Mirror: Book I - Mind

Mirror: Book I - Mind
A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan-fiction, written by Gun_Powder

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ACT I

Nescience

Reflections, stretching further than the glimmer on the horizon, further than the shimmer in the infinite skies. It was everything and nothing, existence and absence, fantasy and reality. It was simple, it was clean. It was balanced.

Then, there was a spark.

The light twirled and spun into the darkness that swallowed it whole. It was in the happening blinks of this moment that something else had been disturbed. Something physical, something moving, something breathing, something sleeping. Through the mirror he was twisted, and by some miraculous force, came out whole and unchanged on the other side. An icy shudder and a howling wind shut itself up in an instant, and all that followed was a hard thud to the solid, pitch black nothing below.

Sight was no longer an option, sound a mere parameter, and touch a desperate cling to the unsure existence that laid ahead. Touch. He could feel everything, the dust, the dirt, the stone and the splinters, all with these slim, tingly appendages. Hands. His hands traveled down his body and searched all over, from his leggings to his torso, to the structure of his face and the hair atop his head. He was all there, he was moving, he was breathing. Yet, the questions remained…

I’m lost.

He crouched and crawled through the nothingness, crawled and crawled until he hit a wall, meeting the barrier with a loud thump. Everywhere he placed his palms and every space he felt over his body were like cold, unforgiving needles of ice.

I can’t see, have I gone blind?

A spike of worry sprung from inside. It was then that the panic began to settle in. His hands scurried and his mind began to race.

What if I’ve been kidnapped? Or, what if I got myself into something, and I can’t remember? What is this place? Why am I here?

There came a thud, and he jolted in surprise. Leading his hands over the object, he could determine the familiar, scratchy yet smooth surface of wood brush upon his finger tips. They were wood planks, lined parallel and running up and down the new surface before him. At the top they were cut into a stoney arch, the curve running its length above and down to the floor on both ends, and at the mid-section of the planks was a long, wide strip of metal.

A door!

His heart began to race upon the tiny discovery. Pushing did no good, which told him that it was a portal that led into somewhere, like a chamber or a room. Thus, he sought to pull the strange door inward, searching for a handle. His hands found an iron ring, the odd spell of gothic architecture opening an array of possibilities before his imagination. Tightening his grip around the thought as he tightened his grip on the handle, he pulled, the squeaking splints of wood echoing throughout the room sending chills through his entire body. Stepping back from the door swinging inward, a faint, white-gold glow pooled into the room, which in turned filled his soul with a new light. He breathed, giving him the chance to exhale the most of his worries into the stale and stagnant air of a new world.

Eyes lingered on the path ahead, uncertainty but also adventure swelling within, as he stared down the long, stone-brick corridor. There was a sparkle in the corner of his sight, and he turned to look back into the room. There was a mirror, bits and shards of glass lying about. He approached the shattered form, assessing his own in the reflection of the tiny pieces. He observed the white of his skin, the brushy brown of his hair, and the amber-gold gleam in his eyes. Among the broken shards of the mirror lying before him was a single, peculiar relic. It was in the shape of a heart.

The light shone upon the path ahead, and the boy bravely followed it to its source. There was a ruined chamber with the ceiling broken down, its grainy remnants lying in pebbles and chunks all over the floor. The floor was stone, the walls were stone, everything was cobble and stone to the likes of a great, medieval castle. He paused in the midst of the hallway, thinking to himself. Either this was without a doubt the best damn prank anyone had ever pulled off on him, or he was dreaming. The latter seemed far more credible, he knew better than anyone that for his sake, this would have been a waste of effort. Especially considering how mesmerizing and elaborate the design of it all was. The chamber split into four separate corridors, each being equally as dark and eerie as the other. Stepping over the rubble he tried his guessing with the right, his instincts telling him to do so, and every step he took sent an echoing tap throughout the shadowy hallways. He felt the urge to call out, perhaps a simple “Hello?” would do, but he quickly discarded this idea. A devilish breathe of terror roared its way through the shadows, and his instincts told him to shoot backwards beneath the shelter of the light.

As still as a statue with the light from above casting over him, he knew now that he wasn't alone in this castle. The noises continued for a faintly sum of seconds, the clacking of something on stone could be heard, its rhythm like the gallop or run of an animal on all fours. There was something in here, and whatever the hell it was it was alive, and to the human that meant it was terrifying. Suddenly he felt afraid, very afraid. He knew not what the thing in the darkness was, but he knew that it could get him, even in the seemingly safeness of this light. With a few moments of silent sickness churning his innards around, he mustered up the balls to continue forward. Darkness or light this thing could get him, and he found it better for it to occur further on rather than here. He hugged the wall whilst sneaking through the dark, shooting up like a frightened cat when he collided with something metallic, and conveniently waiting to be knocked over at any moment. The rickety set of iron swayed and fell to the floor with an obnoxious clamor, screeching against the darkened walls and echoing down the halls. No doubt that the thing in the darkness had heard it. Thus, he simply sat there in his crouched position, waiting in the darkness, waiting for something to come and kill him or eat him just to prove how stupid he had been.

There was an effort to make some escape, in the midst of swiping his palms about the darkened floor, wherein he came into contact with what appeared to be a round, metal plate. It was small enough to fit in both his hands, yet carried a lot of weight, as though hefting a block of lead. Then, it clicked in his mind. If this were meant to be a medieval castle, then surely he had ran into what appeared to be a suit of armor. His fingers laid upon what he believed to be the helmet, finding it to be rather unusual in shape. The space in front for the nose was wide and cavernous, and aside from the sights there was a pair of strange holes, one placed on either side of the head. Confused by its form but also eager for protection of some sort, he decided that it would have to do. About to continue onward he felt a lengthy metallic rod slip between his finger spaces. A weapon, perhaps? He could think of almost anything as a weapon, but perhaps this object was specifically designed as such. The far end spread out like wings and swung back inwards, the lines intersecting to a fin tip. The indistinguishable form of a spear.

He continued forward with a cautious gait, especially considerate of the further armor suits or any other objects that may lay hidden in the darkness. A spot of white flickered in the corner of his eye, the guard of his helmet nearly betraying his line of sight. He crept toward the light, care and patience with ever step he laid down. As he drew closer, he caught sight of a few tables and bookshelves, his fears and worries beginning to sooth away as he entered the chamber. This time it wasn't only the ceiling, but a wall with what remained of arched stained glass windows were in ruins as well, rays of sunshine passing through where the structures had once stood. A clear and airy blue painted the skies outside, a bundle of tree tops reaching up and over the broken windows, series of vines climbing their way down as they touched all over the walls and swam to both the ceilings and floors.

It was as if an endless library lined the walls from one end to the next, one would need a map or guide to know where to start. Leading himself to the left most shelf he chose the center book, its cover wearing a mild violet, and the image of a single star orbiting a sphere showed on the front. The pages were glazed over with dust and smelled of mildew and rot, many of the words within becoming faded and blurred as a result of aging. What struck him the most is that even if they could be read they seemed to be in another language, none of which the languages he already knew about could even remotely resemble. It was the sort of material that only historians who studied such things would know. He went to grab a few other books, all of them being a similar or even worse state than the last, the final book he picked practically falling apart in his hands. He tediously pieced the jumble of moldy pages back together, and calmly slid it back into its place. After collecting a few good breathes of air he fixed his helmet back onto his head and marched confidently into the blackness, not after clumsily dropping his spear and making a hell of a racket, that is.

He was once again reminded of the thing which lurked in the shadows as he heard a distant gallop, followed by a sudden repulsive stench, one that made his throat go dry and his nostrils run numb. Despite having never smelled such a vile odor before, his instincts could only tell him that it was the stench of rotting wood. Whatever it really was, he'd be damned to high heaven if he was actually going to stand around and wait to find out. Cautious of the rubble around his toes, he strode steadily through the murky yet dimly lit hallways. Upon turning left into the next lit chamber, he had to first pass through a corridor with twin sets of armor, giving him a chance to get a closer look upon them. He quickly inspected the suits, finding that they most closely resembled some manner of four-legged creatures. The figures were a little small, tiny even, only reaching up to about his waist line. The dots in his mind were beginning to come together, but many parts of him wished to deny these conclusions. Maybe this really is the best prank anyone had ever pulled on him, or so he wished.

The stench suddenly returned and pushed further into his nostrils, reminding him that standing around with his head in the clouds would do him no good. He treaded down the hall and towards the light, cautiously and carefully, and soon came upon what might have been the biggest room in the entire structure. Patches of grass and lush, lime moss stuck to the floors and the walls of the great hall. A twin pair of stairs flew down either side of the stony railing, joining as one as they ran down to the center lane. The long, central path remained untouched, all except for the ruined ceiling's rubble littering the walk of an old, torn carpet rolled forward in between the six separate hallway entrances, the tip of its raggedy tail ending inches away from the massive set of double doors which laid waiting at the end of the great hall. Finally, he caught sight of the tapestries that loomed directly above his head. One was bright, brilliant and golden. The other, a midnight, mysterious black and blue. Day and Night, Sun and Moon.

The four-legged suits of armor were beginning to make more than enough sense now. Upon the tapestries that hung above were two beings. Horses. One bright and vibrant, the other darkened and blue, each to their own respective settings. The stench was completely invisible to his nostrils now, for all of his senses had transferred to his eyes, and now nothing in this impossible world could shake his gaze of the mesmerizing harmony and chaos. It felt as though those forces had begun to spiral and wrestle with each other once more, his emotions blurring into a complex energy of thinking, wondering, and imagining.

Then, it broke. The stench was not only stronger, but it felt closer. As though it had been tracking him, and it had found him.

Upon hearing a horrible, low, rumbling growl and snarl, that ungodly stench of rotting wood and oak threatened to choke him now. He looked to the stairs, and there was the thing in the darkness, drawing nearer and nearer as it crept from the shaded hallways. The thing was like a wolf, bark and bramble, timber and leaves, all held together within an aura of putrid pale green. Its growling rumbled the earth and shook the human's body into a frightful jitter, making him instinctively grip his spear and point it forward. The rumbling grew stronger as another wolf crept from the darkness, and then a third followed closely by. They were massive, the size of tigers, maybe even bigger. Regardless of their ridiculous size, he was out numbered, and beginning to look like a rather tasty appetizer.

His legs began to shake uncontrollably as he steadied down the steps behind him, and with a boom the center wolf jumped from the railing and landed right in front of him. Before he could even get the chance to stare into its tightened, devilish eyes, the wooden wolf leapt forward. The beast threw a simple head butt as he was flung up and traveled down the flight of stairs, the oxygen escaping from his body as his helmet flew off his head and bounced backwards. The wolf raised its rickety paw and pushed down on the boy’s chest, the rotting mass of wood drooling over him as it licked its chops. In that heavy and hazy moment he was certain he was dead, his throat running dry over the unrelenting stench, suppressing any cries for help. He clawed, scraped, cried and fought, but to no avail.

All hope seemed lost.

His helmet bounced backwards, rattling across the ground in slow-motion.

Clink-clank-clunk!

It stopped, someone or something had forced it to the ground, and the wolves preyed upon the matter. The vicious hounds spat drips of green and yellow, barking ferociously at whatever the source was. The wolf’s claws dug deep into the boy’s chest, eliciting a tiny shrill of pain, but the hound was quickly disintegrated by a sudden blast of violet. The boom crackled and sparkled, his ear drums pounding, and the wolf over his chest was gone, broken into a million specs and splinters.

The other wolf began forward, but met the same fate as it was shot away by the same blast. The third swiftly dodged a beam of purple, the sparkling shot zooming past and hitting the far wall. A crack erupted in the wall, slowly climbing its way up. The third lunged forward, but was caught in a transparent blanket of violet. Its body was slammed against the wall, hard, and the crack only doubled in size. The sickly green glow faded from the paralyzed wolf's eyes, and two more of the vicious creatures slipped from the shadows as the crack worked its way across the ceiling. A thundering crumble echoed through the great hall, the human's body still limp with terror as rocks and pebbles rain downed from above.

Suddenly, that same blanket of violet swallowed him whole, and a powerful yet gentle force pulled him backwards. As he slid to a halt upon the path, he caught a glimpse of a lush, light purple figure before a chunk of the ceiling came tumbling down, crushing the life out of the two incoming wolves and gusting up a flurry of dust. A great rush of wind soared down the corridor, filling the hall with a grainy, blinding fog.

A long moment of very much needed silence passed by. As the dust settled into the walls and floors, he tried effort after effort to sit upright, finding it easier to just roll over and bring himself to his palms and knees. Looking about the smokey grains of dust, scrambling to sit on his arse and looking all around.

There it was again, that lush light purple he had seen just seconds ago, and that lush light purple was alive and moving. It had the figure of a horse, but far too small for any grown steed. A pony, he concluded. A vibrant, magical, purple pony. Remembering the lethal beams of violet and purple only moments ago, he put two and two together. This thing, this pony, this strange purple creature like something out of a fairy tale…had saved him. Only one question lingered in the depths of his thought. Why?

Then, the pony turned. Its eyes were big and bright as ever, like a pair of purple jewels on a set of saucers. For the longest time, nothing was said, nothing was done. The human and the pony stared at one another for what seemed like the longest ten seconds the universe had ever beheld. The pony’s muzzle twitched and flicked an ear, opening its mouth as it began to speak. All that followed was silence.

He blinked, but nothing arrived. The pony spoke again, and nothing more. His ears were ringing. Violently, madly. A thumping began, like the beating of a heart. The boy looked down, and there across his chest laid a splotch of red, a line of crimson following over his rib cage. He lifted his shirt, and wished he hadn’t.

The white light of the day was suddenly growing brighter, the air becoming thicker, and that purple pony off to the side was slowly and steadily coming closer. He clutched at his wound, struggled, swooned, and fell back against the dusty, dirtied floor with a defeated boom.

The pony stood over him, visions of sparkles, scarlet and pink blurring past his pale and weary eyes. He took another glimpse downward, just as a glossy puddle of light began to rise from the deep divot in his chest. The stuff replaced the seeps of scarlet, the blood running right back into his wound and rushing through his veins, the newly found sensation making his limbs fall limp and his head hang back on the floor. His mind went into panic, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t protest. It felt to the boy as though the very life within him was being slowly and soothingly sucked dry, and he wondered for a second in his pitiful and silenced cries if perhaps that was exactly what this thing, this pony was trying to do. Finally, the pony opened its eyes, and a stark-white, blinding, shining light was all he remembered. All before swallowing everything around him into a sightless and noiseless nothing.