//------------------------------// // Fallen Star // Story: Lucidity // by Indulgence //------------------------------// The rasping sounds of somepony desperately fighting for much needed oxygen filled the space as Trixie Lulamoon gasped her way into consciousness. Coughing slightly at first, she greedily drank down the cool air to fill her deflated lungs until gradually her heavy breathing came back under her own control. Her violet eyes, having shot open at the same time as her mouth had thrown itself agape, spun searchingly about in a quest for any clue as to where the hay she was. The only concrete thing they discovered however was that she was currently lying on her side, her body flopped against a near colourless onyx surface whose hardness pressed uncomfortably into the bones of her jaw and shoulder joints. It was unpleasantly like she was laid out on a shined stone slab, a thought which brought with it a variety of distinctly unappealing images. As her heaving chest finally slowed, her panting becoming controlled breath, she slowly found herself able to rise unsteadily to her hooves, wobbling as she tried again to better take in her surroundings. Hardly what we were expecting, if not a tad unimpressive all things considered. Darkness, oppressively thick and opaque, nothing more, extended in the featureless void of her setting. All was inky blackness, above, around and below, and yet without any visible light source she could still see herself, as if she were a blue sketch on a chalkboard. It did not seem therefore that the place was veiled in shadow, acting to hide whatever it might contain, but rather instead that there was quite literally nothing there to be seen. At the same time however it was not simply a colourless box, there being only the floor with any recognisable substance to it, a feature lacking in any walls or ceiling if they even existed at all. Dimensions were indistinguishable, without any distance or horizon to speak of, as if she stood in the eye of a storm of mist. It’s all rather an anti-climax isn’t it. We deserve far better, or at the very least far worse. This was true, but what had she really been expecting? Golden gates and ethereal palaces perhaps? No; no pony on Equis had proven in the least bit capable of recognising how exactly great and powerful Trixie had been, so why should what followed after be any different. Flames, red hot pokers and shackles instead? Again no; although she was well aware that she was not exactly a "good pony" she hardly thought her crimes warranted damnation. So Limbo then, unless of course her present environment was in fact a punishment. ‘If Tartarus is other ponies, then surely the Great and Powerful Trixie can’t be damned’ she mused aloud (in part shocking herself with the sound of her own voice in the emptiness), ‘although some kind of welcome or fanfare would have been nice.’1 Her flippant stoicism was however only skin deep as the thought of infinity here crept up on her, tying a knot in her stomach and hanging weights from her heart. She shivered, the cold beginning to bite at her, climbing up through her hooves. Trixie’s thoughts were cut short as in front of her a pool of light appeared out of nowhere, forming as something akin to a near distance, as if somepony had flicked a switch, causing her to jump almost out of her skin. She could not see from where the illumination fell, but where it landed a chair and table had materialised, both steely grey and angular but nonetheless amazing in the sea of absence in which they had formed. Lacking any other guidance or purpose she made directly for this beacon, careful to keep the building need for something, anything, other than the absolute nothing from making her hoofsteps frantic. Retaining her self-control she reached the drab furniture and huffed: ‘the Great and Powerful Trixie is unimpressed. Surely she deserves far better.’ Her voice rang out, a bit more indignant than she had been aiming for, as she show pouted to her non-existent audience. Nothing happened. Apprehensively she took a step into the pond of white light, burning brightly against the charred setting. Nothing changed. She walked in a circuit around the table, coming to a stop at its matching chair and sat down. Still nothing happened. Her forehooves tapped out a rhythm against the grey surface before her. Nothing and yet more nothing, leaving her only increasingly aware of the body she inhabited, devoid of any other distractions. She shivered, she still felt cold. ‘Is this seriously it?’ Her question caught in her throat, dying as a dry cough and sputtering which spasmed through her, but even when it stopped its sore sensitivity remained. She massaged her windpipe and then forced further coughs forth; still however it felt almost as if something were caught in it, merely becoming more tender from her attempts. ‘Hello Trixie.’ The unicorn’s head spun on its axis in pursuit of the authoritative mare’s voice which had broken the silence. Or at least she thought it had been a mare’s, it was hard to tell, it being an equally uphill task to find the location of its source. It had spoken only two words but they had boomed everywhere all at once. ‘Who’s there?’ Trixie’s own voice in contrast could not raise itself to such heights, sounding empty, unable to hide the fear which had forced its way into her tones. ‘Show yourself!’ Her attempt at anger fared no better, helping little, merely revealing her loss of any security, whilst she craned her neck around to search the shadows at her back. ‘Stop toying with me! The Great and powerful Trixie demands that you show yourself immediately!’ ‘As you wish.’ Three more words, no more distinct than and just as overwhelming as those that preceded them. Trixie spun back round to facing forwards and stopped. Two slitted eyes stared back at her across the desk, their irises azure, as if afloat in the nothingness, meanwhile as their unicorn viewer looked on in shock a set of fanged jaws drew themselves into a grin beneath them.