You fade in and out of consciousness, unsure of how long you’ve been lying within this room. Days, weeks, months, years, time is not a thing you understand. In the brief moments that you are wake, it feels like your entire body is on fire. Liquid lava flows through your veins, and yet you cannot cry out. Voices—hushed whispers of inaudible words—are your only companions as you walk the fine line between reality and the dreamworld.

Things are happening around you, although you do not know what is real and what is a hallucination. At one point you remember glancing over and seeing a large pool of liquid shadow slowly spreading across the floor. As you watch, a large mass slowly begins to rise from its depths, the darkness dripping from it like tar. The creature glares at you with glowing cyan eyes. With a low growl it lumbers forward, reaching towards you with a massive paw. Right before it touches you however, it bursts into purple flames. The creature howls in pain, flailing its limbs about wildly as the fire slowly consumes it.

You remember a pony, a white mare with pink mane, dabbing your forehead with a cool cloth. She glances down at you as you moan, concern in her blue eyes. She murmurs something softly to you, brushing your sweaty mane out of your face. You groan again, and she turns and calls out to somepony off to the side. A few seconds later, another cool cloth is placed across your chest. It doesn’t help against the heat.

A third memory, just as hazy as the first few. You awaken to find a bunch of small albino dragons climbing over your body. Their faces are scarred and horrid-looking, their bodies nothing but skeletal husks. You can do nothing as they slowly crawl across your chest and up towards your face. They hiss quietly as they stare down at you, although it does not seem malicious. Even so, beneath their combined weight and mass, you find yourself being slowly smothered.

As your vision fades, a soft voice whispers from within the back of your mind.

“Ahh, you’ve found yourself a Bearer…”

—Burgundy’s Clinic—

The sound of dripping water is the first thing your mind notices as you regain consciousness again. It’s a slow drip, happening once every few seconds or so, and you find your ear twitching in time with the plinks. As you lie there, your half-asleep mind slowly drifts back to the horrid visions you saw earlier under the effects of the medicine. The old stallion, creepy as he might be, wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a nightmare. Thank the Goddess it was over though.

And over it is. You can tell almost immediately that the treatment was a success. The constant pain that had been tormenting you for many years is no longer present. Your limbs may be stiff, but you can move them without lances of pain racing through your body. A quick check informs you that your magic flows easily again as well.

Eyes still closed, you allow a smile to spread across your muzzle. You opt to just lie there, silently enjoying the first moments of painless existence you’ve experienced in a long time. The medicine was a godsend, although it wasn’t free.

Your smile fades. You should probably get up and find that stallion again. You signed the contract; you have a job to do. The sooner you finish whatever task he wanted you too, the sooner you can get on with your pain-free life. You might not like it, but you are an honest individual.

But that didn’t mean you had to hurry off to find him. The sound of dripping water is soothing to your weary mind.

You listen to the dripping for a while longer before deciding that it is time to start working off your debt. Cracking open an eye, you glance blearily around. You’re still in the same room as before, lying atop the medical cot. Bandages are wrapped around your left foreleg, a small crimson dot where the IV needle had been stuck into your leg. It is dark now, all the candles having long since burned down to nothing. The lanterns as well are darkened, the wicks inside dry and useless.

Despite the darkness, you can still make out the state of the room around you. Books have been pulled from their shelves and flung upon the floor, their pages strewn about in a chaotic mess. The second medical cot is on its side in the corner, dried blood covering the blanket-like cover. The chairs are tipped over, and several of the desks have been smashed. The medical charts and papers on the wall have been torn to shreds, long claw marks marking up the wood. Several IV stands, all of them containing empty bottles, are scattered throughout the room. Blood covers the floors.

You stare around at the carnage with wide eyes. What in the name of existence happened while you were asleep? Glancing around again, you shake your head before quickly climbing down off the cot.

The minute your hooves touch the floor, you know something is wrong. The vibration that has been a constant for the past three days has stopped. The engines aren’t running, and since you don’t seem to be falling from the sky, you can only assume that the ship has arrived at its destination. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Given the state of the room, it’s probably in your best interest to head up to the upper deck and find a way off the ship. You can search for crewmembers along the way, if any still remain.

You jump as a low groan reverberates throughout the ship, and you feel it list slightly to one side. An uneasy feeling is settling over you, and the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up.

It’s time to leave.

Casting one last glance around the room, you then make for the door. It creaks loudly as it opens, the noise echoing down the corridor on the other side. Like the room, the hallway shows signs of wear. Papers litter the floor, as does other bits of debris such as cups, pieces of wood, clothing, blankets, and—oddly enough—medical bottles. Large claw marks line the walls, the cuts etched deep into the wood. Through the portholes the line the far wall, the last dying light of day shines through, casting a deep orange glow through the round windows.

Walking slowly as to keep the sound of your hoofsteps to a minimum, you creep down the destroyed corridor. You peek into the passing rooms as you go. Each one appears to be similar to the one you were in, although you note that these medical beds appear to have straps on them. The ones in the last room have chains as well, although the chains appear to be broke and lying about the feet of the cots. You don’t want to know what they had previously held, so you move quickly on.

The rest of the interior of the ship is in a similar state of distress. Scratches mar the walls, debris is strewn about, and every now and then you come across a splatter of dried blood. You don’t come across any other living soul however, but you cannot tell if that’s a good thing or not. There’s an eerie silence about the place, one that puts you on edge. It’s so absolute that there’s almost a ringing in your ear to compensate for the lack of sound. You realize that, given the condition of the ship, it’s not unlikely that there is nopony on board anymore to make noise. Still, given that the ship appears to be in one piece, and the fact that the engines aren’t running anymore, you can safely assume you’ve docked in some port somewhere. If that’s the case, shouldn’t there at least be some background chatter from outside? Given the state of the ship, something terrible happened, so it’s not unreasonable to assume that maybe there would be some screaming or shouting, but nope. Only silence, save for the sound of your own hooves against the wood.

Rounding the corner, you make for the companionway leading towards the deck only to freeze, wide-eyed. Slowly, bile begins to rise in your throat. Lying on the floor in front of you are two ponies. At least, what’s left of them that is. Large chunks have been ripped out of their bodies, leaving exposed tissue, organs, and—in some cases—bones. Blood coats the floor and walls, the metallic scent clinging to your nose and making you gag.

You can only stare at the sight before you for a few seconds before it becomes too much. Quickly turning your head to the side, you retch loudly. With nothing in your stomach though, all that comes out is a thin string of bile. Even so, you continue to dry heave a few more times before managing to recover.

Wiping your muzzle with a back of a hoof, you glance back to the bodies. By the Maker, what happened here? You haven’t seen this much blood in once place since… since…

You pause, your brow furrowing as fuzzy memories drift about inside your head. Even with adrenaline pumping through your system, your mind feels almost like it’s still half-asleep; the memories won’t form. You remember seeing a similar scene before, but where? And why? What little flashes of images you can make out do little to help. Screaming ponies, a village on fire, a massive beast amongst the flames. You were a foal back then… no. No, you had been saving a foal. No, that didn’t seem right either. Ugh, why can’t you remember your own past?!

Standing within the pool of blood, you are oblivious to the world around you as you try and piece together memories of a time long ago. You’re so engrossed that you fail to hear the sound of something moving behind you. However, you do hear when that something lets out a horrible, ear-splitting howl.

Whirling around (and nearly slipping on the pool of blood in the process), you gaze in horror at the creature that has crept around the corner behind you. It’s vaguely equine in shape, though it stood twice as high as a normal pony. Its coat is now shaggy and matted, the fur caked with dry blood. The muzzle is elongated and filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth, drool dripping from its pulled-back lips. Blank white eyes stare at you with primal fury.

You barely have time to observe the creature before it suddenly lunges for you with a terrifying snarl. Moving on instincts you didn’t even know you had, you dash to the side and press yourself up against the wall. The creature, already in the air and unable to stop itself, flies by you and smashes head first into a support pillar. Falling to the floor, it grabs its head and writhes about.

Before either of you can move again, a deep groan reverberates through the ship once more. Slowly, with many a creaking and cracking noise, the ship begins to list more to the side until you’re practically standing at an angle. Casting a quick glance out a nearby porthole, you see a sight that causes your ears to splay back and your tail to tuck itself firmly between your legs.

Through the porthole, which was now pointing at a downward angle, you could see the ground… far, far below. From this height, trees looked like little bushes dotting the landscape, their shadows stretched far in the final minutes of sunlight. Whatever the ship was docked at, it was very high up. And apparently very unstable, as, with another groan, the ship continues to tip more and more onto its side.

Forget finding crewmembers; it is definitely time to get off this ship.

Pushing yourself off of the wall, you clamber awkwardly over the mutilated bodies and head towards the ladder to the upper deck. The creature, having since recovered, lets out another howl before giving pursuit. It smashes into the walls of the corridor as it runs, each impact causing the ship to list more and more. You can hear whatever’s holding the ship in place straining under the stress, creaks and groans echoing through the halls. The noise makes you go faster, desperate to get off the ship before it tips over the edge and falls to the ground far below.

Even with adrenaline-increased speed, the creature is faster than you. It nips at your hooves as you practically fly up the ladder. You burst out onto the main deck just as it lunges for you once more. You try to dodge again, but with how close the creature is, there’s no way that it can miss you.

Only, it does.

Through some miracle, the hatchway is too small for the creature to fit through properly, and when it lunges, its shoulders become wedged in the frame. Instead of its teeth snapping down upon your leg, it bites down on empty air. That doesn’t mean you escape unscathed though, as the creature’s claws still manage to rake your side, leaving behind bloodied furrows in your flesh. The blow sends you staggering, and your hooves manage to get caught up in a mess of rope that has been left lying around. With a startled yelp, you tumble to the deck in a tangle of limbs and rope. Unable to stop yourself, you roll down the sloping deck and slam into the ship’s railing. The blow knocks the air from your lungs.

As you struggle for breath, you open your eyes, only find yourself dangling over the railing. Open air is before you, and the only thing standing between you and a fatal fall is the old wooden railing. From your vantage point you can see that the ship is half-resting on a large circular platform that is protruding over a cliff face. Even as you watch, the ship tilts back and forth, threatening to slip over the edge and down the cliffside.

As you stare out into space, eyes wide in terror, the creature begins struggle to get through the hatchway. It gnaws and claws at the wood, sending splinters flying through the air. The motion causes the ship to shudder, and to your growing horror, it begins to topple.

Heart thundering in your ears, you begin struggling madly to get free of the rope. The movement doesn’t help the situation, if anything it just causes the ship to tilt faster. The sound of wood crunch on stone can be heard, and you feel the ship start to fall out from beneath you. It’s passed the point of no return.

The ship is going down.

Your horn lights up and you rip the ropes off of you with your magic, regardless of the rope burns you sustain in the process. Scrambling to your hooves, you race up the sloping deck, fighting to find purchase as the deck tilts itself to an angle over sixty-five degrees. Your hooves slide on the wood, and you have to fight hard to make any headway. Your nostrils flare, steam issuing forth with each breath.

The creature, still trapped within the hatchway, swipes at you as you dash past, but you duck, avoiding its claws. It gives a mighty lunge and, with a crack of wood, pulls itself free of the hatchway’s frame. Claws digging into the wood, it pursues you, even as the ship falls.

You reach the opposite railing just as the ship breaks free from the platform. Crying out, you leap onto the railing and, with one last final kick of your hind legs, launch yourself into the air just as the ship begins to freefall. You slam into the edge of the platform chest first, the blow winding you. You manage to hang on however, your back hooves scrambling at the smooth marble as you pull yourself up over the edge.

The creature is not so lucky. It tries to leap as well, but a hind leg gets caught in the railing. With a howl and a groan of wood, it and the ship fall away into the darkness below. It’s a few seconds of silence before you hear the faint sound of smashing wood echoing up from the foot of the cliff.

Sitting on the edge of the platform, you stare down into the gloom as you catch your breath. Night had fallen completely now, and you could no longer see the ground from your vantage point. It was just darkness—a never-ending abyss—far, far below. As you calm down from your near-death experience, your mind begins to wander. What the hay was that creature, and how did it get on the ship? Did it sneak on after the landing, or was it aboard the entire trip?

You think about it for a few more seconds before shaking your head and pushing the thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter anymore. The creatures dead, and the ship is now a pile of scrap at the bottom of the cliff. And you are the sole survivor. Realistically, you have to assume that the creature killed all of the crew before you woke up, but a small part of you holds on to the hope that some of them managed to escape. Hopefully none were hiding on the ship, otherwise… well, that’s better left unsaid.

Closing your eyes, you sigh heavily before staggering to your hooves. A hiss escapes your lips as pain flashes up your side; the claw mark the creature gave your burning slightly as you move. Peering around at the wound, you wince upon seeing your blood-soaked side. The crimson liquid is soaked into your fur. It slides down your barrel to drip to the ground, staining the stone beneath you red. A tentative touch with your hoof causes another spike of pain from the raw flesh. Still, you have to examine it, so you push on through the pain.

After a moment of inspection, you breathe a sigh of relief. While on first glance it looks bad, the scratches are actually not that deep. Sure, it’s still oozing blood at a steady rate, but it wasn’t gushing forth. You have time to find something to stop the bleeding, as well as some aid.

Pulling your gaze from the room, you finally glance around at your surroundings. You are on a large platform that’s cut in the shape of a half-circle. In the center is a small platform which houses a stone statue of a large cloaked mare, hood pulled over her face and forelegs held to the heavens. Several trees grow from holes in the stone placed at regular intervals around the circumference of the platform. One tree is knocked over, the trunk smashed from where the ship had collided with it. A large wall runs along the far end, the top of which is lined with an iron fence. The wall is taller than you are, but you can still see the silhouette of buildings rising up behind it. A city rests behind the walls. Apparently you were able to make it to your destination before the ship crashed after all.

Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your side, you make your way across the platform to a large wrought iron gate built into the wall. It squeaks loudly as you push it open, but offers little resistance.

As the gates swing open fulling, you step through and into the city proper.

—Central Canterlot—

Well, this is the stupidest thing you have ever seen.

Upon exiting the platform and into the city, you get your first look at where you’ve landed, and you’ve got to say, you don’t like what you see. The platform is on the outskirts of the town, and on the other side of the wall is a walkway that runs perpendicular to the platform, heading towards the city. It’s a small walkway, barely twenty feet across. A small iron fence runs about the opposite edge, and beyond that you see insanity.

Framed against the light of the rising moon, a mountain looms over the city. It casts a shadow upon the buildings below, its snow-covered peak seems to almost curving forward, over the buildings at some bizarre angle. That’s not the crazy part though.

Oh no. The crazy part is the fact that the city is built onto a mountain side. And not like you’d usually think when somepony said that. The city isn’t built into the mountain; it’s hanging off the side of the mountain!

As you stare at the disturbing sight before you, thousands of questions run through your mind. How was this city built? What’s keeping the city from falling? What support system could possibly hold an entire city in the air like this? Who in the name of existence designed this and thought it was good idea? All it would take is one poor soul not paying attention to where they were going and they could easily follow the path of the ship and fall to their death!

Insanity. You’ve only been in this city for a few minutes, and all you’ve experienced is insanity.

Shaking your head and trying to put the sinking feeling that the city was going to fall at any minute out of your mind, you head right along the walkway and towards the city. Right, first things first: find somepony, find out where you are, and then get medical attention.

As you walk through the streets though, it looks like your plan isn’t going to happen. The streets, like the ship before them, are in a state of disarray. Vines of ivy cover the iron fences, many of which have missing segments. Abandoned carriages fill the main streets, their doors open and their luggage still upon the racks. Trunks, sacks, boxes, crates; all manner of baggage, is strewn about. Some are stacked together while others appear to have just been tossed about at random. Several have burst open, spilling their contents all across the cobblestone road. Shirts, dresses, makeup, hair supply, bits; all of it discarded like yesterday’s trash.

Street after street is like this, having the appearance that everypony just stopped what they were doing and left in a hurry. It couldn’t have been that long ago either, as many of the streetlamps are still lit, weak flames flickering within their frosted glass.

A feeling of foreboding settles upon you again as you make your way through the abandoned streets. The only sound that can be heard is the echoing clip-clop of your hooves on the cobblestone. Steam wafts up from sewer covers, matching your breath as you exhale; there’s an unnatural chill in the air tonight.

After a few minutes of walking, you come across the first signs of life. Rounding a corner, you find bright banners hanging from buildings and street lamps. Paper lanterns hang from strings, many of them burning as the small candles inside them consumes the paper. There are tables covered in food in small park just off of the main road. A party had been going on here not that long ago.

But if that is the case, where is everypony?

With a confused frown upon your face, you make your way towards a random building. Giving the door a firm knock, you wait for somepony to answer. After a minute with no response, you try the handle only to find that it is locked. The same is true for the next few doors you try. You peer into a window, but it’s too dark inside to make out anything but dark shapes.

Pulling away from the window, you huff softly before glancing around again. What the buck is going on? First the ship, now this place; did the world go mad when you were unconscious?

You move back into the street, only to pause when a noise reaches your ear. It’s faint, but due to the unnatural silence that hangs over this place, you can hear it quite clearly. It’s coming from down the street, and it takes you but a moment to realize what it is: it’s the sound of hoofsteps.

Ears perked, you canter down the street towards the source of the noise. Finally, some other ponies. Hopefully they’d be able to tell you what was going on. Maybe… maybe it’s the Guard. Yeah, that sounds about right. There was a party going on here in the evening, and the guard showed up to deal with the noise complaint. Everypony went home. That makes sense… right? Reaching the end of the street, you round the corner only to slow to a stop.

Well, they aren’t guards, you can tell that much.

A group of a dozen or so ponies are making their way down the street towards you. Torches are held aloft in magic and mouth alike as the shuffle along, moving at a sluggish pace. Almost all of them are dressed in dark suit coats, the material ragged and torn. Loose bandages cover their legs and barrels, the white material stained brown from dragging in the dirt.

As they draw nearer, you start to see that some of them are also armed with makeshift weapons: pitchforks, spears, knives, etc. Anything that could be slapped together in a standard home. You can also see that many of the weapons are covered in blood. This causes you to almost backpedal until you realize that they’re probably after that creature you encountered on the ship. Maybe it attacked during the party and they drove it off, but are now hunting it down? Well, that’s good then. You can tell them you already dealt with it and then hopefully one of them will be able to direct you to a hospital.

Approaching the group, you call out in greeting, only for it do die in your throat as one of the lead ponies glances up. It is then that you know for sure that something is truly wrong. The stallion’s eyes are cataractous, a thick milky-blue film covering the orbs. The area around the eyes are red and swollen, and his cheeks wet and matted. A quick glance shows the other ponies have similar symptoms.

Upon seeing you, the lead stallion lifts his pitchfork in the air before screaming out through yellowed teeth, “Beast! You foul beast! Plague-ridden rat!” As if waiting for a cue, the rest of the group begins shouting as well. “Cursed beast!” “You’re better off dead!” “Away! Away!” Still shouting, the ponies brandish their weapons before racing forward, coming right at you.

Nope, buck this shit. You’re out.

Turning, you race back down the road, passing the street you had originally come from. The mob is right on your heels, and while at first they had seemed slowly, they’re actually pretty fast when they want to be. That, combined with the pain in your side and your unfamiliarity with the layout of the city has them slowly gaining on you.

Dashing through the streets, you race past several wooden crucifixes that are aflame. There appears to be something tied to the wooden beams, although you can’t get a good look at it as you rush past. You don’t have time to look at anything really, as you are barely able to avoid stumbling over the many piles of debris that litter the streets.

Behind you, the shouting grows louder.

“You are not wanted here!”

"Burn! Burn!”

“This is all your fault!”

Skidding into an intersection, you glance around, desperate to find somewhere—anywhere—to hide. The mob is practically on top of you; you can almost feel their breath on your back. A glint of blue light down one of the streets catches your attention. A small lantern hanging from a crooked stick stands in the middle of the road. It’s small, the top of the stick barely coming up to your chest. For some unknown reason, you feel a powerful pull from the light and without even thinking about what you are doing, you make a beeline for the lantern.

As you near, a fine mist sudden springs up from the base of the lantern, and from the depths of the mist rise four of the small albino dragons from your fevered dream. The group around the lantern, staring up at it with claws clasped before them. You don’t have time think about what’s going on though, as a knife ricochets off the cobblestone inches from your hoof.

Without thinking—without really knowing what you’re doing or what to expect—you take a few last steps before diving head first towards the lantern. Sliding the remaining feet, you grab the base of the lantern with your hooves. An eerie warmth begins to flow through your body even as a shadow looms over you. Glancing up, you can only watch in horror as one of the ponies raises their pitchfork high above their head before bringing it thrusting down towards your face.

Turning your head, you close your eyes and wait for the inevitable.

It never came.

With a chime of a bell, you disappear in a burst of mist and light.

—Bearer’s Dream—

Silence.

That’s all you hear: silence. No screaming, no cursing, no pitchfork embedding itself into your brains. Just peace… and silence.

…

Something ain’t right here.

Tentatively, you crack open an eye and glance around. White flowers fill your vision, swaying peacefully in a gentle breeze. You are no longer lying on a rough cobblestone street, but instead there is an old dirt-and-stone path beneath you that has been worn down by age and traffic. The lantern is gone as well, along with the angry mob of ponies.

Dazed and confused, you slowly rise to your hooves. Somehow you are no longer in the city, but instead are in a small walled off garden. Short cobblestone walls run the length garden, the rocks overgrown with ivy. There are multiple tiers to the garden, seeing as small rocky outcrops juts into the air. Steps chiseled into the stone allow one to climb to a higher vantage point, the grassy top providing a comfortable place to sit. White lilies grow in small patches all over the place: in between rocks and crevices, along the side of the dirt pathway, against the cobblestone walls. Crooked trees also grow here and there, their branches covered with dying leaves. A thin mist covers the ground, wafting lazily along on the breeze.

The moon looms high overhead, the celestial body alarming big. It looks surreal being that close, so close in fact that the moonlight easily illuminates everything as though it was day.

In the center of the garden, covered by ivy and sitting at the top of a sloping hill, is a small brick building. Though it’s tiny in nature, its design is grand and complex. The windows are stained glass, the doors are thick mahogany wood, and statues jut out along the rooftop. The only word that could possible describe the little abode was ‘royal’.

Glancing around the area again, you see that a set of stairs winds up the hill to the door of the building. With no other plan of action coming to mind, you take a deep breath before climbing the steps. The wound on your side aches with each step, but you push on.

About halfway up, you come across a small ledge created by a cobblestone wall. A lantern rests upon one of the stones, its soft yellow light illuminating the area. However, it is what’s beside the lantern that catches your attention.

A porcelain doll rests propped up against the cobblestone. Dressed in oldish style clothing, the doll is clearly modelled after a mare. The skin is painted a grayish blue, while the hair used for its mane and tail are very light azure. A horn sticks forth from its forehead, a black ribbon tied about the base. It stares unblinkingly at you with bright cyan eyes.

The sight of the doll causes you to pause, and you eye it curiously. The craftsmanship that went into its making is astounding; it looks almost like it’s alive! However a nagging in the back of your mind is telling you that there is something off about the doll. Not something bad, just… off.

Snorting softly, you shake your head before continuing up the steps.

The doors to the building are locked, much to your vexation. Lifting a hoof, you pound upon them and call out, but no response comes from within. You contemplate breaking a window and climbing in, but the lowest one is several meters above your head, so that plan is out. There could possibly be another entrance, but upon trying to walk around the building you find yourself blocked both ways: one the left by a good fifteen foot fall to the garden below, and one the right by a tall iron fence.

Your frustration growing, you head back down the stairs. Pausing by the doll, you grimace before—with reluctant hooves—removing the white sash from around its waist. It’s almost a sin to desecrate the thing, but your wound isn’t going to tend to itself. Painfully aware of the blood now staining the white material red, you wrap the sash around your barrel tightly, bandaging the claw mark.

For the next few minutes you explore the garden, trying to find a way out. There is a gate through which you could see another part of the garden, but not only is the gate locked, it appears to be a dead-end with only one way in and out of the circular clearing. There is a nice-looking tree with pink blossoms in that area, but you can’t get to it.

The longer you explore this place, the more confused you become. There’s no way out. A fence runs around the perimeter of the garden, yet there is no gate. A thick fog obscures everything on the other side of the fence, save for what looks like towering pillars of stone that are thrust high into the sky.

Picking up a stone, you push it through the rails of the fence and let it drop. Instead of hear the sound of the rock landing on the ground, you are met with silence as the stone disappears into the mist. After nearly half a minute, you hear the faint clatter of it bouncing off something far below.

Where the buck are you? This is getting ridiculous; all the madness happening within the past hour or so—the strange creature, the deserted city, the angry mob—and now you’re stuck in a strange (albeit peaceful) garden that appears to be on top of a small plateau with no way down! You aren’t a damn pegasi; you can’t fly!

Is that where you are right now? Some weird form of a private pegasi garden in the clouds? A special place designed so that only they can get to it?

…

No, no. That can’t be it. It’s not made out of clouds.

Unable to find a way out of the garden, you instead return to the locked building all while grumbling and muttering darkly under your breath. Pulling yourself up on the ledge, you move to sit down beside the porcelain doll, only to pause when something catches your eye. There, clasped delicately in its forehooves, is a rolled-up scroll.

Cocking your head to the side, you light up your horn and carefully pull the scroll from the doll’s grasp. Why didn’t you notice this before? Quickly unrolling it, you glance at the contents only for your eyes to widen in shock.

It’s the contract you signed back on the ship.

All the information you filled out is still there, though the ink is a little smeared. Name, gender, age, mane colors, coat color, cutie mark; all the relevant information is still readable. Tucked within the scroll is a secondary piece of paper. On it, written in an elegant, looping hornwriting, was the message: “To escape from this dreadful dream, halt the source of the spreading scourge, lest the night carry on forever.”

You blink in surprise before reading the note again, trying to understand the words. Halt the source of the spreading scourge? What can it possibly mean by... that…?

The sound of shuffling feet causes you to glance up.

One of those weird albino dragons shambles up to you, a weird item held in its claws. It looks like a large saw-like weapon with a long handle that runs perpendicular along the back. Serrated teeth, jagged and crude, line the far edge, while the opposite edge—blocked by the handle—is sharpened like the edge of a knife. The blade itself is made from dark metal and is partially wrapped with bandages.

The dragon stops in front of you before proffering up the weird blade. Taking it in your magic, you run your eyes over the weapon. Upon closer examination, you see a small switch located at the point where the blade and handle meet. Giving it a flick, you jump back as the blade suddenly swing about in an arc. It now juts forth from the handle like a sword.

You stare up at the weapon held aloft in your magic for a few seconds before your gaze slowly drifts back down to the strange note.

Halt the source of the spreading scourge.

It’s all starting to make sense to you now. The creature, the state of the city, the condition of the ponies in the mob. The ponies within this land are being infected by some horrid plague and you were hired—via the contract—to eliminate the source of that infection. This is your job now; this is the price for curing your disease. If that is the case, then so be it. You will work off your debt, one infected at a time.

The only question is, how do you get out of this garden and back to the city?

As if hearing your unasked question, the dragon turns and shuffles over to a large, vine-covered bush located on the other side of the path. Reaching up, he grabs at the vines before pulling them down. As they fall away, a gravestone is revealed beneath the vegetation.

Curious, you jump down off the ledge and tentatively approach the headstone. It’s overly decorated like the building behind you on the hill, the ornate carvings almost breathtaking. The main face of the headstone is worn and weathered, cracks running along the edges. It’s completely blank save for a small like of chiseled writing. Leaning down, you squint as you read what is written in the stone.

Central Canterlot

Canterlot, huh? Was that where you were before? The city on the mountain?

As you stare at the words, they slowly begin to glow softly. Mist begins to waft up from the base of the headstone, swirling about as it surrounds you. Compelled by some unknown force, you reach forward and place your hoof upon the glowing words.

In a swirl of mist and light, you are gone.

Author's Note

Can anyone guess who or what the bosses are going to be?