Looking back, you don’t know how it came to this. It was stupid, is all you can think. There isn’t much else you can say about it. You weren’t thinking properly and you went and committed that unthinkable crime in Ponyville of all places. The heat of the moment got to you and now you are about to pay for it. You sit ramrod stiff and shackled to a bench inside the supreme courtroom of Canterlot. The very idea of what you did still gives you the chills, and as the memories of recent events pass through your mind, you shudder and shift uncomfortably in the hard, wooden seat. You want nothing more than to forget this matter altogether, but you just can’t seem to think about anything else as you wait for the judge to enter.
Per the practice of the highest court in Equestria, there is no prosecutor or jury. The whole room is vacant except for you and the statue-like guard that escorted you. All you are waiting for now is the great judge to enter. The thought of her opening the only other entrance to the room leading to the judgment seat snaps you out of your musings of disgust and suddenly makes you terrified. You have no recollection of any such case like this one that she had presided over, but your only guess is that she will be very harsh. Of all the laws you could have broken, it had to be the one with which she probably is going to have a problem.
You can only assume that the room is silent, because there is no way to tell. The inside of your head is anything but quiet, teeming with the possible reprimands and sentences spoken by the judge in a booming voice. She may banish you. She could throw you in a dungeon. Yet worst of all, she might throw you into a dungeon in the place that she banished you. By now, your coat is becoming almost drenched in your sweat that has been accumulating over what seems to be only minutes, though you know that you’ve been here for an hour or two. Whatever the scenario, nothing looks good on your end.
Why did it have to be you? It seemed like fate had always been against you since the day your parents died and left you in the poor district of Manehatten. Since then, you had to cheat your way through life to survive and break rules to keep going. If it was not for the uniqueness of the judgment seat before you, a throne made out of polished, white marble, this would not be an unfamiliar situation at all. You have been in smaller courts several times in your younger days for petty theft among other misdemeanors, but never for anything like this. Loneliness and justice had followed you for as long as far back as you can remember. As cliché as it may seem, one thought echoes through your mind: No one ever loved you or cared for you. You have always been alone.
As you sit there, your muscles sore from not having moved for so long and still sweating profusely, your mind embraces true agony. The misery of your wretched, lonely past and your growing anxiety about the approaching judge wage chaotic war against one another for control over your mind, neither one being able to best the other. They said that both suffering and joy were phases in everypony’s life, but for you, there had only been the former. Perhaps it would have been much better if you were never born, never to have endured the world’s hardships.
A noise in the distance causes your sensitive ears to perk up. You hear hoofsteps coming from some direction. You listen carefully and fear grips you as you realize they are coming from behind the door leading to the judgment seat. The sound is a droning march as the steps, which grow louder each time they resound, inch slowly but deliberately in your direction. The hooves are not bare, but are shod with shoes of tempered glass. Their owner has long been feared in legend and in myth. She gives riches to the good but impoverishes those who do evil. With perfect love she strengthens the defenseless, but with the words from her mouth she pronounces unspeakable restrictions on those who prey on the weak. As the loudness betrays her proximity, you begin to hyperventilate. Surely her wrath upon you will be terrible, her retribution swift. A princess is about to speak against you and no one will come to your aid.
The door suddenly is covered with a magical blue aura and swings open to reveal exactly whom you expected, Princess Luna, the lady of the night and mistress of the moon and stars. She is clothed in a robe of noble blue and royal purple whose front is emblazoned with her cutie mark, the unique symbol of her power as a judge. Her head is crowned with the diadem of the moon, the sign of her royal power. As soon as she enters, her gaze fixes upon you and it causes you to shrink down in terror. Her eyes are glowing white with god-like fury and her face displays her righteous anger. She makes her way to the white throne and sits upon it. There is a horrible silence that ensues for a moment as you are fighting the urge to soil yourself. You had faced many judges, but this was a different experience entirely.
Without warning, her wings flare and she opens her mouth to speak. Having never seen either of the princesses in person, you had no idea what was coming, so the booming and unrestricted power of the Royal Canterlot Voice made you cower as it assaulted your ears. “THOU DAREST HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TRESSPASS UPON THE HIGHEST OF OUR LAWS?”
The sheer volume of the words, to say nothing of the echo which comes thereafter, nearly causes you to yelp and attempt to flee. It is very apparent to you that you’ll receive no leniency from this mare. The terror which has taken hold of you prevents you from even stammering out a word, much less an answer. Yet she does not wait for one and continues in her olympian voice. “THE MERE THOUGHT OF REPEATING WHAT THOU HAST DONE SICKENS US. WE SHALL NOT REPEAT IT. THOU KNOWEST WHY THOU ART PRESENT. WHAT SAYEST THOU IN THY DEFENSE?”
You knew from the start that it would be best not to deny that you had done it. All the evidence and witnesses are against you. Yet now, cowering before the awesome majesty of Princess Luna, your survival instinct compels you to consider lying. But alas, you had prepared no such apology or hired an attorney to speak for you. As a few seconds pass by, you know that delaying your response will provoke another traumatizing shout from the one sitting on the throne, so you muster the drop of courage you have left and cry out as quickly as you can that you are completely guilty. You immediately swallow and prepare yourself for the worst.
To your surprise, the glow in the moon princess’ eyes fades and you are able to see her blue irises. The wrath that was there is now replaced by discontent coupled with something else, though that “something else” isn’t something you can place. She opens her mouth to speak again and you flinch, preparing for another onslaught, but her voice is not the same. It does not strike your ears mercilessly, but instead, her tone matches the look in her eyes. She says, “You acknowledge what you have done was evil beyond the measure of our time, correct?”
You sit up again and tense your shoulders as they were just moments ago. You agree with her in your own words. At this, Luna’s expression changes once more to a mix of astonishment and bewilderment. “What is your name?” she asks. You tell her and suddenly her face becomes calm. That look in her eyes that was only just barely visible before now dominates her visage. You recognize it as sympathy. Once more, the courtroom is silent. She looks off into the distance and her eyes glaze over as though she is remembering something.
After a moment, it becomes apparent that she realized she was daydreaming and she broke the silence again. Looking into your eyes, she says, “I knew your name, but I had to hear it for myself. You have inherited the name of your ancestor whom I knew in the ancient days before even the alicornian reign. She said something very similar to what you have just spoken in those days: ‘Of all the evildoers in this world, I am the worst.’
“In those days, the crime that you have now committed would have been considered commonplace, but even then, her numerous evil deeds were considered evil. And yet it was the sight of her brokenness and utter regret that caused my sister and I to wage war against Discord, who was the tyrant of Equestria at the time. ‘Like mother, like daughter. Like father like son’ as the saying goes. At that time, her crimes were forgiven when she asked for forgiveness, and now nearly fifteen hundred years later, her descendent is pleading in the same way. Answer me this, did your mother and father love you?”
You reply without hesitation. Your mother died giving birth to you and your father died when you were six. Having heard your response, the night lady’s voice now comes out softly. “It was the same with her. She had no neither family nor friend to comfort her until the twilight of her life.” She is quiet once more. Then says, “In this era, your crime is without precedent. The law prescribes that I sentence you to a six year reeducation in the Equestrian Mental Institution.” Though your heart has been beating very fast, hearing this makes it race. Once more, you start to breathe heavily. That specific sentence is the worst punishment that anypony can receive in Equestria.
Yet Luna continued, “However, your ancestor, by law, should have been sentenced to death many times over according to the law, though she was not. Because I embraced her and forgave her, I feel that I must offer a degree of leniency to you. There is one other punishment that I can prescribe to a case like this: I have the power to sentence you to one night in the Royal Correction Chamber. Is this something you would be willing to submit yourself to in lieu of imprisonment?”
At first, the sound of the possibility of escape makes you want to jump at the opportunity, but quickly, experience makes you hold your tongue. This would not be the first time that you were offered a choice. Lucian Ulrich Machiavelli, the prince of Canterlot did the same thing when he sat upon the capital's bema seat, and that ended in you losing flesh to the whip almost to the point of death. Had it not been for the most intricate magic, you would have died from those wounds. You shudder at the memory, and your voice trembles as you ask what that would entail.
“Love and discipline in the place of righteous judgment.” she answers.
This was a difficult decision. On the one hoof, those who entered the Equestrian Mental Institution were few, but those who did exited as different ponies who seemed to have lost themselves. On the other hoof, fear of the unknown will not allow you to take the alternative easily. The world had cheated you many more times than you had cheated it, and this wasn’t the time to give in just yet. The princess waits patiently as you debate with yourself. In the end, you think of the wisest thing to say and place the decision in her hooves. You tell her that you are her subject and the decision falls to her.
Hearing your response, she shouts in the Royal Canterlot Voice, “I SENTENCE THEE TO ONE NIGHT IN THE ROYAL CORRECTION CHAMBER.” Her horn glows with magic and she points it towards you. Seeing that she is about to cast magic on you, you close your eyes and prepare yourself for the worst again. Then everything is as quiet as it is dark.
You awaken after who knows how long inside what appears to be a hallway in the royal palace. In front of you is a door and to your side is the guard that escorted you to the courtroom. He notices that you are conscious and says in a gruff voice, “Finally, you’re awake. I was beginning to think the spell would never wear off. The way I see it, it would’ve been better if the princess had just ordered you blindfolded rather than putting you to sleep for six hours.”
You rise and ask where you are and why you had to sleep in the first place. He answers, pointing to the door, “This is the entrance to the Royal Correction Chamber. For security reasons, it’s better that you don't know where we are.” He opens the door revealing a dark tunnel. He gestures for you to walk inside. “Go ahead and start walking down it. And you’d best keep going until you see another door. We all know how long it’ll take for you to get there, and you don’t want someone to have to come get you.”
Per his command you start to walk inside. As you pass the threshold, you ask if he won’t follow. He doesn’t respond, but closes the door behind you. There is the noticeable sound of a lock sliding into place from the other side, and you have no choice but to continue forward. The inside of the tunnel is lit in a weird way. The walkway in front of you is pitch-black and you can scarcely see your hoof in front of your face, but the walls on your right and left are brightly visible due to an invisible source.
You continue down, instinctively staring at the walls as you pass by. They are made of light brown stone and appear to be flawlessly smooth. Strangely, you realize that they are not lit the entire way forward constantly, but as you move down, a section of the wall five feet in front of and behind you lights up, and as you pass by, the part of the wall more than five feet behind you darkens. At least they are not making you walk to wherever you are going in complete darkness.
You continue walking forward, now having seen everything that you can, and soon you start to wonder how long this tunnel is. Without a way to see forward, you start to become a bit bored. The fear you had hours ago of punishment is long gone and now you just wish they could have teleported you inside the chamber so you could get whatever you had to take over with and get back to your life. Yet as if in answer to your boredom, the light passes over what appears to be a mural of some sort. There is a painting with an art design painted similarly to the stained glass windows that one might find in the halls of the palace. The painting depicts three ponies living in a large city.
You continue to walk and the painting disappears from view, as if you shifted to the next panel of a comic. The ponies show up again, now standing in a green field with saccharine smiles. It is at this point that you realize that these ponies look very familiar. In fact the centermost one looks just like … you. You suppose you should be flattered that somepony took the time to make a mural featuring you, but what strikes you is that the other ponies look very familiar as well. You stop and think for a moment until a couple of memories come from seemingly out of nowhere. Then you realize that the other two ponies look very much like your parents. This was odd. Whoever drew these pictures must have known you before the death of your parents. The idea that this painting must have been fresh though unnerves you.
You continue down and see another picture. The three ponies are now standing in a red background. Your image is standing up, but those of your parents are lying down, and black X’s inscribed in circles were painted crudely over them. Your image looks at you with a frown. Now disturbed, you start walking down the hallway again. As you walk down, you cannot help but glimpse at the next painting. In this one, you appear to be walking down a hallway just as you are now. One of your hooves is upraised and halfway through a step. As you continue down through the darkness, the light repeatedly illuminates the same pictures on your right and left. Both you and your image are doing the same thing.
While the image of your parents' passing may have made you a bit nervous, it seems like an hour has passed. Now, you are only bored of staring at the same lifeless picture of yourself mimicking your journey. Yet then finally there is a change in the painting. A momentary passing glance is certainly not enough, so you stop to look at it. The picture in front of you now displays you stopping, with all of your hooves on the ground, as you have done. About ten scaled feet in front of your painted self is another figure, but this one is certainly different. It is not a pony, nor is it like any animal you have ever seen. It appears to be made of many different parts. The most orderly feature of the creature is its equine head, but everything else is purely chaotic.
You decide that you have seen all that can be seen in that picture and continue on walking. As you do so, your ears perk up as you hear a sound. The sound passes quickly and you are unable to discern what it was. You take a few steps forward to where you think the sound might have originated, but find nothing in the darkness. Then you look to your left and see the next picture. The creature which was just there is gone and you are left alone. There is only the painting of yourself, now looking a tad disturbed. Ignoring the minor difference, you press forward. Once more, you hear the indistinct sound, but you are sure that it was not your imagination this time. Something moved around quickly in front of you.
Intending to catch the unseen mover off guard, you rush to where you heard the sound and search the surrounding radius. Once more, you find nothing but the emptiness of the hallway. Having moved to a new position, you follow your routine and look at the mural again. As expected, your image is there, still standing in depicted hallway, but this time, he is looking up. His eyes are wide and his pupils are much larger than before. Above, the disfigured creature has returned to the scene. It hovers above him, looking down with an expression that is a mix between glee and malice.
Something about this picture unnerves you and you decide not to stop to admire the artwork anymore. You are, after all, lagging a little and you want to get out of here as fast as possible. You form the resolution to continue without stopping until you reach an exit. Again, you return to the path of darkness, staring straight forward. Yet once more, after some time passes, you become bored and you find it difficult to not let your gaze wander, especially because it is difficult to focus on nothing.
Eventually, you allow yourself to glance to the left as you pass by another painting. This one is similar to the last, but this time the creature is holding two pieces of crossed wood in his claws with strings dangling down and attaching to your image as though it is a puppeteer and you are its puppet. You keep walking and there is another picture. This time one of the beast’s claws is raised above its head. There is a word written on the wall that is positioned next to its mouth: JUMP. As soon as this word passed through your mind, you suddenly have an urge to obey the imperative. That would be silly though. You keep walking forward.
The command is there again in the next painting. However, this time the letters are perhaps a little bigger. Once again, you feel and suppress the urge to jump. Your image likewise appears as though he is trying to hold onto the ground. More repetition ensues, the letters growing larger and more slanted with each passing scene. The beast also appears to be becoming more frustrated as time grows on, causing you to desire more and more for an end to this trek through the hallway. Then as you walk past one, your eyes perceive something odd for such a short time that you question whether or not you saw it.
Did the beast just move in that picture? Against your better judgment, you stop and look to the left. It looks very angry now and your image looks terrified at this point. It must have just been your imagination. The fatigue of this walk has to be getting to you after walking for so long. Yet then the beast in the image looks from your image to you, and speaks. You hear its malicious and deep voice above your head. “You won’t jump? Very well, have it your way. You can run.”
Hearing the voice from above, you look up and freeze in shock. Visible by some unknown light source, it hovers over your head with its wings outstretched; not just an image, but a real, three-dimensional terror. The crude painting of it was bad enough, but the sight of all of its defined features— the piercing eyes, the muscles of the torso that rivaled those of a griffon, the long fangs which measured up to your lower legs, and the massive claws that could grasp all the way around your midsection— are absolutely horror-striking.
He looks down at you, and clearly sees your fear, because, raising a claw, he says, “Oh, I wouldn’t be afraid of me. If I were you, I’d be a little more concerned about what’s behind you.” Saying this, he snaps and you can see, even facing the other direction, that there is a big, white flash behind you. The beast points to the painting and then snaps again, disappearing in another flash of light. The creature in the painting is gone as well, but there is something else. To the left of your image, down the painted hallway is what seems to be a mass of something writhing. As it nears your image, you hear what sounds like a lot of snakes slithering only ten feet behind you … the same scale distance as in the picture. Realizing that what was happening in the now alive picture is being replicated in reality, you start running away from whatever it is coming for you as fast as you can. As soon as you turn and start running, there is a high pitched squeal that pains your ears. It is the cry of the monsters that are now chasing you. You can’t see them, but you sure know that they are close.
You run harder and faster than you can ever remember yourself running into the pitch darkness ahead. One thought propels you: there is absolutely no way you can let them catch up to you, or it will certainly be your end. Within a few seconds, your heart is beating away in your ears like a jackhammer and your loud and heavy breathing might as well be equally paced. Even more audible still is the thunderous sound of your hooves shod with iron shoes pounding against the stone beneath you. Yet even over all of these wild reverberations, you can still hear the sound of the slithering and squealing becoming louder and louder, the creatures getting nearer and nearer to you. Despite your disbelief, this realization spurs you on beyond imagination and you run even faster than before. Though for all your effort, the noises are still increasing in volume.
Notwithstanding your olympic efforts, a slimy tendril wraps around your hind leg tightly. You are quickly brought down onto the hard floor before you can even scream. Panicking, you jerk and thrash to free yourself with all your might to no avail. The tentacle has a grip on your hoof like a snake around its prey. To your horror, you look behind and see that several other appendages are reaching for you. Because of the alarming proximity, you also see in the center of the writhing tendrils an oval mouth with no jaw, with three inch long teeth lined around its circumference.
Seeing this, you once more renew your efforts to escape. Another tentacle latches onto your other hind leg, but you plant both of your hooves on the floor and lunge forward with every ounce of strength you have. This is still not enough to free you, but, as you are fighting for your life, you do not give up. Your front hooves having landed, you put as much pressure as possible on them and anchor yourself to that spot. The monster pulls at your back in turn, but you steadfastly yank at your posterior half. You yank once, but only lose ground. Through the little light you have, you can see it getting closer. You heave forward a second time and gain nothing.
At this point, it has to be over. After running nearly running your legs off and pulling twice against the fiend, you feel exhausted. It does not seem as though there is any hope for you, and these feelings of terror and hopelessness work together to make your eyes water and your throat dry up like a desert. This is it then. This thing is going to tear you apart and rend you to pieces in its mouth and you are going to die. Everything suddenly becomes silent as you are sure your last moments are passing. Yet when the beast’s mouth and teeth come into view one last time, the horror causes you to give a yell as loud as anypony can muster and pull with more power than you should have. Without warning, you wrench your right leg out of its slippery grip. Then surely enough, another desperation-driven tug releases your left leg and you shoot off again like a rocket.
Once more you feel your pulse in your chest and hear your hastened breathing from your lungs. You got away but it is still behind you and you just cheated death once. Without a doubt, anything less than absolutely every ounce of strength and endurance you have left in you will certainly spell your demise. You shoot past the images on the walls with barely any time to look at them. You see yourself still being pursued by the horrible creature, and it remains closely behind you. Each time the light passes over a picture, you inwardly breathe a sigh of relief, but as it reveals the next one, your heart skips a beat because you are forced to see just how close the tentacles are to your legs again.
Your lungs and legs are on fire from continuous sprinting, but it is still closing in, and you are even forced to leap forward a few times, feeling the wind from each of the tendrils swiping through the air just centimeters behind each time. At one point, over all the noise, you begin to hear what sounds like buzzing. Initially you ignore it, but the buzzing grows louder every second, until it drowns out even your breathing. You become aware that there must be a swarm of flies in front of you, but there is nothing you can do about it.
Within seconds, you plunge into the center of the noise and your assumption is confirmed as you are suddenly covered by now total darkness and a swarm of insects bouncing on and off your body. At first, the change of scenery is almost inconsequential, but then a wave of hurt seizes you. The flies start to bite you all over your body as you rush through them. The pain nearly causes you to fall over, but you instead catch yourself and jump through the mass, thrashing about and desperately trying to get them off you. For a split-second, the idea of turning back crosses your thoughts, but you know that would be suicide.
You press forward and endure the unceasing suffering, while desperately trying to complete the goals of swatting away the flies and escape the monster, which you are fairly certain is still following you even through the swarm. You have closed your mouth to avoid any bugs going in and are forced to deal with the difficulty of breathing through your nose. Unfortunately, both the fear of being overtaken and the newfound pain washing over you cause your tightly shut eyes to leak a few tears. The mucous building up in your nose makes continuing even more challenging.
Mere seconds seem like hours of pure anguish as some of the big flies pierce your flesh like a thousand needles and others slice and rip the areas already affected. They do not spare your very sensitive underside, and more than once you have the immense desire to stop and curl into the fetal position to end the pain. Yet even over the loud buzzing, you hear your pursuer squealing again and again behind you, apparently not at all deterred by the flies itself.
Finally, after an eternity of endless pain, you feel a rush of uninhabited air. You jump again and shake off the flies on you. As you rush forward, the buzzing now behind you becomes quieter until it eventually fades, but of course there is no time to stop. The creature makes you yelp as it shrieks once more just behind you. The light has not returned and you are still as good as blind, but ahead of you, you see a blue light that appears on both walls. Suddenly the light draws the outline of something else and two more beasts emitting light that have the bodies of minotaurs and the heads of sharks burst from the walls and roar ferociously. Not even thinking, you dive between them and manage to pass by death once more, but they roar again and now they are after you as well.
Thus you have three giant beasts tailing behind you with no intention of letting you go unscathed. Still covered in pain from the bites as well, once again a feeling of hopelessness creeps into your thoughts. With every step you take, it feels like spikes are driving into your hooves, and your legs are working against you, wanting to stop. Since you started running, you are sure you have not slowed and now that the two fresh beasts are in the picture, it looks like you will not have that chance. You doubt you will last much longer. All that is keeping you going now is your will to live; however, even that is reaching its limit.
You lengthen your strides and jump forward every so often to give yourself even a split second’s rest, but you find that it is not long enough and it very soon starts to drain what little energy you have left. You know that you are about to be forced to give up. The pain and arduousness are overwhelming and despite your mind’s commands to maintain your great speed, you start to slow down, and the earth-shaking steps of the massive minotaurs are once more getting louder, even though you thought they could not get much closer. Along with this, the fact that there is almost no end to the long hallway in sight drives the nail in the coffin for you, and you know that the end is near and inevitable.
Your already heavy breathing intensifies and tears now freely roll down your face. The fact that you are about to die makes your mind race and you start to think about your life. How miserable it has been! No pony ever loved you and you never loved any pony. Your life was dependent on stealing food from others and in a nutshell, that is all you ever thought about. You were not and are not needed, so the princess sent you to your death. You cannot really blame her, because she was doing what was best for her country, getting rid of a parasite. It is morbid, but perhaps it would be better for you to die.
Your musing is halted as you slam into another mass of fur and fall to the ground on top of many of your swollen bites, causing you to yelp once more. Quickly, you look up to see what you ran into, because it surely wasn’t the end of the way. What you see is a massive doglike creature with huge piercing eyes the size of your hoof. It opens its jaw, revealing razor sharp teeth and lets out a bloodcurdling howl, then looks at you hungrily. You suppose it actually was the end of the way. With this new monster in front of you, you are being attacked on both sides. Seeing that the end has come, you make a final desperate move and turn around.
Your heart leaps at what you see. Just feet behind you, on the left wall of the hallway is an iron door with a handle made for a hoof. Moreover, somehow you have managed to gain a few yards on those behind you. You have no idea if the door is even unlocked or if it going through its threshold will save you, but this one insane hope gives you five times the strength that the fear just gave you. As fast as lightning, you grasp the door’s handle and pull. It is thrust open and you lunge inside a room, slamming the door behind you. To your great surprise, there is an iron bar on its side and you throw it down, locking the door from the inside.
You back up and let out a huge sigh. They surely will not be able to get through that. You are finally safe. You back up more and hit something warm and firm. Again, you tense up and look behind you. You scream as you see yet another live figure, but then realize it is another pony, albeit a very tall one. She wears a golden diadem on her head and has both the horn of a unicorn and the wings of a pegasus, so you immediately know who this is supposed to be. Yet your chance for adoration is cut short as you hear a chorus of growls and shrieks coming from the wall with the door. You look in that direction and scream again. All of the monsters chasing you have somehow reached the other side of the door without even breaking though it.
They start to walk towards you and you back up on the ground with a look of horror on your face, sputtering. They advance upon you too fast for you to hope to get away, but before they can leap upon you, the alicorn steps between them and you and looks in your eyes with a sympathetic expression. Before you can wonder what in her name she is doing, her horn lights up with a blue aura and she points it towards you. You shut your eyes and feel the magic hit you.
Suddenly, all the noise of the approaching fiends is gone. When you open your eyes, all that remains is the princess of the sun standing a little to your right with a compassionate gaze.