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Spanish Translation. First page

Prologue page one

So, thank you all for all of your comments and questions in the past two pages. Yes, my comic will continue to spin out of control.

So, there are a few things that might need a little clarification.

First off, I reference the fic of a good friend of mine in the Phillipines, where Daring Do and Twilight Velvet are doing some adventuring together, where Velvet becomes her assist-mare side kick. He commissioned me for the art for his story, so I am dropping a name Seriff Pilcrow and a reference: Spectrum of Lightning

Here is a bit of my art for that fic:

Secondly, y'all are missing a little context because the comic glossed over a scene in the fiction. It is the scene where Tempest acquires that horn she slid into her mana emitter. Now, that might sound a little squicky, but give it a chance. It will give those wondering a visit inside of Tempest's head. So without further ado, here is that scene, straight from the fic.

***

Fortunately, amulet fabrication didn’t require a lot of floor space or fancy machinery. What it did require, however, was two things. A custom jig for tracing runes in an exact manner, and a device that could channel and amplify mana. The jig she already had, having completed its construction only an hour earlier. The mana amplifier? That’s why she needed to head due south about four kilometers distant. It was her friend at Sisters’ School, Bright Light, that was key in her finally discovering the secret to amulet creation.

* * *

“I’m serious, Tempest. You need to go to medical. Your headaches are getting to where they are a daily occurrence! I’m worried about you.”

“And I’m telling you, Bright. They’re nothing to be concerned about. It’s just the stress of my project that’s getting to me. That’s it. But by the time I’m done you’re gonna see something truly special.”

“Not if your headaches worsen further. And now your nose is bleeding. C’mon. I’ll go with you.”

Hoofing a kerchief, Tempest pressed it to the end of her muzzle. Her voice sounded partially muffled through the material. “Bright, just because your speciality is healing magics doesn’t mean that everypony is suffering from some pathology. I'm perfectly—ack!” Tempest winced as another wave of pain turned sharp, centered right at the base of her horn. Embarrassed, she turned away, rubbing her forehead with one hoof while keeping the kerchief pressed up with the other.

“Ack? Perfectly ack? Define ack.” Bright Light leaned further over Tempest’s bunk, trying to meet her eyes. His gaze wandered up to look more closely at her horn. “Is that… a mana scorch-mark?”

Tempest’s eyes widened before she quickly moved a hoof up, hiding the bit of char that was near the tip. Bright’s much larger hooves rolled her back towards him and his horn lit up, doing a magical scan.

“Lay off! I didn’t sign any consent to treatment!” Tempest batted at Bright’s horn, trying to tap it so she could fizzle out his spell. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You lay off, Tempest! Friends don’t let friends channel mana drunk!” Bright easily defended against Tempest’s single-hoofed pawing.

“I’m not drunk, you big lug!”

“Hungover, then.”

“It’s not a hangover!”

“A tumor?”

“IT’S NOT A TUMOR!”

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to stop bothering you until we get to the bottom of it. I’m your friend, Tempest. Besides. Who else am I going to appeal to when Princess Luna’s practical exams get too hard in “defense against the dark arts?”

Tempest glared at her friend for a moment, but Bright Light didn’t relent a bit. His steely brown eyes continued to stare hers down with a level look.

“Fiiiiine.” Tempest rolled her eyes, before moving the kerchief to see if the bleeding had stopped. “Listen. I’ve been trying to embed runes into crystal, to imbue magical properties into it, such as lightning, or fire.” She grinned back at him, waggling her eyebrows despite her scintillating headache. “Or flight.”

“Impossible. The best enchanters of our day have never figured it out.” Bright continued gazing at her, before his eyes widened slightly. Tempest had a particular smirk on her face he knew only too well. “Wait. You’ve discovered something?”

“Preliminary results, Bright. But even so, the math is working out. I am getting more power retained in a crystal matrix than should be possible. But I need a more powerful beam to embed the rune.”

Bright scowled at her for a minute. “More power like what might be causing mana-scorching?”

Tempest sighed, rubbing her horn gingerly with a hoof. “It takes an intensely focused beam. And it takes everything I got to channel it. And you know my horn can pack quite a punch.”

Bright rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t go bragging again how you lifted all of the exam weights, and then the examiners as well during your school orientation.” He studied Tempest for a moment as the two watched each other in silence. “You aren’t going to stop this, are you?”

Tempest gave a wan smile. Bright knew her too well. “Would you? I can’t stop. Not when I am this close!”

Looking pensive for a moment, Bright knelt down and lowered his voice to a whisper. “What if it’s somepony else’s horn?”

“What?” Tempest scooted back to look at Bright again. Not just because of what he said, but because his breath in her ear tickled. “And scorch somepony else’s? I can’t do that to somepony! Besides, it would let them see the secret I’m working on.”

Bright grinned. “Oh, he won’t mind. He’s dead.” Tempest just looked back in confusion, her mouth hanging open.

“Wait right there. I’m going to sneak into the anatomy lab for something. You know absolutely nothing about this.”

* * *

Several monuments jutted from the cold earth, sentinels that stood watch over the deserted grounds of the Grand Lake Memorial Cemetery. The temperature continued to plummet as Tempest hunkered down further within the collar of her new jacket, seeking warmth. The pungent smell of the jacket’s new material mixed oddly with the wet and earthy smells of the hedgerow obscuring the stonework wall behind it. The wall encircled the entirety of the cemetery, enclosing an area roughly the size of four city blocks, dimly lit in the pale moonlight.

A large wrought iron gate hung from bulky gate pillars two meters to either side, the doors meeting in the middle to bar her entry. Since only a heavy steel latch held the doors in place, it was a simple matter to use her magic to lift the latch and slide the metal bar to the side with a clack.

Pushing the gate open, Tempest winced as the rusty hinges squealed in protest, piercing the silent air with their metallic cry. The surrounding area by comparison seemed to hold its breath seeming to grow more silent if such a thing were possible.

Tempest cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder nervously. “Heh. The hinges were rusty.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course they were.”

Wincing again, this time at the sound of her overly loud voice, Tempest nuzzled into her jacket again and gave a sigh. She spoke in a quieter tone, if for no other reason than to fill the silence. “Whelp. Let’s go get a unicorn horn.”

Passing the gate, Tempest thought for a moment as she looked at it, cold and black as if the moonlight couldn’t find purchase on its surface.

Best to just leave the thing ajar. With everything else I gotta do tonight, I don’t want to hear that sound again.

Walking further in, she began to scan left and right for signs of a recent burial. Some of the statuary caught her eye, and she walked up closer to a larger monument, the burial site of a pegasus mare named Dawning Dove. Tempest looked over the weathered surface of the granite noting a few cracks and some lichens growing beneath the lettering.

The lettering.

Tempest shook her head in some mild disbelief. She read the date again, tracing the rough surface with her hoof. 476 CE. This mare passed on over four hundred years after Tempest had been exiled. And more time than that had passed on since this mare had been laid to rest. Tempest shuddered, as feelings of isolation and abandonment crept into her heart. Everypony she had known was gone, save for two alicorns. One she meant to save, the other to destroy. She looked down at The Eye dangling from a simple cord around her neck.

Tears began to come to her eyes. She had agreed to accept this foul entity’s help. She had refused his first offer, but then he had accepted her counteroffer without hesitation. It was that lack of hesitation that bothered her the most. Had she made a mistake?

That is a distinct possibility, if what happened to the Librarian is any indication. Can I trust this power that seemed to be freely given? Was it worth it? Should I have simply accepted a different fate and made my peace? Would I be happy, dwelling in whatever place this pegasus now resided?

Tempest shook her head again and frowned, backing away from the intimidating grave marker as she wiped away the moisture rapidly cooling as it trailed down her cheeks. Perhaps it was the environment that was getting her. She couldn’t afford to have doubts, not now—she was locked into her course, and her destiny had been set. She had been allowed to wield some of this creature’s power, an entity calling itself Maelstrom. But even so, he held no power over her, his promises of greater power be damned! She had rebuffed him! What she had now was enough. It had to be. How could she appreciate being reunited with her mother, if the power she wielded killed her or warped her into something unrecognizable?

No. I am wiser than that. I won’t fall to Maelstrom’s siren song.

Setting her jaw firm, Tempest looked around again. The moonlight was bright enough that she could make out moderate details of the area around her. She would continue until she found a recent burial plot. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it was absolutely necessary.

Walking further ahead, Tempest continued to scan the grounds as she breathed mist into the icy night air. Rounding another copse of oak trees, she saw it: a site with freshly disturbed earth, a new layer of turf spread over the surface. Walking closer, she noted further that fresh flowers had been placed that couldn’t have been more more than a couple of days old.

Now. If only this plot is the resting place for a fellow of my tribe.

Tempest breathed out a relieved sigh, reading the name inscribed above the epitaph. With a one in three chance, fortune was on her side tonight. Placing her hoof on the surface of the rather generic grave stone, she closed her eyes in quiet contemplation, offering a silent thanks to the deceased.

Sir, I know you have probably lived a full life. Unfortunately, in your horn there remains a greater purpose yet to fulfill. Please forgive the intrusion, but I need to remove a part for a little while. I promise to return it. Eventually.

Tempest brought a small saw out of her saddle bags, the metal teeth gleaming in the soft light. Her eyes traced the blade from toe to heel as she contemplated the moment. How had it come to this? To skulk into a graveyard, to exhume a body, and to sever its horn? What was this, a macabre ghost story told by foals?

But like her saw, sharpened so that it might easily remove the desired appendage, she was ready. Prepared and refined to do what was necessary, to plunge into whatever filth or decay that was necessary in order to attain her victory. Such were the sacrifices that needed to be made to free Luna for good.

Lighting her horn, Tempest began her grisly work.

Description

next

previous

volume 1 Cover page

Spanish Translation. First page

Prologue page one

So, thank you all for all of your comments and questions in the past two pages. Yes, my comic will continue to spin out of control.

So, there are a few things that might need a little clarification.

First off, I reference the fic of a good friend of mine in the Phillipines, where Daring Do and Twilight Velvet are doing some adventuring together, where Velvet becomes her assist-mare side kick. He commissioned me for the art for his story, so I am dropping a name Seriff Pilcrow and a reference: Spectrum of Lightning

Here is a bit of my art for that fic:

Secondly, y'all are missing a little context because the comic glossed over a scene in the fiction. It is the scene where Tempest acquires that horn she slid into her mana emitter. Now, that might sound a little squicky, but give it a chance. It will give those wondering a visit inside of Tempest's head. So without further ado, here is that scene, straight from the fic.

***

Fortunately, amulet fabrication didn’t require a lot of floor space or fancy machinery. What it did require, however, was two things. A custom jig for tracing runes in an exact manner, and a device that could channel and amplify mana. The jig she already had, having completed its construction only an hour earlier. The mana amplifier? That’s why she needed to head due south about four kilometers distant. It was her friend at Sisters’ School, Bright Light, that was key in her finally discovering the secret to amulet creation.

* * *

“I’m serious, Tempest. You need to go to medical. Your headaches are getting to where they are a daily occurrence! I’m worried about you.”

“And I’m telling you, Bright. They’re nothing to be concerned about. It’s just the stress of my project that’s getting to me. That’s it. But by the time I’m done you’re gonna see something truly special.”

“Not if your headaches worsen further. And now your nose is bleeding. C’mon. I’ll go with you.”

Hoofing a kerchief, Tempest pressed it to the end of her muzzle. Her voice sounded partially muffled through the material. “Bright, just because your speciality is healing magics doesn’t mean that everypony is suffering from some pathology. I'm perfectly—ack!” Tempest winced as another wave of pain turned sharp, centered right at the base of her horn. Embarrassed, she turned away, rubbing her forehead with one hoof while keeping the kerchief pressed up with the other.

“Ack? Perfectly ack? Define ack.” Bright Light leaned further over Tempest’s bunk, trying to meet her eyes. His gaze wandered up to look more closely at her horn. “Is that… a mana scorch-mark?”

Tempest’s eyes widened before she quickly moved a hoof up, hiding the bit of char that was near the tip. Bright’s much larger hooves rolled her back towards him and his horn lit up, doing a magical scan.

“Lay off! I didn’t sign any consent to treatment!” Tempest batted at Bright’s horn, trying to tap it so she could fizzle out his spell. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You lay off, Tempest! Friends don’t let friends channel mana drunk!” Bright easily defended against Tempest’s single-hoofed pawing.

“I’m not drunk, you big lug!”

“Hungover, then.”

“It’s not a hangover!”

“A tumor?”

“IT’S NOT A TUMOR!”

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to stop bothering you until we get to the bottom of it. I’m your friend, Tempest. Besides. Who else am I going to appeal to when Princess Luna’s practical exams get too hard in “defense against the dark arts?”

Tempest glared at her friend for a moment, but Bright Light didn’t relent a bit. His steely brown eyes continued to stare hers down with a level look.

“Fiiiiine.” Tempest rolled her eyes, before moving the kerchief to see if the bleeding had stopped. “Listen. I’ve been trying to embed runes into crystal, to imbue magical properties into it, such as lightning, or fire.” She grinned back at him, waggling her eyebrows despite her scintillating headache. “Or flight.”

“Impossible. The best enchanters of our day have never figured it out.” Bright continued gazing at her, before his eyes widened slightly. Tempest had a particular smirk on her face he knew only too well. “Wait. You’ve discovered something?”

“Preliminary results, Bright. But even so, the math is working out. I am getting more power retained in a crystal matrix than should be possible. But I need a more powerful beam to embed the rune.”

Bright scowled at her for a minute. “More power like what might be causing mana-scorching?”

Tempest sighed, rubbing her horn gingerly with a hoof. “It takes an intensely focused beam. And it takes everything I got to channel it. And you know my horn can pack quite a punch.”

Bright rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t go bragging again how you lifted all of the exam weights, and then the examiners as well during your school orientation.” He studied Tempest for a moment as the two watched each other in silence. “You aren’t going to stop this, are you?”

Tempest gave a wan smile. Bright knew her too well. “Would you? I can’t stop. Not when I am this close!”

Looking pensive for a moment, Bright knelt down and lowered his voice to a whisper. “What if it’s somepony else’s horn?”

“What?” Tempest scooted back to look at Bright again. Not just because of what he said, but because his breath in her ear tickled. “And scorch somepony else’s? I can’t do that to somepony! Besides, it would let them see the secret I’m working on.”

Bright grinned. “Oh, he won’t mind. He’s dead.” Tempest just looked back in confusion, her mouth hanging open.

“Wait right there. I’m going to sneak into the anatomy lab for something. You know absolutely nothing about this.”

* * *

Several monuments jutted from the cold earth, sentinels that stood watch over the deserted grounds of the Grand Lake Memorial Cemetery. The temperature continued to plummet as Tempest hunkered down further within the collar of her new jacket, seeking warmth. The pungent smell of the jacket’s new material mixed oddly with the wet and earthy smells of the hedgerow obscuring the stonework wall behind it. The wall encircled the entirety of the cemetery, enclosing an area roughly the size of four city blocks, dimly lit in the pale moonlight.

A large wrought iron gate hung from bulky gate pillars two meters to either side, the doors meeting in the middle to bar her entry. Since only a heavy steel latch held the doors in place, it was a simple matter to use her magic to lift the latch and slide the metal bar to the side with a clack.

Pushing the gate open, Tempest winced as the rusty hinges squealed in protest, piercing the silent air with their metallic cry. The surrounding area by comparison seemed to hold its breath seeming to grow more silent if such a thing were possible.

Tempest cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder nervously. “Heh. The hinges were rusty.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course they were.”

Wincing again, this time at the sound of her overly loud voice, Tempest nuzzled into her jacket again and gave a sigh. She spoke in a quieter tone, if for no other reason than to fill the silence. “Whelp. Let’s go get a unicorn horn.”

Passing the gate, Tempest thought for a moment as she looked at it, cold and black as if the moonlight couldn’t find purchase on its surface.

Best to just leave the thing ajar. With everything else I gotta do tonight, I don’t want to hear that sound again.

Walking further in, she began to scan left and right for signs of a recent burial. Some of the statuary caught her eye, and she walked up closer to a larger monument, the burial site of a pegasus mare named Dawning Dove. Tempest looked over the weathered surface of the granite noting a few cracks and some lichens growing beneath the lettering.

The lettering.

Tempest shook her head in some mild disbelief. She read the date again, tracing the rough surface with her hoof. 476 CE. This mare passed on over four hundred years after Tempest had been exiled. And more time than that had passed on since this mare had been laid to rest. Tempest shuddered, as feelings of isolation and abandonment crept into her heart. Everypony she had known was gone, save for two alicorns. One she meant to save, the other to destroy. She looked down at The Eye dangling from a simple cord around her neck.

Tears began to come to her eyes. She had agreed to accept this foul entity’s help. She had refused his first offer, but then he had accepted her counteroffer without hesitation. It was that lack of hesitation that bothered her the most. Had she made a mistake?

That is a distinct possibility, if what happened to the Librarian is any indication. Can I trust this power that seemed to be freely given? Was it worth it? Should I have simply accepted a different fate and made my peace? Would I be happy, dwelling in whatever place this pegasus now resided?

Tempest shook her head again and frowned, backing away from the intimidating grave marker as she wiped away the moisture rapidly cooling as it trailed down her cheeks. Perhaps it was the environment that was getting her. She couldn’t afford to have doubts, not now—she was locked into her course, and her destiny had been set. She had been allowed to wield some of this creature’s power, an entity calling itself Maelstrom. But even so, he held no power over her, his promises of greater power be damned! She had rebuffed him! What she had now was enough. It had to be. How could she appreciate being reunited with her mother, if the power she wielded killed her or warped her into something unrecognizable?

No. I am wiser than that. I won’t fall to Maelstrom’s siren song.

Setting her jaw firm, Tempest looked around again. The moonlight was bright enough that she could make out moderate details of the area around her. She would continue until she found a recent burial plot. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it was absolutely necessary.

Walking further ahead, Tempest continued to scan the grounds as she breathed mist into the icy night air. Rounding another copse of oak trees, she saw it: a site with freshly disturbed earth, a new layer of turf spread over the surface. Walking closer, she noted further that fresh flowers had been placed that couldn’t have been more more than a couple of days old.

Now. If only this plot is the resting place for a fellow of my tribe.

Tempest breathed out a relieved sigh, reading the name inscribed above the epitaph. With a one in three chance, fortune was on her side tonight. Placing her hoof on the surface of the rather generic grave stone, she closed her eyes in quiet contemplation, offering a silent thanks to the deceased.

Sir, I know you have probably lived a full life. Unfortunately, in your horn there remains a greater purpose yet to fulfill. Please forgive the intrusion, but I need to remove a part for a little while. I promise to return it. Eventually.

Tempest brought a small saw out of her saddle bags, the metal teeth gleaming in the soft light. Her eyes traced the blade from toe to heel as she contemplated the moment. How had it come to this? To skulk into a graveyard, to exhume a body, and to sever its horn? What was this, a macabre ghost story told by foals?

But like her saw, sharpened so that it might easily remove the desired appendage, she was ready. Prepared and refined to do what was necessary, to plunge into whatever filth or decay that was necessary in order to attain her victory. Such were the sacrifices that needed to be made to free Luna for good.

Lighting her horn, Tempest began her grisly work.