My Final Confession: Relapse

The rapid beating of wings fills the microphone as the camera switches to record. An aerial view captures a bouncing tangle of brush, leaves, and deadwood littering the ground a few feet below. A peppermint fence closes in and disappears below the frame. It captures a treeless, bald spot in a valley where Pinkamena has made her home. The cottage stands alone, surrounded by the dense hills of the Everfree forest tall enough to conceal this pocket of flat, grassy land. It is evening, and the sky has turned the color of infected skin. The looming trees cause it to seem much darker than it should be. Cozy pauses to hover now and again while searching near the edge of the treeline. Harrowing cries of pain seem to come from everywhere. The camera zooms quickly to Pinkamena grimacing down into a large hole.

Cozy zips to her and lights on the ground beside the mare. The cries of pain are causes the sound to clip and the video dips into a pony-made hole. It is evident from the scattering of leaves and brush surrounding the pit that it had been covered carefully, like a baker would attentively decorate a cake. There is no doubt the pit was nearly imperceptible before it was too late. The bottom is lined with rows of sharpened sticks coated with an unidentified green muck: a venomous maw of sharp, angry teeth.

In the middle of the trap with several of the carved wooden stakes tearing holes through his body, lies a stallion. Blood pours from the wounds and puddles around him, staining his white coat crimson. He wears light, leathery armor bearing an orange sigil.

He looks towards the camera, staked in place. His cries begin to ease away, but tears spill from his eyes and his breathing is ragged; one of the cruel barbs has likely collapsed a lung. A backpack and a canvas hood lay beside him. Cozy gasps sharply and the camera wobbles, struggling to keep the grim vision in frame.

“Royal Inquisition, huh?" Pinkamena scoffs.

The stallion coughs like a pneumonia patient and spits a thick, red mass at her but it falls short by many feet.

"Now, why exactly would Twilight send an inquisitor this deep into the Everfree forest?” Pinkamena smirks into the hole, her voice haughty and prickling.

“Inquisitor? What’s that?”

“Hush, Cozy. Give our guest room to speak; I have a feeling he doesn’t have very long left to do so.” Pinkamena’s eyes narrow and the edges of her teeth begin to poke from behind her lips.

The stallion moans painfully and attempts to clear his throat, coughing up a thick, bloody clot of phlegm that dribbles down his chin and glistens sickly in the fading evening light. He struggles to speak but redoubles his efforts, his eyes meeting the mare’s free of fear. “I’m inquisitor Iron Scales of the Princess’ Royal Guard. I don’t … I don’t have to answer to the likes of you.”

Pinkamena feigns displeasure at the condescension. Her teeth unlock one by one as her grin spreads like a disease. “Sure, I understand you don’t HAVE to, but you do know who I am, right? I doubt your presence here is a coincidence.”

The camera zooms in on the dying stallion as he glares angrily towards Pinkamena and then directly at the camera. “Pinkamena Diane Pie, of course. For this long Princess Twilight has allowed you to live so far from civilized society despite your cr-crimes. And Co-Cozy Glow.” The inquisitor faces Cozy. “How apt … that you are here. Both of Equestria’s biggest monsters sharing a den. Poetic, really.”

“Monster?” Cozy huffs. Her voice twinges high and breaks from frustration. “You must be mistaken. YOU are the one working for a monster. You and the ‘civilized’ society you are part of. We are ….”

“Cozy!” Pinkamena rebukes the smaller pony.

The view spins to Pinkamena, her eyes like pin-pricks of hate and a wide, toothy smile eating it’s way up her jaws.

“Let him speak, my dear. He’s come a long way to die terribly. Whether it’s in a pit quickly or tied down on our kitchen table slowly is up to him.”

There is only the grating of stakes on bone and muffled moans as the camera turns back to Iron Scales. He lays his head to the dirt floor of the pit and is silently resolute in his conviction.

“Before you have made your decision, sir, you understand that simply telling me why you are here instead of making me dig through your personal items… or your entrails while you yet live, will earn you the reprieve of a fast death.” Her smile unzips a little more, dagger-teeth unveiling a couple at a time. She giggles with a sickening playfulness. “You see, my friend here is still a filly despite the many years she endured as a prisoner of the state. I’m not one to allow a young, innocent one such as her to take part in the systematic torture of another. It may damage her sensibilities … more, I mean. Your precious Twilight has done a rather crooked turn already to her. So, do me a favor, kind sir, and just tell me of your own volition. Because, either way, you will tell me.”

Cozy is quiet and shifts between Pinkamena and Iron Scales. The video lingers on Pinkamena while she speaks. A short gasp escapes the filly.

Iron Scales growls at the pain and pushes himself to stand, the stakes holding him to the floor of the trap like the talons of an eagle. Though his body fails, his spirit hardens. “I will not break my allegiance to Twilight to make things more convenient for a demon like you! And definitely not for the sake of your devil filly. May you both rot in Tartarus for eternity.”

The grin wearing Pinkamena’s face nearly doubles, reaching its maximum size. Her eyes are razor slits of eerie blue. “I do so love you inquisitors. I’ve never seen your type break in loyalty." She pauses, chuckles sadistically, and continues, "Then let me tell you why you are here. You seek the capture of myself, Miss Pinkamena Diane Pie, for your most honorable Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle. I’m certain that you carry paperwork in your journal stating this fact.”

“How do you …” Cozy begins but is cut off by the mare.

“YOUR ORDERS are to bring me in alive. I am to undergo trial by one, the Princess herself as my judge. The Royal Inquisition, being the greatest hunters of Equestria, have been charged with this personally and the pony to succeed in this task shall be rewarded handsomely: a promotion, a cache of bits, and the glory of being the one to apprehend the devil herself. Quite a distinction, sir.”

The inquisitor realizes his fate has been sealed and says something unknown, most likely a prayer or a recitation of oath. He then casts his eye to the pair once more. “You know much, monster. I have nothing more to say to beasts like you. Do with me what you will. My allegiance is to the Princess of frie”

A wood cutting axe buries to the handle in the inquisitor’s forehead, ending his speech and causing his body to go limp except for one twitching leg. An eyeball bursts from the socket and lays listlessly in the dirt. Cozy gasps again and the framing falls away from the body of the inquisitor. The camera falls to the grassy carpet beside the pit. Cozy retches and coughs and the camera turns off.