Author's Note

“Of such great powers or beings there may be conceivably a survival… a survival of a hugely remote period when consciousness was manifested, perhaps, in shapes and forms long since withdrawn before the tide of advancing humanity… forms of which poetry and legend alone have caught a flying memory and called them gods, monsters, mythical beings of all sorts of kinds…”

• Algernon Blackwood

Chapter I: The Mare

Heavy thunder roars in the air of the evening’s brewing storm. The disarray of ghastly dark clouds looming above crackle with electricity, feverishly erupting into heavy rumbling. The thunderous rolls that rattle the walls with tremors warrants a fright for one, but the other wanderers in the vicinity were easy to ignore the calamity outside. Unbothered, they carry on with their business from inside the multitude of sub levels inside the Anomaly Research Institute of Equestria — otherwise known as the most secure facility to exist on the sanction of the coast of the Celestial Sea.

It wasn't out of the ordinary to get heavy thunderstorms around this time of year, but for the rosy-maned mare working the dreaded graveyard shifts during the peak of the aforementioned nasty weather, she finds herself stuck inside a commonplace state of fear. Days like these were the hardest to endure, usually always spent underneath the confines of her warm blankets, surrounded by the presence of her pet companions. But with comfort and safety a long ways out of reach, the storm brewing above only worsens her anxieties.

She doesn't know how to handle the daunting nights like these on her own — surrounded by strangers and armored guards that never spare her even the slightest sliver of acknowledgement. Though with her terrible fear of confrontation, it's a position she coins as a blessing in disguise. She revels in the isolation. But some rare times, when she yearns for the comfort of a familiar face to help ease her fears, it’s a luxury she rarely gets. It's a frightening reality; one that leaves her feeling asphyxiated by anxious tendencies, that even the dirty gray cleaning apron tied around her middle feels just as suffocating.

She's sure it's just the uncomfortably heavy and itchy fabric making her feel that way. It wasn't the most luxurious, but then again, neither was the work.

She was only the help, after all.

“Dr. McWhinny — Dr. Rosenberg — Please Report To Sector Thirteen. Test Labs.”

“Attention — Emergency Clean up Team to Sector Thirteen. Anomaly Containment.”

The sound of hooves clamoring through the halls snaps Fluttershy's attention back to the present, her eyes following the fleeting figures in lab coats hastily rushing past in response to the announcement over the intercom system.

In their fleeting approach, she recognizes a few of their faces, often crossing paths with them from the main hall. But something in their eyes pronounced distress; their faces downtrodden and troubled. Initially, she presumes they’d succumbed to the usual late night exhaustion, but there was something else in their eyes.

Something dire.

“Hey! You!”

A scientist comes to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway and Fluttershy’s heart nearly stops, immediately overcome with dread at the unexpected confrontation.

“You’re part of the cleanup crew, dummy! Didn’t you hear the announcement?” The scientist insistently yells, still breathless from his run. “Go!”

“I—“

“Now!” The stallion immediately cuts her off with a harsh glance in her direction, his intense emerald eyes sharp, driven by a sense of urgency. Though before he runs off to answer the call, he seizes something from the pocket of his lab coat with the magic manifesting from his horn. Urgently, he shoves the small plastic object into Fluttershy’s possession, the fizzling green glow fading as she fumbles to grasp what looks to be an ID card close to her chest, shock etched into her features.

“You know what to do with it, now go!” The stallion presses, his eyes narrowing with a glimmer of intimidation before finally turning away and taking off down the hall.

The strange and sudden encounter leaves Fluttershy shaken, struggling to contend her frazzled nerves. With the card still clutched tightly to her chest, she curiously lowers it down from her front to get a better view.

But upon looking, her eyes immediately widen.

The words LAB SECURIGRID written boldly atop the translucent key card immediately catches her attention, but the words in red underneath just about make her heart drop.

LEVEL 10 SECURITY ACCESS - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

This had to be wrong. These key cards didn’t belong in the hooves of just any pony — especially not the help. Only qualified scientists and highly trained personnel were granted these key cards to the vaults in Sector 13, and with good reason.

Fluttershy was only ever the help on the surface levels, mostly — given limited security access to mop down the control rooms, maintain the bathrooms, and scrape gunk off of the floors in the hallways. And despite only stepping hoof in Sector 13 just once, several weeks ago, it was only on an emergency basis to clean the labs where specimens were taken to be cataloged, and even then she had been escorted, not allowed to wander beyond her clean up point. She had been the only one staffed in the nearest sector that day.

Besides that day, she never went into Sector 13’s containment unattended. But that’s precisely what the key card in her possession is for.

Fluttershy could hardly move, petrified of the fact that she's holding the metaphorical and literal key to the entire facility in her hoof — harboring unlimited access to the most dangerous, highest security research vaults. Where rumored ancient, mythological creatures were locked away, hidden from the public eye. Where the vow of silence was truly enforced, or else met with lethal punishment.

It was like the prison of Tartarus, but worse.

The scientists down in that sector called it ‘The Trench’. That particular sector was cut off from the rest of the facility for good reason — to contain and research the most powerful anomalous beings of Equestria that tore through to this realm by means of incomprehensibly powerful manipulation of magic. The scientists in the trench are the ones who veil their existence to avoid mass panic and prevent attacks on the otherwise peaceful land of Equestria. But they didn’t just lock them up for safety — no.

For them, It was the perfect opportunity to study them.

Fluttershy recalls that time several weeks ago — albeit brief — where she had been summoned to clean up a mess in one of the labs in Sector 13, the present team of scientists at the time completely disregarding her presence as they conversed with one another. Though after a while, she found herself unable to refrain from eavesdropping on their meeting.

There had been word spreading that a new “asset” would arrive that day, and the scientists were occupied with pre-processing and preparing to catalog it into the facility. The mare heard several voices muttering among themselves in speculation, reading off their lab notes and exchanging idle speculation. But she kept her eyes low and her head down. Never once looking up from scrubbing the stubborn fluid spill out from the floors.

Eventually, all the scientists had dispersed once they received word the asset had arrived, all scattering into the hall to enter the processing room just next door. Fluttershy heard the squeak of metal wheels as they carted their new asset in, the scientists expressing their interest in hushed whispers of awe. She heard a rustling of chains, ponies shuffling around, the low hum of magic in the air. There was the sound of something depressurizing, metal clattering to the ground. The scientists started saying something incomprehensible to each other, shouting orders. Then, she heard an odd struggle that sounded like something was being wrestled with in the next room over.

And then suddenly, her heart dropped at the sound she heard.

A strained scream. They had inflicted pain — real, heart-wrenching pain upon what she assumed to be a creature, but carried on conversing as if they had done nothing wrong at all. The creature howled loudly, the sound of chains violently rattling as it thrashed. She heard the familiar sound of sharp nails scrambling against metal and concrete, frantic and desperate. The sound of fizzling electricity hissed loudly through the air, and with it, the creature wailed relentlessly.

And it didn’t stop.

Her mouth had fallen open as she gasped at the noise, horrified by what she heard. Tears of guilt and hurt had stung her eyes as she carried on with the illusion of cleaning the floors without any real care. She sat hunched over on the ground with the dirty scrub brush, her face out of sight behind the thick locks of hair that fell out from her up-do.

She couldn’t see the face of the creature from the other room, but when it cried out, throat raw though sounding muffled by something that forced its mouth shut, she couldn’t find it in herself to push down the urge to turn a cold shoulder.

Swallowing her hesitance, she abandoned her spot on the floor, sneaking out into the halls to inch her way towards the slightly ajar door to the processing room and cautiously dip her head around the corner to peek inside.

When she did, however, she had to suppress a gasp as her eyes flew wide open.

She could see the outline of a creature’s lengthy tail violently lash out through the air, casting shadows against the concrete walls. Two scientists fought to restrain the creature, struggling to force a metal collar around its elongated neck and limbs. It was bound to the ground with chains drilled deep into a metal slab and contained within a magical force field four stallions in white coats were upholding against the creature.

Red eyes glowed intense from inside the low light chamber where it was tightly contained in. But then suddenly, it stopped thrashing. It froze. The creature looked her way — saw her presence — and the mare’s stomach dropped as if she were about to be sick, a sudden cold sweat overtaking her senses.

Fluttershy hastily shoved herself away from the door and scattered back to her cleaning caddy, horrified. The scientists hadn’t known she was there. She wasn’t supposed to see that.

Not knowing what else to do, she hastily gathered her cleaning supplies back inside the caddy and fled the area, hardly able to get enough air through her lungs as she hurriedly left the sector behind.

After that, she hoped to never have to step hoof in Sector 13 again.

But now, she had no choice.

The deep rumbling that resounds from above the underground construes a nightmarish illusion — the hall lights flickering at every hard strike of thunder from above. The walls surrounding her are drenched in a ghastly dull sea-green light that emit from the low light fixtures above. Hardly the most pleasant shade of color. The echo and groan of the creaking corridors in the distance and the lack of personnel was a little more than unnerving.

The wheeling housekeeping cart is the mare’s only source of solace during her meek travel through the excessively long murky corridors, the stench of cleaning supplies a familiar scent among all the other unwelcome unfamiliarity. She's intent on sticking close to the cleaning cart for shielding purposes, but it wouldn't be of much use for any longer considering the area that needed maintenance was right up ahead.

Swallowing her fears with a gulp, she stares at the translucent key card on the yellow caddy with mild apprehension before seizing it between her teeth and turning to the vault.

But as she goes to swipe the key card on the scanner, there’s nothing there.

The access device had been mangled beyond recognition — nothing but a bundle of ripped wires hanging from the wall where the card reader used to be.

Then, the announcement system rings out, fizzling and distorted.

“W—RNING. UNAU—ORIZED BIOLOGICAL FORM DETEC—D IN S—CTOR 13.”

Panic fills her chest like a dead weight, limbs trembling as she nervously begins to retreat backwards. The facility emits an eerie, unsettling groan, distant klaxons echoing from within the unlit corridor behind the massive vault door, bathing it in a dull red light.

Fluttershy’s throat clamps up as she trembles under the weight of her panic attack. The key card falls from her mouth, clattering to the floor. Something stops her from moving away. A mind-numbing fear seizes her muscles and locks her in place.

In a sudden rush of wind, smoke-like black tendrils seize and envelope her shaking limbs like powerful ropes, wafting over her front until it has her clutched tight in a smothering grip to the point it forces a winded gasp out of her. Tears sting at her wide open eyes, darting about the corridor in horror. No sound is able to escape her throat, her plea for help gone unheard.

That’s when the distal whispers start. Mumbling incoherent words, babbling crazily. It's muffled, distant, but just audible enough to hear.

Fluttershy hardly manages to get a whimper out, deathly petrified as she tries to forcefully shove herself away by the heel of her hooves, trying to writhe herself out from the dark that clung to her like a painful vice. But she suddenly slips on something thick and wet pooling across the cold floor underneath her.

She glances down to see a cesspool of black, viscous tar-like fluid pooling across the tiles.

Then, the whispers that started as a distant echo grow into a thunderous roar, and the first tangible thought that rises from the depths of the shadows made her blood run cold.

A great monolithic voice screams terror inside her subconscious:

Ḩ̸̛̗̮̲̼͚͎̱̦̝̝̇́̈́͊͊̒̀̏̔ ̷͕̘̗̲͋̓͑Ḛ̵̢̳͂͆̓͊͒͗́̕̕̕͠͝ ̷̨͓̳͍̓̈́͆̈́̈̾̄͑̏̉L̵͈͚̬͔̊̌̚ ̶̠̼̹͙̯̼̖̠̼͔͔͎̬͊̋̇̍̿P̵̼͖͍̱̩͕̗̭͓̓͌̂̂̈͊͂̍͘̕̚͝ ̶͍͆̽̽͋̀̐̒̌͗̉͒͑̇̊M̵̧̭̥̹͖͎̻̘̩̼͉͉̰̬̤̐̈̒̄̾̆̏͝ͅ ̸̜̱͔̪̠̜͛Ḙ̵̢̧̛͍̤̻̫͍͇̰̫̹̠̎́͗͗́̓͑̈́̓̽

——

A sharp gasp tears through Fluttershy’s throat as she shoots up from bed with taut wings, a cold sweat matting her to the fabrics that clung uncomfortably to her slightly trembling form.

It was the nightmare again.

Struggling to catch her breath from the panic that left her reeling, she clutches at the blankets around her for a sense of familiarity, her gaze following the faint trails of moonlight that seeped through the blinds of her second-story apartment windows. It was still nighttime.

That stomach-churning fear in the pit of her stomach lingers and only threads of her subconscious held onto the details of the nightmare. The quietude of her apartment only gives her a false sense of security. This'd been the fifth nightmare in a row, now. She knows they’re only getting worse.

She wearily glances aside at the clock hanging on the wall, weary and disorientated.

4 AM. She would have to leave to work soon.

Letting out a tensive sigh, she plops back down on the mattress and tries to ease her wings, flexing them restlessly. Her eyes remain glued to the ceiling in absent thought, unable to break away from the unsettling details of the nightmare. It's always the same. The announcements over the system. The same scientist. The same ending. The same awakening in a cold sweat.

The first time it happened, she couldn’t sleep for days after. That voice haunted her subconscious, even manifesting as visions in her waking life.

When she went to work the very next day after the first occurrence, she found herself frozen in fear at the entrance of Sector 13. It was like a beckoning call to the unknown, some unspoken force trying to convince her to cross, but instinctual fear always seemed to override the urge to enter.

In the days that followed, she tried to avoid walking near the sector all together. But it was difficult when she was assigned the nearby sector to keep the labs clean for the scientists. Staying away didn’t stop the nightmares. Neither did not sleeping.

But tonight, something was different. The voice had seemed to grow louder, more intense.

More… scared.

It terrifies her. And the worst part is not knowing why this is happening. It's teetering on the edge of unbearable and not just something she could easily bring up to her friends unless she wants them thinking she's acting childish, or actually losing her mind. She couldn’t tell them the truth about why she looks so tired all the time, or why she's suddenly afraid of closing her eyes at night.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Fluttershy rubs her hooves over her eyes and rolls over in bed to sit up and glance outside the foggy window. There's no point in trying to go back to sleep now, so she figures she may as well get the morning started a bit early. Anything to try to purge the lingering memory out of her mind.

It’s a thoughtless, effortless task to fall into the normal routine of putting out morning feed for her pets and refreshing their water bowls. It doesn't take much to coax the deep sleepers from slumber with the sound and smell of fresh breakfast awaiting them in the kitchen. Soon, they rise with big yawns and go straight to eat in their designated spots, famished from a long night's rest.

Fluttershy is able to muster a small smile at the sight, looking out across her living room to the variety of her animal companions preening themselves post-breakfast and engaging in playful antics with one another. From cat, to squirrel, to bird, to rabbit. The sound of the animals munching on their breakfast meals and their soft chittering to each other in conversation brings her a familiar ease and for just a second, makes her forget about her worries.

After their needs are tended to, Fluttershy moves on autopilot — tending to her own morning routine of preparing a bath, putting breakfast on the cooker, and setting the timer. Hardly putting any meaning into interactions as she normally would. She tries to use her calm and collected voice with her pets despite still having the slight jitters in her voice from a restless night, but it just doesn’t work for a terrible liar like herself. They seem to know that, too, as they appear to saunter with sympathy towards her when they express their good mornings to her.

Of course, she notices their unease for her well-being too. It bothers her even more than the nightmares.

She reassures them gently, giving them the same “I’m okay little ones, I promise.” and brushing it off as nothing. Every morning, a ceaseless reassurance. She knows they don’t fully believe her, but some word of promised relief, even if untrue, is still better than the emptiness of nothing.

When her warm bath is drawn and she washes away the remnants of a cold sweat in the soothing waters, it’s not much later when the timer goes off. Pulling the drain plug on her way out, Fluttershy throws on a warm robe and hastily wraps her mane in a fluffed towel before sprinting to the kitchen to turn the flames of the cooker off. The moment she’s finished with breakfast and preparing a bagged lunch for work, along with setting aside an additional plate of food she routinely makes for her neighbor, she finds herself moving towards the calendar hung on her kitchen wall, gently tearing off the first paper from its hooks to the current date.

Monday, September 17th. Start of a new week.

It's 4:52 AM, and Fluttershy stares at the hands on the clock, dreading that she has to leave soon to catch the trolley on time for her early morning shift.

She could feel eyes on her as she packs up her saddle bag and hangs up her robe and towel in silence, all of her animal inhabitants sensitive to sensing when she’s feeling off-ish. She tries not to let it rub off on them — not when it’s her problem and not theirs. But it’s hard to stop it from happening when she herself isn’t even sure of what’s happening.

Lowering herself down to their level with a sigh, Fluttershy gently drags a hoof behind her pet bunny’s ears. His eyelids flutter close upon contact, leaning into the warmth of his owner’s touch.

“I’ll be home soon, Angel Bunny. You be good today, okay? Take care of the others for me while I’m gone.” Fluttershy says with a more weary-than-normal inflection in her tone, but spares a smile nonetheless.

Angel Bunny seems to catch onto her unrest and decides to simply give an obedient nod, ears low. Not the usual pouty demeanor Fluttershy knows well.

Standing back to full height to hoist her saddle bag over her back and to skillfully balance the plate of food with one of her wings, Fluttershy spares them one last glance and a parting wave goodbye before leaving her little shoddy apartment, locking the door behind her. But before she retreats down the dimly lit hallway, she briefly turns to the wooden door just across the hall from her, key between her teeth at the ready.

Pushing the door open slowly with a soft knock to signal her presence, Fluttershy quietly steps inside to be greeted by a friendly feline, stretching at her front and rubbing against her hooves with a gentle purr.

Fluttershy gives a slight smile as she traverses to the middle of the room, clearing her throat to catch the attention of the unicorn stallion settled on an artist's stool, hunched over a large canvas in the middle of the living room in deep concentration.

“—Ahem.”

“Oh!”

Startled, the stallion fumbles with a glass of paint brushes, round glasses slipping down his muzzle as he swiftly turns around in his seat to greet her.

“Another late night?” Fluttershy implies, glancing over at his messy art station in the living room and scooting over a can of wet paint brushes to make room for the breakfast she’d thoughtfully whipped up for him.

“Fluttershy, my dear.” He sighs gratefully with a smile when his gaze lands upon the small bag of food she set down for him on the coffee table. His eyes are genuine and grateful, and they crinkle at the sides when he smiles wide. “I really don’t know what I would do without you. I would just wither away, without a doubt.”

Fluttershy spares a lighthearted giggle as she steps over to get a better view of her best friend’s artwork, admiring the intricate craftsmanship with a slight raise of her brows and a small “wow”.

“What do you think?” The messy-haired unicorn grins, pushing his glasses up higher to better view his work. “Commendable, is it? Art to inspire the future!” He waves his hooves in the air to exaggerate his words, chuckling at the end. “It’s for that new little art supply shopfront in town. You know, they tell me what to create, and I create it, but it just never seems... enough. It always feels like there could be more that I’m missing. I just don’t know what it is.” He shakes his head at his artwork signage, eyes calculating and judgmental of his work.

“It’s beautiful as always, Miles.” Fluttershy reassures kindly on a soft tone, offering him a reassuring pat to the back. “Your artwork never disappoints. No matter what others think, I think it’s wonderful.”

“Well, if you say so, then I suppose it truly is.” Miles agrees with a playful shrug and spins on the bar stool to face his easel again, teal magic lifting his fine-tip paint brush dipped in red. “As always, I appreciate your approval.”

They both exchange good-natured smiles before Fluttershy re-adjusts her saddle bag and heads back towards the front door, wishing a contented Miles and his six cats farewell for the day.

“Oh Alas, we must part ways! I bid thee adieu, my dear, may fate allow our paths to reconvene once again!” Miles says in theatrics with an exaggerated wave of his hoof, playfully mimicking his favorite actors’ voice inflection from the old movie dramas they watch in good fun on their days off.

Stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her with a shake of her head and a laugh, Fluttershy trots down the hall of the apartment complex. She could still hear Miles softly humming musical sonnets from his apartment, and Fluttershy couldn’t seem to rid herself of that little smile etched on her face.

Muse Silverdrop — or Miles, as he preferred to call himself; her eldest and wisest friend whom she’s known for years since moving into this apartment complex. Their bond was inseparable — just two ponies trying to make ends meet. It seemed to work out as well as it could. A struggling artist and an overworked cleaner. Apart from her other friends in Ponyville, Miles is truly the only one she could come to at the end of the day and wind down with. To share her troubles, decompress her worries, spill all the tragedies of the day. And Miles would always listen.

Miles — the middle-aged unicorn with a gift in artistry. The stallion with the thin, messy brown hair, speckled with peppered grey, and round-lensed glasses that always seem to slip down his nose whenever he's in deep concentration. The one she could truly call her closest friend, and the one who gave her the most priceless friendship she could ever ask for.

That stallion was like a father figure to her. Always making fun with terrible jokes, but also worrying and caring for the mare as if she were his own. It made her feel safe from the world, and really, she couldn’t ask for anything better than that.

It's hard to shake off the lingering traces of a smile from her face at the thought. There’s a noticeable bounce in her step as she canters down the old metal apartment stairs leading down to the damp streets, glistening from the lights the nearby shops emit in the night.

Through the drizzle of an oncoming rain shower, the sky is still basked in the dark before sunrise — the bus terminal bathed in a damp golden glow from the street lamps.

Rain. The thought of a thunderstorm brewing is enough to make an unsettling shiver crawl up her spine in remembrance of every nightmare burdened with fearsome thunderstorms.

Fluttershy sits and waits patiently on the edge of the wooden bench in silence, leg bouncing restlessly with overwhelming thoughts racing through her mind now that she’s finally caught a moment to sit back and mull over her thoughts. Soon finding herself victim to a hyperfixation of an echo of a long-gone nightmare still rattling around in her head — faint phantom whispers deluging through the sound of soft rain pellets hitting the ground with a light patter.

Then it all vanishes like a gust of wind blowing through the east when the trolley comes rolling up on the cobblestone road some time later, coming to a slow stop and emitting a settling creak when the doors open.

The young stallion driver with a neat indigo blue comb-over mane nudges his head to the side in a welcoming gesture towards the inside of the bus, a friendly smile on his face.

Rising from the dampening bench, Fluttershy boards with a timid smile directed at the driver and pays her dues with an appreciative “thank you” before finding her seat in the middle rear, clutching her saddle bag close to her with a decompressing sigh as she curls up in on herself and leans her head against the foggy window.

The bus departs on the same route it does every morning — bumping over wet cobblestone roads on the same twenty minute commute. Tiny pellets of raindrops stick to the window and slowly glide down into a captivating mirage, catching the mare’s eye as she gazes out the window in absent thought.

She lifts and adjusts the saddlebag against the cold glass surface of the window and gently leans her head against the sack to hold it in place, shifting and adjusting until she finds a comfortable position to rest in.

All within the next fifteen minutes, she spends the time watching all the buildings and trees pass by. Rain drops slide down the window and slightly occlude her view of the outside, but create an optical illusion that reminds her of some of Miles’s artwork. A daydream of blues and violets swept gracefully across a canvas, white and gold pigments highlighting the shadows of the world the way the street lamps illuminated the roads, the way the early sun peaking over the far horizon painted the streets in a muted, faint golden light.

Until it all disappears inside the dark shadows of a tunnel.

The tunnel leads to the other side of town, where all the factories and governed facility laboratories exist, right on the outskirts of the district. Away from the general public, and perfectly obscured from view. Where everyday Fluttershy works, day and night.

She lets her mind wander as she stares off into the greenery scene, eyelids fluttering shut with fatigue. And It’s some time later in the low light of the early morning, that she’s at least aware of.

She knows it’s her stop when the bus rolls to a halt at the entrance of the facility gates where the bus stop is, halting with creaking brakes that makes her slightly flinch. But she knows this is it, and shakes the last remnants of languor from her system before straightening up in her seat with newfound awareness.

Strapping her saddlebag to her back, she reluctantly leaves her seat and rushes off the bus, already falling into the automatic routine of trotting into the building, flashing her identification to the heavily armed guards posted out front, and rushing to catch the next elevator to the underground sub levels.

Of course, there is always a group of lab coat-clad scientists inside, stopping at different floors and running her even later. She could only anxiously wait inside until the elevator chimes and lights up the sub level five button.

When she steps out, the early morning hustle and bustle of the facility is already in full bloom.

“All personnel be advised that sector 10 has now been cleared to level 8 safety. Guidelines will be all clear—“

The announcements over the intercom drone on at their typical intervals the moment the elevator doors slide open, revealing the main atrium of the facility at the height of its morning workflow. While scientists and employees tread in every direction, Fluttershy fumbles through the crowd, uttering apologies and sparing apologetic glances whenever accidentally bumping into anypony on the way to the clock-in station. Her hooves echo against the tiled floor as she rushes to make it on time — mere seconds away from being late. But a familiar face holding up the line in a convenient stall leaves her overcome with a sense of relief.

“Fluttershy, come, come!” The striped Zebra in line loudly whispers through her teeth in an effort to avoid letting the others waiting behind her catch on to her doings.

Without wasting a second, Fluttershy meekly slips to the front of the line at her friend's protection and takes her time card from the holder, punching in and swiftly replacing it on the deck.

“I have to admit — It is no crime, but you must learn to be on time." Zecora scolds her, and Fluttershy spares a small appreciative nod of her head and an apologetic smile in response.

“Excuse me — Hey! What do you think you are doing?” A frustrated voice, thick with an accent yells from the end of the line, peeking out from behind the others with a vexed look etched on the elder mare’s face. “No cutting! In back like rest of us!”

“Leave her alone, I was keeping her place!” Zecora snaps back immediately, guiding Fluttershy away with a protective hoof. “And what shame, now you are late.” She quips.

The elder mare visibly clenches her jaw and huffs, pointing an accusatory hoof in their direction with harsh enunciation to her words.

“I get reported, I come after you and the mare.”

Zecora huffs, muttering something incomprehensible in her mouth tongue under her breath, but Fluttershy chooses to pay no mind to it.

”I really appreciate it Zecora, but you didn’t have to wait for me.” Fluttershy starts, feeling more than guilt-ridden after the verbal scene she riled up.

“Nonsense.” Zecora firmly shakes her head. “It would be regrettable if you were late. Though I can’t help but notice that it seems you’re caught in a very… distressed state.” Her tone softens, features etched with traces of tender concern. Zecora dips her head down to Fluttershy’s level and makes an attempt to coax an explanation out of her.

“Tell me, what is the reason for your apparent fright? You really don’t seem quite alright.”

Of course, Fluttershy was a fool to assume Zecora wouldn’t know something was off. She tenses her brows at the prospect of having to talk about the nightmare after nearly forgetting about it, and she lets out a small breath through her nose. Even the way she’s walking is probably unusual, less energetic — more tense.

Fluttershy stays impassively quiet, but Zecora's persistence is immutable.

“It's that nightmare again, isn’t it.” Zecora states knowingly, not even bothering to use a questioning inflection of her tone. Fluttershy's features immediately shift at the truth, a shadow of gloom altering her demeanor.

“I can sense the stress and fear you so clearly emit.” Zecora declares, and Fluttershy caves in.

“It is.” Fluttershy admits with a defeated sigh, though nervous to even try to force herself to recall the details. But she knows it’ll have to be brought up sooner or later. There's just no shoving it down to be forgotten when her friend is apt at knowing everything about everypony.

“It’s just…” Fluttershy starts, her gaze lowered to the ground. “I’m sorry, Zecora. I just don’t like to think or talk about it. I’m sure you understand. The nightmare is getting worse and I don’t know what to do besides try to ignore it.” Fluttershy whispers, her voice on the verge of shaking. She doesn’t even spare a glance in Zecora’s direction, but she knows the zebra is listening with rapt attention. She could sense her concern, weighing the air around them heavy.

"Why have you not told me sooner of how often these nightmares trouble you?" Zecora says with dismay, her expression downtrodden with worry. "No offense, but to me, it does not seem to be something you alone can get through."

"I just didn't want you to worry about me. You're always so helpful and doing so much for me already, I couldn't possibly burden you with this, too." Fluttershy confesses, her head lowered in mild shame. "Besides, I thought it would go away on its own if I ignored it, but..." She trails off, letting the obvious implication hang in the air.

Zecora casts a pitied look her way, and Fluttershy lowers her gaze to the ground.

“It just won’t go away, Zecora. I’ve tried everything. I keep seeing that nightmare every time I close my eyes, and I can’t stop hearing that… scary, disfigured voice. I’ve never heard a voice like that in my whole life!” Fluttershy waves an exasperated hoof in the air. “I don’t know why it keeps happening... All I know is that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.”

“The sleep elixir I brewed has not deemed your nightmares subdued?”

“I’m afraid not.” Fluttershy sighs. “If I keep having this same nightmare about my own workplace, I may have no choice but to…" She pauses to sigh. "I don't know... I might have to…”

Fluttershy fumbles over her words, struggling to even spare a thought to the concept of what she was imagining. She's sure it's the exhaustion planting the thought. In her right mind, she would have vehemently refused to give up the job she worked hard to get and worked even harder to keep. But the longer the thought lingers, the more and more inviting the idea sounds.

But there's a sudden strange, aberrant hum of objection in the back of her mind. A thought or urge that tells her "No". A voice she can't discern is her own, or someone else's.

It only drives more fear in her heart.

“Fluttershy, I understand your plight, but think about if what you are saying is right.” Zecora chimes in, stopping and pulling Fluttershy aside a few feet away from the entrance of the locker room where other employees mindlessly enter and depart to start their shifts.

“But I don’t know what to do. I have to do something about it or I’ll have no choice.” The mare’s ears instinctively flatten with the distressing thoughts that followed in the path of her words. “But I really don’t want it to come to that.” She shakily sighs. “I can't. I need this job.”

Zecora falls silent, her demeanor downcast with guilt. There wasn’t much else to be said that could possibly remedy the mare’s losing internal battle. Though while the zebra’s home remedies fell a tad short of being a cure-all, Zecora instead favors to seek infallibility in her mother tongue to reassure her downtrodden friend.

“Worry not for what the future holds, but what you hold for the future." Zecora begins, her tone steady. "For we are the bearers of truth, only we light the path to which will lead us into the wonder of a new lunar, all the more sooner. ” Zecora bears a faint, but sincere smile, settling a reassuring hoof on the cusp of Fluttershy’s chin to raise her attention.

“Liwapokuwa likuwa.”

“What does that mean?” Fluttershy asks through inquisitive blue eyes, rapt with attention.

“When it is to be, it will be.” Zecora nods her head along with her words to emphasize her point, and pulls the mare into a gentle embrace. “My dear, soon you will come to see.”

Fluttershy reciprocates the friendly hug with a more at-ease sigh and rests her head into Zecora’s shoulder, closing her eyes to savor the moment of contentment and reassurance.

“You really think so?” Fluttershy slowly parts from the gentle side-embrace, and Zecora spares a confident nod of her head as she coaxes Fluttershy to walk with her as she talks.

“Msema kweli hakosi.”

Fluttershy slightly raises her brow, and Zecora is quick to translate.

“One who tells the truth, makes no mistakes.”

In an assured manner, Zecora gestures her hoof towards the doorway, urging Fluttershy to go onward with a smile. “Now onward you go — surely our duties for the day still await below.”

“Oh, you’re right. We’re already behind schedule.” Fluttershy realizes as she glances at the clock — already a quarter past the hour they were both supposed to be tending to cleaning the lab grounds already for the day.

With a preparatory breath to ground herself, Fluttershy trots over to her respective locker just across from Zecora's and begins changing into her uniform attire.

“I hope no one made too much of a mess in the labs yesterday.” Fluttershy says in idle chit chat, pushing her saddlebag into the locker with a little more haste than usual. “I don’t think we’ll have enough time to finish cleaning out the rest of sector five if they did.”

As Fluttershy pulls her hair up into a hasty up-do and tucks the stray strands out of the way, she takes her apron from its hook and begins to tie it around her middle. But she doesn’t catch on to the odd look cast her way until she shuts her locker door and turns to face Zecora.

Zecora had come to a halt in the middle of tying a knot on her own pinafore to look towards Fluttershy with a suddenness, appearing caught off guard by something the mare had said.

That’s when she starts feeling uneasy.

“What?” Fluttershy says hesitantly, glancing down at her apron to inspect for some kind of reasoning for the odd look. “Is there something on me?”

Zecora in turn furrows her brows, offering a terse shake of her head with a small “no, no” and closes her own locker shut, replacing the lock and turning to face Fluttershy with her full attention.

“I’m sorry — I thought you were aware.” Zecora hesitates. “They reassigned us to sector thirteen. They haven’t told you of the new routine?”

Fluttershy freezes at the sudden news, dread dousing her from head to hoof. At the mere mention of Sector 13, everything comes flooding back to her. Her fear. Her anxiety. Her nightmare.

She barely manages to get a breath in — stunned into silence until the reality of the situation hits her full force.

Fluttershy shakes her head vehemently when it dawns on her. “No, I — I can’t go back there, Zecora." Her voice begins to waver, thoughts spilling out of her in tandem with her panic. “They — They must have made a mistake! Why would they — There’s no way — ”

“It is alright, don’t be alarmed!” Zecora immediately chimes in at the state of her, approaching Fluttershy to lay a gentle hoof to the side of her head to keep her in focus. “I will be by your side every step of the way to ensure you are safe and unharmed.”

“No, no, you don’t understand —" Fluttershy pleas in desperation, nearly on the verge of hyperventilating. "I can’t go back there. I can’t— I can't— “ Fluttershy clutches her hooves to her mouth to try to suppress the hysterics from spilling out, struggling to regain control with herself.

Zecora hesitantly relinquishes her grip on the distressed mare and shuffles back towards her own locker, messing with the locks and forcing it back open with haste. When she seizes a tinted vial from the pocket of her cloak, she turns back to Fluttershy, popping the cork off and holding it up to the shaken mare.

“Easy, my dear, let's not give in to this fear. This mollifying tincture will render your mind reticent and should appease your tears.”

With a shaken sigh slipping past her lips, Fluttershy desperately accepts the vial held out to her and allows Zecora to tilt it back, pouring the contents of the vial into her mouth. With a large gulp and a sputtering cough at the sharp bitter taste, Zecora reassuringly rubs the mare’s back until she recovers from the bitter remedy.

“There you are. All will be fine.” Zecora says calmly to her, to which Fluttershy nods to, wiping her face down and sitting to catch her breath from the unexpected episode of panic. “With this concoction, you shouldn’t experience any more decline.”

“Thank you, Zecora, but… I really don’t know if I can bring myself to go back there. I don’t want to do this. I'm scared.“ Fluttershy breathes out, but Zecora stops her before she could continue.

“Do not let this fear consume you. I know you can be brave, and if you just give it time, your inner strength will accrue.” Zecora pushes back the undone strands of the mare’s messed hair and tenderly takes her by the shoulder, motherly and gentle in the way she delivers her tone. “No doubt in my mind, I believe it to be true.”

Casting her eyes downward in contemplation, Fluttershy spares a small nod of her head and sniffs, wiping away every last trace of tears from her damp face.

“...Okay.” Fluttershy whispers on a shaken breath, and after a second's worth of time, she gives another small nod as if reassuring herself that she would be fine. "Okay."

Fluttershy feels an odd warmth flooding her veins after, a lightweight feeling clouding her head rather than that of petrified heaviness. Closing her eyes for a brief moment to collect herself, she focuses on pulling in that feeling and letting it envelop her, rather than the former one of oppressive fear. The room settles quiet after that. No feeling, seeing, or hearing anything for a blissful moment.

Just then, the last remaining ponies of the cleaning crew exit the locker room, leaving just the two of them left to hurry to their designated stations.

Fluttershy casts Zecora a sincere look of gratification, her eyes slightly glistening with the panic tears that’d been shed. Settling the situation with an unspoken avowal exchanged through a mere glance, Zecora guides her from the benches and gathers the remainder of their things. And per their typical walking routine, it’s Zecora who’s the one to guide them out of the locker rooms and into the massive echoing halls.

But their walk that is usually spent talkative, is for once, spent in uncomfortable silence.

_____

Soon, they were on the periphery of Sector 13.

The corridors leading up to the sector were swarming with armed guards wavering through the halls, patrolling, casting looks of suspicion towards Fluttershy and Zecora. Upon their approach, the two heavily armored guards standing at the sector’s entryway stop them with a stern “halt”, followed by a request for their level access ID’s.

Without a word, Zecora unclips her key card from her apron and displays it for the guard to inspect. Fluttershy, however, is caught in an unmoving state. Her eyes glued to the massive vault-like entryway.

An ominous chill crawls through her spine at the sight.

“Ma’am.” One of the guards barks, startling her with a jolt to attention.

“H—Huh?” She stutters on a mere whisper, eyeing between the two intimidating stallions in full armor.

“ID.”

With Zecora’s worried gaze on her, Fluttershy gasps with an “oh” of realization and unclips her key card from her pinafore to give to the guard, to which they quickly accept, narrowly cast their gazes on for longer than she expects. She shifts nervously.

They hand it back without question.

“All clear.” The guard states, and his counterpart turns to a wall mounted access control panel, powering it into activation with magic. The panel chimes and brightly glows green, and the vault doors slowly pull apart with a heavy metallic grind, granting access to the deepest parts of the facility.

Seeking safety behind the cleaning cart, Fluttershy silently pushes the caddy through the entrance with Zecora following close at her side, watchful.

There isn’t a single word exchanged between either of them as they wander through the lengthy corridors in search of T4, where their first cleanup duty of the day is. They weren’t exactly sure what to expect. T4 was never heard of between either one of them, only having cleaned the testing labs in the past.

But when they finally arrived, T4 was… not what they expected.

It was another unassuming vault door, though a bit smaller, the tag “T4” spray painted white on the faded green metal exterior. They both spare a skeptical glance each others way, but eventually, Fluttershy gives an affirming nod as Zecora swipes her access key card through the reader. It registers instantly with a green-lit click.

The vault door begins to shift aside, emitting a noisy metallic excursion as it slowly pulls away into the walls and grants them access.

The sight beyond was especially unanticipated.

Gaze caught by the massive glass fixture in the middle of the room, Fluttershy couldn't help but stare, awestruck.

There's a strange in-ground pool in the center of the room, filled to the brim with a strange bio-luminescent cyan fluid channeling into the ground below. It glows in the dim light of the small area, basking the room in a sickly blue-greenish color. Though to the left of the pool, there's something akin to a containment vessel, but all glass, empty with nothing but the same fluids swirling about. There's even a division of metal chains keeping the whole apparatus bound in place with the concrete floor, and it baffles her what they might need all this for in the first place.

Scientists are busy bustling around, constructors clad in orange vests tinkering with the large vessel. They were seemingly on the verge of completion on the project they were operating on.

Zecora is the first to step forth into the room, mouth slightly agape at the state of the space. It was a complete mess — plastic wrap scattered all over the floor in large heaps, used towels, puddles of fluid pooling the ground. The luminescent liquid even seems to leave stains on the concrete, Fluttershy notices.

“Pardon me, what pony folk are responsible for this? The trash belongs IN the bin, you can't miss!” Zecora scoffs in disbelief as she scrapes up the plastic wrapping in a pile, turning to Fluttershy who kindly holds out the trash bin for her to toss the mess into.

“You!” Zecora hollers, aiming her hoof at the stallion in an all-white garb who was caught in the act of throwing trash on the floor from high up on a ladder. “Let me not catch you enacting such disrespect again, or you'll see my anger with the rest of them!” She shakes her hoof holding the trash at the unassuming white-clad personnel, and her stern demeanor seems to startle the working stallion in response.

“Okay, Okay! Sorry, Zecora! Yeesh.” He says, climbing down from the ladder to retrieve the large heap of plastic he had thrown down earlier to properly discard it into the trash bin.

“Have these pony folk not heard of respect?” Zecora utters in Fluttershy’s general direction, shaking her head with disapproval etched in her brows. “Were it not against regulation, I oughta —”

“Zecora!”

A voice suddenly erupts from a stallion stomping towards them, a clipboard tucked underneath his wing. Zecora recognizes the stallion as Fletching, head of security. The same stallion who reassigned them here in the first place.

“Enough with the chatter. There’s no need for any of that.” He reprimands, and Zecora gives a small nod in acknowledgement.

“Yes, sir. My apologies, I —“

“Right, right. Back to work, now. We’ve got a lot to do!” Fletching waves his hoof in the air dismissively, and Zecora averts her gaze from the others and resumes cleaning, mouth shut in obedient silence.

“Anyways,” Fletching says, clearing his throat loudly to draw everyone’s attention in the room. “Everypony, your attention, please. Small moment of your time, If I may.” He says, striding into the middle of the room to become the center of attention. The sound of construction comes to a quick halt as personnel gather around the floor, taking Fletching with full attention.

“As many of you may already know, this morning we are expecting a new team and asset here in T4.” Taking a step aside, Fletching clears the floor for a new stallion to step forward. Stern green eyes, intimidating stature, and immaculate in the pristine white lab coat he dons.

“This is Dr. Hoofstead from our analogous facility in Galleston.” Fletching takes in a breath, turning to properly address the entire room. “Now, I don’t intend to exalt or overemphasize the matter, however, this may be the most sensitive asset we have ever had the privilege of housing in this very facility. They have gone through very laborious lengths to get their hooves on a specimen this phenomenal.” Fletching emphasizes his words with a stern look cast over his glasses.

But before he could open his mouth to continue, the vault door buzzes open.

With a metallic clang that makes even Zecora flinch, Fluttershy finds herself glued to the floor, frightened into submissive quietude.

Four white-clad stallion unicorns enter the vault, escorting a massive metal vat inside. It rumbles on its wheels from the heavyweight inside, all four stallions using their magic strength to push it forth. Ponies around the room part ways to let the massive object through, the dozens of eyes unable to look away at the sight.

With some sort of morbid curiosity, even Fluttershy struggles to rip her gaze away. That is, until the clicking of hooves against the tiled ground following the vat’s entrance draws her attention.

A tall stallion in an all black suit follows behind the specimen, surveying the room with a hostile gaze.

As he comes strolling into the expanse of T4, Dr. Hoofstead approaches him in greeting, making small talk and inquiring about his trip. While it was for the most part, rudely disregarded with an uninterested “fine”, the grey stallion waves off Dr. Hoofstead and regards the room with a stern demeanor. Eyes piercing cold with judgement.

Fluttershy nervously bites the inside of her cheek. She’s never one to dislike ponies, but this one… Something about the unkind, sinister shadow in his eyes makes her blood run cold and settles an unpleasant feeling deep in her gut.

Dr. Hoofstead shakes his head in apathy and instead, takes attention to the vessel’s specimen.

“Security. Who’s security here?”

“Strickler!” Fletching calls out in answer, waving him over with a quick gesture of his hoof. “Welcome to T4, Sir. I’m Fletching, head of security. We are aware of everything, regarding… this specimen. And… oh, of course...” Fletching trails off, walking to the other side of the room to speak with Strickler in private.

Eyeing the two stallions as they stroll away, Fluttershy cautiously sweeps around the vessel, eyeing the glass paneling on the sides that seems to flow with a magical energy field. A familiar cyan fluid fills the vessel to the brim, sloshing around with the mysterious… something that resided inside. Curious, or perhaps driven by some sort of morbid interest, Fluttershy covertly pushes the dust pan aside and slowly creeps up to the vessel, once assured Zecora had her head turned away from sight.

Fluttershy quietly admires the way the bio-luminescent fluid flows against the glass, mesmerized by the motions and sounds of oxygenated gases pumping through the fluids in a consistent rhythm.

Pressing a light-as-air hoof to the cool exterior of the magical barrier over the glass, the mare curiously tilts her head to try to get a better view of what exactly was shifting around inside. The specimen from within emits a low, groan-like sound, to which she furrows her brows at in turn.

By some strange urge compelling her to investigate, the mare gently taps a hoof against the barrier.

She leans in close.

BOOM!

Startled, Fluttershy jolts backwards with a sharp gasp as a claw shoots up at the glass, viciously scratching it from the inside. Zecora, who abruptly shot her head up at the sound, comes to Fluttershy’s aid, pulling her away by the shoulder as Strickler and Fletching approach the vessel, clearly agitated.

“Are you stupid? Get them out of here!” Fletching yells, seizing the vessel by the metal bars for manual transportation. “Out, out!”

But Fluttershy doesn’t budge, even with Zecora at her side. Whatever was inside howled. It cried out, muffled by the thick fluids inside the vessel. The mare’s eyes were locked onto the creature in the vessel, despite it being blurred behind the barrier.

Confusion and worry overcomes her features, unable to move until the vessel is seized by the transporters in white and taken away. Even then, the creature inside still relentlessly howls and scratches from inside the vessel as it rolls away.

“Help me move the vessel into the suppressor, now.” She hears Fletching order, aided by the transporters in the room. “Get it over there!”

As the workers obey his order, Fletching comes rushing up to Fluttershy and Zecora and guides them out of the vault with more force than necessary, shoving them out as Zecora hastily pushes the caddy in tow.

In all the uproar, Fluttershy’s desperate attempt to catch sight of the scene unfolding from within the room is to no avail, as the vault soon closes shut right in her face. But even as the vault door gears click into a deadlock, she doesn’t move, still frozen in utter shock.

“My goodness, what is it that goes on in this place?” Zecora exclaims, hardly able to keep the hastily thrown equipment from falling off the caddy in their rush to depart. “That there is a sight I hope my mind will soon erase.”

Fluttershy, still caught in the whirlwind of it all, swallows uneasily at the threshold of the vault door, still struggling to register the sight of what she saw behind the small glass barrier.

It felt… familiar. Like she’s heard that particular howl before, in some very distant memory. Or perhaps it was familiar in the sense that she’s heard something akin to a noise like that before. Caring for animals her entire life, one tends to pick up on certain animalistic mannerisms. And the noise she heard just now wasn’t of anger — It was fright. Whatever creature resided inside the vessel wasn’t lashing out in rage.

It was defensive out of fear.

“Fluttershy, are you okay?”

There’s a brief pause, no response.

“Fluttershy, let us not delay! It's not wise to stand here all day!”

She hears Zecora speak up, and after a moment, Fluttershy idly nods in response, reluctantly stumbling away from the vault door to reconvene with her friend.

“Did you see that?” Fluttershy said, eyes wide and still struck. “What was that?”

Zecora could only shake her head with incredulous disbelief, an unknowing shrug on her shoulders in reply. But Fluttershy was still caught on the subject, disturbed and far too intrigued by the unnatural presence in that room. She’s never been that up close to one of the facility's specimens before.

No, not specimen. They had called it an asset.

Mulling over the concept as they trot down the endless white corridors, she knows Zecora has long since forgotten about the matter, but Fluttershy finds herself thinking about it regardless, unable to shake the sight out of her mind. And with a looming sense of impending danger giving her a mild chill, she feels something strange overwhelm her — some natural instinct to protect. The noise out of the vessel just wasn’t right.

There was something terribly wrong with this place.