• Published 7th Jan 2013
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Asylum - Daemon of Decay



When Twilight Sparkle went to bed, she had friends she loved and a life she enjoyed. But she awoke to hospital gowns and padded restraints. And the doctors, they keep telling her that she is sick and none of it was real. They’re lying, right?

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Chapter 18

Asylum

Chapter 18

Twilight’s hooves beat a rapid staccato on the tiles as she fled past Applejack, nearly trampling the surprised doctor in her haste to escape. She ignored Applejack’s call for her to stop, the voice of her friend only driving her harder. Unable to see much through her tears, she darted down hallways at random.

The heavier beat of Applejack’s pursuit grew louder in her ears. “Twilight! Stop running!”

Applejack was gaining on her. Twilight didn’t have to look to see – she knew the earth pony would catch her eventually. Years of watching Applejack and Rainbow Dash compete in every sporting event they could made it clear that she was not going to defeat one of them in a race. Escape was impossible.

She sped down the hall to her left, narrowly missing a wheelchair that had been parked next to another anonymous door. The logical part of Twilight’s mind, the part that knew everything she was doing was futile, noted just how empty this wing of the hospital was. Utility closets and unpainted rooms passed by in a teary haze. The strict schedule at Broadhoof meant everyone had a place to be and an activity to follow, leaving the halls vacant.

There was a crash and a shouted curse from behind Twilight, her pursuer unable to avoid the wheelchair. It would delay Applejack, giving Twilight more time to attempt her futile escape. Twilight changed direction, galloping down a unfinished hallway lined with ceiling tiles and paint buckets, ducking under strips of plastic and around orange cones.

Why am I running?

The question was inescapable, a throbbing tumor in the middle of her mind.

What am I running from? None of this is real. This whole hospital is nothing but a grimey reflection in a funhouse mirror. Applejack isn’t really a doctor. Pinkie Pie isn’t really a patient. And Sweetie Belle…

Twilight clenched her eyes shut as she slowed to a quick trot, tears dripping off her muzzle. She couldn’t finish the thought. The sight of Rarity’s little sister sitting like a lifeless husk had torn out ever fiber of her determination. There had been nothing of Sweetie in those dull and unfocused eyes, nothing of the cheerful little filly Twilight remembered. Twilight choked back a sob. They had cut out Sweetie’s very soul when they had taken her horn, leaving behind an empty shell of a pony.

It’s not real! Twilight shouted at herself, stamping a hoof against the unfinished floor. This is nothing but some twisted mockery of reality! Sweetie Belle hasn’t really been mutilated, just like you’re not really insane! It is a nightmare and nothing more. You just need to wake your friends up.

Twilight blinked away the tears as she strode past the construction equipment, the signs planted on the walls warning of dangerous power tools and exposed wiring. She gingerly stepped over a stack of plywood, avoiding the few upturned nails, as she worked to slow her breathing. The odor of primer and sawdust sat heavy on her tongue. Dust motes danced lazily in the light from the flood lamps mounted on tripods and hung from the walls, their hot glow illuminating gutted rooms and skeletal walls. Sheets of paper had been taped over the windows to protect them during the work, the only natural light leaking through the thin tears around their edges.

Doing her best to silence her sniffling, Twilight made her way through the detritus of the construction workers. It was obvious the laborers were not free from Broadhoof’s stern schedules. Wherever they had relocated to for lunch was far enough away that Twilight was left to wander in silence.

She tried to focus on the construction work, but her mind wouldn’t obey. Sweetie Belle’s empty expression lurked on every unpainted wall and in every flickering light. Like a rudderless boat, Twilight moved without direction and ended up in what she assumed was going to be an office of some kind, the mostly finished floor containing an unpacked desk and a few half-wrapped mirrors resting against the wall.

Exhausted, Twilight planted her flank on a relatively clean pile of wood. “Why would it do this?” she croaked, burying her head in her hooves. “Why do that to Sweetie Belle?”

Before the question had even left her lips, she already knew the answer. Because it wants to break you, she thought, remembering Princess Celestia’s warning. It wants to control the Elements.

It wants to make this all real.

A bolt of anger stiffened Twilight’s spine, cleaving through the sorrow clouding her mind. Lifting her head, she gazed around the room. “You’re not going to win,” she whispered with a sniffle. Twilight swung her head from side to side, glaring at every patch of shadow she could see, before she settled on her murky reflection in one of the mirrors leaning against the far wall. “I’m not going to let you beat me. I’m not going to let you make this nightmare a reality. I cannot – I will not – let you conquer Equestria with your evil.”

Twilight slowly rose to her hooves and advanced on the mirror, the determination and fire in her voice rising with her. “I’m not going to let you torture Sweetie Belle, or Rarity, or Pinkie Pie, or… or anypony! I don’t care what you try, I’m not going to give up! I’m the Princesses’ last hope, and I won’t let her down. I’m going to beat you. Do you hear me? You’re not going to win!

Her question echoed around the room and out into the empty hallways. Twilight turned away and moved toward the doorway with her head held high, a statue of brazen defiance. "I'm not going to break," she whispered. "I won't let it win."

Just as she reached the doorway a small voice, quiet and calm but as cold as a winter night, answered her back.

"Is that what you think?"

Twilight froze in place, sweat clinging to the back of her neck. She turned slowly, her heart rate rising. Behind her, in the mirror, she could see her reflection, her face split in a broad grin.

Twilight wasn't smiling.

"You..." she began as she narrowed her eyes. "Yes. It’s not what I think, it’s what I know."

“Ha! So, the pony that uses her friends to get what she wants and hurts those around her is going to stand up to her spooky reflection, hmm? What are you going to do, break my mirror? Shout at the shadows some more? I’m sure there’s a cobweb around here you could tear apart,” her reflection said as it turned to examine one of its hooves with a nonchalant air.

Twilight took a deliberate step towards the mirror. “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered.

“And I never said you were,” it hissed back, revealing two rows of malformed teeth. “It’s funny that you would bring up fear, though. We both know what you’re really afraid of. Like any fraud, you’re afraid of being revealed for the liar you are.”

“I am not a fraud! You’re impersonating me, you twisted freak! Everything you’ve created here, it’s all one big lie!”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort, Twilight. You’re the one that’s lying. You won't accept the truth, even as you mislead your so-called friends and use them to your own ends. You hold onto your fantasies of a life in Ponyville that isn’t yours, believing yourself to be Twilight the hero when you’re just Twilight the sick little filly.”

“I’m not sick!” Twilight shouted, stomping her hoof for emphasis.

The other Twilight leaned forward, its face filling more of the uncovered mirror. “Says the little filly arguing with her own reflection.”

“You’re not my reflection,” said Twilight with deliberate care, reining in her anger and resisting the urge to just buck the mirror apart. “You’re part of the dark shadow trying to break me. You failed to do it back in Ponyville, so now you’re targeting the ponies I know, hoping to find a weakness and make me give in. I’m here to tell you that you’re not going to succeed. Every time you show me another one of my friends who is hurt and suffering, you’re only making my resolve stronger. If I give in, then they will continue to suffer for the rest of their lives.” Twilight took another step forward. “Which means I will never surrender.”

She felt the thrill of a minor victory when her reflection leaned back a bit, the mocking humor vanishing from its face. Tapping a hoof against its chin, it examined Twilight with a critical eye. “What do you think this ‘shadow’ really is?”

Twilight blinked. “I… what? Is this some kind of trick question?”

Her broken twin’s expression remained still as she continued to study Twilight silently.

“You’re some sort of powerful monster, obviously. The level of magical power is extraordinary. You’ve already taken most of my friends, and you’re trying to use the Elements of Harmony to conquer all of Equestria.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re evil.”

“Evil?” her reflection repeated with indignity, holding a hoof to its breast. “Twilight, you injure me. I told you before, all I’m trying to do is help you.”

“All you’ve done is show me a world where my friends are suffering and everything I know is a lie! How is that helping me?”

“All I want to do is take your pain away, Twilight,” her reflection said. Its words were soft and gentle – a harsh contrast to the grotesque smile that was only growing wider, splitting her face in a meaty sneer. “You hold onto your delusions because you’re afraid of facing the truth. I just want to heal you.”

It was Twilight’s turn to laugh. “Heal me? Heal me? Ha! You talk about helping and healing when you’re just trying to break me so you can have the Elements to yourself.”

“I’m not trying to break you, Twilight,” it whispered back. “I wouldn’t need to, even if I wanted to. You can’t break what’s already broken.”

Twilight froze. “What?”

“You’re broken, Twilight. That is why you are suffering: your mind is not whole. I am here to fix you, to convince you that you’re a fraud, that you hurt other ponies, and to help you see that your friends suffer. That is the truth, Twilight. Your delusions are nothing but broken fantasies grafted onto a tortured mind by uncaring physicians.” The reflection narrowed its gaze. “Your doctors want to make you into something different, something false. They want you to believe another lie. I won’t allow that. I won’t let you live in a lie any more!”

A hint of curiosity floated up from the beneath Twilight’s anger like a bubble rising to the surface of a murky pond, but before she could say anything her reflection had moved on, its voice growing louder, reverberating around the room like a thunderclap. “I’m here to end your suffering no matter what. It might hurt, having the truth returned to you, but sometimes healing is painful. You won’t live in delusion and fantasy any longer. You’re going to see the truth!”

The disturbed dust floated between the two mares as they stared at one another, their brows furrowed in equal determination.

“You don’t seem to want to take my word for it,” the reflection said.

“Why would I trust anything you say? You’ve lied to me, mocked me, and tried to confuse me since the beginning. Do you think you can convince me I’m crazy when you’ve done nothing but spew blatant lies? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

Twilight’s reflection ignored the question as it pulled away, sinking further into the depths of the mirror. “You don’t trust the doctors here, either. Perhaps you just need a second opinion?” A cruel smile split its muzzle into two wedges of rotten flesh. “There is somepony else who can help give you the medicine you need.”

“Who? Another one of your illusions?” Twilight asked, taking another step forward. “Maybe you’re just going to try and show me more ponies I love suffering in your cruel false reality. My mother as a sociopath? My father as a quadriplegic? What new lie do you have up your sleeve?”

Mocking laughter was her only answer. Grinning at Twilight, her reflection winked. With a sharp pop, the bulbs on the flood lamps all burst at once.

Twilight stumbled backwards, drowning in an ocean of darkness. One of her hooves caught on the edge of the wood pile she had been sitting on earlier, causing her to spin blindly as she tried to find her footing. She let out an ‘oof’ as her shoulder slammed into one of the walls, her wild flailing keeping her upright and off of any nails through sheer chance.

Carefully planting her hooves beneath her, Twilight lifted herself upright. Her tail pressed up against the wall as she glanced around herself, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her panicked heart. Amber sunlight leaked through from the paper-covered windows, but the interior of the unfinished wing was a nearly impenetrable wall of gloom.

Twilight braced herself against the wall like an invalid, trying to steady her racing heart. “Oh Celestia…” she murmured, her rapid breathing the only sound. She gave one of the mirror a glare with as much of her annoyance as she could muster, but it couldn’t be located in the deep shadows. “Is that it?” she called out.

There was no answer to her challenge, only the echo of her angry voice reaching her ears.

Twilight snorted as she regained her poise. “Really? Your big trick was to cause the lights to short circuit? Wow. That certainly was impressive. You truly got the best of me! I guess I’ll just walk out of here and let you take over all of Equestria. Because nothing is more frightening than the lights going out.”

The sound of her own voice fading into the distance only made the darkness seem without end, but Twilight shook off the disquieting notion. There is no reason to be scared. It’s just a natural biological response formed by millennia of evolution, she said, taking comfort in the cold science.

Twilight’s smile faded when she glanced down at the floor. What faint light there was available was barely enough for her to make out the floor beneath her, much less any forgotten nails that were poised to take advantage of a defenseless hoof. The golden rays that pierced the holes and gaps in the paper were few and far between. “Maybe the shadow is trying to defeat me with tetanus,” said Twilight, filling the silence with a forced laugh as she cautiously moved forward, prepared to jerk her hoof back if she felt the sharp touch of cold metal in the half-light.

Twilight froze when the soft clip-clop of approaching hooves reached her ears. For a moment she felt both hope and fear that Applejack had finally found her, drawn to her by the sound of her voice. Her ears twitched as she tried to track the other pony’s approach. A frown spread over her face as she turned to stare at the distant corner of the room, her eyes searching the darkness as the hoofsteps grew louder.

Twilight kept her expression firm, fighting down the unease as her reflection’s words echoed in the back of her mind. She shook her head. Her ears had to be playing tricks on her, creating phantoms in between the unpainted walls and stacks of lumber.

As her pupils attempted to wrest sight from the grip of the shadows, the long, sharp beak of some monstrously oversized raptor emerged from the darkness, the rest of its equine form oozing out from behind it. Pulling free from the grasp of the shadows, it was clear the beak was naught but a porcelain mask shaped into a long and savage point, the gleaming ivory a striking burst of color in the dim light. Bulky fabric was draped over its torso while its lower legs were wrapped in tightly bound bandages. Not an inch of the pony’s body was left uncovered.

It – or rather, he, as Twilight assumed from his stature and size – strode towards her with a casual poise that seemed as alien and out of place as his appearance. A low hat was planted atop his head, its brim pierced by a pair of porcelain ears. Upon his back could be glimpsed a pair of bulging saddlebags, the heavy thread and crude needlework bearing the mark of frequent repairs.

I’ve seen him before, she realized with a start. It had been from a distance, but his heavy garb and strange mask made it clear it was the same pony she had seen when she had been outside with Pinkie Pie. Just like before, she felt a heavy sense of unease settle over her body, a cold, nervous tingle in her extremities that made her feel out of place the longer she examined him.

The stallion was a study in monochrome, the off-white of his mask and bandaged legs contrasting with the blacks and browns of his wrappings. Nothing was clean; the bandages were stained with mud and a fine layer of dust coated his entire body.

He halted a few yards from Twilight, his beak slicing through a few beams of dirty light that painted his mask a golden-brown. His calm posture and travel-worn clothing were a lackluster antithesis to the shock of his sudden arrival. Even his unsettling mask wouldn’t be out of place at a Nightmare Night costume party. It was uneasy confusion and disbelief, not true fear, that coursed through Twilight’s veins. He tilted his head to the side as they regarded each other in silence.

And then she looked through the holes in the mask where his eyes should be, and screamed.

Twilight sprinted for the open doorway and took off back the way she had come, heedless of the ankle-high equipment and the discarded nails. Crates of tiles and trestles stacked with wood loomed up out of the darkness, the pale light drifting through the covered windows giving little warning before she was forced to dodge to avoid a collision. She ran without direction once again, aiming to put as much distance between herself and that thing as possible.

Twilight could feel the empty pits in its mask just behind her, the stallion gaining on her despite how hard she ran. There was no escape. It was going to get her, and she was going to fall into those bottomless holes in its face and never escape.

Twilight tried to draw magic into her horn with heedless abandon, instinct demanding she try to protect herself even as it dissipated uselessly in the air, sucking out her energy and leaving her head pounding. The silencer on her horn left her as defenseless as a newborn even as she screamed at herself to do something, anything, to protect herself.

Ahead of her was was a hallway that was still lit, but it was nothing but false hope: the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel, only the tunnel was collapsing around her. She was just tiring herself out before the inevitable. She was so close, but that thing was even closer.

Blinded by fear and panic and pushing her legs harder than she’d ever run before, Twilight ran headlong into Applejack.

“Oof!” both mares grunted as they went down in a tangled mess of hooves and legs.

“Twilight!” Applejack shouted when she managed to rise to her hooves, her face burning with anger. “What in tarnation were you thinking–”

The rest of her furious exclamation was cut off when Twilight leapt up and pulled Applejack into a furious hug, sobbing and squishing her face against her friend’s neck.

Applejack’s angry expression deflated like a punctured balloon as she instinctively wrapped an arm around Twilight’s back. “Shh… It’s okay, Twilight. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“No! Please! You’ve got to get out of here!” Twilight said, pulling her head back to give Applejack a pleading stare as she tugged on Applejack’s arm. “We need to hurry! It’s coming!”

Applejack frowned. “Now hold your horses. We ain’t going anywhere. Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

“But he’s right behind me!” said Twilight as she turned in place, moving Applejack between herself and the darkness while she pointed back where she had come. “Please! It’s going to get me!”

Applejack turned her gaze to follow Twilight’s frantic gestures, peering into the shadows behind her. There was a long pause. “Twi, there ain’t nothing down there,” she said. She turned back to Twilight, her expression shifting from confusion to neutral professionalism. “Tell me, did you see something when you were running around? Who was going to get you?

Glancing between the darkened hallway and Applejack, Twilight found her tongue leaden in her mouth. Her panic began to melt away as time stretched on without the stallion in the bird-mask making an appearance. “But… he was right behind me,” she whispered as she peered into the shadows, trying to catch a hint of ivory. There was no flash of white, no heavy clothing, no bottomless pits of nothing. Just half-illuminated tiles and stacks of unused masonry.

“He? Was it one of the construction workers?” Applejack’s eyes flashed open, her voice growing hard and insistent as she began to look Twilight over. “Did one of them say anything to you? Did one of them touch you?”

“What? No. I saw a...” Twilight’s voice trailed away as she took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear away the last of the fear-induced haze that gripped her thoughts. She felt like she were sobering up after a half-remembered party, shock and embarrassment filling her face as she realized what she had just been telling Applejack. It doesn’t matter if it’s real, they won’t believe you. Taking control of her breath, she turned to meet Applejack’s gaze. “I mean, I thought I saw somepony in the shadows. I guess I was just scared when the lights went out,” she lied, blushing deeply and fighting the urge to double-check the shadows again.

A look of relief passed over Applejack’s face. “Tarnation, girl. You had me worried something fierce. You come hollerin’ and screamin’ out of that hallway, bawling your eyes out… I thought you’d hurt yourself! I was ready to tan your hide after the chase you put me through.” She narrowed her eyes. “I still am, now that I think about it. Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

Twilight lowered her head. “Sorry.”

“You can’t just take off like that,” Applejack continued. “You could have seriously hurt yourself. If you keep that up and we’ll have to put you in fetters to make sure you can’t run. Understand?”

The thought of having her legs bound like a prisoner, forcing her to walk no faster than an awkward trot sent a shiver up Twilight’s spine. “Yes, Applejack. I understand. It’s just, after seeing Sweetie Belle…”

Both mare’s winced at the name. “I didn’t want you to see that,” Applejack said as she brushed a hoof down Twilight’s neck. “And I’m sorry you did. I wish I’d known Rarity was visiting today.”

Twilight spared a glance back down the darkened hallway as she shuffled a bit closer to Applejack. “What happened to Sweetie Belle?” she finally asked.

Applejack didn’t meet Twilight’s eyes. “It ain’t my place to go talking ‘bout other ponies misfortunes, Twilight. But what happened to Sweetie… Well, there’s a reason Rarity is so against keratotomies. Sweetie Belle is why Doctor Rose’s studies are so important. What happened to her is… all too common.” Her expression tightened. “There are some doctors who have no problem with what happened to Sweetie Belle. Even when mistakes are made, and little fillies are turned into…”

Applejack didn’t finish her sentence. The silence between the mare’s dragged on, Twilight struggling to find something to say as Applejack stared ahead through bitter eyes. A bead of sweat ran down Twilight’s temple. “That’s what they’re going to do to me too, isn’t it?” Twilight whispered. “If I don’t show progress, they’re gonna cut off my horn and make me like Sweetie Belle.”

“No.” The firm resolve in Applejack’s voice took Twilight aback. Applejack stepped closer. “Twilight, we’re not gonna let that happen. You’ve already shown leaps and bounds in terms of your progress. The lack of hallucinations, your ability to interact socially, your mental clarity… No. You’re not going to lose your horn, Twilight. You’ve come too far. I won’t let them. You can count on me.”

“I always knew I could trust in you, Applejack,” replied Twilight. “You’re one of my best friends, after all.”

Applejack gave Twilight a faintly embarrassed grin. “Heh, yeah… I guess you could say we’re best friends.”

“You’re the only one I can trust. Rose isn’t telling you everything.”

The smile vanished. “Stop that. I don’t want you talking ill of Doctor Rose, you hear?”

“But he lied to you!”

Twilight’s protests were cut off with a hard stomp to the floor. “Enough! Doctor Rose is one of the most dedicated ponies I know. He’s put his career on the line arguing against dehornings. If there is any one in Equestria you should trust to fight to keep you safe, it’s him. You don’t understand just how much he risks in fighting against the status quo here, Twilight.”

“But…”

Anger flashed over Applejack’s face as she bit her tongue, letting out a long, deliberate breath instead. “I know that Rose can be a bit… well, full of himself sometimes. He thinks he’s the best thing to happen to Equestrian medical science in a generation.” Applejack chuckled wearily. “But that doesn’t mean he’s wrong, either. That stallion is trying his best to keep what happened to Sweetie Belle from ever happening again. He might be ambitious and a bit vain at times, but don’t you ever doubt his motives. He wants what is right for his patients, just like I do. Okay?”

Twilight nodded. “Okay."

“Then let’s head on back,” Applejack said, but before Twilight could take more than a few steps she was halted by an upraised hoof. “And Twi… you can’t tell anyone what happened today, what with you running off and all. I meant what I said about the fetters. I’m gonna give you a break this once because of the… extenuating circumstances, but if you keep breaking the rules like that, we’re gonna have no choice. Remember your promise to me.”

“I do,” said Twilight. “I don’t want it any more than you do.” Applejack chuckled and set off again, Twilight a few steps behind.

When they reached the intersection Twilight paused, glancing back over her shoulder. She could just barely make out a sharp blade of white porcelain in the distant shadows before the lights flickered back on with a snap, banishing the darkness and revealing nothing but an unpainted hallway under construction.

With a shiver, Twilight hurried to catch up with Applejack, ignoring the eyes she could feel watching her every step.