The Music Of Gnarl-Gnarth

The Music Of Gnarl-Gnarth

Twilight Sparkle dreamt. She dreamt of exotic sounds and strange hills, of impossible foliages and esoteric beings. Farther than her mind had ever been, she journeyed deep into the realm of the Dreaming. Past the border village of Zoog where cats are sacred and fish revered, over the prosperous golden slopes, beyond the shunned monastery whose inhabitants are unspoken of, she traversed even further than the unnamed crevice where it is said nothing has dwelt since the before times.

No trader would accompany her in these travels, and the learned priests were of little help to her quest. Those who had lived long and seen much sought to forewarn her, they told that only ruin lie in those eerie parts, beyond which any spoken thing had set foot. But Twilight dismissed these things for she could almost hear, in the very edges of her mind, a beautiful melody like none other, a voice which promised fulfillment and unfathomable bliss. So the unicorn continued onward in hope of attaining this siren song.

She continued onward farther than any god-fearing pony had dared, in solitude, the single speck of activity in prolonged barren regions. But eventually this threshold was conquered, and she came upon flourishing life once more, things long forgotten.

Here tribes and settlements were abundant across the pink plains. Chants and smoke filled the air as she came across one such dwelling. Unnatural creatures with elastic limbs moved to tribal rhythms, they took on odd formations and enacted foreign choreographies around a burning pyre. But far from apprehension, this only excited her curiosity and Twilight met them with exhilaration. And she dwelt there among queer huts for an unknown amount of time, seasons passing as she learned their language and customs. Here where the vegetation was sweeter than any confection, these dank things taught her the lost ways of dreaming, of their gods, and the unrecorded first stories.

However it was their whispers that most interested the unicorn, for the fables and rhymes they recited only in dark corners resembled her coveted tune, and she recalled her pursuit. Upon her persistence, they recounted of the obscure elder thing Gnarl-Gnarth, of which little was known except his soothing music and radiant voice. Encouraged, the studious pony inquired for yet more details. But at this, the amorphous natives could only point to the south, the tales having endured from even older civilizations of which they had long lost contact. Hope rekindled, she thanked their hospitality and took her leave of their precious pastures, once more setting out for foreign bounty.

Southward, she moved on winding paths through gravity-defying mountains closer to what she hoped was the heart of the Dreaming, where the oldest ones were sure to dwell. Winged amphibians soared the airs, guarding the night, and frequent storms required her to take shelter in the many caves. But it was in the midst of these travels that the unicorn woke up.

Coming to, Twilight was dismayed at the dull reality before her, which could not hold a candle to her fading dreams. She blinked her eyes and prayed, but she only found herself staring at her same room, nothing changed. With a sigh, the mare was just about to resign herself to the drudgery of life, when her ears pricked up. The faintest of noises...could it be? Was it really? Yes, that divine song was still with her even now, in the waking world!

If Twilight could only find the source, she might grasp it forever, never needing to part with that blissful rhythm again.

Those wonderful dream sights remained in her mind’s eye alongside an even greater hope, and so Twilight was eager to sleep the next night with new vigor. Her thoughts elsewhere, neither her friends nor Spike could hold her interest. She trudged through the day, work completed carelessly in haste, and in the silences she found herself straining to hear that special melody.

However these efforts were of no result until during some sensitive experiments, after a particular mental lapse, the purple mare accidentally pierced a minor incision into her foreleg. And as Twilight gingerly made to treat it, for a brief moment she thought she could make out the song again, returned to her ears the slightest bit easier to hear. But it quickly left, and her attention turned toward bandaging the wound, dismissing it as a trick of the mind. Nothing else was as memorable and after a tiresome cycle, reclining in bed, she once more fell asleep and the visions quickly returned to her.

Journey resumed, she excursed even deeper into the obtuse mountains, where there was no moon and water flowed uphill, and on the other side Twilight came upon a silver city with ten thousand gates. Infinitely grand and arcane, it held perfect geometry on structures spiring higher than she could see, intricate patterns utilizing shapes she’d never before known.

With zest, she entered and met the tall ones with no face, who proclaimed themselves the first people. There was no need for speech as they communicated, and sentinels took her to the chamber of their high council. Partaking in strange sustenance, again Twilight heard of the forgotten stories and the oldest dreams, this time with more of the details she so craved.

But when she at last brought up her goal, the breathtaking music of Gnarl-Gnarth, discussion ebbed and they admonished her. Such occult things and outside promises were best forgotten, these advanced ones urged. Instead they beckoned her to indulge in their wonders and enjoy their annual festival, commemorating the progress of their people.

Twilight Sparkle longed to stay, to join in the celebration and learn of their achievements, but still that something else called her. It beckoned her, she could feel it faintly in her head, a harmonic voice speaking in rhythm. The seductively exquisite tune, even more so than it had seemed before. She could only catch faint snippets before it flickered out again, despite devoting her full concentration to it.

Enchanted, she turned down their offer and at their insistence, pledged to turn back. And under their watchful focus, she did leave the main of the non-euclidian eden, but instead returned to its copious outskirts. In these dim parts, for even such an antiquated utopia as this silver city contains areas less than savory, the determined unicorn found those with less inhibition and looser speech. Even so, the beings were hesitant to speak about the Beguiling Whisperer or his kind, and a brief conversation merely revealed the direction she must travel.

But Twilight still paid their fears no heed, regarding it as undue superstition. They had not heard the sweet music she had, they had no idea just how wonderful this great one truly was, better than anything they could offer. Leaving the magnificent silver city, she maintained her pursuit of extrinsic bliss.

The regions she next traveled were largely tundra, a land of sleeping giants and adorned with mammoth carvings. Statues seemed to resemble deities and portray ancient events, but Twilight dared not wake any of the slumberers to ask, as the craftmanship foretold of a violent nature. Further on the elevation continued to lower, and night did not reach these parts, where even gravity was weak. The unicorn would give a shudder as she heard the occasional strangled howl off in the gray horizon, but she had gone too far to consider turning back.

After what seemed to be a month of this nothingness, though time was uncertain and fluid here, a fantastical castle took shape faintly in the distance. And finally the music began to grow clear, and Twilight knew she was near. Her excitement at its peak, she picked up her pace and sprinted, the melody getting stronger.

This was ecstasy. His voice was all around her. She was immersed in it, the promises he made, the things to come, if only she could hear the full composition. The abstruse castle loomed over her, she was almost there!

But then the whispers grew urgent. Hurry, hurry! It spoke to her, time was running out, this would be her only chance. And she alarmedly threw herself forward, across a stone path, so close, so thankfully near the entrance.

And Twilight finally set hoof on its resplendent door, but just as soon, the dream dissolved and she woke up.

She jolted up in her bed, dream still fresh, and as she realized what had happened, the unicorn began to weep. She was dismayed and heartbroken. Nothing in Equestria could possibly rival what she had experienced, her great opportunity had been lost. But then it entered her mind, the last whisper that had reached her ears. All was not forfeit, she still had hope, she’d been instructed how to listen in the waking world!

Armed with this knowledge, the pony quickly made her way to the library kitchen, picking out her favorite salad fork. Magically grasping the utensil, she carefully examined it, no doubt in her mind. Twilight thrust the prongs in her ear, then carefully listened for the glorious music.

Nothing but gushing blood. However, Twilight was a quick study and she had a fairly good idea on how to return those wondrous melodies to her ears.

What precisely had gone wrong? She wanted it bad enough, but was she not focusing hard enough? Had she been distracted? Yes, she was! Her thoughts had been diverted by her vision. Certainly, while the sights of her furtive patron must be wonderful to behold, it was nothing compared to the sweet music. Her traitorous eyes would have to go.

So Twilight set to work with her magic, prodding her oculi. She shed no tears, for it was a joyous thing, she was one step closer to her divine symphony. There was a squelch as one by one, her eyeballs plopped to the wood floor. She wouldn’t be using that spoon for soup anymore. Twilight felt inside her devoid sockets, checking that she had gotten all of the gelatinous pulp out.

Satisfied, she sat and sightlessly listened, straining her good ear. And very slowly, the music began to start. She grew excited, a smile on her face. Her efforts were paying off, the unicorn could hear it clearly now as it picked up. The sounds buzzed around her ears, and the melody strangled her insides. She lurched, feeling as if she would vomit, in a good way.

But no, something was wrong! This wasn’t her divine melody, the one that had mesmerized her. It certainly flowed beautifully, and yet something was off. The beats didn’t quite line up, the flow was unsettling. New sounds stretched her ears, mind stressing to interpret them, and she could feel the rhythm, feel it coursing through her system. Oh Celestia, it was messing up her respiration, her blood wasn’t pumping right! Something was crawling inside her!

The Whisperer had indeed given Twilight Sparkle a reward for her trouble, but not the beautiful song she had so long sought. No, she’d instead been provided another, one containing disturbing notes and rhythms not intended for pony ears.

The afflicted unicorn let out a coarse scream, flailing desperately for a kitchen knife and carving herself. She slit her belly, organs sloppily spilling out as she tried to get at her kidney, she had to feel it, make sure nothing was in there. And then it was her spleen. But then the blood in her leg began to burn, and she started to saw the limb off. Breathing only grew harder as she pulled back her skin, stabbing at the beats pulsing under her muscle. Blood and music pouring out, Twilight sliced veins and bothered her intestines, begging for silence.

But the music only continued, and with it her self-dismemberment.

For Gnarl-Gnarth is a devious eldritch, eternities having rendered him unsympathetic to the hearts of mortals. And so he had ensnared the yearning unicorn with false promises, as he did all those who find themselves too deep in the Dreaming, only to cooly mock as she undid herself.

 As perhaps is demanded of hope, Twilight Sparkle suffered for hers.