The Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Mare

Awakening: one could call it the crux of consciousness. The mind of yesterday slips away, and a shiny new copy takes it place. The last shots of sweet dreams wear off, the sedative of a resting soul.

Do nightmares signal death of the soul, then? Are the tissues and cells in one's brain cutting away the dead parts when nightmares play out? It's hardly science, but it's a topic I've found myself pondering in idle moments. Moments where I'm not thinking about studying or the studies from earlier, to wit. I'm hardly one to humor pseudo-sciences like philosophy, but it's the symptom of a dreamer to do so.

Does a pony with no dreams have no soul then?

It invaded me that morning. An alien will overtook my senses. It commanded all the magic in my body for its gain and discarded me like a spent roll of toothpaste. Or so I had thought. That rainbow pegasus had vanished. That’s the first major issue. Not one I was ready for, oh no.

The second issue is my spiritual rape. That seemed far more pertinent of an issue to weep over after awakening. But now I wonder: do I have a soul? Am I pitiable enough to be wept for at all?

I had spent my days in a stupor. Aimless. I merely took opportunities so I could keep up my income and not be forced to change my ways. Once my parents booted me out for being ‘lazy’, I had coasted on a chunk of bits they had left me with. Once that ran out, I took up a dead end job. Not enough free time there.

So then I went on a diet. Almost died. Hooray.

Then Twilight had found me. Now I have a cushy chair in Celestia’s school. Not to imply strings were pulled, no; it’s just easy for moderately talented mares like me to follow in the wake of colossi like Twilight. Consider that. That mare is a mare of cause, of action. She compels change all around her. We follow her beacon to a brighter life, but without that light of hers, we’d simply drift along as we were. Do you call that a ‘leader’? Wouldn’t Princess Celestia overtake that responsibility? The true leader of our country? Is she just so distant that her light can no longer be seen?

The light exists though. And I would dare to call that a true soul. The second morning after the invasion, I stared into my cup at 8:32 AM. I came to that conclusion. Then, I realized it: souls may not be a permanent thing. They may… come and go. If all living things are capable of this combustion, then perhaps some of us are starved of air. Our fires died, leaving husks searching for purpose, a breath of fresh air.

It had to be. My constitution proved weak, and so that alien mind found it easy to control my body for its own gain.

My dignity took a blow when it dawned on me that I was but the collateral damage of an unknown feud. I can’t stomach this humiliation anymore. I have to write it down I have to write something, at least. It’s likely that I’ll be forced to go on an unexpected vacation, considering that the curse filters what I write. ‘The Madmare Filter’, as that particular hex is called.

So...

A strange mare invaded my library some six days before the rainbow pegasus stumbled upon me. I venture to call it a miracle that I even accepted that it was a pony. Information is painfully lacking, so I can only summarize the event sans insight.

I jogged about the shelves, searching for a encylopedia concerning some vague topic. Naturally, book hunts in this expansive rainforest of texts took hours. Days even. I buckled down, prepared for a long excursion. Simple waypoint spells in place, professional obligations rolled tightly in my saddlebags.

Thirteen hours deep I was, and still no luck. Titles and names banked on the edges of my vision, and not one went unread. Streaks of light revealed by the cloudy air up above lent their strobe to the experience. I paid them no mind, but as my eyes shifted to and fro they created a gentle fuzz in my brain, an accompaniment for my dulling focus.

That dreamlike state resonates so strongly with me. I can just remember the scents, the emotions and sensations of it. My own little world, you could say. The very hoofprint of this particular dream is burnt into me. For all the bad it caused me…

I lifted my head for just a moment. Like I nodded off.

If I hadn’t then, my life never would have changed.

At first, it looked like a distortion. I blinked thrice. I wasn’t seeing things. My hooves ceased their motion. Legs frozen before the next step, I held my breath. The carpet. In the shadows, one could easily miss it. It rose and fell, snaked in contrast to the shelves of books.

The thing rounded along the shelf, following the turn straight toward me. My breath hitched. The instant that little sound flared to existence, the creature froze in place. So sudden that I stumbled backwards.

It didn’t occur to me that it was just as surprised. It paced away from me in return. I couldn’t act. No aggression, no self-preservation. Suspense. I had no earthly clue what lay before me.

The voice of a stallion —  or was it a mare? — grunted out loud. Despite myself, I squeaked and hopped away, though the fear drove me to lean against the shelf for support.

“Just fucking great,” they growled out. The carpet crawler rose upward, shaggy from head to hoof. “Every time I get cocky, I screw myself over.”

I instinctively searched for a face. The equine indeed had a head, but every inch carried the carpeting under my hooves. Then I squinted. It was hard in the low light, but I picked out the lenses. Intense, eyes of vague color focused upon me.

“You,” they uttered. I gulped. “You're not actually going to get in my way.”

It wasn't a question. Even so, I nodded.

“I thought I could cross this so-called capital twice without getting seen, and right when I'm on the home stretch…” The pony clutched their temples in mock pain. “Gah!”

“W-what do you want?” I chanced. “Are you saying you've been here before?”

The antics ceased upon that question. One by one, the pony’s legs stomped about into a powerful stance. I sputtered an appeasement. The beastly snort cut that short.

“Shut it, kid. I was just going to walk away, but then you had to go and think about any of this.” The mare —  I realized it was a mare from her snide impression of a filly — swiped her hoof. Faster than I could react. I recognized the magic washing over me and flared my horn as quick as I could.

Too late! The sting of a curse sunk into my skin. My magic tried to pry the slimy thaums away. Only the mortifying sense of all my skin stretching in every direction came of it. My chin slammed against the floor, but that pain was lost in the caterwauling of wrongness all over me.

Let it be known that real curses are hardly subtle.

I rolled onto my back. Had I eaten within the previous few days, it would have been messy.

The mare whistled. She dumped the runic box next to my head and stomped it into pieces for good measure. “You took that like a champ. But hey, I guess you're not all pansies around here.”

I opened my mouth. No words came to me. I tried, but nothing.

She snickered at my little choking noises. “Curses, babe. They really leave you speechless.”

I frowned at her. Judging by her towering legs and broad, looming chest, this mare was big. She could have crushed my skull under those hooves. Even so, that joke pissed me off.

She twirled a hoof. “Well, gotta set the conditions. Sudden onset mutism is alarming enough. I can't just break your horn off so you can’t follow my trail , lest you tell the authorities. You're lucky I'm a perfectionist.”

She spoke her terms for the curse. I am unable to remember them being presented as words, but rather as thoughts. Things that I told myself. The sensation humiliated me enough at the time, but it was mere foreshadowing.

I couldn’t speak of this mare. I couldn’t describe her state, be it her emotional state or her destination or her manestyle that day. None of that. I could not speak of those who may have followed her, either. In no way could I speak out with the intent to impede her. The sense of dread upon even conceiving the notion of speaking out against her conditions chilled my spine, not merely from fear.

The tingle of magic made my flesh tender, sensitive. My damnable curiosity made it all the more unbearable. What sort of magic was this? How grave was my situation? Why did this unicorn use a zebra’s deployment? Was it even a unicorn?

The pony moved away from me once the last of her suggestion dripped into my ears. She stomped and barked a laugh, her woolly coat swaying from the force that rippled across her body. “Bwaha! These laughable arcanists and their pansy magic. I’d almost feel ashamed of using it, but I brought it upon myself.”

To my displeasure, the mare loomed over me once more. Head lowered, her eyes bore into mine through her dark lenses. I can’t deny I was terrified. Her hot breath battered my already damp face. The guttural, heavy breaths of some ghastly creature. Those eyes twinkled with something. Something I did not want to know. I didn’t want to face it. Slowly, her tongue lolled out. The tip brushed my cheek. The wide, flat and warm meat of her tongue gently cupped it, dragging the hairs on it upward as she tasted me.

My rapid, shallow breaths seemed amusing to her. She chuckled around her tongue, puffs of her odorous breath stinging my wide eyes. Sneakily, her right hoof brushed my temple. She eased it along my mane, pulling and unraveling the band holding my makeshift ponytail together. Gently, she patted my mane down, using her other hoof to tilt my head this way and that.

“Mm. A good taste.” My chin lifted, and she nibbled my neck a little. “Definitely a shut-in, but…”

Both her hooves cupped my flushed cheeks, rearing my forehead. She pressed her muzzle into my stringy mane, taking a big breath. “You must a real brainiac. Real refined, nuanced. You’ll be just fine. Give it a few weeks.”

I managed to choke a question out. “W-why?” I swallowed a barren desert. “Why a-are you doing this?”

“Not like anyone will know. Or care, soon enough.” With a shrug, the mare stepped away. “Wish I had more time to stick around. Maybe get to know you a little better, even. I figured one last taste of you ponies wouldn’t hurt.”

I propped on an elbow. Already, the mare’s stance shifted to something unfamiliar. Her hind legs set tight, the mare fanned her forehooves before her. I twist about, back onto all fours. The scent of the mare stained my nostrils and the play of lights up above broke into a frenzy. The walls rattled with the winds of a brewing storm, ushering in the clouds slowly but surely.

With a flick of her hind leg, a previously unseen knot on her side came undone. A set of saddlebags so too covered in the carpet thudded upon the floor. Heavy enough for me to feel the drop. Plates of metal tumbled from the bags. One slid over the other, fanning out to either side until they scuffed the bookcases.

She slid her forehooves together, ripping through the carpet and scouring the wood below it with her sheer pressure. My horn tingled as if a current flowed through. The plates kicked up off the ground. Did she magnetize them? I couldn’t say. The wavered a foot off the ground and pushed each other away into a messy circle about the unicorn.

One, I noticed, was red in color. Or rusted. It marked something either way. Sure enough, she tilted her head to watch her makeshift compass. The sluggish construct would have normally infuriated me, but… but I knew I was missing something. This pony wouldn’t make a scene with such a mediocre spell.

The sickening thrum rocked me to my core. Same as me, the unicorn visible bit her lip as she maintained her compass.

Wood groaned. I shot to my hooves as soon as I heard the first wave of that horrible sound. Near and far, books slid off the shelves of my library. Not at random, no. I picked them all up later on after all. The cacophony swelled more and more. Books tumbled off the shelves, yet the tumbling proved far from over. Between the rails and down the steps they came. Scurrying rats.

One of the countless, massive shelves thundered upon the ground. I screamed, to be honest. Whether it was the sound of an explosion or my heart breaking from the damage incurred, I won’t say.

“Aha!” the unicorn cried. Frantic, I searched for the compass’s point. Nine o’clock, relative to her.

A little victory tune hummed, she proceeded to look in the opposite direction.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I cried. The roar of my babies getting drawn, as if by a sinister chariot, died to a dull shuffling.

She ‘dug the wax’ from her ear. “Why the hell are you yelling?” she said in her mocking tone.

I gave her another once-over. No sign of tiring. I inched back from her. “Your compass there is pointing that way,” I said with a helpful gesture. “Are you implying that the book you’re looking for just might be located in the least ‘radiant’ area of this room? That’s still a needle in the haystack.”

“Tsk tsk, kid. I think you misunderstand. The book I’m looking for has a negative signature. It’s so strong that it’s guaranteed to make this thing point away.”

So. Many. Things. Wrong.

“First of all, how would a normal pony not notice the life getting sucked from them if something that negative existed in the same room as them?” I wildly waved my hooves where the compass was pointing. “And are you implying that even if this over here had zero radiance, your compass would be forced to point there if this theoretical thaumic vacuum is present? Oh, but wait! Every thaumic compass in the world would all be forced to point away from this object, so how can it suddenly exist just because you’re looking for it?”

This pony pissed me off, frankly. I could see her smirking at me during that whole tirade. Rolling her eyes every time I tried to emphasize my points. Even so, I knew I couldn’t throw myself at that fucking charlatan. She obviously felt I was beneath her, delivering such a bold-faced lie. If whoever reads this in the future doesn’t understand my frustrations (or if I somehow become a vegetable), in laymare’s terms… it’d be like telling a child that they have to go to bed at night because the sun won’t rise until it knows they’re asleep.

This witch, this bitch, just laughed me off. “Yeah, yeah. Well, just take my word for it, kid. You’ll buy it once I find the goddam thing.” She clicked her tongue. “Oh, and next time you see me, remind me to hunt down the fucker who sold my book to this pile of garbage. I coulda found it so much quicker if it didn’t get moved.”

The bushy green on the mare tail flicked about. In unison, the compass plates tightened their formation around her as she reared on her hind legs. My curiosity almost got its answers when her camouflage tore away from her body…

The pony underneath glowed.

A bright blue energy covered her, head to hoof. Her long mane, caught in the storm of magic, flapped upward. She held that stance perfectly for what felt like forever. The mare’s exceptional physique only made the display more captivating.

One last glance for me. Her eyes burned despite being uniform with the glow in her body. My eyes refused to be pried away.

Was she seeking this mysterious tome with her spell? That was what I wondered.

She turned away without warning and galloped. Her powerful legs propelled her into a dive. Only the solid floor awaited. My stomach flipped just watching the descent. Just more proof to trust one’s gut.

The mare phased through the carpet, the floorboards. Her brilliant glow vanished with her. I flicked my eyes up at the wayward compass, which had split from her at the zenith of her leap. The ring spun across the library’s wide open space, following the lances of light dying as soon as they appeared as the mare swam below the floor. The journey, to my surprise, was a short one. The compass hovered over its destination. A lone book hovered upward within the curtain of blue light pouring from the compass. A mundane thing seized by some heavenly force.

My eyes are pretty terrible. Normally. The adrenaline must have kicked something into high gear, because I saw the pages of that book flip open, one at a time, from dozens of yards away. The grand window behind the book portrayed gloomy skies with veins of golden light amongst the clouds. A tree waves into view. Pitch-dark leaves accented the whole spectacle. The leaves…

I still see them from the corner of my eye, even now.

Despite the intensity, her light hardly shined from behind the bookcases until she was in clear view. I assume she re-entered the room as she left it before my eyes. The radiant unicorn levitated towards the book. This mare held her forelegs outward, perhaps to embrace the book.

Massive, inky grey legs moved to return her embrace.

I wiped my eyes once or twice. I swear that I didn’t see them appear. I didn’t see where they came from. Four massive, claw-like legs sprouted from the spine of the book before I could even register it.

And from the looks of it, my mare of mystery didn’t either. She struggled against the forces valiantly, but…

First, her hind legs. A simply spray of blue.

Her hips came next. A cord of blue energy unraveled as the wound yawned open.

Torso. An impressive display fanned out from her chest. Stray forelegs flew wild.

Not even a drop could reach the floor. The legs moved with bizarre, if precise, motion. The dark matter comprising them formed a quick bowl under all the bits and pieces before the fourth leg could bisect her skull. Even then, the legs met in unison. The next couple of moments most likely saw her remains settling in its grasp. With that, the legs retracted back into the pages.

My mouth spilled sand. I tried to swallow it all down as best I could. For all I knew, I watched a pony die. It’s funny. I feel the pain in my chest even now, even for a complete stranger.

Even for a survivor.

My vision tunneled on the book. Just as the inky claws raked the pages with the irregular spurs topping them, I saw a shape. A pony.

She reached out toward the ground. She fought it, fought it like Tartarus. I saw the blue arc of her hoof tear through at the last second.

Yet she sank into the pages. The ink consumed that last trace of her in retaliation, and the book snapped shut. Did I imagine that noise? I’m not sure.

But that unicorn was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

The rainbow pegasus now too. The more I dwell on it, the more I regret putting her up to this. One of Twilight’s friends. That unicorn, these turn of events. Something big was going to happen right under my nose. With the curse, I can’t ask for help. I had to con the pegasus into some rescue mission, when clearly she’d be needing the rescuing. Why the fuck did she agree to it? Why did I even ask? I haven’t even the first clue—

What the fu

It’s him. I picked up the cursed book and opened it to a random page. Habit. I’ve looked hundreds of times already, ever since he appeared. The book opens for me because of him.

And I see words.

Ms. Dash is mine now, and so are yoou. You msut bear witnesc to this

I’m calm now. Calm. So the book is spelling things out for me, and it says:

series of events. I have altered the curse inside you, as you suspected. What you write will still remain mindless gibberish to the normal eye. However, even with time, you will still retain your ability to read it. As well, I shall recount these events to you using this mockery of language for the time being. We must preserve the beginning of this unraveling by any means necessary. Apologies for my invasion, Ms. Moondancer. I am a mimic by design, and thus do not comprehend the experience I have foisted upon you.

My sister nearly claimed the pony who you encountered, Ms. Moondancer. Such sloppy work, her spell. Do not fear for Ms. Dash. I am the true gatekeeper of this world, and whoever enters on my watch is of no concern to my siblings. Her soul is my pawn, and I am a magnanimous player.

One of my mouths shall now take over this venue of mine. As a being of utmost objectivity, I promise that...

Well, that with time, the voice shall become objective. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, so I beg your patience.

~Fréon Ádfýr ~

“One misstep…”