A Human Workby WolfwoodChaptersChapter IChapter IIIChapter IIChapter IVChapter IA Human Work Chapter I He waked up in the darkness. He felt sore and cold. Even like this, he could make out the shapes of trees and saw the branches and trees stirred in the wind. And above it all, the white glass moon. Confusion and terror raged around inside of him, condensing into panic that was running towards its breaking point. His breathing turned uneven. It hurt to take a breath. He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all. Yesterday had been like always, and he had gone to sleep like always, so why was he here now, in a forest? He should be in his house. Yes, he should be in his house. There was no meaning or reason for him to be in such a place, at such a time, so it didn't make sense. He tried to tell himself he was still dreaming, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. Because this would be a dream. His view, the feeling of the wind, the wet ground below him, the muddy sensation all over is clothes. These things couldn't be a dream. They were too real. He stood up. The muddy soil had stuck to his clothes, so they clung to his skin. It was messy and uncomfortable and he wanted to just rip them apart. That was what first went through his head, but he pushed that impulse down. It didn't make sense, it didn't make sense, it didn't make sense. Nothing about this made sense. So if this was reality, it had to make sense. With that in mind, he started walking forward. A meaning, a reason. They had to exist somewhere beyond this darkness. The wind was very cool, and it blew strongly. But he didn't felt cold. He was feeling a nauseating heat, and not even that felt real. He walked on, half-sleep, half-awake. Not quite alive. The sound of his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. He looked around wildly as he walked. A shadow streaking across the trees, something stirring behind the bushes. The croaking of a frog, the howl of what was probably some dog. The chirp of a bird. Even the breaches, rocks and the ground cracking under his feet. He jumped at every shadow, unable to stop himself, even though he felt it was silly of him. Because… because nothing could be out of there. Because it couldn't happen to him. Because... (he wasn't going to disappear) He had been walking for a long time. He couldn't quite tell how much. More that ten minutes, but after that, he didn't know. An hour? Two? Either way, he didn't seem to get any closer to the outside. And rather that finding light, the darkness all around him only seemed to grow deeper. It was only his imagination. Of course it was. But he still felt unsettled. Quickly, quickly, quickly. He had to find his way home, or a t least find another person. His pace quickened. It seemed to go at rhythm with the frantic beating of his heart. He heard strange sounds behind him that his mind refused to identify. He didn't slow down. He didn't look over his shoulder, either. He didn't quite understand that why, but he felt like it would be the end if he did so, so he just pushed kept pushing himself. Despite how long he had walked, he hadn't felt tired. Not really. But soon enough his legs started to burn, and not too long after his chest heaved with each breath. It didn't take much for the only thing that was keeping him to be the sounds from behind him, which were running footsteps and that they were getting closer and closer. He had been lucky. Despite the darkness, despite his hurried pace, he had gone through the forest without slowing down like it was nothing. But, he lost that luck at that instant. He hit something he hadn't been able to see, and lost his balance. He fell like an idiot to the ground, on his head. It hurt. He thought his nose might… no, it was definitively broken. He scrambled to his feet, but he fell down again, on his knees. He just couldn't kept his body outright. And to make matters worse, he had twisted his ankle. The eager panting behind him made the hairs at the back of his neck raise. He was trembling all over. He didn't think he could run, even if he managed to gather enough strength to stand up. His mind white from the fear, he turned his head back. Towards the final darkness. It was there. A large black dog, bigger that him, rushing towards him. Its mouth was open. Its sharp teeth glistered under the moonlight. It was… coming… coming to… kill him. Yes, that was it. He scrambled back desperately, even though he couldn't run away. Even though there was no chance of him getting away. “Don't come near me!” his panicked, broken voice echoed and vanished in the darkness of the forest. The dog didn't listen, of course. Even if it would have understood, it wouldn't have listened. Because he could clearly see blood lust shining in those red eyes. When it came close enough, he lashed out without thinking at the animal, desperate to protect himself. He tried to punch in the head. But he missed. He pitifully missed, and not only that. The black dog dug its teeth through his shirt, and the skin of his arm. He screamed. He screamed, but not out of pain, but surprise. That… that was strange. The dog was gnawing on his arm. Its bite had made a deep wound, and its movements were only deepening. A lot of blood flowed out. The blood stained the dog's head, and also, obviously, entered its mouth. The wound itself looked horribly twisted. But there was no pain. No pain at all. Something clicked in his head. Like a switch. This was a dream. Yes, without a doubt. This was dream this was a dream this was a dream! And he, no matter how scared he had be, was this dream's master. So he could do anything. Concentrating on the feeling inside of himself, he grabbed and pulled it out. A rushing wave of energy. It hurt. It hurt a lot, as if whole body was burning and that wasn't right, but the dog got blow away from him. But the wave took apart its body, and it was also split in half. He stared. The huge amount of blood, the four scattered extremities and its body, cut in half. He stared at the scene of carnage. He stared and, finally… feeling relief for the bottom of his heart, he started to laugh. Good. That dog had been a real eye sore, it was good to see it disappear. Its remains were also an eye sore, but he enjoyed seeing it. Because it meant he had crushed it. Because it meant that he had killed the thing the thing that terrified him so much and had nearly killed him with his own hands. It was… satisfying, but even that couldn't quite cover it. He felt at peace. He felt certain nothing could hurt him anymore. He stood up, conscious of the blood staining his clothes, mixing with the mood. But he didn't really care. That was proof, too. Proof that he was strong. He walked through the forest without fear, feeling a lightness in his chest that he hadn't felt for many, many years. He could get used to this. It had started badly, but now it was nice. Not waking up ever again, staying in this dream where he was strong, would be even better. Yes, it had been so fulfilling… so he wanted to experience that feeling again. He wandered in search of prey. He wandered in search of something to squash like a bug, because everything in this world was a bug compared to him. He was the one in control here. Idly, he noticed that the plants were strange, nothing he had seen before. But he didn't pay it much attention. After all, this was a dream. He eventually got out of the forest, though he was so lost in his thoughts that he couldn't even guess how much time it had taken. Minutes? Hours? It was still night, though. He saw it. He felt himself smiling. Six. That many ponies or whatever were right in front of him, and coming to his direction. That would be nice. He would quite like to heard them scream. No, better yet. He would make them beg for their lives before he ended it all, anyway. He approached them. He walked slowly, as if dragging his body, savouring the moment in his head. He heard himself laughing beneath his breath, and his body started to tremble lightly out of excitement. A pink haired whatever-it-was saw him, started trembling and fainted. Didn't matter. It would wake up when the pain started. A whistle. “You're a mess.” “All that blood...” it shallowed. “What is it, anyway?” “We have to help it!” “Yeah, it might even have seen what we're looking for.” “Or it might be it.” “That too.” He stopped. They… they were talking? That was no right. They weren't supposed to talk. They had to be empty dolls in which he could take out all his bitterness and anger and hate, empty dolls to toy with as compensation for how he scared he had been before. But they were talking. And he could understand them. As if they were sapient. And if they were sapient, somebody like himself, then… wasn't it a crime to hurt them? How would hurt them make him any better that those people? He took a step forward. He didn't know why; he hadn't even though of moving. A sudden dizziness hit him, and he couldn't kept his balance anymore. He fell to the ground, flat on his back. He let out a gasp. He heard panicked shouts, but only the sound of the words, and even that was fading. His vision slowly grew darker, and the last sight he saw before he passed out was the glass moon overhead, reigning over the heavens. Chapter IIIChapter III He suddenly woke up. It was so abrupt that, for an instant, he wasn't sure if the dream had ended. He let out a breath. How scary. Everything in his dream, but especially the end of it. Those sensations, those feelings, so intense they had felt like they were his own. Compared to that, his daily life didn't seem all that scary. He couldn't believe it, that he had dreamed such a dream. He wasn't a person like… like that. He was willing to defend himself- obviously, that didn't even need to be said- but enjoy the suffering of something that had hurt it and, not only that, looking to cause ten times that suffering to other living things with his own hands? No, it wasn't like that. He refused to believe than dream had been a desire of his, in anyway. It had been simply a nightmare for start to finish. He opened his eyes, a shaky smile on his face, and… froze. It was clear enough to see that this wasn't his room. To begin with, the ceiling was made of wood. And there was a window at the side of his bed. There shouldn't be any window there. Beyond this, he could heard the sound of numerous animals as if he was in farm. He wasn't close to a farm or anything. He lived in a city. He sat up. His vision swayed twice in front of his eyes, and he had to use his right hand as support to not fall. He gasped out. He closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself down. He was feeling a hellish nausea, as if his organs had come up his throat. He put his free hand over his chest, and clenched the thin fabric of the shirt. He spend some time trying to calm himself down and, when he though he wouldn't puke, opened his eyes again. This wasn't his room at all. It hadn't been an illusion or something, and he definitively wasn't dream. All right. That also much meant that everything that had happened was. All right, all right. It had passed already, so there was no harm in it. Yes, no harm in it. As long as he went away. As long as he could be safe. So he had to get out of here. He had to get out of this place and to somewhere where he wouldn't be hurt again. He got out of the neat bed. His right arm throbbed with pain, and he looked down, wondering how bad is wound was. There wasn't even a trace of it. Phantom pain. That was what it was. Of course. A big black dog had chased him around and nearly killed him. He would remembered that forever. His body would remembered that forever. He took a step forward, and nearly fell. He had to grab the nightstand to not fall off. For how his legs were, they might as well be asleep. The tiredness he could felt wrapping him was unnatural; it was like something was pushing him down. Then again, nothing about this situation was natural, so it wasn't much of a surprise. But it was fine. He could still move and get away, so it was fine. He dragged his body towards the front door, shaking a little. He staggered right in front of the door, but he narrowly managed to straighten himself. He put his hand on the knob, and opened it. The wind hit his face, blowing his short black hair back. That sensation grounded him a little bit more in reality. His clothes were clean. They had been drenched in blood and mud, but no they were spotless. They were some bunnies in the path in front of him, that lead to a small bridge over water. They weren't tied down or anything, as if the owner didn't expect them to flee to the wilds. Then again, maybe they could talk or something. Those ponies had talked before, so he wouldn't put that past this strange, fucked up place. Also, a lot animal burrows, birdhouses and some other house. There wasn't anything in his path, so he could run away easily. He allowed himself to relax. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He didn't know who owned this cottage, but as he had passed out in front of those six ponies, it was obvious they had helped it. That… that was nice. It made him felt good. But that didn't change that this was now his place. He had to hurry and get out of this place. Even going back to them would be better that staying in a place like this. He recalled his burning body, his ragged breathing, the frantic beating of his heart and the terror that had overwhelmed him as he watched that big, black dog coming to end him. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't stay here. He stepped out of the cottage. His leg gave up on him and, like an idiot, he hit the ground. He moved, so he didn't end up falling on his face again, but on his side. It still hurt, though. Damn it, nothing was going right at all. Why couldn't he have his peace? He just wanted to be left alone. All his life, he only wanted to be left alone. He tried to get up. "Y-you can't do that." a soft voice, from close to him. He turned his head to the noise, and saw it. The same pony that had seen him the night before, and had fainted. "I don't care." he answered. "I… I have to get out of this place." "Stay." he whipped his head to the side, and held its gaze. It was staring at him with a severe expression that promised punishment if he didn't do what she said. But, rather that make him scared, he was utterly pissed off. This thing. This thing was an eyesore. It was only a lowly animal, and yet she still tried to order him around. What did she think she was? She was begging for punishment. An image of her body, twisted, broken appeared on his mind, halting his thought process. One her legs had been torn off… no, he had torn off one her legs, and she was now looking up at the sky with empty, dead eyes, nothing more that a lump of meat. The grass near her was painted red with the flowing blood. And he, standing over her, was enjoying the sight. It lasted only an instant, but when his mind went back to reality, he felt like he was dying. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes. He felt like he could puke all his organs out, like he was in the verge of dying. What… what was that? He wasn't such a person. He wouldn't never enjoy that. He wouldn't never do that. He wouldn't, so why? "A-are you okay?" "I felt like shit." he muttered beneath his breath, since he couldn't even muster the effort to get angry at that stupid question. The pony helped him to stand up, which was humiliating, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He let her help him back to the bed, and he just laid on his back on it, without even covering herself. The world was spinning, spinning but it kept slowing down until it was only an almost gentle swaying. Where did all his strength go? It seemed like a fleeting illusion, now. This world seemed like a fleeting illusion. He gasped for air. He heard her footsteps, Fluttershy's footsteps, going away from him. He didn't care. Better for him to be alone right now. To many times had happened, and now that he had a chance to catch his breath, he couldn't process half of it. He was just… so exhausted, in both mind and body. She came back with a glass of water. He snatched him for her hands, and drank it himself. He spilled more that he should have because of his trembling hands, but at least he drank it by himself. It would have been too humiliating, otherwise. It would have been fine if he wasn't able to move, but as long as he could move he couldn't accept that kind of thing. "Eh… Fluttershy?" it felt weird, to say that name. He mea It was just plain weird. But well, what did he know. Around these strange parts that held no love for logic, is own name could and probably would be strange one. "Can I ask you something?" "Yes?!" she squeaked. She was so nervous… she was probably remembering the first time she saw him, a boy dragging himself towards them with a clothes covered with blood and mud. She was so nervous, and yet she was helping him, anyway. He didn't understand. He wasn't used to receive kindness, let alone from strangers, so he just didn't know what to think. "W-what is this place?" "Ponyville." she wasn't joking at all. "No, I meant… what's all of this? I never see anything like… like nothing I saw in this place." "Uh?" "Even your… we have horses and ponies and all of that, but they don't talk, let alone have sapience. Is just… too strange." "U-uh, no way. There isn't a place in this world where that would be possible." "…Are you telling me I'm crazy?!" he shouted, his hands gripped the bedsheets so hard his knuckles turned white. She squeaked, and jumped back. That dispelled the anger he had felt. Because, it was like seeing himself, terrified and going to cower and cry in a corner and wait for it all to be over. The anger went away s fast as it had come, leaving him feeling empty and sick. Even more sick. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't..." meant to? Of course he did. "I got angry all of sudden, but I didn't… I'm sorry." God, what was he even saying? His head was a such a mess. All he knew was that he was remembering things he didn't want to, and he was feeling like crying even though he was tired of crying already. "I-its f-fine." its not fine at all. Anybody who can see her eyes knows that. But still, she said it was fine. So those words were ones of forgiveness. Or was it just wistful thinking? He didn't like her or hate her, but those memories… it made him want forgiveness for making her act like that. "I shouldn't have said that, anyway." "And I shouldn't have reacted like that." he said. "I'm sorry… Back then your, friends, or whatever they are… they were saying they were looking for something. Can you tell me about it?" "I, uh… I don't really know much about that kind of thing, but there was a, uh, a disturbance in the magical fields of the Everfree Forest. So we were told to check it, so we could find the cause of it." "Magic…" he laughed. From the bottom of his heart, he laughed. "I… I didn't even know what I expected." But was it really so unbelievable? With all the things he had seen in this place, magic almost sounded like a natural part of it. Besides, he couldn't say this pony was lying. After all, he had done it. He had pulled something from inside himself and had tore that dog into pieces. He couldn't be sure that he hadn't hallucinated the counter with that large black dog, that was true… but he couldn't be sure that hadn't happened for real, either. He closed his eyes. At least sleeping would grant him some sort of peace. "Wait!" Fluttershy exclaimed. "My friends are coming since I told them you woke up, and well, they are going to have questions." "Wake me up when they get here." It didn't take long for him to fall into a deep, deep sleep. Chapter IIChapter II He was seeing an unfamiliar dream. He was in the darkness, and he couldn't move his body. He didn't have a sense of his own body, to begging with. Like he was just a soul now, away from its body. But there was a sense of something… something more. Something beyond the darkness. There was something indeed, but he wasn't sure what. He could only see glimpses, and that didn't provide anything concrete. He was slipping, slipping. Into the deepest darkness. Inward and inward. His consciousness caught a view from outside his prison, this deep limbo. The clear blue sky and green grass. The animals talking and lived and laughing and smiling when he was here, like this. And for what? He remembered. He remembered well, suddenly, though a second ago he couldn't have said who he was nor what had happened. Since he was young, he had been a bright, curious thing. His everyday was a battle against boredom, and he wished to share that happiness with everybody else. Chaos was the word imprinted on his soul, so he couldn't help it. He livened up their existences, full of monotony and routines, because he loved them. He loved the world and every single living thing it in and he wanted to give them happiness. Living on stagnantly, as if their way of life was enough… that wasn't happiness. They didn't understand, but he swore to make them understand no matter how much e he had to try. And he tried. They showed annoyed reactions, but he understood that they felt better that ever before. Because the chaos was filling the emptiness they had inside. Life was a battle against that void, and he was doing his best to help everybody with it. But they came. Them. The sister, the princesses. They didn't understand him at all, nor what he was doing. They came filled with uncalled for hate and anger because they believed him to be evil. No, they wanted him to be evil. Because they didn't want to understand the void, they didn't want to understand that their lives were worthless and the breakdown of order was the only thing that gave life its meaning. They left in this prison, where he was only a soul. Where he wasn't death but alive and wouldn't know anything else, and his soul boiled inside of him, feed on himself, because chaos was the word imprinted on his soul and he was going against that nature. It hurt. It hurt so much, to not been able to do what he was meant to do. His anger and resentment had only festered. But now… Now, he had got his hands on an outlet. And soon, he would be set free. Chapter IVChapter IV Pain. Like swords were growing inside its body, towards the surface. All over itself. Even its brain. It hurt, hurt, hurt. As a Spirit Of Chaos, one whose very name reflected its own nature, it hurt to not be able to do what it was meant to do. Aware of itself in this limbo, yet incapable of living. The only thing that made it felt alive was the great, roaring pain of its soul feeding on itself. Did they knew? Did Celestia and Luna knew about this? Eh, it certainly wouldn't put it past them. The first was indeed that she though of herself, in all her purity and power, as superior to everybody and the second hid a great darkness within herself, a great darkness that could consume Equestria. So it wouldn't be so strange if they knew, and fully knowing they condemned it as evil for following its nature and encased it in this prison for the sin of not doing what they wanted, so it would be like this. Half-sleep, half-awake. Not quite alive. Waiting for the day its soul would break and disappear forever. Yes, they knew about this. They knew about the pain this was going to cause it, and they didn't care, because it was evil, so there was nothing wrong with it. It couldn't be helped if they could only get rid of it by condemning it to almost eternal torture and a sure death. Yes, of course they thought like that. Like this was any different from killing it! They should have just killed it. Because, not even once. Not even for a single second during all this long, long time had it gave up. It had always struggled for the sake of getting out of this prison, of getting its revenge. And then spread chaos, DISCORD around, so the nature of its soul would been feed again after so many years. And he had done it. It had found it. A boy. He knew its pain. He knew its bitterness and hatred and want it meant to be locked in a cage. He was also despised for his own nature. Dragging a human from his world to Equestria would have been easy, but that wasn't all there was to it. Because of the similarity, of the resonance, it had been easy to anchor itself to him even though it still was inside its prison. Like this, it would be easy. So easy, to set itself free.
Chapter IA Human Work Chapter I He waked up in the darkness. He felt sore and cold. Even like this, he could make out the shapes of trees and saw the branches and trees stirred in the wind. And above it all, the white glass moon. Confusion and terror raged around inside of him, condensing into panic that was running towards its breaking point. His breathing turned uneven. It hurt to take a breath. He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all. Yesterday had been like always, and he had gone to sleep like always, so why was he here now, in a forest? He should be in his house. Yes, he should be in his house. There was no meaning or reason for him to be in such a place, at such a time, so it didn't make sense. He tried to tell himself he was still dreaming, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. Because this would be a dream. His view, the feeling of the wind, the wet ground below him, the muddy sensation all over is clothes. These things couldn't be a dream. They were too real. He stood up. The muddy soil had stuck to his clothes, so they clung to his skin. It was messy and uncomfortable and he wanted to just rip them apart. That was what first went through his head, but he pushed that impulse down. It didn't make sense, it didn't make sense, it didn't make sense. Nothing about this made sense. So if this was reality, it had to make sense. With that in mind, he started walking forward. A meaning, a reason. They had to exist somewhere beyond this darkness. The wind was very cool, and it blew strongly. But he didn't felt cold. He was feeling a nauseating heat, and not even that felt real. He walked on, half-sleep, half-awake. Not quite alive. The sound of his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. He looked around wildly as he walked. A shadow streaking across the trees, something stirring behind the bushes. The croaking of a frog, the howl of what was probably some dog. The chirp of a bird. Even the breaches, rocks and the ground cracking under his feet. He jumped at every shadow, unable to stop himself, even though he felt it was silly of him. Because… because nothing could be out of there. Because it couldn't happen to him. Because... (he wasn't going to disappear) He had been walking for a long time. He couldn't quite tell how much. More that ten minutes, but after that, he didn't know. An hour? Two? Either way, he didn't seem to get any closer to the outside. And rather that finding light, the darkness all around him only seemed to grow deeper. It was only his imagination. Of course it was. But he still felt unsettled. Quickly, quickly, quickly. He had to find his way home, or a t least find another person. His pace quickened. It seemed to go at rhythm with the frantic beating of his heart. He heard strange sounds behind him that his mind refused to identify. He didn't slow down. He didn't look over his shoulder, either. He didn't quite understand that why, but he felt like it would be the end if he did so, so he just pushed kept pushing himself. Despite how long he had walked, he hadn't felt tired. Not really. But soon enough his legs started to burn, and not too long after his chest heaved with each breath. It didn't take much for the only thing that was keeping him to be the sounds from behind him, which were running footsteps and that they were getting closer and closer. He had been lucky. Despite the darkness, despite his hurried pace, he had gone through the forest without slowing down like it was nothing. But, he lost that luck at that instant. He hit something he hadn't been able to see, and lost his balance. He fell like an idiot to the ground, on his head. It hurt. He thought his nose might… no, it was definitively broken. He scrambled to his feet, but he fell down again, on his knees. He just couldn't kept his body outright. And to make matters worse, he had twisted his ankle. The eager panting behind him made the hairs at the back of his neck raise. He was trembling all over. He didn't think he could run, even if he managed to gather enough strength to stand up. His mind white from the fear, he turned his head back. Towards the final darkness. It was there. A large black dog, bigger that him, rushing towards him. Its mouth was open. Its sharp teeth glistered under the moonlight. It was… coming… coming to… kill him. Yes, that was it. He scrambled back desperately, even though he couldn't run away. Even though there was no chance of him getting away. “Don't come near me!” his panicked, broken voice echoed and vanished in the darkness of the forest. The dog didn't listen, of course. Even if it would have understood, it wouldn't have listened. Because he could clearly see blood lust shining in those red eyes. When it came close enough, he lashed out without thinking at the animal, desperate to protect himself. He tried to punch in the head. But he missed. He pitifully missed, and not only that. The black dog dug its teeth through his shirt, and the skin of his arm. He screamed. He screamed, but not out of pain, but surprise. That… that was strange. The dog was gnawing on his arm. Its bite had made a deep wound, and its movements were only deepening. A lot of blood flowed out. The blood stained the dog's head, and also, obviously, entered its mouth. The wound itself looked horribly twisted. But there was no pain. No pain at all. Something clicked in his head. Like a switch. This was a dream. Yes, without a doubt. This was dream this was a dream this was a dream! And he, no matter how scared he had be, was this dream's master. So he could do anything. Concentrating on the feeling inside of himself, he grabbed and pulled it out. A rushing wave of energy. It hurt. It hurt a lot, as if whole body was burning and that wasn't right, but the dog got blow away from him. But the wave took apart its body, and it was also split in half. He stared. The huge amount of blood, the four scattered extremities and its body, cut in half. He stared at the scene of carnage. He stared and, finally… feeling relief for the bottom of his heart, he started to laugh. Good. That dog had been a real eye sore, it was good to see it disappear. Its remains were also an eye sore, but he enjoyed seeing it. Because it meant he had crushed it. Because it meant that he had killed the thing the thing that terrified him so much and had nearly killed him with his own hands. It was… satisfying, but even that couldn't quite cover it. He felt at peace. He felt certain nothing could hurt him anymore. He stood up, conscious of the blood staining his clothes, mixing with the mood. But he didn't really care. That was proof, too. Proof that he was strong. He walked through the forest without fear, feeling a lightness in his chest that he hadn't felt for many, many years. He could get used to this. It had started badly, but now it was nice. Not waking up ever again, staying in this dream where he was strong, would be even better. Yes, it had been so fulfilling… so he wanted to experience that feeling again. He wandered in search of prey. He wandered in search of something to squash like a bug, because everything in this world was a bug compared to him. He was the one in control here. Idly, he noticed that the plants were strange, nothing he had seen before. But he didn't pay it much attention. After all, this was a dream. He eventually got out of the forest, though he was so lost in his thoughts that he couldn't even guess how much time it had taken. Minutes? Hours? It was still night, though. He saw it. He felt himself smiling. Six. That many ponies or whatever were right in front of him, and coming to his direction. That would be nice. He would quite like to heard them scream. No, better yet. He would make them beg for their lives before he ended it all, anyway. He approached them. He walked slowly, as if dragging his body, savouring the moment in his head. He heard himself laughing beneath his breath, and his body started to tremble lightly out of excitement. A pink haired whatever-it-was saw him, started trembling and fainted. Didn't matter. It would wake up when the pain started. A whistle. “You're a mess.” “All that blood...” it shallowed. “What is it, anyway?” “We have to help it!” “Yeah, it might even have seen what we're looking for.” “Or it might be it.” “That too.” He stopped. They… they were talking? That was no right. They weren't supposed to talk. They had to be empty dolls in which he could take out all his bitterness and anger and hate, empty dolls to toy with as compensation for how he scared he had been before. But they were talking. And he could understand them. As if they were sapient. And if they were sapient, somebody like himself, then… wasn't it a crime to hurt them? How would hurt them make him any better that those people? He took a step forward. He didn't know why; he hadn't even though of moving. A sudden dizziness hit him, and he couldn't kept his balance anymore. He fell to the ground, flat on his back. He let out a gasp. He heard panicked shouts, but only the sound of the words, and even that was fading. His vision slowly grew darker, and the last sight he saw before he passed out was the glass moon overhead, reigning over the heavens.
Chapter IIIChapter III He suddenly woke up. It was so abrupt that, for an instant, he wasn't sure if the dream had ended. He let out a breath. How scary. Everything in his dream, but especially the end of it. Those sensations, those feelings, so intense they had felt like they were his own. Compared to that, his daily life didn't seem all that scary. He couldn't believe it, that he had dreamed such a dream. He wasn't a person like… like that. He was willing to defend himself- obviously, that didn't even need to be said- but enjoy the suffering of something that had hurt it and, not only that, looking to cause ten times that suffering to other living things with his own hands? No, it wasn't like that. He refused to believe than dream had been a desire of his, in anyway. It had been simply a nightmare for start to finish. He opened his eyes, a shaky smile on his face, and… froze. It was clear enough to see that this wasn't his room. To begin with, the ceiling was made of wood. And there was a window at the side of his bed. There shouldn't be any window there. Beyond this, he could heard the sound of numerous animals as if he was in farm. He wasn't close to a farm or anything. He lived in a city. He sat up. His vision swayed twice in front of his eyes, and he had to use his right hand as support to not fall. He gasped out. He closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself down. He was feeling a hellish nausea, as if his organs had come up his throat. He put his free hand over his chest, and clenched the thin fabric of the shirt. He spend some time trying to calm himself down and, when he though he wouldn't puke, opened his eyes again. This wasn't his room at all. It hadn't been an illusion or something, and he definitively wasn't dream. All right. That also much meant that everything that had happened was. All right, all right. It had passed already, so there was no harm in it. Yes, no harm in it. As long as he went away. As long as he could be safe. So he had to get out of here. He had to get out of this place and to somewhere where he wouldn't be hurt again. He got out of the neat bed. His right arm throbbed with pain, and he looked down, wondering how bad is wound was. There wasn't even a trace of it. Phantom pain. That was what it was. Of course. A big black dog had chased him around and nearly killed him. He would remembered that forever. His body would remembered that forever. He took a step forward, and nearly fell. He had to grab the nightstand to not fall off. For how his legs were, they might as well be asleep. The tiredness he could felt wrapping him was unnatural; it was like something was pushing him down. Then again, nothing about this situation was natural, so it wasn't much of a surprise. But it was fine. He could still move and get away, so it was fine. He dragged his body towards the front door, shaking a little. He staggered right in front of the door, but he narrowly managed to straighten himself. He put his hand on the knob, and opened it. The wind hit his face, blowing his short black hair back. That sensation grounded him a little bit more in reality. His clothes were clean. They had been drenched in blood and mud, but no they were spotless. They were some bunnies in the path in front of him, that lead to a small bridge over water. They weren't tied down or anything, as if the owner didn't expect them to flee to the wilds. Then again, maybe they could talk or something. Those ponies had talked before, so he wouldn't put that past this strange, fucked up place. Also, a lot animal burrows, birdhouses and some other house. There wasn't anything in his path, so he could run away easily. He allowed himself to relax. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He didn't know who owned this cottage, but as he had passed out in front of those six ponies, it was obvious they had helped it. That… that was nice. It made him felt good. But that didn't change that this was now his place. He had to hurry and get out of this place. Even going back to them would be better that staying in a place like this. He recalled his burning body, his ragged breathing, the frantic beating of his heart and the terror that had overwhelmed him as he watched that big, black dog coming to end him. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't stay here. He stepped out of the cottage. His leg gave up on him and, like an idiot, he hit the ground. He moved, so he didn't end up falling on his face again, but on his side. It still hurt, though. Damn it, nothing was going right at all. Why couldn't he have his peace? He just wanted to be left alone. All his life, he only wanted to be left alone. He tried to get up. "Y-you can't do that." a soft voice, from close to him. He turned his head to the noise, and saw it. The same pony that had seen him the night before, and had fainted. "I don't care." he answered. "I… I have to get out of this place." "Stay." he whipped his head to the side, and held its gaze. It was staring at him with a severe expression that promised punishment if he didn't do what she said. But, rather that make him scared, he was utterly pissed off. This thing. This thing was an eyesore. It was only a lowly animal, and yet she still tried to order him around. What did she think she was? She was begging for punishment. An image of her body, twisted, broken appeared on his mind, halting his thought process. One her legs had been torn off… no, he had torn off one her legs, and she was now looking up at the sky with empty, dead eyes, nothing more that a lump of meat. The grass near her was painted red with the flowing blood. And he, standing over her, was enjoying the sight. It lasted only an instant, but when his mind went back to reality, he felt like he was dying. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes. He felt like he could puke all his organs out, like he was in the verge of dying. What… what was that? He wasn't such a person. He wouldn't never enjoy that. He wouldn't never do that. He wouldn't, so why? "A-are you okay?" "I felt like shit." he muttered beneath his breath, since he couldn't even muster the effort to get angry at that stupid question. The pony helped him to stand up, which was humiliating, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He let her help him back to the bed, and he just laid on his back on it, without even covering herself. The world was spinning, spinning but it kept slowing down until it was only an almost gentle swaying. Where did all his strength go? It seemed like a fleeting illusion, now. This world seemed like a fleeting illusion. He gasped for air. He heard her footsteps, Fluttershy's footsteps, going away from him. He didn't care. Better for him to be alone right now. To many times had happened, and now that he had a chance to catch his breath, he couldn't process half of it. He was just… so exhausted, in both mind and body. She came back with a glass of water. He snatched him for her hands, and drank it himself. He spilled more that he should have because of his trembling hands, but at least he drank it by himself. It would have been too humiliating, otherwise. It would have been fine if he wasn't able to move, but as long as he could move he couldn't accept that kind of thing. "Eh… Fluttershy?" it felt weird, to say that name. He mea It was just plain weird. But well, what did he know. Around these strange parts that held no love for logic, is own name could and probably would be strange one. "Can I ask you something?" "Yes?!" she squeaked. She was so nervous… she was probably remembering the first time she saw him, a boy dragging himself towards them with a clothes covered with blood and mud. She was so nervous, and yet she was helping him, anyway. He didn't understand. He wasn't used to receive kindness, let alone from strangers, so he just didn't know what to think. "W-what is this place?" "Ponyville." she wasn't joking at all. "No, I meant… what's all of this? I never see anything like… like nothing I saw in this place." "Uh?" "Even your… we have horses and ponies and all of that, but they don't talk, let alone have sapience. Is just… too strange." "U-uh, no way. There isn't a place in this world where that would be possible." "…Are you telling me I'm crazy?!" he shouted, his hands gripped the bedsheets so hard his knuckles turned white. She squeaked, and jumped back. That dispelled the anger he had felt. Because, it was like seeing himself, terrified and going to cower and cry in a corner and wait for it all to be over. The anger went away s fast as it had come, leaving him feeling empty and sick. Even more sick. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't..." meant to? Of course he did. "I got angry all of sudden, but I didn't… I'm sorry." God, what was he even saying? His head was a such a mess. All he knew was that he was remembering things he didn't want to, and he was feeling like crying even though he was tired of crying already. "I-its f-fine." its not fine at all. Anybody who can see her eyes knows that. But still, she said it was fine. So those words were ones of forgiveness. Or was it just wistful thinking? He didn't like her or hate her, but those memories… it made him want forgiveness for making her act like that. "I shouldn't have said that, anyway." "And I shouldn't have reacted like that." he said. "I'm sorry… Back then your, friends, or whatever they are… they were saying they were looking for something. Can you tell me about it?" "I, uh… I don't really know much about that kind of thing, but there was a, uh, a disturbance in the magical fields of the Everfree Forest. So we were told to check it, so we could find the cause of it." "Magic…" he laughed. From the bottom of his heart, he laughed. "I… I didn't even know what I expected." But was it really so unbelievable? With all the things he had seen in this place, magic almost sounded like a natural part of it. Besides, he couldn't say this pony was lying. After all, he had done it. He had pulled something from inside himself and had tore that dog into pieces. He couldn't be sure that he hadn't hallucinated the counter with that large black dog, that was true… but he couldn't be sure that hadn't happened for real, either. He closed his eyes. At least sleeping would grant him some sort of peace. "Wait!" Fluttershy exclaimed. "My friends are coming since I told them you woke up, and well, they are going to have questions." "Wake me up when they get here." It didn't take long for him to fall into a deep, deep sleep.
Chapter IIChapter II He was seeing an unfamiliar dream. He was in the darkness, and he couldn't move his body. He didn't have a sense of his own body, to begging with. Like he was just a soul now, away from its body. But there was a sense of something… something more. Something beyond the darkness. There was something indeed, but he wasn't sure what. He could only see glimpses, and that didn't provide anything concrete. He was slipping, slipping. Into the deepest darkness. Inward and inward. His consciousness caught a view from outside his prison, this deep limbo. The clear blue sky and green grass. The animals talking and lived and laughing and smiling when he was here, like this. And for what? He remembered. He remembered well, suddenly, though a second ago he couldn't have said who he was nor what had happened. Since he was young, he had been a bright, curious thing. His everyday was a battle against boredom, and he wished to share that happiness with everybody else. Chaos was the word imprinted on his soul, so he couldn't help it. He livened up their existences, full of monotony and routines, because he loved them. He loved the world and every single living thing it in and he wanted to give them happiness. Living on stagnantly, as if their way of life was enough… that wasn't happiness. They didn't understand, but he swore to make them understand no matter how much e he had to try. And he tried. They showed annoyed reactions, but he understood that they felt better that ever before. Because the chaos was filling the emptiness they had inside. Life was a battle against that void, and he was doing his best to help everybody with it. But they came. Them. The sister, the princesses. They didn't understand him at all, nor what he was doing. They came filled with uncalled for hate and anger because they believed him to be evil. No, they wanted him to be evil. Because they didn't want to understand the void, they didn't want to understand that their lives were worthless and the breakdown of order was the only thing that gave life its meaning. They left in this prison, where he was only a soul. Where he wasn't death but alive and wouldn't know anything else, and his soul boiled inside of him, feed on himself, because chaos was the word imprinted on his soul and he was going against that nature. It hurt. It hurt so much, to not been able to do what he was meant to do. His anger and resentment had only festered. But now… Now, he had got his hands on an outlet. And soon, he would be set free.
Chapter IVChapter IV Pain. Like swords were growing inside its body, towards the surface. All over itself. Even its brain. It hurt, hurt, hurt. As a Spirit Of Chaos, one whose very name reflected its own nature, it hurt to not be able to do what it was meant to do. Aware of itself in this limbo, yet incapable of living. The only thing that made it felt alive was the great, roaring pain of its soul feeding on itself. Did they knew? Did Celestia and Luna knew about this? Eh, it certainly wouldn't put it past them. The first was indeed that she though of herself, in all her purity and power, as superior to everybody and the second hid a great darkness within herself, a great darkness that could consume Equestria. So it wouldn't be so strange if they knew, and fully knowing they condemned it as evil for following its nature and encased it in this prison for the sin of not doing what they wanted, so it would be like this. Half-sleep, half-awake. Not quite alive. Waiting for the day its soul would break and disappear forever. Yes, they knew about this. They knew about the pain this was going to cause it, and they didn't care, because it was evil, so there was nothing wrong with it. It couldn't be helped if they could only get rid of it by condemning it to almost eternal torture and a sure death. Yes, of course they thought like that. Like this was any different from killing it! They should have just killed it. Because, not even once. Not even for a single second during all this long, long time had it gave up. It had always struggled for the sake of getting out of this prison, of getting its revenge. And then spread chaos, DISCORD around, so the nature of its soul would been feed again after so many years. And he had done it. It had found it. A boy. He knew its pain. He knew its bitterness and hatred and want it meant to be locked in a cage. He was also despised for his own nature. Dragging a human from his world to Equestria would have been easy, but that wasn't all there was to it. Because of the similarity, of the resonance, it had been easy to anchor itself to him even though it still was inside its prison. Like this, it would be easy. So easy, to set itself free.
