Beneath the skin, beneath the school, beneath the world.
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Beneath the skin, beneath the school, beneath the world.
Twilight Sparkle sat behind her desk in her office at the School of Friendship. With a small, unflinching smile and a dead forward stare, she sat. Unmoving. Unresponsive. Unbreathing. Uncaring. A fly landed on her eye, rubbing its tiny forelegs together before placing them down to taste the wet surface, then extended its proboscis out to feed on the nutrient-rich fluid on her eyeball.
It fed in peace.
Eventually, a knock sounded on the heavy wooden door, the air full of the sound's vibrations only briefly before dying once again. Twilight's horn lit, and she opened the door, her body not so much as twitching. In the open doorway was Gallus. His beak hung open loosely, as if the muscles that controlled it had been neatly snipped. His tail lashed about wildly, smacking the floor and flicking through the air. He took a slow step forward, his front claw dragging across the pristine carpet. Other steps followed suit, legs never lifting high enough to completely leave the floor, and his agonizingly slow shuffle eventually placed him roughly in the center of the room. He stopped.
Twilight opened her mouth. A yellowish-gray, mucus-slickened tentacle with a needlelike claw on its end emerged from the back of her throat, accompanied by an outpouring of purple smoke that fell to the floor, heavier than the room's air. Two similar tentacles came from her ears, rising a foot above her head, and they writhed about as if searching for easy prey.
Gallus's face showed no reaction, but his tail whipped around faster. A stream of clear viscous fluid oozed out from around his eyes, dripping down his beak and falling to the floor with loud splats until a sizeable puddle had formed. His eyelids closed in an unnaturally even motion, cutting off the flow as well as squeezing out what was stuck to his eyes. Then, with glacial speed, his head began to turn to the right. Bones creaked and muscles stretched and bulged, but his head eventually faced back toward the door. He opened his eyes.
The tentacle shot from Twilight's mouth, landing in the pile of Gallus's offering and sticking itself into the carpet with its point. Several tiny holes opened around the needle, and they greedily sucked in the jellylike ooze, flailing about in the puddle.
Gallus began his slow shuffle once again, but in reverse this time, returning to the door. His tail lashed about furiously, even hitting his face, but he showed no sign of even noticing it. It wasn't long before he reached the doorway again, and Twilight closed it once he was clear of it.
The purple smoke, covering most of the floor, continued to spill from Twilight's mouth, gurgling out from around the tentacle. Her two ear-tentacles moved more quickly as the main one fed.
Once the mess on the floor was mostly eaten, the mouth-tentacle retracted its claw, and was quickly pulled back into Twilight's body with a long, loud slurp. The two from her ears returned as well, satisfied. She sat still again, then, as small, wispy tendrils of smoke spilled from the corners of her closed mouth until it eventually stopped flowing.
As the purple miasma cleared, mixing with the air until the floor was visible, there was a distinct lack of life in the room; a small thing that one might only notice when it's gone. Below the desk, lying still on the floor, was the lifeless body of a housefly.
After hours of sitting completely still, Twilight suddenly rose from her chair. Her hooves were uncoordinated and awkward, but they carried her over to a bookshelf. Her horn glowed brightly as it applied magic to a crystal orb sitting among books and other objects. The shelf creaked and rumbled as it moved back, then slid aside to reveal a dark staircase. She tipped herself forward, and she fell into the darkness. The only sounds to come from her as she tumbled limply down the stairs were fleshy smacks against stone and the crack of bones. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. She was at the bottom.
Most creatures would need some kind of light source to see in the pitch black, but Twilight was guided by another sense that could best be described as something similar to smell. Her mouth hung open, and her head gently swayed from side to side, dragging across the cold floor. Her legs twisted and cracked, and they lifted her up into a standing position again. She made her way through the stone tunnel, a shambling form cutting inexorably through the damp, heavy air.
The trip took nearly an hour, shuffling through a mile of old, forgotten, mazelike tunnels. She heaved her mass against a door, and fell forward through it as it gave way. After picking herself up again, on legs of jellied muscle and shattered bones, she dragged herself to a place where the floor simply ended.
Had she a pony's sense, she would have felt a blood-chilling emptiness in front of her, like the space around her went on endlessly in every direction but the one she came from. Had she any sense of self-preservation, she would collapse backward, heart hammering and breath sharp and shallow, and she would do everything in her power to go back through the door, shut it, then flee headlong through the endless corridors. Had she sanity, the terrifyingly enormous and vile presence before her would have shredded it. Had she the faintest spark of the life she once had, her most basic instincts would stop her right here, end this trek before it was too late.
The husk that was once Twilight Sparkle had none of these things.
She put a hoof over the chasm.
The void before her shivered with anticipation.
Her rear hooves pressed her forward, and her center of balance shifted forward, over the precipice's edge.
The creature of terrible emptiness heaved itself toward her.
Twilight Sparkle, eyes lifeless, heart still, soul long-departed, fell.
Ponies all across Equestria paused as some inexplicable fear hit them.
And Twilight's lips curled slowly upward into a dead smile.