Fineshrine

The darkness seemed to curl around her like a snake, wrapping ever closer. The outlines of trees bent inwards in the dim moonlight, barely enough for the filly to squint by as she ran through the forest.

She stumbled, just catching herself, and regained her footing with a wince. Her ankle throbbed with pain, and numerous scratches scarred her pale coat.

She should never have come here. Especially not alone.

Her sister had warned her. Her friends had warned her. But the old castle was so interesting, and she had an essay to write, and what better source on the Nightmare War than it’s final battleground? But she had stayed too long, and now the sun had set and she was all alone.

Alone in the Everfree is not something any pony should ever be.

She kept running. She had to get home soon. Her parents would be wondering where she was. They might have already asked her sister. There would be no search party, not yet. Something flashed in the corner of her eye, her head snapping round to look—!

Nothing but light off a dewy leaf, caught at just the wrong angle.

But as she turned to look, a snag, a sudden feeling of unbalance – her hoof, caught on a root. She went sprawling to the forest floor, landing hard on the unforgiving earth, leaves and dirt spraying out of her path.

The filly lay there a while, on the ground, sniffling as the dust settled around her. Her vision blurred through her tears, the various shapes of the forest blending into one dark whole.

She should never have come here.

It was so easy to become complacent. It was a part of life, the Everfree. Sitting just on the edge of town, always there. Despite the stories, you became used to it. It seemed so calm. So quiet, patient.

Waiting. Waiting for a wrong move, for a mis-step. Not unlike the one she had just made.

A rustling came from behind her, a soft noise that seemed deafening in the silence. Her ears pricked up, heart racing, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The noise stopped.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Fear is a powerful thing. It is a deep, primal feeling, one that goes far deeper than mere emotions. The wounded prey fleeing from death, or cowering away from it: a story as old as the very world itself.

It is also a powerful motivator.

Whatever hid in the darkness, it was not friendly. Through the gloom, the filly could make out a hulking shape, low to the ground but girthy and threatening. Spikes seemed to curl off it’s hide at odd angles, like a living bramble patch. A stray flicker of moonlight glanced off of it, revealing a deep blood red colour, almost black.

But it was the eyes that truly scared her. Grey, and glowing, and cold.

There was no mercy in those eyes. Only hunger.

She let out a sound. It would have been a scream, had sheer terror not killed it in her throat. What came out instead was a ragged gasp, trailing off into a whimper – but that was enough. The eyes narrowed, their terrible pale glow ripping straight into her brain.

She scrabbled back away from it, her breath nothing but a rapid stop-start, almost robotic, and as the creature began to move she scrambled to her feet and fled.

She ran. She ran like she had never run before, her body moving to a rhythm she did not know, an ancient beat that all creatures shared down in the roots of their being. It flowed, a strength and vitality she didn’t know she had bursting through her, granting her an awful clarity. Every leaf and every pebble stood out as starkly as if they were alone upon an endless sheet of glass. And yet of the beast, there was no sign – just a terrible certainty that if she stopped, if she relaxed even for just the smallest fraction of a second, it would appear, and she would meet her doom in the endless glowing pool of it’s eyes.

But she was young. She had led a life of leisure, and the horn upon her head barred her from the strength of the earth ponies, and from the instincts that might have warned her away. Eventually, her legs could no longer hold her, and she came crashing and and sliding and skidding to a stop, finally collapsing against a tree. Deep, desperate breaths thudded through her body, quickly becoming gulping, helpless sobs – miserable and loud and raw. The moon seemed pitiless to her exhausted, frightened gaze as she stared up through the foliage, as if it were judging her, condemning her to history. This is your fate. Accept it.

She wanted to be home. She wanted to be home on a winter’s evening, reading with her parents by the fire. She wanted to be home in the bright sun of morning, listening to her sister gossip as they ate breakfast. She wanted to be home after school, watching her friends bicker over something pointless. She wanted to be home, laughing and loving and living.

Not alone in the Everfree, waiting to die.

Like a death knell, she heard again that soft rustling. Slowly, once more trying to delay the inevitable, she tore her eyes away from the cruel moon.

It’s eyes seemed to shine far brighter than the waxing moon above. Her vision wavered, the two flickering points growing to fill her whole vision – and then expanding even further. The eerie light enveloped her whole, swallowing her senses and her resolve.

This is your fate. Accept it.

It was so tempting. Defeat was easy, defeat was peace, slumber. No more running, no more fear. All she had to do was lie there, and let that warm, wonderful glow take her.

The filly might have fallen then and there, had it not been for a single, stray thought.

“Rarity…”

A flash of white and deep indigo, of warmth and care. Eyes, not grey but clearest blue.

Through the haze, the filly struggled to her feet. She lurched away from the creature, stumbling towards a patch of clear ground.

The beast made no move to stop her, the eerie light of it’s eyes following the lost little pony.

There was no need to hurry. She was as good as dead already.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Keep moving.

If the forest had been frightening before, it was nothing short of terrifiying now. The trees bent into nightmarish shapes, seeming to mock and deride her, and the little light that filtered through was grey, all grey. Darkness encroached on the edge of her vision, narrowing her line of sight to a tiny pinpoint.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Breathe.

Exhale.

One hoof in front of the other.

And yet, somehow, she wasn’t scared. Everything seemed far away, like watching a film through a funnel. It was remote, detached.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Stop.

Her shoulder hit a tree, and she jolted – but from the impact, not the pain. The beginnings of a bruise were clear, yet the injury felt numbed, and her mind seemed to brush the pain aside without conscious effort.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Breathe.

Exhale.

You should go back.

A mis-step, a stumble. Whatever haze had clouded her mind seemed to be dripping through into her senses. Her hooves felt heavy and leaden, such a pain to drag you should stop.

Let it take you.

Breathe.

Exhale!

She fell through the brush, out into a clearing. The night shone brightly down uninhibited. Blinking heavily, she looked around. Something in her, behind the fog, went cold, panicked. The was on a grassy overhang, right on the edge of a cliff. Below, she could see the forest stretching out for miles, and beyond it, just on the edge of her vision—

Home.

Distantly, she felt the urge to cry – but something soft and floaty and grey inside her swallowed it up before she could inspect it any further.

Run. Run!

It probably wasn’t important.

Run. Get away, it’s going to—!

Stay. Let it come. This is the way it has to be.

She turned absently as the creature entered the grove, slowly making it’s way towards her, unhurried. She could see it far more clearly out in the open. It hung low to the ground, like some giant lizard, but armoured and sharp. It’s grey eyes were sunken into it’s helmet-like head, warm and compassionate and cold, and jagged spikes stuck out at odd angles, all along it’s body.

It was terrifying beautiful.

Let it come. This is the way it has to be.

The way it *should** be.*

She lay on the ground, staring as the monster walked towards her with slow, deliberate steps. Her chest rose and fall rapidly, with deep, twitching breaths, but she felt perfectly calm. She stayed, transfixed, as it finally reached her, gazing into it’s wondrous, wondrous eyes as—

Shhhhck.

A sound. How strange. It seemed to come from her, down from her belly. With an effort, she shifted her head, looking down at herself.

Oh.

That

That should hurt.

It does.

But it feels fine. Numb. The red is kind of pretty. It spills against her white coat, staining it.

It’s the same colour as the monster now.

It hurts so much.

But the things inside. All green and purple and ugly. She doesn’t like them.

They make her feel sick.

I SHOULDN'T SEE THEM WHY CAN I SEE THEM

She’s so happy when the monster takes them out.

painpainpainpainPAIN

They’re long and slimy, but when they’re gone there’s even more red everywhere.

oh celestia the pain it hurts so much

She smiles up at him.

help me

He’s making them go away. And now even his teeth are pretty, pretty red.

someone

please

Everything is fine. Her eyes drift back up to the moon. It’s so nice! Princess Luna must be very proud.

please

PLEASE

HELP ME

All the lines in her head are fuzzy. She feels sleepy.

Crack.

Something fizzes in her brain and her vision goes white.

When she can think again, she looks down. What was that funny sound?

Oh! All the ugly things are gone. But now that the belly is all clean, the monster is looking at her chest.

He’s so helpful.

rarity

save me

His shiny white (or are they red?) teeth are pulling something. What is it? She tries to think.

Oh! It’s her ribs. He broke her rib cage.

She remembered. She’s such a clever filly. Rarity will be so proud.

Her chest feels strange. He’s pulling at it now prying it apart. There are more ugly things inside, she can see them when she looks down. He must be trying to clean her.

He’s so helpful.

PAINPAINPAINPAINpain

why

why me

it hurts

She looks back into his cruel kind eyes. The glow is so soft. So warm, so helpful.

what did i do

She’s tired now.

it hurts

She falls asleep.

The search party was sent, eventually. The friends were worried, the family hysterical.

Nothing was ever found. In time, they gave up. It took longer a little longer, but in time, they moved on too. The sister would be heartbroken, some days, and the friends would feel an absence, some days, but life went on and so did they.

But had they looked twice at the bottom of a small cliff, they might have found, half buried in the gravel, exactly what they were looking for.

The filly did not look the same. The beast had stripped her of all flesh, and time and the wind had buried her skeleton. But still, a fearful symmetry could be seen. The bones were piled neatly, some broken, but others intact, a certain order in the way they were laid. The skull sat on top, askew – a testament to the frightened, wayward little filly.

A fine shrine indeed.