A very long time ago:

"Just kill me already." The stallion was chained to a wall in some dim place. His body was bruised, battered and worn. After somehow managing to harass zebra forces for an entire month on his own from the hills he was finally cornered by some cackling example of their kind.

"It is what you and your kind do, isn't it?" He groaned. His request was met with a kick to the stomach just strong enough to knock the wind out of him. He was almost too exhausted to even grunt in response. He expected a quick death, especially after all the damage he'd managed to inflict on his lonesome.

The zebra tormentor never lowered their cloak, never speaking at all. Instead he simply performed all manner of hideous experiments upon his prisoner.

"You will get nothing out of me, you twisted stripe!" The cloaked zebra merely pulled out a syringe full of some strange vile black liquid, promptly jamming it into his chest and pressing the plunger. He moaned through the pain.

"Why are you doing this? What are you pumping into me!?" It was the third time in as many days. The size of the injections were increasing over time. There was no real sense of the passing of time in here. How long was he in here?

Perhaps it was time to take a different approach.

"Why? Just tell me why.." The cloaked figure turned towards a table covered in all sorts of tubes, vials, beakers and mixers. A large tome sat there. The zebra occasionally turned a page within. He dumped one bowl into another causing a puff of acrid smoke to pour forth. The stallion choked on it. His captor did not even seem to notice. The silent figure picked up a pestle, beginning to grind more unknown things which smelled terrible in a mortar. Finally the choking subsided as the smoke cleared. Each day the torment was different.

Some seemingly random thing was done to him every waking moment, even when he was not awake. Fainting from lack of food and water was becoming common. Sometimes he would dream, more often he would have nightmares. He once was told one of the princesses could sometimes sense when a pony suffered them. Where was she now then, surely this was enough to notice? His dreams were becoming absolutely horrific. The chains which bound the stallion cut into his legs, his neck and midriff. Every moment was becoming pure agony. Why didn't he die?

"Princess..princess..please help me..please hear me..help me..." He found himself mumbling under his breath sometimes.

The words drew a wicked snicker from the horrible zebra holding him here. This place felt wrong. He felt wrong. The world came into focus and receded again. Each time it faded he hoped would be the last. It never was. Occasionally the zebra would force the smallest bits of food down his throat or water completely without prompting. It was just enough to keep him alive. He did not have the strength left to resist. Sometimes a flicker of will would ignite itself in his tortured mind.

"Let me die, let me die you sick freak!" This only elicited echoing laughter that came from everywhere at once.

"Huh?" What was happening? The dark place swam and swirled, only to drop to empty silence once more.

The zebra scrawled something in the book. His eyes flew open and he twitched. Where was he? The whole world was pain. No other thought passed as he languished in this cold void of a place. Streaming lights flashed in his vision as he writhed. It felt as if a red hot poker was shoved into his gut. Desperately he tried to force himself to faint, to die, anything to escape the burning pain. It would not end. He screamed, yanking the chains for uncountable moments until it finally subsided. Coughing once more he was let the sweet release of sleep. He was not aware of the amount of time passing in the haze of misery. It must have been days. Weeks?

Barely able to remember a world of love and light long lost, his awareness slowly returned yet again.

"No.." He sputtered. Awaking only to this endless torture was breaking not only his body, but his mind as well. He was cognizant of this and fighting bitterly inside to retain some semblance of sanity. He could barely see in the dim light. He could tell he was becoming seriously dehydrated and malnourished. Along with the injuries from the cutting manacles he was in truly critical condition. Surely he would slip from life soon? In fits of recognition of his predicament he was both impressed he lasted this long, and yet wishing it would finally end.

In one of his more lucid moments he spoke to the source of his agony.

"You, stripe..what do you have to gain from this? You must know by now I have nothing I can even tell you." The sinister laughter it drew was even more dark than before. The sound was cold, devoid of reason or real emotion. What was this zebra? He seemed more like one of the bedtime stories of horrors sent to Tartarus. Surely he could not be something used to scare little foals into being good come to life. His presence certainly felt like no living thing. A far off clanging alarm was raised.

Yelling outside this prison of pain in some language he did not know brought his attention to focus for the briefest of moments. For once the zebra spoke.

"It would seem our time is at an end." The voice was like listening to something being dragged across a chalkboard: horrible, vile and enthralling at the same time. He opened a lock box covered in subtly glowing black runes. The chained stallion's eyes went wide. A humming crystal rose from it, streams of purple and black energy held it above the box. He watched in morbid fascination as it floated there.

The air took on a disgusting tinged hue. He could feel the wickedness and power this impossible thing contained. It hovered there as a white hot beam of light shot out of it, stabbing into the stallion's chest.

"No!" The screams of horror and pain which followed dwarfed any which had come before.

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What hovers in that lonely pitch betwixt the walls of the world?