//------------------------------// // 5. Elemental Insanity // Story: Wisp // by Night_Shine //------------------------------// Trotting forward through the wavering atmosphere of empty space that surrounded her like a thick fluid, Twilight carried a powerful aura of determination, such that she did not even spare a glance over her shoulder to look at the structure of a great bridge that loomed over her. As a result, she did not notice the rift closing behind her… Neither did she look to the side, for there was nothing to see all around her. Wisps of nothing flew across the empty space and above the empty road, flitting from place to place, eternally restless. Great clouds of nothing rumbled with silent thunder overhead, echoing across the empty plain of nothing that stretched far into the distance. The very air itself dripped with nothing; the sickening stench of nothing surrounded Twilight to the extent that its disgusting odor hung like smog in the air. It was from this very same nothing that the mirror directly ahead was formed; although it had manifested a physical form of a mirror, Twilight knew in her gut that this was only a façade, a face it had grown only to intimidate her. The mirror itself was horrifying in its beauty, for it had taken a form that it knew would elicit morbid fascination from any who had the misfortune to lay eyes upon its splendor. The polished black metal that composed its thick frame had a depth to it that no other darkness could match; it appeared to be almost woven into the darkness that surrounded it, exuding a palpable aura of nothing. Although the center of the mirror was like any other, built from shining chrome, its silver was stained black by the darkness it chose to reflect. No other mirror would dare to reflect such darkness as this; it was not in their nature to lie. Yet reflect this mirror did, taking some sadistic pleasure in the deathly black substance that festered on its surface, waiting for another victim to infect with emptiness. The first victim approached. Twilight stepped up before the mirror, exposing the whole of her Self, craning her neck to gaze into its blackened depths. Yet, no matter how closely she looked, she could not see her reflection. The mirror only reflected nothing. Speaking aloud just to know that she still retained her voice, that the Void had not yet robbed her of the beauty of sound, she asked “What is this thing? Why isn’t it…” her voice trailed off as a figure began to approach her from the other side of the mirror, steadily trotting into her view. Its silhouette was veiled by the darkness; it wore the shadows like a protective cloak, hiding its identity behind a mask carefully woven from infinitesimal threads of nothing. The figure stepped before Twilight, mirroring her physical structure in every dimension. Doubtlessly, though, this was the only structure that the reflection mirrored; beneath the skin it hid a powerful spirit of darkness she did not share—this darkness composed the core essence of one mindless servant to a master horrifying in nature. This was the first time that Twilight had ever been truly disturbed by seeing her body reflected perfectly upon the surface of a looking glass, for unlike all others…this mirror always lied. Twilight stared into her reflection. On the other side of the mirror, Twilight stared into her reflection. Suddenly the reflection planted one hoof out of the mirror, stepping from one realm of darkness into another. As the reflection stepped through it became twisted; it became demented beyond the comprehension of any but Twilight, for…she recognized the figure emerging from her reflection. Its eyes were stretched wide across its face, with barely visible pupils dotting their centers. Its mane was frayed and chaotic, spilling out from her head in every direction. Its smile was harsh and unnatural, its brilliant white teeth stained deathly black by reflecting the darkness which surrounded them. Twilight stepped back, unnerved; her horn glowed a beautiful violet, casting out rays of light and life into the darkness, which recoiled and hissed like a wounded snake. Fear blossomed in her mind. In another time, in another space, another pony advanced toward the mirror, her expression not of determination but of innocent glee, her eyes closed and her heart lively. Her mane sprang up from atop her head with ecstasy, bouncing with every bound of its owner, seeming to laugh for no reason at all—the best possible reason to laugh. Bounding forward, she advanced towards the mirror, whose deathly stillness embodied the very antithesis of her essence. The second victim approached. She opened her eyes, and then stopped. Those who had only just opened now had to bear witness to the darkest view she would ever know. The second victim stared into her reflection, her gleeful expression scrunching into a mask of disgust. The figure that approached her had taken her reflection and twisted it beyond even her darkest nightmares, putting on a form that she had worn but once in her life. Its eyes were stretched wide and unblinking; its tooth-filled mouth reflected the darkness. Its mane had fallen flat against its head, loosely dangling beneath that horrible smiling face. Its skin was a shade darker than the second victim’s, not that perfect and beautiful pastel pink which reflected her personality with perfect accuracy but a sickly gray. The second victim stepped back, suddenly unsure, her naïve optimism deflating faster than a balloon in a freezer. In another time, in another space, another pony advanced towards the mirror, her expression not of innocent glee but of prudish disgust. She hesitantly stepped into the plane of darkness, trying her best not to recoil as the shadows of nothing stuck to her beautiful coat like black tar. Some such materials would have felt downright pleasant to the touch; even mud, in the proper situation and with the right usage, could soothe and relax the skin, rejuvenating it, filling it with new life. However, this dark fluid that bubbled and boiled on her skin did the complete opposite; its presence seemed to drain energy from her very soul, sucking the life from her in a manner not unsimilar to Time’s. Nevertheless, she stepped forward, proceeding into the repulsive darkness. The third victim approached. The third victim’s jaw nearly dropped off of her face in sheer horror at the figure that steadily trotted towards her; she immediately backed away from it, repelled by its very presence—such a presence was an insult to every Thing that dared to live. Its mane was frazzled and dirty; once beautiful, now fallen from grace into darkness. Its eyes were stretched wider than dinner plates, staring without blinking, constantly twitching. Strangely enough, to anyone who would not have instantly recognized it, the figure was wearing a set of bathrobes and slippers on its hooves, stained black by the corruptive atmosphere. And yet, this form was horribly familiar to the third victim, as the disconcerting memory of when she had worn it could not—or would not—leave her mind. In another time, in another space, another pony advanced towards the mirror, her expression not of prudish disgust but of brash fury. Her wings beat at her sides, driving her forward into the black nothingness like a bullet through water; the sea of oblivion that surrounded her pushed her back faster than any gust of wind, taunting her with its lazy strength. Pounding heartbeats filled her ears, faster and faster; her heart could not overpower the all-powerful force of the oppressive darkness. Sighing and giving up, she floated to the ground, taking a second—is the passing of Time quantifiable within the Void?—to rest. Craning her neck up, she saw a very interesting something ahead of her. It looked kind of like…a mirror. The fourth victim approached. With every step that the reflection took towards her, its legs wobbled and shook, jittering so fast that it made the fourth victim’s head dizzy. Its pupils, tiny pinpricks in the vast white space of her eyes, darted every direction, looking for something, finding nothing. Its tail drooped down beneath its legs; its body radiated pure fear from behind a paper-thin mask of confidence. Its mouth was not stretched into a toothy smile but compressed into a frown, then a smile again, and then a frown, paranoid and scared. The fourth victim glared at the figure in disgust, for she could remember the exact moment it reflected and it annoyed her to no end…or to her end. In another time, in another space, another pony advanced towards the mirror, her expression not of brash fury but of petrified terror. Every meek step she took into the shadow-infested plains of nothing sent cold shivers through her spine, running up her back like spiders of ice. It was of little importance, though—is the passing of Space quantifiable within the Void?—for if she could not come to the mirror, the mirror would come to her. In three steps it was within sight; in five, it was within reach. The fifth victim approached. Emerging from the mirror, emanating roiling waves of hatred, was a figure that the fifth victim recognized all too well. Its eyes were glaring slits, shooting daggers at any and all who suffered the fate of drawing its gaze. Its mouth wide open, screaming five silent words that the fifth victim could remember with distinct clarity, from a night so long ago—the best of nights and the worst of nights. Its body wore a once-beautiful dress decorated with irony; beautiful green vines delicately woven into its design were shredded and ripped, and pretty pink flowers that once clung to its wearer's mane had been thrown off. This creature’s gaze locked onto the fifth victim, who froze in absolute terror, immobilized by the sight of her reflection advancing slowly towards her, its body tensed like that of a tiger ready to pounce onto its prey. Five little ponies stared into their darkness reflected by the lying mirror, their eyes pinned to the silhouettes which steadily advanced towards them, floating across the black void with wisps of shadow trailing behind them. A sixth and a seventh among them walked separate paths through the Void; their fates would determine the fates of these doomed victims who, as of this moment frozen in Time, were slated to die.