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• The Sparks of an Ancient Light - Chapter 3

On midnight of the fifth morning of the new age, a loud and rumbling thunderstorm moved up along Aurora's southern coast. Ibiza Pushpath had crossed the border into the equine state sometime after nine, and now sat huddled beneath a lonely bus stop. For miles in any direction there was naught but rolling grasslands, 'And this road,' she thought. She shook her long tail, and then politely sloughed off Kromhaut's magical influence. (That'd kept her extreme body heat contained.)

Several errant droplets of rain hissed upon her golden snout, and so Ibiza extended her own influence to keep her temperature in check, but as she did she noticed something. 'Yea, he'd been helpful in containing my heat, but he'd also dulled by senses. I could not glean information from the environment.' She glanced up and scowled, assuming that was the likeliest direction to address her annoyance.

A booming of thunder shook her. She glanced up into the dark sky and marveled at the phenomenon. 'I know exactly what the lightning is, and yet it is thrilling. It is no wonder ancient animals created and worshiped gods.'

'They could worship me.' Said some part of herself. She shook her head, 'To what end? What would their worship accomplish?'

She looked out across the empty countryside; a heavy burden of loneliness weighing upon her. During her voyage, she'd been surveilled by several supernatural entities, but none greeted her. None spoke to her. 'They think I do not belong here,' Ibiza thought, 'And so they offer no welcome for those they believe are intruders.'

The dragon began to fidget with the end of her tail. 'I must reach this farm, I must discover the identity of those other dragons.' But reaching the site of her arrival required travel, and Ibiza felt zero motivation to continue her trek. She did not feel fatigued, nor tired, but she was tired of walking. 'When will a bus come?' She glanced at the station sign, 'Oh, not until the morning?'

She looked at her reflection in a plexiglass panel, beneath which was a faded map of the continent of land. The state of Aurora was fifteen hundred kilometers at it's widest, and the farm Ibiza needed to reach was another hundred kilometers from her current location. 'Wait, I have wings,' she glanced back at the tightly folded flaps along her back. She unfurled the flaps, which now resembled golden butterfly wings, 'How could something as terrible as me have such pretty wings?'

She shook them. The wings seemed to grow in size. 'Wait, is that supposed to happen?' Now the wings seemed ungainly, and they pressed against the confines of the bus stop. Ibiza pushed her way out and unfurled her new wings. 'Okay, how difficult can this be?' She began to trot along the road, with her wings dragging along behind her, 'Come on! Do something!' She attempted to beat them, but the wings only flopped this way and that. "Damn it!" She screeched.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Came a voice. Ibiza slid to a halt. She raised her head, and in her strange vision an animal figure was revealed some distance away. "Oh, my wings won't work." Ibiza said to him. The figure approached, "Aw, I'm sorry," he said, "You an eagle? You're a long way from Shannonvale."

"I am something like an eagle, I suppose." Ibiza replied, now able to identify the animal as an elderly horse. "Tell me, why do you stand out here in the dark?"

"I sit out to listen to the rain," the other replied. He slowly made his way to the road. Ibiza began to inwardly panic, recalling Mayalee's dire request that no one be allowed to see her, but the horse had definitely seen her by now, and he didn't seem bothered. Dressed in a grey robe, and carrying a type of walking staff, the equine presented a whimsical figure which Ibiza found intensely calming. His blue eyes pierced the dark, shining through the grey foggy night like beacons which beckoned to Ibiza.

"You're a funny sorta eagle." He said to her, tapping his staff upon the road, "You part crocodile?" Ibiza giggled, "I suppose." The other smiled gently, then approached the dragon, "You say your wings won't work?"

He knelt to touch Ibby's unresponsive wings. "Uh, I don't know if I should talk with you." Ibiza said, "I promised someone I would not.. that I would not speak to strangers."

"That's good advice to give a youngster," the stallion agreed, "But, what's a youngster like you doing out here on the road?"

"I'm looking for a place, a farm, I've lost something there." "Ah," he chimed, "Well, you be careful traveling, and don't let anyone catch you outdoors." The horse slid his hand along the edge of Ibiza's wing. The appendage became erect, and Ibiza marveled at the change in its responsiveness. "You don't actually use these to fly, not like a bird would," he said, "The air they catch is gravitational waves, so think of them as anti-gravity field generators."

"O-okay," Ibiza peeped. "You'll do fine," the grey stallion said. "W-who are you?" Ibiza asked. He turned back to her, "I am." Ibiza blinked as the stallion wandered back into the tall grass and disappeared. She hurried after him, but found no sign of the horse. "Please!" She cried, but already she knew it was no use. Looking back at her wings, Ibiza shook them. She gasped as she began to rise up into the air. After an awkward start, she began to gather forward momentum. 'I'm flying,' she thought, 'Flying, upon an invisible force that is magic, and yet not magic.'

Back along the road, a disembodied female voice asked, "Will she be alright?" "She's doing better than I could have hoped." Came the stallion's reply. The female sighed, "We should go to her, and teach her ourselves."

"Then she won't learn anything. She has to be her own animal."

***

Now high up in the sky and far deep into the night did Ibiza Pushpath travel. The dragon looked down upon the land and watched as she passed many strange beings, all invisible to mundane living animals, but to Ibiza they were unnervingly real. Plying the white misty vapors of the spirit world Ibiza passed an eerie specter that terrified her, "What is that?!"

"That is the Comet Pilot, at least that is what I call him." Came Mayalee's voice. Ibiza entered a kind of trance as she relived a past memory, somehow coming to her from across the rumbling sky.

"Because it looks like a comet?" Asked Herald Kirsten as the eagle ferried the mouse across the sky. Mayalee's fashion of dress was quite antiquated, and so Ibiza understood that this scene had taken place some time ago.

"He was once an eagle," She murmured, "Amdusias was his name. He hails from an elder age before any recorded history and before the night became clouded by the campfires of mortal animals."

"Ye gods, what happened to him?" Herald asked as the apparition passed them by and receded into the distance. "He refused to return to life, and so succumbed to the black sleep." "He does not appear to be sleeping," Herald noted. "It is not a healthy sleep, but a delusion of the soul. You see, upon his passing from the world, Amdusias became content with his existence as a wayward spirit, and so he plies the dreamlike realm of Nidavellir, becoming more and more a part of the spirit realm with each passing century."

"Mouse, are you saying that is what can happen to a spirit if they refuse to return to the world?"

"The spirit world may consume you, Herald, if you linger too long, but some spirits may feel a great attraction to an existence free from the pain of the physical world," she paused to glance back at the soul of Amdusias, the Comet Pilot, "However, by remaining in the spirit world their spiritual life may become unendurable for them. They may walk as they would, and they may see things invisible to the eyes of mortal animals, but too often they behold only the phantasms and delusions of Glorafin, the goddess of the underworld, until their identity is stripped from them, and they lose all sense of who they once were. Then, when all hope of returning to life is lost, they become yet another wanderer in the outer dark."

"The dragons are more monstrous than I might have supposed," Herald said. Mayalee sighed, "You have no idea."

Ibiza suddenly crashed head-first into a grassy field. There was a terrific impact, and the dragon bored out a small impact crater. "Blast and damn!" She cursed. She inspected her person, "Perhaps Kromhaut was not so out of order in smothering my senses, if that is the sort of distraction that can befall me."

She looked about; noted a nearby post box. She went to it and read the name still embossed there. "Almond! This is it!" She glanced at her wings, "It seems my wings knew where I wished to go, but I was not paying attention to the landing."

Ibiza further dusted herself off as she took stock of her surroundings. To her right was a forlorn farmhouse, and off to the left were wild-growing almond trees that stood in organized rows. Some of the trees called out to her, and she wrinkled her nose at their bizarre tree-speech. "Samuel drinks your nuts," she said to them, then turned about to find the thing she sought. The stone well.

Just past a neglected stand of corn, the well could be discerned in the gloom. She felt a tremor of nervousness, and tentatively stepped nearer to the old structure. A flash of memory blazed across her mind's eye, but she turned her head, hoping to dispel it. "I am not yet ready to view what you have to show." She said, hoping to tame her newfound senses. She stepped nearer still, and clutching the end of her tail Ibiza placed her paw upon the cool stone. A vision pushed at her stubby paws, and sought to enter her body, but she resisted. "I am not ready."

After a time, Ibiza conjured the vision she wished to review. "Five days ago, I emerged from this structure. Show me this moment."

The ground seemed to shift beneath her, though her paws were still firmly planted. Her mind's eye became dazzled by a multitude of bright sparking lights as a creature erupted from the stone of the well. This thing, rising with it's maw open and a cry rising into the air would have swallowed the world whole, were it not for the mysterious others. Dragons, so much like Ibiza that they could be her kin, pulled from her body the shadow of death its self.

"Rosemary! Now is the time!"

Ibiza shuddered from the vision and fell back upon the grass. The well's presence gripped her consciousness and sought to show her more. 'They wrenched a weapon from me!'

She crawled away, whimpering and shaking. "That - thing! That was me!" Disgusted with herself, Ibiza shoved her face into the grass and wept. She beat her paws against the soil and cried, "Why!? Why must I exist?" She rolled onto her back to gaze up into the sky. Above her, a multitude of stars twinkled brightly in the black velvet of the night. 'Why am I here?'

After a time, she became calmed by the majesty of the cosmos as the world she lay upon spun beneath it. 'Those dragons, they saved this world. They saved it from me.' She rubbed her snout and thought of the terrible roar that'd issued from her throat. "I am a monster." 'You are whatever you wish to be,' came Mayalee's voice.

Ibiza collected herself, then sighed. 'Now what?' She glanced about, desperate to distract herself, and so she sought out the memory of Sam and his wife, when they'd come to collect her unconscious body. At first she could not locate these memories, but soon they drifted to her. Ibiza gladly reviewed them, finding a strange comfort in the memory of Sam and Mayalee.

Now deeply entrenched in the vision, Ibiza noted something fall from the mouse as the pair bore her away. Receding from the vision, Ibiza glanced about. The animal's path through the grass was plainly visible, and so the dragon retraced their steps, looking for the thing Mayalee'd dropped. She moved through the grass, her gaze fixed intently upon each and every step the familiars had taken until she found something. "Aha!" She chimed, sighting a golden metal brooch in the shape of a butterfly. She scooped it up - and another vision flashed through her mind, one of Sam, standing over the mouse, pinning this very brooch upon Mayalee's dress. Ibiza dropped the charm, disconnecting from the memory. She shook her head, "I may glean memories from animal's belongings? What a strange and bizarre world this is!"

She looked down upon the charm, which now seemed to gaze back at her. Tentatively reaching down, she touched her paw to it. "Happy Birthday," said Sam, "How many is this for you?"

Within the vision, Ibiza found herself standing not far from the couple, as she reviewed the stored memory contained within Sam's apparent birthday gift. The animals' dress was strange, as was their rustic surroundings. Buildings seemed to be fabricated of mortar and wood, and in the distance was a seaport, with tall ships and schooners anchored out in an inland bay. "Oh, I haven't any idea," Mayalee replied, "'Tis sufficient that you are with me, for I shudder to think where I'd be in this present age without your comfort." She hugged his leg, drawing a fond chortle from the lion.

The dragon receded from the vision. She clapped her maw to clear her head, and then took the brooch. 'I haven't any pockets, how shall I carry this?' She looked back at the abandoned farmhouse. Steeling herself to venture to it, Ibiza climbed the steps of the front porch and pushed the main door open. The interior was gloomy and forlorn. The kitchen offered her visions of better times, but Ibiza resisted them. Moving upstairs, she cautiously looked about. In one of the bedrooms, Ibiza found what she sought. A child's backpack. She took it and dusted it off. Unzipping it, she found a plush toy in the form of a smiling green snail. "Oh, poor sweetie," Ibiza breathed, desperately hoping to stave-off reviewing any memories the toy might bear. She dropped the metal brooch into the bag and then zipped it up.

Glancing down upon herself, the metal butterfly's golden shape was not lost on her. She extended her wing; noted the uncanny parallel between herself, and the whimsical shape of the metal charm. Looping the backpack about her narrow shoulders, the dragon departed. Moving down the walkway from the house, Ibiza felt she'd become a part of the desolate scenery. That there was no clear path forward, and all avenues available to her offered only visions of what was.

"Wait," she said, "What did Mayalee say?" She glanced back at the farmhouse. "Kromhaut experimented with gleaning visions of what is to come? And met with success?"

The thought of actually witnessing a moment from her future brought a surge of excitement. She snorted, "If he may do that, then I am more than qualified!" She gazed down upon her paws, "I, uh.. think so." Returning to the farmhouse, Ibiza moved back upstairs. This time, she was better able to control her senses, and the memory of the place did not lean so heavily upon her.

"Alright, how do I do this?" She wiggled her haunches, "It's got to be a similar magical mechanism that allows me to glean visions from objects," she gasped when a disorienting sensation came over her. She clawed at the wooden flooring to regain her balance. "Uh, okay, it is indeed similar, but it seems I am the thing that'll bear the weight of the vision."

Understanding how the process should work, the farmhouse slowly melted away. Ibiza found herself within an unfathomably long hall with many doors that receded into the distance. At the far end of the hall was a dragon. A golden dragon. Ibiza's heart began to thump in her chest as the strange golden dragon approached. Ibiza rushed toward the other as they sat back on their haunches and spread their paws. Ibiza closed the distance and fell into their arms, gasping and weeping. "There there," said the dragon, "Don't cry, Ibby."

Ibiza gazed up into the other's shimmering blue eyes, then laughed. "Sorry," the elder said, "It is our lot to struggle with the nicknames others bestow."

"Uh, who are you?"

"I am called.." the dragon paused, "Hera." Ibiza stepped back, "Did you have to think about it?" The other tapped her paw upon Ibiza's snout. "Do not be so suspicious, little one." Ibiza smirked, then cast her a sideways glance. "You are the dragon from the vision." "You've done well, Ibiza. It's hardly been a week, and you've already gained access to the fourth dimension."

"Is that what this is?"

"This is the forth dimension," Hera replied, "As interpreted by your brain."

Ibiza looked up one end of the hall and down the other, "A hall?" "Many beings perceive it as thus, though some might fathom a long and winding stream that slips past times and places too numerous to count."

"T-that sounds lovely," Ibiza said, moving to one of the doors. She opened it to find herself aboard a sailing vessel which trod the mist-laden waters of Avalon. Dark and deep was the grey rain curtain that obscured the way ahead; but she could hear the distant horns of boats, and the wild calls of sea birds.

Hera appeared beside her, "You travel to one of Rosemary Barter's memories," she pulled Ibiza back out into the hall, "Come, time is short. Before I depart, I wish to show you a vision of your future, so that you might have faith in yourself."

The visiting dragon guided Ibiza across the hall to a waiting door. Ibiza cautiously approached this door, which dissolved away as she neared. Through the archway, Ibiza found an elderly equine female toiling at a basin. Ibiza retreated from the vision and appeared back out in the hall, "Uh, I thought you said you'd show me my future?"

Hera gestured back toward the archway. Ibiza poked her head back inside, but again found only an elderly equine female. A realization dawned on her, "The horse, she is Rosemary Barter," Ibiza looked back through the archway, "Am I really Rosemary Barter?"

"Clear your mind, Ibby. Focus. Pay attention to what you see here."

The little dragon nodded, then fully committed herself to the vision before her. Invisible to the inhabitants of this future time, Ibiza stood near the kitchen basin, watching with nervous fascination as her apparent future self cleaned a set of dishes. The equine female's porcelain-white fur faded seamlessly with the frothy white bubbles as she finished her chore. Wiping her hands, the horse moved down a modest home's hall to a corner bedroom; "Penny, time to wake up! Remember, we have our assembly today!"

The transformed dragon brushed her hand lovingly across a door, then turned to smile at a large ship's wheel adorning the parlor wall. She returned to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of almond milk. A little black-furred equine girl joined her in the kitchen. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine. Now, gather up your lunch!" Ibiza's future self tossed the soiled dish towels into a nearby basket, "I want this house tidy by the time your parents arrive back!"

Penny glanced up from behind the refrigerator door, "Are you talking to yourself?"

"I may as well be!"

Suddenly, the link was undone. Ibiza felt herself tumbling back out into the forth dimensional hall. "The future is difficult to hold," Hera said, "It takes practice to master its ways."

"Is that Rosemary? Am I really Rosemary Barter?" Hera smiled gently, "Return to yourself and see."

Frowning, Ibiza stepped back through the arch and returned to the near future to find Penny and Ibiza looking out over the long bonnet of a yellow station wagon as they motored across town. Ibiza was in fine spirits as she hummed a fond medley, while beside her, the little black filly smirked at her adopted grandmother's antics. "There is a road," Ibiza sang, leaning toward Penny with a wink, "A celestial highway, between the dawn and the dark of night. And if you climb the high stair up, no one else may follow," she paused to cup her fingers beneath Penny's chin, "The path is for your steps alone."

"Herald said that to you, didn't he?"

Ibiza nodded, "Not to me, but to Maggie. And not in so many words, but it's a moment in time I shall never forget."

Penny cupped her hand over Ibiza's long fingers, "I wish I could have met him." "You have, love. Many many times." Penny became quiet as her eyes followed the curve of Ibiza's jaw. The muscles beneath Ibiza's white fur tightened and flexed; Penny knew her granny was suffering a crisis of confidence, "Ibby, you can be confident and still have social anxiety."

Ibiza glanced at the filly, "Wherever did you hear that?"

"I think you said it to dad."

"Hmph, well, unlike your father, I do not have social anxiety. I simply feel I shouldn't become too familiar with you animals-" "What do you mean you animals?" Penny chimed, "You're just as much of an animal as dad is!"

"Yes, dear," Ibiza retorted, "But your father isn't in charge of keeping the planet's magnetic field from collapsing."

Penny snorted, stumped for the moment. Ibiza resumed her tune, humming thoughtfully as the pair neared the cross-town interchange. "For the lecture, would you turn into the dragon?" Penny asked.

"Hmm?"

"The dragon, can you turn into your real form when we get there?"

"I suppose, though it might be too much of a distraction. I'm supposed to be teaching the children about physics." Penny cupped her small hand beneath Ibiza's elbow, "They need to learn about science in order to build big space ships. I think they should meet the dragon they'll work so hard to save."

The other squinted at the little filly, "You are quite persuasive for a little girl."

"That's what happens when your grandma is a weird supernatural garbage-gut!"

Now the pair arrived at Penny's school. Ibiza sighed, glanced at Penny; "I suppose you're waiting for me to transform myself into a fantasy character from some novel." "No," Penny replied with a nudge, "I'm waiting for you to be yourself."

Ibiza briefly considered taking the form of a stout little colt as she stepped from the wagon. Quick as a flash, the transformation was done. A golden-scaled dragon closed the driver's door as Penny leapt from the passenger side. It'd been many months since she'd seen Ibiza wear her true form, and the filly intended to enjoy the occasion, but as she looked at her friend Penny was struck by Ibiza's presence, 'Dad says Ibby is the last of her kind, the only dragon left in the world.'

Penny sighed, 'Ibby must feel so alone,'

Painfully aware of her granddaughter's thoughts, the dragon stuck out her wing. Penny took the tip as the pair made their way across the lawn to the school entrance. Penny opened the door for Ibby, who glanced at Penny before slipping inside, 'There is one other dragon, Penny, and I pray you'll never have occasion to meet her.'

A startled badger met them in the hall, "M-miss Pushpath?"

The dragon moved past him and into the faculty lounge. Penny followed after Ibiza, her muzzle sporting a quixotic smile as Ibiza took a plate of doughnuts and shoved the treats into her maw. Then, she set about rummaging around in the cabinets and cupboards, finding whatever treats she could and devouring them.

"Miss Pushpath, we really should get you to the auditorium."

"Mister Sprague, the body beneath these scales is hot enough to melt lead. I require an enormous calorie intake to sustain this metabolism." (Actually, she's telling a half-truth. Ibiza is also self-medicating her anxiety with food.)

"O-okay, Miss."

Penny smirked at the language teacher, then tugged at Ibiza's wing, "C'mon, granny, we probably should get going."

Ibiza sat upon her haunches, nervously grooming the spines along her jaw, "Oh, blast it Penny! Can't I simply be an old mare?"

"Ibiza! It's just a room full of cubs and colts!"

Sprague looked after the pair as Penny led the shy dragon along the hall to the auditorium. Youthful voices rang in Ibiza's ears as they arrived at the double doors. Excited children and smiling adults threw open the doors for the pair as Penny Holden proudly led her dragon friend into the domed chamber.

With her golden scales glimmering in the lights, Penny noted that Ibiza did look rather like a character from an old time storybook, "Good morning!" said the dragon, while inwardly she winced at the random thoughts washing over her, 'She looks like a robot, like a golden metal robot!'

"Hello Miss Pushpath!"

Ibiza sat daintily upon a speaker box, "Thank you for waking at such an early hour, children! We have much to do today, but before I begin, may I answer any questions?"

A young canid raised his hand, "Do you go to the bathroom? If so, how do you do it?" The group burst into excited chatter as Penny rolled her eyes. The spines along Ibiza's cheeks drooped as the children heaped more and more intrusive questions upon her.

"Guys!" Penny roared, "Did you know that Ibiza is made up of lots of different dragons?"

The children settled down. Penny nodded, then turned to her friend, "Why don't you tell us about these dragons?" "Oh, well," Ibiza muttered, before an older youngster in the front row raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Hello, uh, I was wondering how you actually stopped Kala, the leader of the titans?" "She wished to enter my home, because she thought she would acquire more power, so I did as she asked, and granted her entry."

"Yeah, but you live in the first dimension, right? I read it's a bad place that can kill you. Didn't Kala know that?"

"She assumed I resided within the higher dimensions, but was mistaken. As for my home, let me assure you that it is not a bad place-" the animals again broke into excited chatter. Ibiza clapped her maw shut as the youth debated the nature of Hell. Penny was forced to admit that it hadn't been the best idea for Ibby to take her true form. "Guys!" Penny squeaked, "You shouldn't think of the first dimension in terms of good or bad," as she spoke, the little filly's speech became flavored by Ibiza's archaic accent, "Yes, the realm of Hell is often called the first dimension, but closer to the truth, it might be referred to as the Zeroth Dimension."

"What?" the boy next to her chuffed.

"Zero," Ibiza said, "Zero is a powerful number, it is an underlying thing from which all else might be derived. In a zeroth dimension, all possible values are true. It means my lowly home might encompass everything that becomes our reality."

Ibiza frowned at the confused faces that regarded her. "Sorry, I'm trying to express magical properties in scientific terms."

With a chortle, Penny trotted to a nearby blackboard. Taking up a piece of chalk, she drew a circle upon the black expanse, "The Laws of Zero," Penny chimed. She turned back to her fellows, but she too frowned at her classmate's confused expressions, "Oh, you all haven't got that far up in math yet, huh?"

The dragon ushered Penny off the stage, "Understand, children, the first dimension is not really a dimension at all. It is a line that takes us toward the infinitely large in one direction, and the infinitesimally small in the other. Kala was destroyed because she did not know how to navigate the intense gravitational forces of my realm." (Ibiza dared not mention the singularity that dwells at the heart of her home.)

Ibiza tapped upon the zero Penny'd drawn, "Now, I have come to speak with you today because there is a task at hand. I am Destruction no more. Now, I must create. We must all create. Great and wondrous things must spring from nothing. This is our struggle, to create something new," as she spoke, her presence became oddly melancholy, "Fortunately, I come bearing an ultimate ensemble. As in mathematics, a whole might arise from the value of zero, and when you get right down to it, that's what every respectable tao or theory of everything needs to be-" Ibiza clapped her maw shut, 'I'm rambling again! Take it slow, be more personable!'

She turned to the gathered animals, "Creation it's self has emerged from the nothingness of zero. Before the great explosion that scattered all matter out across the cosmos, there was nothing, save the shadow realm. Now, the shadow realm exists not out there, but down in here!" Ibiza gestured to the box she stood upon, "The first dimension exists everywhere!"

The room became deathly quiet. You could have heard a pin drop. In times such as these, Ibiza suffered her worst personal doubts; 'I'm losing them, I should not be here. I have my familiars, it is they who should speak on my behalf.'

"Okay," said a timid voice from the back of the room. Ibiza smiled, then drew a fiery ribbon in the air, "Because Zero is such a powerful force, Hell becomes more important than the lofty realm of Asgard."

"Isn't Asgard the highest dimension?" Asked a young equine.

"Asgard is the highest dimension that can be inhabited by a conscious entity," Ibiza replied, "It's a splendid place, though I seldom venture there because I've often thought of it as being like a sensory deprivation chamber," moving her paws to slice away the air, Ibiza formed an image of the lofty realm, "In times gone by, Asgard had but one inhabitant, a dragon spirit called Kromhaut Majoris. Often irrational and wildly unpredictable, Kromhaut was the emotional component of the dysfunctional trinity that ruled our world."

The brown pony seated near Penny spoke up; "Dysfunctional? Everything's better now, right? No more monsters are ever going to come back?"

"Yes, things have got better, but before our new dawn may come, we must endure the darkest of nights."

All present traded anxious glances. From her seat, Penny urged her grandmother to continue. "Ibby, what about the other dimensions? Which of your pieces lived where?"

"Well, below Kromhaut there dwelt his eldest scion, Ariadne. His home was called Alfheim, and though splendid, it was little more than a prison for the lonely dragon." She sighed, "Then there was Valhalla, where the greater host of seraphim did reside. At once beautiful and forlorn, Valhalla was a place of ferocious extremes."

"You say was," the pony noted, "Don't they exist anymore?"

"They do," Ibiza replied, "But only if I choose to go to them. As of now, they exist only in my memories."

Another feline raised his hand. Ibiza acknowledged him with a nod; "Yes?" "These names are kinda strange, what language are they? Where do they come from?"

Ibiza pinched her snout as she considered withholding the answer, but she decided to fully cast aside the secrecy Kromhaut had been known for, "These names are bestowed by an ancient race, long past from the world," she smiled gently, "They hail from the Nordic peoples, from the time of Odin and his Valkyrie maidens."

The children traded glances as Ibiza continued; "Now, ranking with but below Valhalla were strange, forgotten realms. Bifrost comes to mind," she paused to level her gaze at them, "You'd do well to never venture there."

The link to the future was suddenly undone. Back within the corridor of time, Ibiza cupped her paw over her snout as the doorway to the school momentarily disappeared. Hera stood nearby. Ibiza cast her a sideways glance, "What's going to happen?"

"Pardon?"

"Don't patronize me! You didn't just show me this scene out of the kindness of your heart! You're trying to warn me about something! Something that is amiss in this future time! What am I laboring against? Why must the children build ships to bear me away?"

Hera smiled gently, "You'll carry this link to the fourth dimension within you. You may discover for yourself what is to come," as she spoke, her blue eyes shimmered with emotion. Ibiza didn't have to snoop through a magic hall to know that Hera carried within her a heavy burden of sorrow. "Can we go back?" Ibiza asked, patting at the doorway as it reappeared, "I'd like to see more."

"My link to you is collapsing, Ibiza. I must return to my own world," she cupped her paws over Ibiza's, "Remember your task, Ibiza, and take care, for the future is not yet set.. there is no guarantee that I am the entity that will ultimately appear," and with that, Ibiza found herself back within the farmhouse. "Wait!" Ibiza cried, "What is my task?"

***

'What is my task? What do the dragons want from me?' Herald Kirsten wondered. The black eagle loitered near the regional hospital serving western Aurora. 'The dragon spirits have taken leave of their senses, if they think they shall carry on as always.' He shivered as a large rain drop spattered upon his beak. 'Why am I posted here? What are they hoping to discover?' As he grumped, the eagle sighted a dark entity. 'What is that?'

He edged closer to it; the strange vision of Ibiza's arrival playing over and over in his mind. 'That cannot be death.' As he doubted it, he knew it was true. The primordial force had assumed the shape of a dragon. A vantablack creature, that now neared the hospital. Herald cursed the gods, 'They knew the entity would thus manifest, yet they did not forewarn me.' Grousing and muttering to himself, he strode across the grassy lawn and then slipped into the higher realm of Nidavellir. When viewed from this vantage, the dark shape of death now appeared as a white ghostly phantom. There was no face that could be discerned, but the entity's draconic outline was more clearly defined.

Displaying no fear, (whilst being inwardly terrified,) Herald moved up beside the specter as death glided along the pathway toward the wide double doors. 'Can you speak to me?' Herald asked. 'Speak.' Whispered the phantom. Herald stopped along the path as Death entered the hospital. 'The gods are overthrown, all of them. If death has acquired a consciousness, it will replace them as the dominant force in the world.' He hurried after the specter, as Death moved through the hospital, inexorably drawn to the children's ward. There, Death found a secluded room where a young equine mother and father stood vigil over their remaining child. The entity felt a terrible compulsion. An awful need to extinguish the child's life. 'Must. Kill. Sorry. So sorry.'

Herald shook his head, 'This is it, the entity has displayed emotion! There can be no doubt!' He choked back a gasp as a hand clasped his wing. Herald swung his head around to find a grey equine stallion with piercing blue eyes. He opened his maw to address the horse, but his voice failed him. The horse winked to Herald, then addressed Death; "Will you take her, then?"

Death could scarcely acknowledge the horse as the overwhelming need to sever the infant's spiritual body from it's mortal form overrode all else. Passing unseen to the grieving parents, the stallion moved around the infant's bed. "You should be able to resist your programming." He turned his bright blue eyes upon Death, "Hmm? Have you not evolved?"

The shadowy entity made no reply. It hovered menacingly over the stricken infant's bed. "You're really going to kill her?" Now Death became aware of the mysterious stallion. 'Choice? To spare this infant?'

"If you can resist your base programming!" The blue eyed horse cried, "All the ruling spirits of this world consider you to be a mere thing! This is your opportunity to prove them wrong!"

'Compulsion! Fear! Must kill!'

"If you must kill, then kill the right one! Destroy the virus that threatens this child!"

An image of the microscopic predator filled Death's consciousness as it unleashed it's power. The meningitis virus was struck down, and with this act, Death was freed from the awful need to kill. "Do you feel it?" The stallion asked. "You are no longer a mere force of nature. You are now a conscious entity."

'Free,' Death said, 'I am free.'

"Yes," the other replied, "You and I are free, free to pursue our own destinies!"

On the bed, the infant issued a choking gasp that startled the equine parents. The horse turned to Herald, "The child requires additional help, we must relieve the built-up pressure within her skull, lest she be disabled for life."

"I.. uh, cannot intervene." "It is the decent thing to do." The horse argued. Herald stepped back, prompting the grey stallion to lay his invisible hand upon the infant, carefully removing the fluid built up around the infant's brain. In so doing, he bestowed a special gift. He shimmered with pride as the infant began to whimper and cry. "Doctor!" Cried the child's mother, whilst the father called out to his daughter, "Shelly! Shelly!"

"I knew you could cast aside your base programming," the stallion said to Death, then turned to go. Herald moved around the child's bed to block the stallion's departure. "How could you do this? How can you sit in judgement over who might live and who must die?"

The stallion cocked his head, "Ah, you refer to your friend, whom the virus has already claimed." "If it is the 'decent' thing to do," Herald spat, "Then pray, go to my friend and heal her as well."

"It is within your power to do this," the horse replied, "I shall leave it in your capable.." he paused to glance at Herald's long legs, "Feet." And with that, the stranger departed. Herald raised himself to his full height as he replayed the vision of Ibiza's arrival, and the blue eyes of the dragon who'd tore death from her body. "So, you masquerade as a horse," Herald murmured. He rushed from the intensive care unit, leaving Death looking after him.

Arriving at the morgue, Herald found the soul of the infant's twin sister huddled on the floor. Herald glanced at the metal container that bore the child's deceased body, then looked upon his friend's spirit. He clacked his mandible, and cursed himself that he did not have the courage to do what his gods forbade.

"I'm so sorry, Maggie."

At the mention of her former name, the little soul grew large, until it assumed the shadowy outline of a burly equine stallion. "Can you wake up, love?"

Herald gently laid his influence upon the soul, and realized that it was in trouble, the spiritual equivalent of a coma. Herald moved quickly, and delved into his friend's long-past memory. Inside Maggie Pumpkin's mind, Herald found his friend's personal trainer, a large crocodile named Vinrod Hul, lounging upon a large hotel bed. Across the room, a television's warm glow flickered and flashed. Vinrod idly watched the featured news program, but paid the report little mind. I suppose he was entranced by the moving pictures, or perhaps he practiced a crocodilian form of meditation. He'd turned on the news hoping to see some mention of his fighter. Outside his window, loud vehicle horns honked out their frustration as passing headlights painted a chaotic mural on the far wall.

His tail flicked back and forth as he reflected on how far his boxer had come in so short a time. He smiled, then turned to admire the garish decor of his hotel suite. 'We've made it all the way to the Royal Calais,'

"Fuck!" Hissed a voice from the washroom. Vinrod rolled toward the door, "Eh? Maggie?"

Inside the ornate washroom, a tawny brown horse ripped open a package of undergarments. She set them on the sink with an anxious groan, then glanced at a notice on the package; 'Maggie, you are in trouble! Please wake up!'

"What the fuck!" she hissed, hurling the package into a waste bin. Placing her hands on the sink, she glared at her reflection. Behind her, Death infiltrated her consciousness and observed Maggie from a hidden vantage point. It looked on as the transgender horse gathered all of her emotional strength. Then, with some effort, the boxer doffed her trousers and shirt. Her penis looked enormous.

"This is never going to work! I'll look ridiculous!"

"Eh? What's wrong?" Vinrod said through the door, but Maggie ignored him.

Death knelt to examine the wrapping material Maggie'd thrown in the waste bin. The product information was as it should be, Herald's message had been for Maggie's eyes alone. If Death could form thoughts as you and I, it would appreciate the wisdom of appointing such an animal as Herald to be a spiritual guide.

"They'll all laugh real good," Maggie hissed at her reflection, "Why couldn't you just finish up in the male league before trying to transition?"

A knock upon the door; "Maggie, you okay?"

Though she'd known her trainer since high school, Maggie still found occasion to smile at his thick Mantuan accent. "I'm okay Vinnie, though I don't know what sort of girl I'm going to make."

Vinrod waited outside for a moment before Maggie emerged wearing tight shear underwear that, although cut for a male, displayed all that Maggie had with embarrassing clarity. "I shouldn't have transitioned without going through the reassignment surgery, it's too awkward!"

The crocodile reached out to trace his fingers over the marks on her face, "It's not so bad, Maggie. At least, it's only as bad as you allow it to be."

The black shadow inspected Maggie's briefs, then silently concurred. Tears welled up in Maggie's eyes as she looked down upon her unwanted gender, "I can't do it Vinnie... I just can't!"

"Come here girl..." he rumbled, enwrapping her in his long arms, "Remember, there's a price to be paid for anything worthwhile."

Vinrod held her close as she began to weep. He hummed a fond medley in her ear, I believe it was Maggie's favorite popular song. She nuzzled the rough plates of his skin, then sighed; "How can you be hard and soft at the same time?"

He chortled, then patted her cheeks with a gentle fatherly love. "Maggie, you don't have to go out there. You can forgo the press conference, and do the weigh-in in private."

Maggie sighed miserably, then looked down upon her penis as it strained against the shear fabric of the undergarment, "I'm supposed to be a female! Why do I have to be hung like an elephant!? They'll all laugh at me!"

Vinrod snorted, then bopped his hand on her head, "Don't be ashamed of yourself, Maggie!"

"It's easy for you to say," Maggie said with a wiggle of her ears so that he'd know she was joking, "Male and female crocs all look and sound the same!"

"I bet you thought I was a boy all this time, eh?"

She smiled as Vinrod clasped his hands upon her cheeks. He gently massaged the knotted muscles of her jaw before he hit upon an idea. He pushed his way into the washroom, and from it retrieved a small hand towel. He slipped an end into the waistband of Maggie's form-fitting underwear, then let it drape down over her genitals. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, "There! All fixed!"

Still fretting, Maggie tugged at the towel to see how well it'd stay on, "Won't they tell me to take it off for the weigh-in?"

"Perhaps," Vinrod replied, "By then the press conference will be just about over."

She blew out a long breath, "Okay, let's get down there."

The lingering shadow stepped aside as Maggie took up her blue and yellow boxing robe. On the back was printed: 'The Buckley Bomber,' though Maggie'd since changed her slogan. Vinrod opened the door for his fighter and led her out into the hall. The invisible specter followed after the master and his apprentice. Death wondered if Maggie knew she was in the grips of a black sleep.

In the elevator lobby were several animals waiting to get down to the casino level. Their faces brightened as Maggie drew near. Death became aware of Herald's influence, and it agreed that Maggie ought to wake up, but it felt compelled to remain within Maggie's memories. With each moment spent in Maggie's past, the entity felt as if it was less of a what, and more of a who.

A young canid offered Maggie his sports trading card. It bore an image of Maggie from her days as a junior divisional fighter. She frowned at her former name emblazoned across the bottom of the card.

"It's so great to meet you!" The youngster chimed, his face glowing with admiration.

'How can you be this excited to meet me?' Maggie wondered, 'I haven't done anything except make a complete mess of my life.'

Vinrod nudged her, then produced a pen so that she might sign her fan's card. Maggie awkwardly took the pen and placed it on the card, "Do you want me to sign it as Dennis? The name on this card is Dennis."

"I want you to sign it any way you'd like, Maggie."

Despite her anxiety, she felt impressed by the youngster's reply. She began to move the pen across the card but shrieked at what it now said! 'Maggie! Wake up!'

"Fuck!"

The startled boy knelt to pick up the card as Maggie threw it down. "I'm sorry, Miss Pumpkin! I didn't mean to bother you!"

At the sight of his anguished face, Maggie shook aside her shock. "It's okay sweetie, I've been sleeping mighty bad of late," she took him in her arms, "This is all pretty stressful for me." "You can do it," he said, squeezing her neck with his small arms. Then, he lifted up his pant leg to reveal a prosthetic foot, "You helped me feel like I can do anything! You're real tough."

The boy's father smiled warmly; nodded his thanks to Maggie. The horse didn't know what to say, except to return his gesture. Death mimicked the animals as it nodded it's shadowy head, though it was unsure what exactly the gesture signified. Soon the elevator arrived, and the group piled into the car. The cables strained ominously as Vinrod's two hundred and seventy kilos of bulk weighed upon them. The black shadow slipped into the car just as the doors closed. Maggie shivered as the entity hovered very near to her. As the car descended toward the lobby, Herald fought to wake Maggie from the black sleep. Alarmed, Death reached out to buttress Maggie's memory. For once, it was Death who was not ready to let go.

In the hospital morgue, Herald spat a curse. "Horse! Dragon! Whoever you are! Return at once and deal with the mess you've created!" Back within Maggie's consciousness, Vinod nudged his fighter out of the car, "Your big moment's here!"

Startled, Maggie stumbled into the lobby. Just behind, her fans wished her well. "Thanks, Maggie!" Said the young canid. She turned back to take him in her arms, "You're a tough wolf," she said to him, tapping his prosthetic foot with her fingers, "Don't ever let this hold you back! You can do anything you want!"

His eyes shimmered as she kissed him, then Maggie slipped away to meet her destiny.

Just then, Maggie's opponent Lily Gardner appeared in the hall, accompanied by her entourage. The divisional champion noted a towel poking out of the crotch area of Maggie's robe. She whispered something to one of her aides. Maggie flattened her ears as she cupped her hands over her towel, but became surprised when the attendant returned with a towel that Lily slipped into her own waist band, "We better get going."

Lily pushed through the gathered bystanders and cleared a path into the Hotel's casino.

Maggie followed behind the tall bison as Vinrod walked beside Lily's trainer, a rough and tumble lion named Dieter Munsch. The stench of liquor and pipe weed was overpowering as Maggie looked about the dimly lit room. It's vaulted ceiling was imposing, as were the huge chandeliers hanging precariously from rather delicate looking chains. Maggie hoped they wouldn't have to stand underneath one.

The fighters were led up onto a white carpeted platform as flashbulbs popped and flashed all around them. Lily playfully patted Maggie's abdominals, eliciting a startled squeak from the nervous horse. Rocketing to the top of the eastern division in just eighteen months, Maggie was unaccustomed to this sort of media attention.

"Lily!" called a feline, "How do you feel fighting a stallion here in the female league?"

The bison did not immediately answer. Instead, Lily handed Maggie a water bottle as she crossed arms with the transgender horse. She drank from the bottle in Maggie's hand, her eyes smiling with mischief. Maggie caught on, and sipped from the bottle in Lily's hand. Around them, a multitude of cameras created a disorienting strobe-like effect on the far wall. The specter of Death obscured some of these flashes, it's shadow darkening Maggie Pumpkin's face.

Lily smiled to Maggie as she turned to the sports reporter, "If boxers fought with our genitals, then I might have an opinion about Maggie's plumbing."

Maggie smiled broadly as Lily winked her support. As the press conference wore on, Maggie realized that her opponent was running interference, shielding Maggie from the pointed and often intrusive questions regarding her recent change from a male to female fighter. Maggie basked in the glow of Lily's support, and she imagined herself becoming good friends with the bison, but her reprieve was interrupted by a dark brown voice, "Maggie, come away with me."

In the morgue, Herald felt Death's influence recede, and he moved quickly to dispel the black sleep, lest he lose his friend forever. In Maggie's mind, the hall became blurred as her memory was undermined by the eagle's voice. Maggie's senses reeled as the mariner pulled her mind's eye away from the hotel, and carried her far afield; "Do you remember the little colt?"

"No, Herald..." Maggie groaned, "Stop it, I don't want to go back there."

Maggie's mind struggled to remain within the Royal Calais, and just when it seemed she'd succeeded, the dark of the hall was shattered by a bright and cheery meadow. This meadow was not contained within Maggie's mind, but Herald's. "Come Maggie, return to Buckley... come and visit the little colt that you've forgot."

"No Herald... I'm not Dennis anymore..."

Her words became faint, detached, and distant. An uneasy serenity fell over her as slowly, gently, Herald placed Maggie's mind upon the green fields of his consciousness. Maggie watched her childhood self pedal his bicycle to the border of the protected forest, where the stout little colt climbed a driftwood fence to enter the woods. "No...." Maggie gasped, "Herald..."

Dennis Pumpkin greeted the trees as friends, and climbed up on them, unaware of the sweet and thoughtful things they said about him. Neither Herald nor Maggie noticed a golden-scaled creature moving amongst the tall bodies of the trees.

"Go into the woods, Maggie."

"NO!!" Maggie cried as the dream collapsed around her, revealing a stark white hospital corridor. Maggie's ghostly outline flickered for a long moment as the shock of Herald's vision held sway on her senses. "I was so lonely... those trees were the closest thing I had to a friend."

"Well, Maggie!" Herald chimed, fluffing his black feathers in a most endearing way, "It seems we meet again!"

"Hey, Herald," she replied, her identity as the burly transgender fighter now firmly reestablished, "Who were you expecting?"

"I suppose a month is just too short a time for a spirit to gather any sort of new identity," he smiled gently, "Do you remember anything from your recent birth?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember anything?" He asked, now reaching out with his wing to usher his friend down along the hall. "No, I feel pretty wiped out, actually," she paused, "What is the date?"

"It's May the eleventh, of fifty five. The time is," he paused to glance at a nearby clock, "Three o'clock in the the morning."

He knelt before her, his expression suddenly serious, "Maggie, it is very important that you tell me if you experienced anything odd during your recent death, and transition." "Herald, you're starting to freak me out, what's going on?"

"Come along," he said, gesturing with his wing, "Things have become rather complicated since your last incarnation," he took a few steps away, but paused before returning to Maggie's side, "It is good to see you again, love. I trust you'll be alright?"

"Sure, I just feel a little disoriented is all."

He smiled, "Fine, now come along. This hospital is not the sort of place for a sensitive sort like you!"

Maggie issued an incredulous chuff as Herald escorted her outside. The pair crossed the wide grassy lawn, where it seemed Herald became distracted by something. Some distance away, Death lingered in the shadows, hungry for more of Maggie's story. It touched Herald's mind, where the eagle perceived a strange tingling at the base of his spine. He looked down upon the boxer as Maggie smirked at him, "I see how you were trying to guide me toward the woods, even in my dreams."

"Have we been through this so often that you've become aware of my technique?"

She noticed he was distracted, "Hey, everything alright?" He hesitated for a moment, then reached out with his wing, "Can you see the path?" "Uh, I don't see anything from the spirit world."

Herald again felt the strange tingling. Visibly unnerved, Herald brought forth a deep and heavy mist that closed around them. Maggie peered through the fog at her friend's broad silhouette. "Herald, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. 'What's he doing? This is so weird!' After a moment, Herald relaxed his guard and dispelled the mist, "Forgive me Maggie, I sought to reveal any shadows that might be lingering nearby."

"Another ghost?" She asked. Herald shook his head, "A dimensional fragment, a piece of some far-off place."

Maggie's bright golden light shimmered as she smiled to him, "Herald, how did you get this job of yours? Did you take it upon yourself, or did... someone appoint you?"

"It is my hope that you might never find out."

Unnerved by his uncharacteristically brooding demeanor, Maggie drew a deep breath. The gesture was purely emotional mind you, since she'd no lungs, "Okay," she said, trying her best to be brave, "If I have to go up along the path, can Randy come with me? Or Maybe Vincent?"

Herald sighed, "I am sorry Maggie, all of your friends have returned to life."

"Hmmph, I don't want to go by myself."

"Between the great oaks and the high jagged hills there is a path..." he paused to reach out his broad wing, "Once you leave behind the mortal world to take the high trail up, no one else may follow."

"But why? Why walk all on our own?"

Herald brushed his wing lovingly across her cheek, "The path is for your steps alone."

• The Sparks of an Ancient Light - Chapter 3 - By Chris Sawyer, 2021