Cimmerian

"Fate can be a fickle mistress, it's best not to interfere with her".

Many years ago - several hundred at least - there lived an earth pony named Cimmerian and his wife, Milk Thistle.

Milk Thistle worked with herbs and plants to make medicines. And Cimmerian, ever the devoted husband, would frequently go foraging in the nearby forests and hills to find them for her. It was while doing this one day that he slipped and fell, for it had rained heavily during the night and the earth was slick and wet. He wasn't hurt much, but the tumble had landed him beneath the ground, crashing through the long concealed entrance of a stone chamber.

It might have just been a trick of his shaken mind, but he swore he could hear whispers.

Excited whispers and the occasional wisp of glittering light.

Could he, perhaps, have stumbled across some lost, ancient pocket of magic? Briefly forgetting the herbs he'd been seeking, Cimmerian ventured through the only exit the chamber had, finding himself in a dark and chilly tunnel that opened into another room. It was a bit smaller than the first chamber and, to his surprise, it was full of books. Old and rotting shelves housing tome after tome. The whispers were louder here, almost frenzied in their excitement, but he couldn't make out their words. Cimmerian picked up a book and, almost as though he were being guided to do it, he began to read.

***

By the time he made it home it was dark and Milk Thistle was beside herself with worry. Apologies were given, the promise of more careful foraging tomorrow and the explanation of what he'd found. Milk Thistle was wary but Cimmerian was enthralled. That night he had a dream in which the mother of a young foal came to Milk Thistle for help. The foal was desperately ill and in dire need of medicine. When he woke up he thought nothing of it until the exact mare from the dream came to their home with her sickly foal. 

Cimmerian began to spend more time in the underground library, reading books on magic he didn't understand. And the more he read the more frequent his prophetic dreams became. Milk Thistle was scared but Cimmerian made her promise not to tell anypony about it. The library was his find. The books his to read. But the dreams weren't the only change occurring. Parts of his dark coat were starting to fade into a brilliant red shade. Jagged patterns were emerging across his body.

Time passed.

Milk Thistle began to show signs of age while Cimmerian remained young and strong. And eventually the mare who had helped so many others with their ailments fell ill herself. Cimmerian had learned to understand the whispers by now and, when he had a dream of his precious wife's death from the sickness, he went straight to them for help. This was not something he could accept. Somehow, someway, he would save Milk Thistle. Fate would not have her way this time. And the whispers agreed to help him.

Fate was outraged.

Fate was...cruel.

The outcome of that day's events saw Cimmerian plunged into a deep sleep through powerful unicorn magic. The library was burned and he was sealed away within that dark little room, the tunnel blocked off and the main chamber filled so that nopony else could stumble upon it. For hundreds of years that was where Cimmerian remained, trapped within his endless slumber, his story a warning to all those who might wish to challenge Fate and a stark lesson about meddling with old, unknown magic.

But nothing can stay hidden forever. Hundreds of years later light would once again penetrated the ruined library. Cimmerian would awaken.

And the story would continue.