Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare's Precognition

Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare’s Precognition

Part 1: Away the ‘Mare

There are only two things about this nightmare that are consistent. Fire. Everything is always burning, houses, trees, lakes, castles, wherever they happen to be. And then there’s her. The one image, the one piece of scenery, a stain on an eerie image. A pink mare just like her is always standing in the blaze, but it doesn’t flinch. It stares at her with a mocking gaze, its pupils shrunk to needle size, demonic against the bloodshot whites of its eyes. Flesh…there’s always that smell too. It stings her nose, she can’t get away. No matter how hard the filly tries, her hooves are embedded in place like the roots of a tree. Whatever is holding her will not let go, will not let her look away. Perhaps it is that stare, that glowing white lock against a backdrop of red with blood painted under its eyelids. It’s her spitting image, only it looks older than her, smarter than her, colder than her.

“Eheehehehe…” And it laughs. It’s always laughing, but in a different way every time. Sometimes it is a joking giggle and others, like this time, it is maniacal. If the crimson splotches on its cheeks are tears, they are never tears of sadness. They are gleeful, extravagant, and even though there is no way to be certain, the filly, anchored stiff by the sight of herself so broken, gets the feeling that not all of the red drops on the mare’s fur are its own. The crackling snaps of the fire get louder as if trying to drown out the sound of the mare’s giddiness. But it can’t. Its laughing echoes like they’re in a hollow iron tunnel, its grating noise enough to rust the walls until they crumbled around them. But the crumbling is why it laughs. The buildings break and collapse under the blaze and the crunching of bodies amuses it.

The filly squirms in place, suddenly conscious of her own body. She still can’t move and finishing its laughter, the mare in the fire ceases its smiling. Its face darkens and its pupils dilate. It seemed happy a moment ago, but this new shadow over its face is sinister and even though the mare’s mouth doesn’t move the filly hears, as if the air is murmuring the mare’s thoughts across to her, a whispered phrase float across the breeze. The sand below her hisses in the gust and just as the breathed words meet her ears they appear before her, written in the dirt: Mors ultima…

She doesn’t know what they mean. A harsh crack sends the bloodied mare’s face before her back to a vicious smile. But the mare isn’t smiling at her anymore, but at something behind her. Her knees tremble and suddenly her nerves can feel, she’s cold. She turns her head. Her eyes are met with the sight of blazing pillar scorching the wind down toward her. It strikes. She hears the crunch and-

The filly flails from her sheets into an upright position. She was panting, but shivering. She looked around. Nopony else was left in the sleeping room. All the beds were empty, but the thick still drawn curtains prevented the sun from filling the room, leaving everything dim and shadowy. She sighed, trying to calm her breaths. It had just been that nightmare again. She didn’t know how many times it had repeated week after week and she might have used the excuse that she had lost count had she ever started counting at all. But there was something undeniably special about this dream. Every time she escaped it, the room was empty. It was a vision of hell that reserved itself only for her. And why not? She was the only one who survived the fire.

Thump thump

The filly jerked in fright, drawing the covers up as if they might save her from what was at the door.

“Pinkamena?” came a compassionate voice. The filly relaxed, tossing the covers aside lightly and shuffling herself out of her scratchy hay bed.

“Pinkamena? All of the other fillies and foals have already eaten,” The voice continued speaking through the door “Are you coming out for breakfast?” Pinkamena plopped to the wooden floor and brushed her straight pink mane to the side with a hoof. Plodding across the floor, she made her way to the door and stretching her small body reached up to the handle and gave it a pull. The latch clicked as she thumped back down to all fours. It was enough to get the door ajar. She reached around it timidly with one hoof and pulled it the rest of the way open. She was greeted with a flood of light blocked only by the figure of Ms. Sunblossom. Pinkamena squinted, lowering her head like a recluse that was used to living in a cave. The dim loneliness of the sleeping room certainly seemed to fit her better.

“Oh there’s my heavy sleeper,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled cheerfully. “Would you like some breakfast? I saved you some.” Pinkamena looked up at her caretaker without raising her head, moving only her eyes.

“Yes please…” She nearly whispered.

“Well let’s get you to the kitchen then,” Ms. Sunblossom held her perpetual cheeriness and stepped to the side, motioning for Pinkamena to follow her.

“Okay…” Pinkamena scampered out of the sleeping room and stuck close to Ms. Sunblossom’s side as they walked. Any closer and they might have tripped over each other’s hooves. Ms. Sunblossom was a kind mare, a small earth pony, but certainly bigger than Pinkamena. Her fur was a light buff tan, a cutie mark of a soft petaled yellow sunflower on her flank. Her mane, striped with the same color along with a deeper fuller orange, curled at the ends giving her an elegant look despite her rather rustic ways. Emese Sunblossom was her full name, but everypony simply called her Ms. Sunblossom. She was head of the halls that Pinkamena walked with her through. It was all wooden, a bit creaky and old in places, yet for how large it was and how many hidden corners of it there were, it maintained a rather homey feel. Pinkamena was unsure if this made her happy or if it was what made her feel sick at heart sometimes. She gazed up at her golden hostess as she trotted cheerfully along, clinging to her side like she was afraid of being outside the protective aura Ms. Sunblossom gave off.

The kitchen was one of the largest rooms, second only to the front lobby area that would have been a grand place to receive guests had it not become a play area for all the other fillies on rainy days. The kitchen, however, was full of tables and stools all of knotted and dried wood, their tops blanketed with tattered, but clean white, cotton table cloths. It’s outer perimeter was lined with countertops and serving tables, the cooks coming and going with meal times. Now, most of the were in the back area cleaning and preparing for the next meal in the one tin, metallic looking area that Pinkamena had seen in the whole place because it was where all the stoves and cooking supplies were located. Ms. Sunblossom led her to the end of one of the tables and told her to sit. Pinkamena nodded wordlessly and hopped up onto a stool at a corner. She immediately hopped down and moved to the other side as the sun shone into her eyes through the windows in the tall slanted roof above them.

As soon as her head peaked up over the table her eyes were greeted with a bowl of carrot stew, still steaming. She stared into it longingly.

“I kept it warm for you,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Now wait just a moment and I’ll-oh…” She had probably meant to go get Pinkamena a spoon at least, but before she could finish the little filly took the bowl in her two front hooves and buried her face in it. She devoured the softened warm carrots greedily, lapping up the peas and diced bits of celery in the syrupy broth with her tongue. The carrots were sweet, honey glazed and the peas had a good firm mushiness to them, while the celery though warm maintained much of its planty crunchiness. She took enough in each time to fill her mouth, chewing it all up into a blend that was wonderfully flavorful and spongy on her tongue and went down with a single satisfying gulp. She licked the bowl clean and when she finished looked to the side. Ms. Sunblossom was smiling brightly at her with one hoof on the table, a napkin over it. Pinkamena set the bowl down shyly and pushed it away, taking her gaze away from her caretaker and looking down at the table instead.

“Thanks…” She mumbled. A layer of the thick broth still lingered around her mouth and Ms. Sunblossom giggled in amusement.

“Oh of course,” She replied. “It looks like you were hungry. Here.” She brought the napkin forward and wiped Pinkamena’s face clean.

“Mmph…” Pinkamena uttered uncomfortably. She licked her lips as the napkin was lifted away primarily to re-wet them, but also to check if there was anything left of what she had inadvertently saved for later.

“Sorry,” She said. “I’ll be cleaner next time.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Ms. Sunblossom replied, folding the napkin and setting it aside. “You’re a growing mare. Now do you want to join the other fillies?”

“I…I don’t wanna go outside.”

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom walked around the corner of the table and lifted Pinkamena from her stool, putting her down beside her. “You’ve been hiding long enough. There are plenty of little ponies who want to be your friend.” She gave her a nudge. Pinkamena looked up at her, unsure. “Come on.”

“A-alright…” Pinkamena gave in at this last urging. She stuck close to Ms. Sunblossom all the way through the halls again, into the large front room, and even as she opened the door. The sunlight was still bright, but it took less adjusting to this time and after a few moments of blindness Pinkamena was greeted with a yard full of fillies and foals running about, throwing frisbees, and a few playing a game of foursquare in a box they had painted in the grass. The other adults were scattered among them, but Pinkamena had never bothered to remember or even learn their names. The breeze was warm, the sky nearly cloudless, the grass a lush green, and the distant mountains gave the whole scene a panoramic feel. Yet Pinkamena still cowered behind Ms. Sunblossom in the doorway as if the grass might stretch out and devour her if she stepped outside.

“Aw,” She chuckled. “Out here dear. You’re not going to make any friends right there.” Ms. Sunblossom put a hoof around the little pink filly and scooted her out into the lawn. Pinkamena didn’t move, brushing her hoof around in the grass. “Go on,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her. Pinkamena tried to sink away, but despite how gentle Ms. Sunblossom had been with her, the mare’s hoof around her small body held in her place unshakingly. Pinkamena turned her head back to her caretaker.

“I-I can’t do this,” She looked away.

“Yes you can,” Ms. Sunblossom assured her. “You just need to say hi. Look there goes somepony.” She gestured to a passing foal running across the lawn apparently excited about where he was going. He tripped presently and flopped onto his chin into the grass as he was passing them only a few feet away.

“Woops,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Careful Archy.” The foal got up and after shaking himself off turned to them.

“Oh hey Miss Sunblossom,” He greeted in his coltish voice. He was a small, spunky pegasus with peachy fur, a dark blue pooffy mane, and a tail that was no bigger than a carrot leaf poking out of the ground. His cutie mark was a baseball bat with the small white stitched ball next to it.

“Are we in a hurry?” Ms. Sunblossom teased him. “You should be careful not to trip over your own hooves mister.”

“Oh… heheh,” He glanced around shyly, brushing the back of his head with a hoof. “Me and some of the other fillies were gonna play baseball though!” He brightened and Pinkamena felt a nudge against her back push her forward an inch.

“Oh…uh…hmm,” Pinkamena started but trailed off. His eyes moved to her and he tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“Now Pinkamena you can’t mumble,” Ms. Sunblossom encouraged her. “Go on.”

“Um…hello,” She managed, trying to hide her face behind her mane because she couldn’t hide behind Ms. Sunblossom.

“Uh hi?” He seemed rather confused.

“Archy this is Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom persisted. “Pinkamena this is Archy.”

“Well my name’s actually Archer, but you can call me Archy if you want to.” He grinned at her nervously. She brought her face out from behind her drape of a mane and tried her best to look him in the eye, taking awkward glances to the side when his innocent gaze seemed like it was too much.

“Hi…Archer…” She felt like a toddler trying to learn a new word as she said his name.

“That’s right,” Ms. Sunblossom interjected. “Archy, Pinkamena here was wondering if she could play with you.” He looked at her as if her proposal took a second to dawn on him, but he immediately brightened, gaining a sudden boost of confidence now that he knew what he was talking about.

“Oh of course,” He replied energetically. “Odd numbered teams are always a pain. You could make it even!” He smiled at her.

“You see Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom looked down at her and ruffled her mane. “He’s more than happy to let you join. All you have to do is ask.” Pinkamena was still unsure of herself and found her eyes fixed on the colt’s cutie mark.

“I don’t have a cutie mark…” She murmured mostly to herself.

“Oh,” Archer followed her gaze and looked at the mark on his flank before turning back to her. “That doesn’t matter. We’re all-”

“Momma…” Pinakmena started saying before he finished.

“Huh?” He stopped, puzzled by her. Pinkamena remembered her mother telling her about cutie marks, that when a pony discovered their special talent or their purpose, they would get their cutie mark. She didn’t have hers yet and seeing Archer with his made her feel as though she had missed her chance. Who was going to guide her to finding her special talent, she had no family. She was alone, without a future, without certainty.

“How…” Pinkamena stopped herself, finding it hard to speak without her voice cracking. She wanted to ask him how he got his cutie mark and perhaps Ms. Sunblossom would be happy to see her being social. But she felt suddenly embarrassed for looking weak in front of Archer, but had nowhere to hide, so she simply trembled in place.

“Hey,” He seemed on some level to understand her. “Don’t-” He took a step forward, but before he could say any more Pinkamena fell into a fit of tears like an infant.

“Wh- Hey,” Her crying in turn upset him and he backed away with the feeling it was somehow his fault. “Stop,” He told her, his own eyes getting a bit foggy. “Ms. Sunblossom what did I do?”

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said firmly. It was no use. The filly kept crying and wiggled her way back behind the mare, squirming her way under the hoof that had held her in place.

“Hey,” Archer called to her. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Archy,” Ms. Sunblossom assured as she turned back to him after making sure Pinkamena wasn’t going any further. “You’re alright. Run along and play.”

“Is she okay?” He asked.

“I’ll take care of her. You just make sure you and your friends have fun playing baseball.”

“A-alright.” He turned away tentatively, keeping his eye on the filly cowering behind her caretaker. He took a step, hesitated, took one look back, but then turned away and continued running across the lawn.

“Take care,” Ms. Sunblossom called after him. She turned around, pulling her hind leg from the grip of the pony crying into it. She frowned at Pinkamena as the filly began sobbing into her own hooves. Ms. Sunblossom picked Pinkamena up in one hoof, moved back inside, set her down, and turned and closed the door firmly with a damning thud that shut out the sun. She faced Pinkamena and glared down at her.

“Pinkamena Diane,” She said fiercely, but without raising her voice. “You stop your bawling right now.” Pinkamena stopped immediately, sniffling the rest of her tears away and looking timidly back at Ms. Sunblossom who was clearly upset with her.

“That’s better,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Crying isn’t going to get you anywhere. Now why didn’t you go play baseball with that colt? He was nothing but nice to you.” Pinkamena shifted uncomfortably under the angry eyes that were normally kind to her.

“He…I don’t know,” She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “He just reminded me of…home…somehow.” Ms. Sunblossom lowered her ears and sighed. She sat down beside Pinkamena and put a hoof around her, drawing her close. Pinkamena leaned against Ms. Sunblossom’s fur and lowered her head.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said. The filly didn’t move. “Pinkamena look at me.” The filly lifted her head slowly. Everything about Ms. Sunblossom seemed to draw her in. She felt encased by her eyes, her mane that almost dropped down to the top of her head, and the hoof across her back. She wanted to stay there, sheltered and safe forever. But the face that she was looking into was telling her that wasn’t an option. Ms. Sunblossom wanted her to let go, but Pinkamena was holding on like she was at the bottom rung of a ladder and there was nothing left to grasp should she fall.

“Look,” Ms. Sunblossom continued. “I know you miss your home, a lot of ponies here do too. But it’s been months Pinkamena. You need to make some friends. It’ll help.” Pinkamena didn’t remember seeing a more sincere gaze even from her own mother.

“Really?” Pinkamena’s voice crackled.

“I know so,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled as she took her other hoof and gave Pinkamena’s nose a light tap.

“But…” Pinkamena stopped.

“But what?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. “Pinkamena I know you’re a little shy and you’ve had your bad days, but you’ve been off since this morning. You don’t usually wake up that late. Did something happen?”

“There wasn’t…n-no,” Pinkamena lowered her head again.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said sternly. “Up here dear.” She put her free hoof under the filly’s chin and brought her head up. “Is there something you aren’t telling me? I can’t help if you don’t say anything.”

“I…I had a nightmare,” She admitted bluntly.

“A nightmare? Goodness why didn’t you tell me dear? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. “Will that help?”

“It was scary,” Pinkamena said. “I don’t wanna think about it.” Ms. Sunblossom raised an eyebrow to which Pinkamena only shook her head. The whole thing would have been too hard not only to verbalize but to believe.

“Well alright,” Ms. Sunblossom sighed. “Now I think you’ve kept me to yourself long enough for today. I have things to do, but you’re not off the hook little filly. You should enjoy your play time. I want you to go back outside and be as social as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” Pinkamena agreed.

“At least do your best dear,” Ms. Sunblossom lifted her hoof off Pinkmena and opened the front door again. Pinkamena squinted against the light walking toward the door slowly and squeamishly. Her knees seemed to tighten as she stepped into the grass and looked down at her hooves nervously as if she were afraid they might betray her attempt at good intentions. “Remember,” Ms. Sunblossom said from the doorway. “All you have to do is say hi.”

“Right,” Pinkamena whispered to herself. “Hi…” clunk. “Eeep” She squeaked as the door closed behind her. Ms. Sunblossom had shut it rather gently, but it still startled her. She felt immediately isolated and looking around at all the other fillies playing on the lawn gave her the impression that they looked right through her. They were all so engrossed in what they were doing and the adults in watching them that she knew nopony would notice her if she didn’t move. To them she would just look like some overgrown pink flower as their eyes glossed over her along with the scenery. She shuffled out of the way of the door and laid down on her stomach in the grass. She didn’t lie, she told herself. This was about as social as she knew how to be. In the distance Pinkamena heard the crack of a wooden bat and an echo of cheering fillies. Her body gave a shudder even though the wind and the sunlight were both warm. Her nose caught the scent of boiling potatoes coming from the kitchen which at least gave her something to look forward to. She stretched out her neck and laid her head down between her two front hooves.

“I bet Archy could hit a home run…” She said to the ground. That was all the more talkative she was the rest of evening. She simply couldn’t bring herself to say hello to any of the ponies she didn’t know. She was afraid of them and she didn’t know why. She was never this cowardly before the fire.

The sun had set by the time Pinkamena saw Ms. Sunblossom again and her day had been nothing like what her caretaker would have hoped. She didn’t even bother looking for Archer again even though he was probably the pony that would have been simplest to start a conversation with. Yet she didn’t know which made her more uncomfortable: greeting a stranger or trying to apologize to somepony she had already greeted. She shook her head at the floorboards as she walked, disapproving of herself.

“Off to bed now you two,” A voice down the hall said. Pinkamena’s ear gave a twitch and she raised her head just in time to see two colt’s scamper down a hallway to her left. Ms. Sunblossom stood at the corner smiling at them as they went. Pinkamena approached her quietly, knowing she had nothing to boast about and that if she told Ms. Sunblossom that she had done nothing but hide again she would only be met with disappointment. The halls were dark save for the lanterns that lined them. They were spaced out so that there were patches of darkness between the radii of their orangish-yellow glow and Ms. Sunblossom was standing under one of them. Pinkamena stepped into the light hesitantly, her hooves making quiet brushes across the wood.

“Hm?” Ms. Sunblossom turned her head and Pinkamena stopped, feeling her body want to sink back into the shade behind her, but she locked her knees and held herself still, feeling Ms. Sunblossom initial glance at her slightly incriminating.

“Pinkamena,” She smiled, but then tilted her head shifting to a worried expression. “Why do you look so sad dear?” Pinkamena forced her hind legs down and sat. It was the only thing she could think of to counter her gut reaction to back away. It seemed almost overpowering.

“I-I didn’t say hello to anypony…” She admitted painfully. She felt a bit of the tension leave her. Perhaps it was better to get it out of the way quickly.

“Oh I know I was hard on you Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom replied as she approached her. She sat down in front of Pinkamena assuming the same sitting position. “But don’t worry. We’ll get you there eventually.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Pinkamena asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

“Of course not dear,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “I couldn’t stay mad at you or any of my other little ponies here for long. But I must draw my lines. Now, are you ready for bed?”

“Yes ma’am,” Pinkamena replied, routinely.

“Alright. You run along and I’ll be by to tuck you in in a bit.” Pinkamena was about to trudge off but stopped, looking back up at Ms. Sunblossom with an expression of wonder.

“T-tuck me in?” She questioned. Ms. Sunblossom always made sure everypony made it to bed, but she didn’t have time attend to all of them individually. Her words took Pinkamena by surprise. She hadn’t been tucked in to bed since the fire.

“You think it’ll help you sleep? We don’t want you having any more nightmares.”

“I don’t know…” This time she really didn’t know. The nightmares didn’t come in a consistent pattern. The only thing she could be certain of was that if she did have a nightmare, she would wake up alone.

“Well it’s worth a shot,” Ms. Sunblossom decided. “Now you head on over to the sleeping room and I’ll be there when I make sure everypony made it to bed. ‘Kay?”

Pinkamena nodded, but she didn’t move, waiting rather for Ms. Sunblossom to walk off first.

“Go on,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her.

“Oh…okay.” She realized what the mare was waiting for and scurried off down the hallway, looking back to see Ms. Sunblossom take the hallway she had just come from. After her caretaker disappeared, Pinkamena resigned her head to the floor as she walked. Of all the things that confused her the most right now the reason Ms. Sunblossom was being so nice to her was second only to her own fear of everything and everypony she didn’t know. At least she knew why her nightmare haunted her. Everypony else seemed like an enigma. What did they think of her? Was Ms. Sunblossom only doing this because she felt sorry for her? Her lack of knowledge made her want to know, but her fear of asking anything just left her frustrated. The two conflicting compulsions were paralyzing her much the same way she had been in the hallway before telling Ms. Sunblossom that she hadn’t done what she wanted her to do. Her instinct had been to back away in fear of letting her caretaker down, but she had been so unwilling to let that instinct get the best of her that she ended up being stuck in place, unable to act at all. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe the fire never should have happened. Maybe she wanted nothing more than to be back home. Maybe she was lucky to even have somepony like Ms. Sunblossom looking out for her. Maybe she was just-

Thump

Pinkamena was forced to a halt, face smashing against a wall. She completely zoned out and had just kept walking as far as the hallway would take her. She rubbed her nose and hit the wall with her other hoof, blaming it for not warning her to stop. She turned and took a look around. An immediate sense of pressure descended on her. There weren’t any lanterns back here. It was dark. This wasn’t even the hallway she had started in. Lost in her thoughts, she had actually taken a turn, maybe several, without realizing it. She had no way of knowing and she didn’t recognize the room she was in. The only light was the moon shinning through the windows and the dust hovering over the floor. It looked like nopony ever went back here.

“M-Miss Sunblossom,” She tried to whisper, but even her soft outcry seemed like it was too loud. It sunk heavily into the wood and echoed only briefly before it was swallowed up.

“Miss-eee,” Pinkamena nearly yelped as she flinched forward. Her tail had unexpectedly brushed against the wall behind her and it set her on edge. Her body tensed and she felt a chill run up from her tail all the way through her ears. Her eyes fogged up and she could feel her heart speed up and her breaths follow. No, she thought, I won’t cry, I just have to go back the way I came. She inched forward, taking the doorway at her side thinking it must have been one of the turns she accidentally took, but the room she found herself in was just as foreign to her as the dark hallway. Her right front hoof nudged something.

Bang!

Pinkamena screamed, but immediately stifled it as she jumped to the side. She had simply knocked something over. She eyed the object, a small wooden nightstand that had nothing on it. Looking up from it however, her eyes were met with a staircase that lead up into a darkness that caved in on itself, hiding away from the sparse moonlight coming from the small windows in the room. They didn’t have curtains like most of the other places in the building and Pinkamena had the sinking feeling that she was in a place that not many ponies used. Nopony would find her here, she thought. Ms. Sunblossom would go to tuck her in and Pinkamena wouldn’t be there and none of the other adults would ever think to look where nopony else ever ventured.

Pinkamena’s panic intensified. She backed away from the staircase and the fallen table, a sense of dread enveloping her as she stared up into a blackness that seemed reach out for her. Her terrified mind imagined a set bright white eyes glowering down at her from within its depths. Her legs began to tremble. Her tail felt the wall behind her and she took her last step back.

In a sudden swish of wind, Pinkamena was sent flailing down some kind of slide as the floorboard beneath her flipped. She stumbled, trying desperately to stop herself as she careened downward into nothingness, but whatever slick surface she was on offered no traction. Her chin smacked against it several times as she struggled, trying to get back on her hooves. It was no use. The room she had been in seemed comforting now. She had no control over where she was going. Giving up on stopping herself, Pinkamena turned herself on her back hind legs first. She couldn’t see anything anymore, but could feel herself turning as the slide spiraled downward. Her hind legs suddenly collided with something, forcing open a set of hinges that screeched loudly, the wooden panels attached to them banging against something as they were thrown open. Pinkamena tumbled off the slide and flopped to her stomach, hitting her chin against the ground.

She let out a faint whimper, her breaths shaky. She suddenly felt streams running down her face. She hadn’t even realized they were there. She has been too terrified. She got up, her knees buckling underneath her as she tried to control them. She still couldn’t see anything. It was as dark as darkness gets. Yet she could feel that the ground beneath her was no longer wood, but soil and the air around her was cold. It was quiet save for her wheezy, petrified breaths and her heart pounding on her eardrums. She sniffled taking in the musty scent of moist soil and untended wood. She was afraid to move. More so than what she didn’t know, what she couldn’t see scared her. She ran a hoof through her mane as if to make sure her body was still there.

It was several minutes before Pinkamena managed to find the courage to even step backwards. Trying to calm her breaths, she reached cautiously back with her hind leg and feeling wood against it, shuffled back into what she assumed was a wall. She felt along it moving slowly as she kept track of its surface with her hooves. She lifted a front one up and felt something metal and cold. She immediately withdrew, but in the process struck the object and a click was followed by a sudden hiss. Four fires blazed to life at each corner of the room. Pinkamena put a hoof to her eyes as the initial burst of light was painful to her eyes which had been struggling to find even a small glimpse. Lowering it though, she wished kept it there or never found the light. She gasped, but it got caught in her throat and she ended up coughing. The light came from four lanterns fastened to the wall. She didn’t know how they worked, only that they were somehow linked to the small lever she had flipped as she was feeling around in the dark. What they revealed though was never meant for her eyes.

She finished her coughing, wanting nothing more than to look away. She couldn’t though. The scene before her was the only thing for her to see. There was a table, a wooden one at the left side of the room, its center covered in a splatter of faded red. There were several belts attached to it all loose and forming rings. Around the rest of the room were circles drawn in the same color in the soil and on the walls. There was even one that would have been big enough for her to fit in the center of on the ceiling. In the right corner there was a set of bookshelves, the books piled on top of one another as a few of the shelves had collapsed. Next to them was a small table, short enough even for her with an old decaying scroll on it next to a large tome that looked just as old. She could smell their pages. Pinkamena stared in awe, unsure of whether to be afraid or curious. One large circle was painted in faintly across the soil in the room’s center, its presence dominating all of the others. They were all circles with strange symbols and lines crossing through them. She didn’t understand any of it. The only thing she understood was that it frightened her. She stepped cautiously forward, avoiding the red lines like they might kill her if she touched them. They were ominous and Pinkamena wanted nothing to do with them. She avoided the stained table at the side of the room as well, making her way to the books, the only objects in the room from which she felt no terror.

She made it to the middle of the room and stopped. Her legs were shaking so much that walking was difficult. She tried calming herself down by taking deep breaths, but her inhaling was shallow and her exhales came out shaky as if she were freezing.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” Pinkamena’s voice trembled. “Hello?” Her voice sunk into the ground and found no answer. Why was this little underground room even here? Where was the way out? How old was this place? Pinkamena rattled her head.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” She called louder. “Ms. Sunblossom!” Her cry was short and followed by a fit of sniveling. “Where are you?” Her head jerked around frantically. “Help me!” She froze and there was still no answer. She had no choice, she realized. She had to find a way out herself. Pinkamena continued forward, stretching her legs over the red lines towards the books. The whole room looked closed in save for the wooden panels that the slide spat her out of and if anything might show her a way out, it would be the books. Keeping an eye on her hooves, she tread lightly. She didn’t even have the consolation of telling herself that this was a nightmare. This wasn’t her nightmare, not the one she knew.

She managed her way to the short slab of a table, approaching it with wonder and dread. She lifted a hoof and poked the dusty rolled up scroll next to the tome. It crinkled and even though she feared its very being, it did nothing else. It was just a normal piece of paper. Holding it down on one end with one hoof, she propped herself up onto the table and unrolled the scroll with her other hoof. It cracked and snapped as she laid it out, revealing another cryptic circle painted in red. Her hooves flinched away from the page and the stale sheet remained stiff, staying flat. Whatever all the crisscrosses and lines scribbled into it meant, if she didn’t touch them they couldn’t hurt her. At least that was her reasoning.

Pinkamena turned to the book instead. It was a large old tome not only covered in dust, but filled with it as well. She pulled open the hardbound cover and it flopped to the table with a thud that sent plumes of dust into her eyes and nose. She turned away from it, descending into a fit of coughs and sneezing. Five times she counted. Far more spasming than she wanted to deal with. She wiped her nose on her hoof, instantly regretting it as it ended up covered in a layer of runny mucus.

“Blech,” She said out loud, flicking her hoof to get the snot off. She wished for nothing more than a tissue at this point, as her curiosity over the book was beginning to outweigh her fear. She settled for wiping her hoof in the dirt. Ms. Sunblossom would have frowned at her, but a place like this wasn’t wanting of etiquette. It was far dingier than any cellar she had been in. It was so small and hidden that no pony probably even knew it existed. But what was it for, she asked herself? Turning back to the book and flipping its first page made her feel like an explorer who had just stumbled upon the remains of a lost civilization. The rough dusty feeling and texture of the page sent an awful spasm of chills up her leg. She shook it off and her eyes met the first set of discernable symbols since she come down here.

The Alchemy of Clairvoyance, the book’s inner title page read.

“Cl-Claaaiiire…mmm,” She tried sounding out the last word. “Clairvoooy… voy…voyance-e?” She tilted her head, no way of knowing if she was saying it right. “I wonder who that is…” She had never heard of anypony named Clairvoyance before. She flipped to the next page and was met with two pages littered with ink. There were lists, diagrams, faded sketches drawn over some of the words, and letters scribbled on rather than written in one clean stroke. Everything looked like ingredients of some kind, but it was written across, over, and everywhere so much that it was difficult to make out any of the words. Turning more of the leathery flaps yielded the same result. Somepony had taken so many notes that the text they had apparently been so enraptured with was no longer legible. Toward the tome’s center Pinkamena began to recognize some of the nonsensical sketches to be the same as some of the circles drawn on the wall.

She might have forced the book shut had she not come to the final page and found it clean. Not blank, but free of all the mad ink scratchings and symbols that meant nothing to her. One page was covered by a diagram of one of the circles and Pinkamena recognized it as the one that was smeared on the scroll next to her. Her fur stood on. The only thing separating them was their artistry. The one in the book was a nearly perfect circle, its inner patterns drawn in neat straight lines that were easy to follow while its counterpart was lumpy like a ball that needed air and its patterns were messily wiped across the page and what were perfect angles in the book came across as curved on the scroll. They were still discernibly the same design. Pinkamena didn’t know much about magic, but it was starting to give off the vibe.

She turned to the text on the accompanying page.

Now that all necessary preparations have been made, take the remaining mixture and on a single scroll, draw this final circle. Wet the inside with two of your own tears, one from each eye, press your hooves to the center, and I need tell you no more. From here on out you will know all that you need to. You will see things before they happen and, if done as has been instructed, be perfectly precognitive. Your own future will be yours to see and puppeteer. Just remember, as stated before, the spell will wear off after the first activation. Gathering more of the mixture will be required for more activations, but after three casts the effects are permanent. Be advised, an imperfect mixture will give imperfect results.

Pinkamena stared at the large print for a long while. She couldn’t understand half of it. She didn’t know what precognitive was or what the mixture was supposed to be. The part she did get was seeing the future. Fu-ture. She knew what that meant. Could it really be true? She looked at the scroll. Could she really be able to see the future. Just imagine, she thought, what her world would be like if she had known about the fire before it happened. She shuffled over to the paper and jumped up on the table, placing her two front hooves in the circle. Nothing happened. She wished she could read better. She was terrible at following long sentences. But the thought of being able to know things before they happened tore at her. She wouldn’t have to be afraid of anypony anymore. She would know how they would act and if they would like her or hate her. And maybe if this place was going to burn down too, she could warn everyone and the only thing they would have to mourn for would be lost timber.

“Tell me!” She shouted, stomping on the page and starting to cry. She at least wanted to see if it was true or if the whole book was just a lie. At the very least, it might show her a way out. Still, she saw nothing, felt nothing. The whole room remained unchanged.

“Hey,” Pinkamena said talking to it as if it were her friend. “Do you think I’ll ever get my cutie mark?” She closed her eyes and felt tears come running out of them again. The page had said something about tears, but she wasn’t sure what to do with them. One felt to the page and as it soaked into the old paper, it sparked.

“Huh?” She stopped, her eyes flicking about the circle looking for another sign of life. She quickly looked around her, but nothing was different. But jerking her head back to the circle, a second drop fell from her face. It hit the page, both spots hissed, and the circle steadily began to glow a hazy blue. It was subtle at first, but it became gradually clear that something was happening. Her face lit up with joy, smiling at her apparent success. She looked into the circle standing gleefully over it expecting it to show her something special, something she wouldn’t quite get at first like the text she had just read. Nothing changed for several moments. Maybe she needed to ask it something, something simple. Nothing too complicated to start off.

“Is-” She would make no such inquiry. She was cut short as the lines at her hooves erupted with light. Before she could back away, the two spots where her tears had fallen lit up red. Two vicious streams of electricity burst from their places and leapt straight into her eyes tunneling like drills into her pupils. Pinkamena’s head flailed and even as she reared back onto her hind legs trying to kick the bolts away, she found herself unable to back away. All she could see was white and pain with a sharpness like broken nails entered through her face and hammered its way down her spine. She screamed louder than she ever had, the buzz of her vocal chords assisted by shock and desperation. There was lighting bouncing all around the room and Pinkamena finally reared back far enough that she fell off the table backwards landing harshly with her hooves twitching. Her whole body began to convulse, the electricity still mercilessly driving itself into her eyes. Her hooves tightened and loosened with no rhythm and her tail wrung every way it could as her head snapped from side to side as she ground her teeth against each other. All her struggling was vain. The whole room pulsed with a death grip that wouldn’t let her go. She could see nothing, heard only the sound of her own torture, and with all her nerves crying to her brain in agony, they had no time for her other senses.

With one final loud snap like a firework, Pinkamena’s head was forced back and the lightning vanished. Her limp frame flopped to her back motionless, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull. Her body lay there, wheezing in air through a throat that was wracked and hoarse from being pushed as far as it would go. Minutes went by before it was able to do anything but what was necessary. Then presently,

“heh…eheheh…” She started laughing. Slowly and quietly at first with small chuckles. “Ha…Ahahaha.” The mare’s back arched and her head bent back the whites of her eyes glaring at the world upside down.

“Ahahahahaha! Aaaaaahahahaha!” She burst into hysteria. It wasn’t an amused laughter, but a crazy one, broken and maniacal like the one from her dream. She drug her head up with her body and as she sat up her eyes fell back into place like a busted slot reel. Her pupils were thin and narrowed like she was staring into bright light, accompanied by a crazy grin that curved up like a scimitar. Her normally straight mane seemed curved and blade like at its ends and it drooped over her face, a curtain concealing madness. The mare gasped in air, running herself dry from laughing. She put a hoof to her lip and was met with a smear of fresh scarlet across her pink pelt.

“Oops,” She said almost happily. “I tried to eat myself.” She pushed her mane to the side, betraying a wild expression, uncharacteristic and unfit for looking at blood.

“Blood,” She whispered to herself. “That’s what it is!” Her eyes flicked around the room, reanalyzing all the patterns with new eyes. “The mixture is blood. The blood of fillies. Ahahaha!” She turned to the open wood panels where she had entered the room. “Oo!Oo!” Skipping over to them, she climbed up and reached to the right of it, pulling out a lever and yanking it toward her so eagerly that she lost her grip when it clinked to a stop and fell on her back again. She laughed it off as the twisting of metal sent the entire slide flipping over in segments into a staircase.

“I’m free, I’m free,” She chanted. In an unreal movement she zipped back to the table and flipped greedily through the pages of the book.

“Thank you, whoever you are!” She kissed the pages, spitting the accumulating dust from her lips when she finished. “Eh?” She froze. She looked down and put a hoof to her chest as if she were checking her pulse.

“What’s this?” She asked. A moment with a bewildered expression on her face past before it darkened and grinned maliciously. “Oh dear sweetness I thought I’d lost you…” She began brushing her pelt there, as if it were her pet. “Poor little pony was so afraid. Afraid of losing somepony, afraid of friends. Yes I can see you…ALL of you. It’s so bittersweet. But don’t you worry, I’ve got you now. I won’t let you get hurt.” She wobbled over to the other table with straps at the side of the room looking like she could fall over or pass out at any moment, yet keeping an eerily affectionate eyes on her own chest. She managed her way in an path a drunkard might take to the table and propped herself up on it with her front hooves. She reached under it with one and with no surprise in her expression, pulled out a bloodied kitchen knife, large and still sharp.

“Mmmhmhm…” She giggled with her mouth closed, eyeing the blade. “Only two more casts I see we need. But first!” She raised the knife and slammed it into the edge of the table. It went in cleanly with a loud snap, its handle vibrating like a violin string as she let it go. “First we need blood…More of it.” She smiled, turning away and trotting towards the stairs. She stopped as she jumped into the opening upward and giggled giddily at some inward feeling.

“Ohhhhh it tickles,” She bounced in place. “So much fear. Oh, my gentle little mare…” She whispered fondly. “It’s time for bed. But we won’t fret will we? Never again! I’ll make sure sleep is the closest glimpse of death you’ll ever have to see!”

She turned toward the stairs and kicked the switched on the wall, snuffing out the lanterns. The darkness was absolute, but Pinkamena’s eyes seemed to reflect even it like light, shining with their own devious cruelty.