The Sinister Plot

***The Sinister Plot: Short 2***

The sky burned bright orange, like a fire consumed the entire land, marking the setting of the sun and the end of an exhausting day.

Phasmid let out a soft groan as she rolled from her side onto her back.

High above her, birds chirped and chased each other through the trees. Squirrels and other little creatures jumped from branch to branch, playing a similar game.

Through the trees, she could see the train tracks, now empty of any trains.

It took all of the strength she could muster, but Phasmid pulled herself upright and began taking in her surroundings.

She was in the middle of nowhere, and she had no sense of direction or how to make it back to civilization.

As the changeling tried to stand, a sharp pain erupted in her side, and she quickly fell back down.

Phasmid gasped as she observed the cause of the pain.

A jagged tree root had pierced her side and was sticking out of her.

The green blood gushing from the wound had dried, sealing the gaping hole from bleeding any more, but it also held the broken root firmly in place.

Phasmid knew that if she tried to remove the sharp object, she would reopen the wound, and she would likely bleed to death.

She spun in a circle, but there was no pony around, no pony to help her.

She was dying.

Phasmid looked up, through the trees.

The train tracks were still visible. She figured, by following them, she could reach Canterlot, but that was a long shot.

Her vision was darkening.

She wasn't sure how long she could remain conscious.

A lack of food, water, and love had left her void of any energy.

Phasmid could feel the life draining from her body.

“No…”

Her voice was coarse and rough as it came from her dry throat.

“Not like… this…”

The changeling's thoughts turned to Azalea, her one true love, and she remembered what Cicada had told her.

Her little Azalea was out there, somewhere, and she would never get to hold her again.

Phasmid began to sob.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she slumped against a tree.

She would die soon, right there, and she didn't want to.

She didn't want to die.

Phasmid wanted to see her little Azalea and hold her tight, but deep down, she knew that wouldn't be possible.

If Cicada really was telling her the truth, then Azalea was somewhere in the Crystal Empire, and Phasmid would never make it.

She remembered the smell of Azalea on that pony, Amethyst, the smell of her little Azalea.

The smell made her chest feel lighter, and she cried aloud as tears poured from her eyes.

Then, Phasmid’s sight faded to black, and she cried herself into a deep sleep, one she knew she would not awaken from.

***

Phasmid woke up with a throbbing pain in her side. It stretched from her lower back to her neck.

She had no idea of how much time had passed.

She opened her mouth, but as she breathed in, her muscles tensed, and the pain escalated.

“Do you sleep still, little changeling?”

The sound of the mare’s voice seemed to sooth her.

As more of her senses came back to her, Phasmid began to notice the peaceful sounds around her.

Birds chirped, wind rustled through the trees, and a spring bubbled gently somewhere behind her.

Finally, her eyes opened, and a big, blue sky opened above her.

Strangely, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.

Tall trees swayed slowly from side to side, and their leaves shook before fluttering to the ground, one by one.

It was beautiful.

“Ah! You're up! Do not move, please.”

Phasmid bolted upright with her head spinning to find the speaker.

Her eyes scanned her immediate surroundings. It was a sort of hidden grove.

All around her, tall trees with thick trunks sprouted from the earth, reaching for the sky. To her right, a crystal clear spring bubbled and rippled as fresh water rose from an unseen source at the bottom.

Opposite to the spring, a cave appeared through the trees.

The rocks looked ancient, covered from top to bottom in moss and strange carvings.

The world she was in was a sort of paradise. It was quiet, peaceful, and tranquil. The only problem was Phasmid had no idea of where she was or how she got there.

Out of options, the curious changeling tried to climb to her hooves in order to investigate the nearby cave, but the moment she tried to put weight on her legs, they buckled, and she collapsed.

“Oh, please do not try to move… You've been badly hurt, and you're only just now recovering.”

Groaning on the ground, Phasmid rolled on her back and looked up.

She felt a hoof behind her head, and without the strength to protest, she powerless to stop herself from being hoisted slightly upright.

“Oh, I cannot possibly tell you how long it has been since I've had the pleasure of meeting a changeling. Drink this, please. It will make you feel much better.”

She peered inside the goblet.

The liquid inside looked like water, but as some of it passed her lips and traveled down her throat, she came to the conclusion that it had to be something else, something magical.

Though it looked like water, it had the viscosity of syrup, and it tasted sweet.

As she drank more and more of the strange liquid, Phasmid began to feel stronger. With each sip, the sore pains that pulsed throughout her body faded until she could no longer feel them.

In a matter of moments, the goblet was empty.

Phasmid almost felt a longing for the mysterious substance.

She was sitting upright now, without the support of whoever offered her the goblet.

Phasmid knew now that she hadn't been imagining that, so she sought to find whoever it was that had helped her.

Her eyes scanned the grove until she saw her, a tall mare standing in the entrance to the cave.

Her back was turned, but the changeling could make out a few details.

The mare’s coat was a light grey color, and she had a shimmering, golden mane with a tail to match.

Then, there was her cutie mark, or her lack of one.

The mare’s flanks were completely bare.

“Are you at a loss for words, my dear Phasmid? It is alright for you to speak, you know.”

The changeling cocked her head to the side as she eyed the mare.

The mare looked back at her, looking over her shoulder, and smiled before returning to whatever it was that she was doing.

At last, Phasmid found her voice.

“How… How do you know my name? Have we met?”

The mare turned around finally, revealing a new goblet, filled with more of the rejuvenating liquid.

“I know the names of every inhabitant that calls this world ‘home’. It's one of my duties, after all…”

Then, Phasmid saw them, a pair of wings.

In addition to the horn sprouting from her forehead, the mare also sported a pair of large, majestic wings tucked against her sides.

She was an Alicorn, a princess.

“Here… Drink this. It will help with the pain.”

She offered Phasmid the goblet, which she took graciously.

“Thank you, but…” Phasmid interrupted herself to take a sip of the liquid. A small sigh of content escaped her lips as the warm feelings of ease and tranquility returned. “… Who are you?”

The mare wore a huge grin and bowed slightly.

“I am Demise, princess of time. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my little changeling.”

***