowd of tall Minotaurs, though they are all sat cross-legged on the ground. All of them facing a stark white building.
>And there were a few figures at the stage.
>Two were Minotaurs wearing crowns. Or more accurately, one-third of a crown and the rest a simple circlet of iron. And the third...
>Was her. Celestia. Luna's eyes widen as she realises her sister is there. As does yours. Celestia would remember that you were you, not Nergüi, even if no one else did. If she saw you in the crowd.
>You grit your teeth and almost scream as your chest burns again.
>”We'll wait till after the ceremony.”
>You nod, not really able to talk right now. But then again, you weren't entirely sure you could hold on long enough to...
>One brother, who somehow you knew was Gaikhaltai, gave a flowery speech about Nergüi's contributions to the realm. Your tireless work and ambition to see the realm united, to see it prosper. It was heartfelt, glorious. But also clearly well rehearsed.
>Then your other brother moved to speak. Khuchtei, usually so violent, stoic and strong, had clearly been crying. He opened his mouth.
>”Nergüi wasn't my brother by the water of the womb or the blood of my father. He was weak where I was strong and wasn't as charismatic or gallant as my other brother. But he was strong enough to guide me. Charismatic enough to convince my brother to work for a greater goal than either of us could ever hope to achieve alone. Together we had united a nation. A species. He was the best of us. Though he did not have any true children, he saw all of you as his. And he was right. He died doing something so brave neither I nor Gaikhaltai could hope to approach it. Because of him, we have the dawn again. Though he shall never see it again, we shall thank him for it every day. I love you Nergüi. I... I shall see you again.”
>The Minotaur, who looked roughly the size of a van and about as heavy, wiped his eyes with the back of his arm.
>He bows his head, and for a moment so does everyone else in the crowd. You glance over and see even Celestia bowing her head. Probably just as well, as she might spot you easily in the crowd.

>After nearly thirty minutes of desperately holding onto life and waiting, the crowd moves on, and you and Luna limp your way towards the stage. Celestia had left to pay her final respects to your body, even though you knew it looked nothing like you. And you came across the two kings.
>A hoof stops you easily.
>”Stay back...”
>The Minotaur guard blocking you looks at you. Gaunt, pale skin, your eyes ringed with red. Something completely alien to her. One of the kings nearby, Gaikhaltai, heard the noise and looks over to you.
>You can see the look of near recognition in his eyes.
“I have a message...”
>You cough into your hand, and wince as the familiar sight of blood in your hands reaches you. Still, you look back up.
“I have a message for the kings.”
>The Guard makes to turn you away, alien or not, but Gaikhaltai holds up a hoof.
>”The... Thing is close to death Akghai. What harm might it do?”
>The guard nods and lets you pass. Well, lets Luna help you pass by and reach the king.
“It's a message for both you and Khuchtei.”
>Gaikhaltai pauses for a second, perhaps because he recognises your voice even now.
>”Fine. Khuch!”
>The other, taller, stronger King turns and walks over.
>”What?” He asks, only briefly noticing the strange alien in his presence.
>”This thing and its Unicorn has a message for us.”
>Luna didn't bother to correct him.
>The two kings turn to you again, one eyebrow raised between the two of them.
>”Well?” Asks Khuchtei.
>You weren't sure who technically saw you first as Nergüi all those years ago. And you were rapidly running out of time, both before the spell broke, and before you did as well.
“I am Anonymous. Or Nergüi as you remember me now.”
>Gaikhaltai scoffs.
>”What? Are you his ghost?”
“Almost.”
>”You don't even look like him.”
>You sigh.
“I know. There's a spell... Or something on him. On me. When he died, history changed to make you think he was a Minotaur called Nergüi the whole time.”
>”What?”
>”It's true.” Luna adds, not that helpfully.
>”Have you no respect! This is his funeral! I should have you executed!” Khuchtei shouts, with an approving nod from his brother.
>You sigh.
“Celestia handed you a letter from him. In case he died in Equestria, as it turns out it did.”
>Both of their eyebrows rise in surprise at that.
>”That's a secret. How could you know that?”
>You take a minute to wince as you chest burns.
“I wrote it. In a different lifetime.”
>Khuchtei growls
>”Prove it.”
>You try and remember. That time Luna sent you back into Nergüi's life. The rooftop. The terrible sky. The hole in your chest. The Letter. The Dawn.
“Brothers. Nephews. Nieces. Should this letter find you I have died. How, I could only speculate. Why, I could not know before the time came. These may be the final words of mine you shall read. I have always held myself apart from you all. Kept you at an arm's distance. Though I am your adoptive brother, your adoptive uncle, I have always held to my first family. At least, I once did.”
>You can see in their eyes you are right, and the slowly dawning realisation grows on them.
>You continue, even as your chest screams.
“But here, alone in this country without you, I have realised that this was wrong. My first family are gone to me. Might always be. But you are my family. Khuchtei and Gaikhaltai are my brothers in all but blood. We have drunk together. Stood in formation with each other. Watched friends die in combat. Bounds forged in blood has made us blood. And though I cannot embrace you all, I have loved you all.”
>You tear up a little, trying to stay alive. Trying to remember a letter another you had written a thousand years ago.
“Should I die in this distant land, alone in body, I would tell you I have not died alone in spirit. You were, and have always been, my brothers. Signed, His Triarch Majesty King Anonymous I”
>You were sure that the edited letter would not say that name, instead saying Nergüi. But perhaps they would remember.
>For nearly a minute neither king said anything.
>”How could you know that... how....”
>Khuchtei ignored the quiet ramblings of his brother and stared into your piercing green eyes. Until a flash of recognition passed across his face.
>”...Brother?”
>And you fall back. Luna tries to grab you, but the darkness of unconsciousness hit you before you even hit the floor.

>When you awaken, it is in an empty black desert. You can feel the sand beneath your feet, on your back and in your hair. You move to stand, but the pain is too much. You try and roll over, or push off something.
>Eventually, you can feel a hand grab your clothes and pull you to your feet.
>And you are face to face with yourself. An older you, about forty-five or so, but unmistakably you.
>”You came.”
>It wasn't a question, merely a statement.
“It took a lot out of me. But here I am.”
>He glances down to your chest, caked in wet blood.
>Then he glances towards the horizon. Towards a rising sun.
>”I was so afraid of death. I tried to hold on for as long as I could. I didn't ever want to let go.”
>He moves to sit, the ground changed to stone tiles. You nearly collapse to join him as he stretches his legs out. You can even see the same wound on your chest grow on his.
>”But... It isn't that bad. At least, now it isn't.”
>He turns to you.
>”I shall be remembered.”
>You shake your head.
“I've got minutes left of life left. And I don't know if I will wake up and remember, or if I will go to.”
>”I can't tell you. You're a first. But... I didn't know either. No one does. If they were sure, it wouldn't be so scary.”
>Your words catch in your throat, and tears form at the edges of your eyes.
“I don't want to die.”
>”You won't. Not for long. Luna, Celestia, Cadance, they will all remember who you were, even if you don't. Besides, you've died before.”
>You suppose so. But you weren't so sure of what you might lose.
>”No. You weren't. You had far more than a few memories at risk when you didn't know about this.”
>He holds your hand as you start to shake.
>You smile weakly, and turn to the rising sun.
>”You're on your own now. Draw your courage from a different place. Not from the certainty that you will live again. But Friendship. Duty. Family.”
“...I'm scared.”
>”So was I.”
>He pats you on the back and holds you close as you can do little more but shiver. Where once it was boiling hot, now your wound is freezing cold. A terrible chill spreading across your entire body.
>”Be ready. Don't be afraid. Even if you forget, they won't. They'll find you, and make you remember.”
>You try to smile, as painful as it is.
>He was right. Celestia and Luna both knew who you meet first. She was in contact with them. They only needed to find you, and you would remember again. However long it took.
>The sun fully rises above the distant horizon, and you can feel your definitions fading.
>And he lets go.

>You awaken, not in the sunkissed desert, but in the earth. In your own tomb. Glancing down, blood has caked your chest and legs. Your hands are shaking. You can barely think.
>Luna rushes towards you.
>”Anon! Hold on.”
>You shake your head, and place a hand against her cheek, leaving a bloody handprint beneath your fingers.
“It's okay Sister. I shall see you and her again soon.”
>She sniffles, and you close your eyes.
>You want to see her raise the moon. Create the Night's sky. Become who she was meant to be. But...
>That won't be for you.
>Instead, you shall have to accept her as she is now, and hope you shall meet again soon enough.
“I'm...”
>And you let go, one last time.

~#~

>You prepare the spell. Ready to meet your sister. No doubt she already knew of Anon's passing. But you would bring the pony he is now to her. A final chance for her to say goodbye to the...
>To the man she loves. Hopefully, they shall meet again.
>And if you admit something to yourself, and you were sick of lying to yourself by now, hopefully you shall too.
>You focus everything you can into the spell. Try as hard as you can. Focus on home. The castle. Not the sterile white marble and cautious servants. Not the strange sights and words you didn't understand. Not the empty halls and dark room.
>But her. Her smiles. His smiles. The sun and moon. The place she had given you to recuperate. The forgiveness she had given you after all you had gone. You let go of the hatred and envy. And you teleport.
>The void fades, and you find yourself in a nearly empty throne room.
>You turn, and see the glorious white form of your sister, darkened by what she no doubt had already worked out.
>”Sister?”
>the confusion surprises you, but you ignore it for a moment.
“I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do. He...”
>”Sister. You're back.”
>What?
>Of course you were back. You had teleported here.
>Clearly your own confusion was obvious in your expression, as your sister creates a mirror with her magic and holds it before you.
>You almost don't recognise the alicorn in the reflection. You were taller. Your mane a brilliant field of aether and stars. Your coat was darker. You looked...
>Like yourself. For the first time since you came back. And you felt stronger than ever. Like you could...
>Like you could lift the moon.
>you smile a smile. Sad, overjoyed, you could not say. It matches your sister's own.
>And you explain what happened to Anonymous. Without hesitation. To the sister you love.

~#~

>You awaken.
>And fuck does everything hurt.
>A deeply familiar pain by now. After all, you had experienced it four times in your long life already.
>Your eyes widen as the pain subsides.
>You remember. You are Nergüi. And Brightsmile. And you are Anonymous.
>And you have always been them.
>A great shout of joy cuts through the air.
>Once you collect yourself, you take in your surroundings.
>Grey rock, grey stone. Barely any plant life for miles around.
>And a thought dawns on you. Once the exhilaration of living again dies down.
“Where the fuck am I?”

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