A Dance With The Devil

Thank you to:

Zaknel
DarkLordYuri
DuskWriter
Opium4TmassS
The Crystal King
Caspar (RevenantReject)
Yorkie Pie
SSJ2PinkiePie
Jamiemichelle
InkSplat

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.”

― Rumi

First

The day was another day just, same as the ones before, and same as the ones that will soon come.

Lightning Glare gazed down at his hooves, studying how the left one would place itself on the earth and the other doing the same. It was rather mundane for him to think about how he walked, albeit he merely wanted to distract himself. He felt several drops of liquid stick and fall off his silver-grey coat. The pegasus quickened his pace. Steadily came the downpour, a drastic increase of strength noticeable.

Soaked and utterly drenched after skipping on the puddles, he liked it not a tad, and there was an uneasy move on his lips. “Darn it,” to himself did he mutter, “I should’ve bought the flowers earlier.” The pegasus set down the soaked bundle of golden marigolds and proceeded to rattle his entire body like a wet dog. To rid the water, he fluttered his feathers, and the stallion thereafter plucked up the drenched bunch.

The wind tugged on the gates back and forth, causing it to creak on the rusting hinges of old. It started to sing a cradlesong of some sort, the soft yet disarranged melodies echoing from the forests of the south. The whispery voice sprawled out into Ponyville in the north, dashing through Canterlot and into the unknown.

The gate flung open as a result of a light shove of a foreleg.

Transformed was air’s pitch to one of a deeper tone, resonating and growling. Lightning felt s deep echo in his spine. A small grimace crossed his face. I—I’m not liking this at all . . . he meekly told himself. It’s like these gravestones just turned to me. Staring at me. He shuddered at the thought. A bitter welcome this cemetery soberly gave him, a gift he would rather decline but accepted anyway. Alright, Lightning. You can do this. You have to do this. For Auriga.

The stallion followed his path own, the air blanketing the entire cemetery coldened. Wisps of scattered fog started to form. Lightning Glare was part of the Ponyville’s Weather Patrol, and he and the others reserved today for light rains and low temperature. It was a poor decision, but a necessary one.

He halted at the sight of a headstone. Lightning approached it, eyes locking on the name of it. Gentle like a butterfly, he surrendered his flowers to the gravestone and the one who lies below. Weak were the showers now since he entered.

He found himself seated on the grass, right in front of the neatly smoothed rock. Stare at it he only ever managed to do, and in the act he committed himself a good deal. In the recesses of his mind, a voice was telling him to stay here for longer. Time felt like it existed not in this yard of the dead. How long had he been here for, exactly? Several minutes? Or possibly a few hours? Either way, a care he won’t give, a care he can’t give. This was too much.

His eyes departed from it, focusing on the ever-so-beautiful crescent amongst its copious neighbours. The sky was blocked by clouds, the moonlight turning them into smoke—white smoke. The pegasus watched as more clouds flocked over to the white orb, the outline still distinguishable under all of the mass.

Those were times he needs remember, he thought of it that way. They were things that he didn’t quite understand. But he didn’t really care of that. They just happened, and how was also another mystery. Maybe someday he’ll get it. It may not be today, but it’ll be someday, he hoped.

But he knew he can’t stay here forever. He needed to go. The sooner, the better.

Lightning Glare took one last glance, getting back up. Phantom-silent was the world; even the rain stopped its drizzle. He couldn’t help but kneel.

“Peace be with you, Auriga.” he whispered. “Peace be with you.”

The pegasus quietly maneuvered through the dead-quiet headstones. Prior to the opportunity, he had to move through the threshold, though, something made him confused, his heart stop, for him to care not of the rest of the world.

The shadow. It moved around him. It was one of great agility, piercing the air. Lightning Glare stood frozen in place. Gears in his mind tore and squeezed and broke each other apart when it so tried to understand. W—Who i—is th—that? He dared not look behind him.

One part of his consciousness was telling him to run, to flee, to leave this place, but alas, the shadow seemed not like the idea, for it threatened to near him whenever he lifted his hoof to make a step. He clenched his pearly whites, briefly interchanging his attention between the gates and the tombs of the dead. Multiple times it moved, round and round him again.

Celestia, Celestia, Celestia! What do I do?! What do I do?! Lightning Glare whimpered as the ghastly shade zig-zagged between the gravestones. He bent down low by one, realising his breath was gaining speed and weight by the second passing. Closing his eyes, he gulped.

Lightning Glare bolted to where he assumed the shadow was. A whistle of the wind was the only sound heard. That air wheezed and growled at the time same, circling and playing and going through his mane and coat. The pegasus reluctantly called, “W—who goes there?”

Lightning Glare knew he was alone a while ago. He could’ve sworn he was. The stallion peeked his head above the tombstones, scanning the area. The shadow wasn’t there, thankfully. If anywhere, really. Good, he thought, nothing’s there. It’s just your head that’s playing you.

The blurry wraith moved right in front of him.

Lightning felt his heartbeat rise, donning eyes the size of dinner plates. Quick and deceptive, it continued to zip around, even faster. In the corner of his eye, he saw it again. He turned around to find that it was not there. Lightning heard his own startled breaths as it went past him. He was sweating up a storm, feeling soaked once again.

The pegasus could hear a faint beg. “P—please! I—I know who you are and why you have to take me away, but you don’t have to do it like this . . . Just . . . just leave me alone!” Lightning lost his consciousness a tad, it felt.

It was Auriga’s voice that begged the unknown listener.

Auriga?! B—but I just visited your grave, didn’t I?!” Again did the shadow keep moving around him from a fair distance. It was to his left, then all of the sudden to his right, and it was back there in front of him. Tracking it was far from possible; it seemed to come from everywhere.

Light tried to control his breathing, an exercise he remembered. Okay, okay, calm down, now. Calm down. It’ll all be over and I can leave. That voice isn’t Auriga’s, Lightning. It may be another pony’s, right? It has to be. Yes, it has to be. His heartbeat kept rising to meet with the clouds, no matter how hard he resisted.

Lightning peeped above. He started moving his head left to right to see.

The phantom was in the distance. Lightning saw the fear contort in the shadow’s face and lips, and he tenaciously gripped the grass so much that they came right off, slamming his body back to the slab of stone. Many breaths came in and out as he frantically flailed his legs on the dirt, crying and whimpering and screaming. A ghost being afraid of something sent visceral migraines and assumptions through the pegasus’ skull.

The ghost shot his head around the scene, and before Lightning knew it, he witnessed as Auriga locked onto him. Lightning gasped. He shoved a hoof on his lips as he realised what just happened. He knew he can’t make Auriga unsee him.

The pegasus hid. He trembled, praying with all of his might to anypony he knew not that Auriga would merely dismiss the sight of him and move on. Out of the nothingness spurted two pairs of hooves, pinning the pegasus against the tombstone.

“Lightning! Oh thank the goddess above!” The ghost looked down to see that the poor stallion was merely stuttering what were no doubt confused begs for mercy, a million more coursing inside his skull. “There’s no time! Listen to me! We have to leave before she comes.” The phantom shot upwards suddenly, scanning the graveyard. “Oh fuck! She’s here! Let’s go, dammit!”

Lightning Glare was pulled up and dragged to flee with the vulgar ghost of a friend, his mind empty. He didn’t know what to think anymore. The pegasus could only breathe as the ghost guided their escape out the gates to the lands beyond.

How they arrived so fast remains a mystery to the pegasus, albeit he and Auriga stood in front of his home. It was a house of wood and stone, pink and red accents littered around here and there.

Auriga’s coat was that of an almost white, palish green, a light red mane, with eyes of sapphire, and a stature height impressive, not to mention the hoofball cutie mark plastered on his flank. “What are you lookin’ at? Get in before she sees us.” The ghost stared at him, commenting. Auriga needn’t repeat himself. The startled pegasus gone for the door.

Lightning Glare watched in hushed silence as Auriga slammed the door shut, quickly locking every lock on its edge. He pulled and pushed it to ensure the legitimacy and strength of the locks. He kicked it hard. Once satisfied with the sight of a heavily locked threshold, Auriga twisted his head to the wholly clueless pegasus, staring at him with the deepest intent. Softly he spoke, “Hey, you alright, Light?” His change of mood startled him.

“Y—yeah. I’m okay now,” replied the pegasus. A light hum was Auriga’s reply. Light could easily see through the expression Auriga spread on his face. Those eye bags below his pair gave the impression that he had been chased for Celestia knows how long. A stallion whole different hid behind that mask.

“Auriga, you don’t look well. Perhaps you can tell me what is it that concerns you?” He’s a freaking ghost, for crying out loud! Of course he’s lost his mind!

The ghost tsked. “Look at you. You have eye bags larger and darker than mine and you haven’t fixed your mane in years. Oh, and your house is still fucking pink,” he said, cheekily giving that stupid smile of his. It became a neutral line so quickly, a grunt leaving it.

His mane was indeed a great mess, he admitted, platinum white edges reaching out to all directions and the rest a black and was as frantic. His tail was of same. Light chuckled humorlessly, his face frowning as he looked himself bottom to top.

“Oh, stop looking at yourself. Light, I’m really sorry, okay? It’s just that I don’t have a lot of time to take in all of this and make you so uncomfortable.” The ghost started to pace to and fro. “First, I’m dead. Second, I’m a damn ghost. Third, somepony is after me and I know I can’t hide forever. What’s next? I’ll die a second time? Can this get any worse than it already is? Can’t a stallion just go to bed without life having to fucking cuck my ass?!”

Light cringed as the ghost went on, incomprehensible remarks flying out of his mouth and his tone darkening. “Auriga, Auriga. Calm yourself, please! I know you're overwhelmed by all of this, so you’ll have to take it easy and think things through.” Light motioned to the sofa. “Come, take a seat. You and I can have a talk. Just like old friends?” Not one thing Lightning could point and name at could be more fake and uneasy than the happy expression he forcefully suppressed.

Nothing. The stallion had the face—the body—wholly unmoving, rock hard and stoic. The spectre couldn’t be any quieter.

He unexpectedly smiled, a rueful one and small. Swiftly, he made his way to the sofa. “Just like old friends, I guess.” He patted the empty space beside him for Lightning.

“Thank you.” The pegasus sat down, studying the phantom beside him. “Tell me, who is this ‘somepony’ who’s chasing you?” Light decided to preface the conversation with a query of his own.

Auriga didn’t move a muscle. He chewed on the edge of his lip. “That ‘somepony’ is Death.”

“Say what, again?” Lightning Glare was thrown off guard. What did he just say? The pony he’s running from is Death?

Auriga mindlessly drew circles in the air. “You know . . . Fuck, you don’t, do you?” he interrupted himself. “Hold on, I haven’t told you about her yet.” The ghost blinked. “Let me explain.” Lightning Glare eased his spine on the cushion as the ghost began the preamble of his tale.

“You see, Death is very . . . unexplainable; Unfathomable is the right word. It’s hard for me to explain to you how she ‘functions’ as a being. You getting this?” Lightning Glare nodded in silent agreement. “She’s kinda this angel of the dead, I would say, like the grim reaper in movies, but not really, nah.” Light had no idea how he got this information, but he merely leaned forward, interested. “I do know her one ultimate goal is to reap souls for . . . whatever reason. She’s Death, you get it, that’s why I’m running from her. And that’s about it. That’s all I know about her.”

“Auriga,” Lightning started, dubious, “how do you feel about this?”

The phantom stroked a hooftip on his chin. “She sounds like Death to me, in all honesty. Ran from her ass for, I dunno how long. Hours at least. Didn’t see her, though. It felt like she was teasing or spying on me.”

Light’s confusion only further deepened. How did he even do that? Then again, he is a ghost, so everything in this world is possible at this point. he mused to himself. So this “Angel of Death” is after Auriga . . . “This may sound a bit odd for me to ask, but Auriga, do you know why she hadn't taken you away already?”

The spectre goggled at Light as if he said he forgot how to breathe. Auriga raised two hooves and shrugged. “I dunno. It’s . . . now that I think of it, yeah, that is kind of weird. Only now has she tried to pin me down.”

Lightning did the same gesture, a lopsided smile crossing his face. “We can figure that out later, Auriga.”

The ghost scrutinized the pegasus’ face for a moment; Light let him. Auriga muttered to himself, cheeks moving and judging, saying to himself the words he wanted to say out loud. “The name of Tartarus happened to you after all this time?”

Light merely shrugged. “I . . . nothing, really. I haven’t a clue.”

The ghost put on what has got to be the largest grin Lightning Glare knew possible. It kind of scared him to see that, really, even if Auriga was a friend. “Did you cry because of me?” he said through the expression.

The pegasus was lost. “I mean . . . Technically not, but . . . Like a small bit. Kind of. Yeah.”

“So you didn’t cry a ton in the past few days.” That was no question. “Honest to goddess, you’re lying.”

An awkward chuckle came out of the pegasus. “How’d you find out?”

“You’re Lightning Glare, for fuck’s sake!” declared the pony in an accent exaggerated. “No pony could ever be like you,” avowed he. “Not one pony.”

“Thanks . . .” Light replied. A compliment or insult, he wasn’t sure what it was.

The displaced tranquillity of the environment around them could not be ignored. Really, it was something Lightning Glare enjoyed. Nothingness. And so he did the one thing he liked to do. He found himself gazing around at different objects around the rooms at random: a metal figure of Canterlot castle, books, paintings, a niche in the corner with a plant, a plush rabbit made of velvet, books with long titles.

That feeling came back to him. Not the one from earlier, no. It had been here for many years past, and he was not certain if it was here to stay. He hoped not. It radiated through his body, originating from his chest, making it hurt and the rest of him feel awkward. He clenched his hind legs and blushed, Auriga taking notice.

“It’s coming back to you again, eh?”

Light nodded absentmindedly. “Have you ever had that dream?” he asked, gaping at the ceiling. “The ones that are nightmares too, but they kind of hold your hoof and teach you something?”

“What kind of question is that?” The ghost shot his head back. “How can something scary teach you something? And would you even remember that?”

“Well, I mean that’s kind of the point, Auriga. This world is full of suffering, so we might as well learn something from our weaknesses. And, hey, fear isn’t all that bad. It makes sure we’re safe and all. That’s why we are afraid. We may not feel safe, but we most certainly are.”

The ghost nodded to himself. “Yeah, I get the point you’re tryna make. Hey, isn’t that similar to the concept of pain? How everything hurts so much to remind us how this world can suck at times?”

Thrice resonated knocks as if the universe wanted to answer the inquiry. The abrupt disturbance originated from everywhere and nowhere. Another trio of bangs erected their ears. This time, it could be discerned to have come from downstairs. Both of their heads twisted to the wooden portal.

The two slowly directed their sight to each other’s eyes. “Quick. I’ll hide and you get the door.” Before Light could reply, he was already gone. A meek sound he only ever managed.

“C—coming.” The pegasus slowly made his way across the living room, growing smaller and smaller as he drew closer the threshold. He stood in front of the portal with the last bits of courage he mustered.

From the door came three lone knocks. It was more forceful and separate; ferocious.

Lightning heard the little voice in his head once more, yelling, telling him that it could be anypony else out there. Why he didn’t run and hide was unbeknownst to him. Maybe he was too afraid to do anything. Shutting his eyelids, he reached out and proceeded to open the portal that would welcome in the outside world.

★★★★★★★★★

He was blanketed by the darkness, its soft hug setting a rather tranquil atmosphere. The ghost always preferred the lack of light. It made his day knowing there would be light after darkness. It gave him a sense of hope in a chaotic world. Notwithstanding the current time, he felt like the goddamn opposite. Like a mess left in the shadow dark in a place unknown, he was lost.

Death wasn’t the only one who was chasing him. Many were after Auriga—each and every one of them his personal demons. Like minions of the devil, they thronged to catch up to him. Some of the savages leapt on him, weighing him down, making it harder for him to evade them. Everypony has a devil or two that chases them, but this was too much.

Auriga felt the day he could no longer move was on the horizon, just the next day.

He couldn’t care less anymore to try to eavesdrop on whoever Light was talking at the door. There wasn’t a point.

He wondered if he was in Tartarus. Perfectly befitting, it would seem. Auriga has heard of the theories which state that this world is a mere nothingness due to it being made by beings from the “real” world outside, mostly hearing it from movies and the like. Most of the time he would dismiss them, like the lot in this cursed world. The day he realised how many ponies were so ignorant was the day he promised to never be himself. He learnt that from a quote.

His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled tapping beyond the door. Lightning peeked from the outside, a lopsided smile spread on his face. “. . . Auriga? Somepony’s outside the door.”

Auriga sat up from the floor. “Is it Death?”

Lightning Glare shook his head, entering the room and sealing the door to a close. “Nope. Pretty sure it’s not Death.” He smiled a little more. “It’s Twilight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah . . . Apparently, she has something; a gift of some sort.”

Auriga raised a brow and produced a toothy grin. Lightning rolled his eyes and twisted his lips sweetly. Twilight had been Lightning’s friend for the longest of time. Auriga wasn’t sure how he was alive after all the wacky things they have done, but he managed to get out okay every single time—his and her friendship growing stronger afterward. He almost asked him to ask her out, but he’ll probably write some philosophical crap in his journal, which would’ve wasted his time.

The ghost’s grin slowly turned into a frown of concern as the revelation dawned on him. “Wait. Did you tell her I’m here? As a ghost?”

Light shared Auriga’s expression. “I did not.”

“Light! Are you there? We need to hurry,” the young alicorn called from the ground level.

“Coming!” Lightning stepped closer to the phantom, leaning his muzzle beside his ear. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay here.” The pegasus wheeled around and turned the doorknob.

A purple princess blocked his path, standing bold and proud. “Oh, hello again, Twilight.” She seemed not to notice Light and his reply, only glancing at what lay behind him. In opposition, the pegasus blocked her view by scooting to the right. He awkwardly chuckled. “. . . Nothing to see here!” he spat out enthusiastically, swaying a foreleg in an upside-down arc. The princess punched him out of her way, Lightning falling to the ground with a bang.

Two things he heard: the groaning of Lightning Glare who was knocked out on the ground and the sound of his own whimpering. Before his pair of frightened, blue eyes was the alicorn princess. And she was transforming into the shadow he had seen in the graveyard.

Her stature was similar to the celestial and lunar princesses, adorning long legs, height, and generally large and willowy body. Her wings looked massive, even when the pair were folded. Only her mere silhouette could be discerned; the moonlight was too weak for him to see her other features.

She advanced the apparition with her nose stuck down to the planks below her and a gait of a professional model. Lightning Glare moaned loudly after her grand entrance. That damn lady’s speed would make a wonderbolt flush.

Fight or flight. His muscles were tightened to a point where his bones felt like they would shatter into brittle pieces. The spirit dashed to his left right before she had the chance to swoop in and grab him. Auriga made his way to Lightning, still on the ground, scratching his forehead, wasting not a single second.

“Light! Are you okay?” Auriga poked Light, urging him to respond. He could feel her coming closer. Perhaps this was not a good of a plan he thought it would be.

“I . . . I . . . think so.”

He leaned closer to him. “Get up, now. We have to go before she ge—”

The ghost was yanked from his position. A pair of cold limbs wrapped around his body, cloaking the entirety of him. Auriga, by the passing second, grew more and more lightheaded. The edges of his vision had blackness on it, the darkness steadily swelling to the centre, which would eventually drown him in a lightless void.

The last thing he heard before being put in the dark were the screams of his name from a pegasus scared for his life.

★★★★★★★★★

A thought hadn’t ran through his mind, and he only absconded to the open, and he did it as fast as his four legs would let him. But he did not know where he was running to. A moment of attention to where he may end up at, he did not even try to give.

Fortunately, she wasn’t in his line of sight, and he oddly relied on the fact that he could not “sense” her as a relief to calm himself down a little bit. He did not know why he could “feel” her presence when she was close. It was the same feeling somebody gets when they feel they’re being watched. And this feeling . . . he was too certain of it.

As the stallion moved through the town, he slowly started to feel the fatigue kicking in. He stopped to catch his breath, breathing in and out. Light took this opportunity to gather his thoughts on the events that transpired only moments ago.

Auriga . . . She took him. She took him away from me! He felt his jaw clench due to a blended mix of emotions: sadness, anger, and a rising trepidation. Grunting, he slammed a hoof against the fertile ground. He was talking to himself so quickly that he could not distinguish the words in the slurs. She certainly knew they were obscenities, though.

“Light? Light!” Abrupt was the stop of his swearing. He swore the sound of his voice belonged to a specific alicorn he was tricked to believe he met. And so Light did the only thing he can really do at the present time. “Wait! Come back!” the disembodied voice of the purple mare called behind him. Pushing her out of his mind, he continued to further himself, panting. “Come back!”

The entire world whizzed around him: trees, houses, several ponies alike, all of which were transfixed at him and staring. He cut through the night air like a knife to melted butter, air gushing through his feathers as he felt the inevitable fray for moving with all his might. He stopped dead on his tracks when Twilight landed in front of him, flying this whole time. He whimpered quietly, accompanying legs of rubber as he shivered in the late night.

“Easy, easy,” consoled she. The expression displayed of him made it clear it wasn’t working. He only cowered under her gaze, looking at her as if she was a ghost. “It’s me,” she softly stated. The pegasus looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Is there anything wrong?” Her only reply was the cacophony of the whimpering growing stronger. Light’s legs stressed under the weight of him, and he collapsed with a thud of finality.

He could feel the soft hooves of hers rub along the fur of his, urging him to get up or at least say anything. The words of comfort that came out of her mouth drowned in a dirty cesspool of his unexplainable premonitions. Light imagined himself in that very same slush of filth, forever hopeless of any escape, like this situation. The light was so far away . . .

This’ll be with me forever, he slowly told to himself. The guilt will stay here. Until the day I’m in my deathbed. Until everypony forgets my name. Until the end of time. Even after reciting those thoughts, he could get not the fact it could be accepted. That he could accept it. Now, he wasn’t sure if he was even Lightning Glare anymore. He let time do the healing. He thought himself as a coward for allowing it to heal his soul. He thought himself a selfish. It was a hard pill to swallow, the fact that Auriga was gone. He wasn’t certain if he should take it and move on.

The faint sound of a yell rang in his ears. It repeated itself, a strong roar compared to the last time it stated itself. He slowly transitioned back to the world of reality. “Snap out of it!”

“W—what?!” His eyes were large and heavy, already struggling to observe his surroundings. The first thing he saw was a pair of blazing velvet irises, instantly recognizing the beholder of the shining pair.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright,” the alicorn said to herself in relief. She held up a hoof for him to grasp. “What happened?”

“Hold on. How do I know you’re really Twilight?” he suddenly threw at her. Those eyes of his narrowed, reducing to mere slits he used to scan her person as if she were some security threat.

A confused Twilight stood before him. There was a small frown on her face, written by confusion opposed to anger. “How do you know I’m Twilight . . .” A mere second was needed for her to think of something that would prove to him her authenticity. “Your seventeenth birthday”—she pointed at him—“I gave you a copy of The Facts in the Case of M. Trottingham. Ever since you can’t stop talking about it.”

Instantly he dropped his skepticism and face along with it. Crawling behind his back and weighing him down, a rather familiar feeling replaced it: shame. How he dreaded it for the entirety of his life; how it yanked him down to the depths; how it made him completely stop. If the episode he experienced was a hurricane, then this was more of a flash flood—weaker but strong still, arriving as soon as his previous demeanor departed hastily.

Light found himself wedged in a difficult position. On one hoof, the thought of him initially treating Twilight in a manner like that left a bitter taste in his mouth. On the other, she was eyeing him with concern. Celestia knows what’ll happen next. The precursing behavior of his made him want to simply vanish from the scene altogether.

“Lightning?” she called to him. “Are you alright?”

The pegasus shook his head slowly.

“Did something happen?” she urged for his reply. “You were running like a madmare.” Not a single word was said, and the silence shimmied its way between them. Light seemed to deny she existed—the stallion settling his haunches down, incredulity in his eyes.

For a while he sat there, in the same place.

“It’s . . . a long story,” he managed to say once the quiet decided to go. Before she had a chance to speak, he added in a begging tone, “Don’t ask. Please, don’t ask.”

She wearily eyed him. The stallion slumped to the ground with legs of boiled noodles. “Tell me, Light. There’s clearly something wrong here.”

“Like I said, it’s a long story. And I said: don’t ask.” The words came out from his buried nuzzle, the forehooves of his cloaking the entirety of his head.

She made an uncomfortable expression. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Lightning. I want to know what is it that makes you this way.”

A pathetic motion of his ears was her only reply.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” he heard Twilight ask disappointedly.

His reply was of the same.

Engulfed in darkness, seeing not a thing in sight, he partially enjoyed this lack of . . . anything. He was left with only himself, free to do whatever he may please. It was similar to a vacation, a long break from the harshness of reality, a trip to the land of your own imagination and be in quietude. He felt like he was in a mother’s womb, fragile as glass, unknowing of the world around him. This was the place he sought like many others.

A swoosh came from nowhere, taking his attention. The sparkling coming afterward was one of undeniable use of magic. He looked up. Sadly, he wasn’t in his void of a world anymore.

Rows of bookshelves towered over him, closely coming together behind him, forming an arc, then finally meeting on the other side of the circular room. No longer did the moon light up the scene, but rather a lone crystal chandelier that illuminated the area with its blue luminescence. The windows that looked to be up in the heavens allowed the viewing of the inky sky, pinpoints of light sparkling on the tapestry. Glassy tree trunks branched upwards from the sides, their purple colour also gleaming like the stars beyond the upper reaches.

The sight of this place took the pegasus to his hooves. Twilight was before him, giving him that same look he had given him in the long time they had known each other. She said not even a word, merely watching him. Studying him.

The pegasus distanced himself from the lavender mare. He breathily concurred a hushed, pained chuckle. “I’m . . . sorry?” Light commanded his wings to massively shrug. Light dropped the act and frowned. After the events of the past hour, there had been something on his chest. It sent pokes all around his spine, teasing him. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he poignantly declared.

Nothing was on her face. And then she smiled. Barely noticeable, those lips never departed as one side lifted up. Her eyes glimmered. “Well, at least we both are,” she concurred on the bright side. “I have no clue either.”

A smile he managed to do as well.

Then it struck him. He was in a library. Thousands of reading material lined the high walls around him. Light didn’t know the words they hold, but if he could find that one specific thing . . . He already started his hunt, abandoning her presence.

“Twilight, do you have any books about the afterlife? Absolutely anything at all will do.”

She appeared by his side. Her ears perked curiously. “Books on the afterlife, you say . . .” The alicorn started down the hall, averting her eyes to a lot of spots on the shelf.

“Take as much as you can, please.” Light had not intended to sound so firm.

He watched as Twilight Sparkle moved abreast the wall—extracting books out of their cramped confinements to the world outside. Once done, the alicorn flew all of the hard-bound reading material to a table nearby. A small mound had been made then and there.

“Thank you.” Light heard himself say. He proceeded to delve into the pages. Word by word, he absorbed absolutely anything, from the most absurd of thoughts to ones that could be close to the scope of reality. Endless, they seemed to be. Only twice did a disruption occur: once when Twilight coughed a small cough and a sniff from him.

He scanned a long passage from a book entitled A Tale of Gods & Ponies. The nonfiction book told that throughout the history of all ponykind that the belief of the afterlife had already existed. The first gods were of mysterious nature. The greatest architects and builders designed and built a grand temple several ten miles from Canterlot, the oldest in all the world. Hundreds of thousands still flock to it in the present day, admiring the gold and bronze pillars and a black marble ceiling that seemed to reach for the stars, all still in pristine condition after a millennium. He had always known that the greatest achievements of all ponykind was in the name of not just the gods, but to all cultures, traditions, and existential thinking in all the realm.

There would be no afterlife without life, the book informed. The notion of a heaven and hell and gods and goddesses had been seemingly implanted in the mind of fellow ponykind, as if it were common knowledge. This has led some to argue about the fact that either ponykind invented these heavens and hells and gods and goddesses or they had simply known they were real, stating that they let themselves follow their hearts. But what if these gods created us to believe in other gods—wrong gods? the book pointed out. Or maybe these gods simply vanished and never came back? The dilemma was etched in our minds and souls. For as long as there is intelligent life, the battle between atheism and creationism appears to have no end—only a beginning, like the gods and goddesses depicted in history.

“This is about Auriga, isn’t it?” A voice broke away the quiet. He ceased his reading, glancing at the purple alicorn. Lightning dared not to let his mouth open.

“No . . .”

“It is, isn’t it?” worriedly spoke out she, hoping it wouldn’t. “The books I have you to read . . . they’re telling the theories of existentialism and what happens after you die.”

Lightning Glare pressed his two lips forcefully.

From her came an exasperated sigh of long. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m always here to help you with these kinds of things.” The pegasus’ ears turned flaccid, cheeks reddening at that. “That’s what friends are for, Light.” She stood up quickly. “I won’t let you bottle up your emotions that way. You have to let it out.” The stallion still remained silent. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”

A grace to flush he still managed to have. “It’s not that I’m doing this because I don’t want to tell you my feelings,” he very timidly said. “There’s something that you probably should not be so eager to yearn for,” counselled Light. “I’m not sure if you’ll even believe me or not. You’ll think of me as insane, Twilight.” He paused. “I think I should first try to sort things out first.”

Intrigued, Twilight questioned, “What things?”

Light shook his head. “Just . . .”The pegasus sighed. “I can’t keep this secret forever, can I?” he shyly told himself. Not a word came from her. Not even one.

“Twilight,” he started, “please hear me out when I say this. I went to visit Auriga’s grave an hour ago. He . . . was a ghost. He urged me to leave and we did so. We talked for a while before a knock came from the door; Auriga told me to get it as he hid.” The words of his were sluggish as he told her. Her teeth gritted along each other inside her closed mouth through the entirety of it. “Then . . . somepony who . . . took the form of you broke in and took him away.”

Her mouth went leeway. For a moment her jaw dangled, accompanied by her tongue too. He let her process the information for some time. The gears that made her head work were jammed and stuck and broken.“What?”

“I know, I know. It may seem unbelievable, Twilight, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe any of this . . .” Light placed a hoof on his chest slowly. “But I know what I saw. Auriga and the pony he was running from . . . they were there.” The ears of his sagged and his neck slumped down.

Light pressed his face on his crossed hooves on the table. The alicorn was utterly silent. A snuffle escaped the broken mess that was Lightning Glare. He felt the tears spread across his burning cheeks, ashamed that he knew Twilight was watching. He trembled more when his voice and words replayed from his memory.

He felt pats on his back. “Everything’s going to be alright,” he heard her say.

For a while he had been there, weeping in the dark, sullen gasps of air coming out and sweeping the room with its piteousness. The breath he so desperately tried to shallow, but alas, it only worsened. Acquiesced, Light let the waterworks run. The salty tears dried on his coat and face. He was only sniffling now.

Light no longer cried, but he knew Twilight was still there—watching him. The last bits of courage he found had long disappeared. Only did he make his skull meet further with the wood of hard.

Light waited it out after he was finished.

That’s strange. Twilight hasn’t said anything. He very slowly peeked from his safe-haven. Her face was unassuming. Sympathetic, even. He brought himself up.

“Are you alright?”

The pegasus shied away.

He gave a solemn nod.

“I’ll be here for you,” she stated. The alicorn placed a hoof on the table. “You’re going to be better now.”

A glance he took at the large hill he’d have to scale in order to find the answer he seeked. From the size of the thing, he felt like he was going to climb a mountain—a mountain composed of books of songs and stories.

★★★★★★★★★

He fancied not the sight before him.

The hourglass and pentagram chased him, much like how Death seemed to do width Auriga. It was a flashing probe in the void. Time seemed to tick and tock and tick and tock. Anywhere he got to was no use. The pentagram rotated round and round as it graced him with its presence. Sand squeezed through the small neck of it. As soon as its time was up, the hourglass rotated itself, gravity taking its toll, pulling down the grains to the bottom.

Light was certain the image conjured had come and gone and repeated for hours. Mattered not what he tried to do; is attempts were feeble, he had declared long ago. Not even the sound of his screaming did he manage to hear. The void drowned his desperate cries for mercy before the tongue of his managed to produce the sorrowful words. For the countless number of times since forever did it once more turn. Had it always have . . .

Then it disappeared. And he was in a dark hallway. He could see the outline of the walls in white like chalk on a chalkboard. Lined on the sides where insults, telling him to die, go away, shut up. He felt himself slowly turning insane.

Then he was falling. The ground below gave way, and he fell. Light flapped his wings, finding no use of them once he discovered he was still plummeting down. The haunting symbols grew outwards to all of the directions he could see, and it terrified him. Light pushed with the use of his pair full of feathers with a renewed vigor for the safety of the life of his.

He saw a pinpoint of light hover above him, so the pegasus shot up a grasping hoof. It faded away, a dismay to him, it was, sinking into the waves of a sea of darkness. His hope had also fallen to the sky and sank and swayed up to the waves.

Space. Its vastness made him feel small, yet the stars helped alleviate that feeling of loneliness. There were none of them here, the lot of them departing into a place of unknown, and that’s when he felt truly alone.

A vermillion halo appeared, and the stallion let out a gasp. Brighter than anything else he had ever laid his eyes on, he concluded with no trace of doubt. The outline remained sharp, even with the intensity that burned his eyes. It only increased in intensity.

The vastness of empty space was filled by the outward moving edges of the circle and everything contained within. The hourglass swelled up to grow in a size even he couldn’t fathom. He hadn’t the time to realise that it couldn’t be long now.

Now he was in the hourglass. How he could see even with the darkness outside, Light didn’t know. How he was even here, he couldn’t begin to imagine. He slowly followed a traced path running along the edges of the bottom. The pegasus remarked a few words to himself, knowing full well what they meant when no voice could be heard. Light felt the pressure of a heap of sand come down his hair and onto his face. Light covered his eyes and pushed his feeble body against the glass, staying as far away from the centre.

A meek, unheard whimper came out of him. The continuous flow of sand came pouring from the chamber above; a small collection of mass was created then and there. A hill took its place right after that. In what felt like a short time, the circular compartment was full of sand halfway to the opening.

After all this time only more came. Noticeable was the speed of it, and he knew he hadn’t time save for several minutes last. The infinitesimal little pieces collected around him. He was on the verge of total submersion. There was sand up until the bottom of his chin. He struggled to wiggle free from this irritating prison.

“Stop it! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT, STOOOOOP ITTTTT!!!”

There came a feminine voice. Soft as silk, like a queen’s, but whispery like the wind, it was. It echoed once more. “Would you rather live a beautiful lie or face a harsh truth?” He thought of this as the end.

“I—I don’t know! I don’t know! Just let me go!”

“I can do that not, for it is you that traps thyself. I have no power over you. Do you need be freed?”

“Just STOP that and STOP playing these games! I need Auriga back, now!”

“Then you will follow every command I utter to thee. Hark to me.”

★★★★★★★★★

The darkest hour had arrived a quarter hour ago. The moon was full during this night. Twilight would go out on the fields with her telescope to track the array of constellations the night had to offer; some were big, some were small, but all of them undoubtedly left the eyes dazzling wonders.

Her mind was on the comet shower that would occur a fortnight from now. She would bring her telescope once more like all other times to observe it and leave it be along with her scholarly mindset, so she could just watch it out of pleasure. The shooting stars needed to be appreciated through different means.

The purple alicorn sauntered down the high halls. Passing by the library, she heard the muffled noises coming from inside. Curious, she slowly peeked inside. She saw a pegasus hunched down on a book, muttering to himself in rapid-fire speed. He would slam an angry hoof to the table every now and then. His hair looked like a bird’s nest if it hadn’t looked like one already.

“Light . . . ?”

The pegasus snapped out of his delusional state. His eyes locked onto her, waving a dismissive hoof, shooing her away. “I’m busy, Twilight. Can’t you see?”

“Yes, I can see. But I can also see that you’re tired,” she gave back. He frowned at that. “Rest, Lightning. For your own sake, please.”

Only a moment did he notice her. He returned to his browsing.

She sighed.

“Hey!” Lightning cried out when the book was yanked out of his vision. “G—give it back!” The purple aura never left—traveling the book to the alicorn. She grabbed the book out of the air, clutching it hard.

“Sleep,” she said simply. “You can continue this tomorrow.”

“Twilight, please, just give it back. I—I can maybe talk with you about this some other time, okay?” He knocked over some books whilst he neared. “Come on, Twilight. We could end this now, you hear me?” He chuckled. “Then we could go to bed, and sleep, yes, sleep, and get stuck in our nightmares because everytime it just needs to happen! Then I get to wake up once more and dream of another nightmare and this stupid cycle repeats, it just repeats, I say, with no end, yes, no end, I’m sure of it, but we could ease the pain, we could ease the pain, we could ease the pain.”

“Light! What’s gotten into you?!”

Lightning perked his head up to meet her gaze. He had a face that had no idea what the beholder should be feeling. Then, as if it had remembered what happened ten seconds ago, he turned its lips into a twist of terror.

“T—Twilight! I—I was . . . oh Celestia. I—I’m . . . I’m . . .” A lack of confidence visible in him, Light reached up to his mane and snaked his hoof through it. The strands lurched here and there randomly. From afar still, she could see the fear and restlessness in his eyes. He looked absolutely awful.

She managed to interrupt whilst he was stuttering incoherently. “You’ve lost your sanity, Light.” Twilight looked at his eye.

He scratched the back of his neck feebly. “I‘ve only been awake for at least thirty hours only, Twilight.” He smacked his lips, a smooch wet making her eye twitch. Now he’s lost it all.

And Twilight lost it all too. “You’ve been awake for at least thirty hours?! What the hay were you thinking? Are you nuts!”

Light only shrank so much that it looked as if he wished to disappear completely.

The stallion fought against his bonds as the alicorn wrapped him around her aura. It hurt her to see him like this. She hasn’t a choice, and she had to make one quick. Twilight could see the tears as he begged and cried and writhed in her prison. His pleas were reduced to mere gurgles and moans. He’s a fighter, Twilight had to admit; six minutes of battle in total.

The journey to a place he not knew was noiseless and peaceful.

She let the window open. How cold it was in here. He was a bundle of anxious shaking by the time they arrived; she rocked him back and forth in the way to give him the slightest comfort. She continued to rock him still, watching him like a fetus in a mother’s womb. Light nuzzled the magic like a foal tired of playing after a long day of play. He never not moved, though he said not a thing, eyes sewn shut.

Light released a tired sigh. He furthered into the dream realm, she knew. Twilight stopped the rocking. His body rotated gently in air, a bittersweet sound coming from him, his mane getting messier more. A tad cute, Twilight did have to admit, awaiting his full presence in the expanses of Luna. He muttered ever-so-solemnly; Twilight could hear but not understand, and she realised he was not fully asleep. So she waited.

A thousand moons have passed when the stallion fell into a slumber with a sad twist of his lips.

The alicorn decided to stay for a while, picking up a book and reading by his side. He would murmur a few pointless things, but she knew he was asleep. His snores were soft and willowy when they travelled through the air. He looked the most peaceful when asleep, looking like a stallion who had accomplished life itself, looking like a pony who finally found peace.

She reached out to pat him slowly. Twilight smiled sadly before slipping out the door. She put a spell on it to make sure he didn’t leave the room. It was easy to cast, but it wasn’t at the same time. It hurt.

An envelope lay on the library floor, right in front of here, one she hadn’t yet seen.

A key was in there. And a note. The note was rectangular and white. Crumpled too, like scratch paper thrown in a rubbish bin. She did not feel victorious after that altercation, and her dauntless spirits broke out of her and escaped. What is this?

The writing on it was a tad crude.

She read it.

Hello.

I’m feeling a little down right now. Whoever’s reading this, no matter who you are, I just want to say that in a world full of too much of everything, you are here. You’re all still here. You’re in a rock, hurtling through space into a void of nothingness. You are all already in the void. We have always been. Does this life have any meaning? I personally haven’t a clue. Maybe its meaning is to find its meaning, if that makes sense. Bad, good, whatever you may be, I have one thing to say to you.

I like you for making this world more interesting. More real.

I’m a fool. Pathetic, insecure, and a nopony. But I’ve met good friends here who aren’t. I don’t despise them, no. Only adore them, really. They can do what I can’t. I’ll never give them enough thanks for making that life more bearable.

The only reason this letter has been made is that I want to give anypony—especially my friends—some closure. What happened to Light? they may ask. I hate things that are too close yet so far.

I killed myself. That’s what I did. I hid my body so none of you can see it. There’s no point in finding it, anyway.

Twilight, if you’re reading this, then I have something for you in my bank account in Canterlot. There’s the key. You already have access to it; there should be no problem. Just get there and you’ll know what it is when you see it. It’s the only thing I can leave to you.

I know some ponies say that I need to stop saying “sorry” too much, but I really am. I’m sorry for being me! I can’t change that now. But you can! Don’t mull over me! Live your life like I was never there. I don’t care if you remember or forget what I’ve done! Save yourselves from being somepony like me, an anxious nopony who’s too scared to even try.

Forget about who I am and be who you want to be.

You are the reason I never wished to be here to make these mistakes.

With Love, Lightning Glare