Hell's Silencing: Forsaken Innocence

Flora woke up, no longer in the searing liquid. She was back on the street she thought was engulfed by the liquid. Her vision was blurry, and it was hard to move.

Her fingers and toes were immobile for some reason, and she felt the cold chills return. Hair surrounded her legs, which was odd because she never was able to grow it out that long.

Her eyes closed once more, and she was ready to accept the dismal darkness.

A soft static snapped her out of her stupor, and she groaned in pain as her vision became clear.

Too clear for comfort.

She was surrounded--and laying on--by mirrors. Her ears poked out in triangles on top of her head, which was odd because her ears were always concealed by her hair, which stayed the same. She had a snow white pelt, her grey eyes now showing meager hints of blue. She turned to a side mirror, and her hands and feet were hooves now. A tail was settled at her hind quarters, her book-bag and lantern fitting to her new body. There wasn't anything on her flank, and she had nothing to defend herself with except for her sword, whose hilt now rested in her jaw.

It was difficult getting up, her legs mocking her as searing pain racked up again. Her nerves were on the verge of shutting down and leaving her there. But her mind kept screaming at her to get up regardless. Mind over matter held true in this as she stood on all four hooves, breathing through her now-modified nostrils as her body shook. Had it not been for the sword in her jaw, she would've coughed like no tomorrow. Dust hung heavy in the air, and she was allergic to it.

The shakes refused to stop as the mirrors suddenly became bloody. More of that foul liquid began to fill the room.

The smell of death filled the room as the liquid heralded a flood.

Flora blinked once, and the street in the night returned to normal.

She shook her head in disbelief before looking at her hoof. It was still a hoof. Her sword still rested in her jaw.

Steeling herself, the girl-turned-horse began trotting up the hill and toward the bypass. She tripped once or twice because walking on all fours was a bit strange. Once she got to the bypass, it started to rain, staining the road an unusual dark crimson.

White feathers also began fluttering down, and if a drop of the mysterious rain hit them, they instantly turned black for reasons unknown.

Flora noticed something: she was no longer at home.

No, she was standing before the entrance of a town obscured by darkness.