//------------------------------// // Agony and Ecstasy // Story: Because I Could not Stop for Death // by ShinigamiDad //------------------------------// Zecora stumbled and squinted into the gloom as the passage narrowed and darkened: “Slow down a bit, Gil--I’m having a hard time keeping up!” Gil’s horn brightened as he turned back toward the disoriented zebra: “Sorry--I forget that you don’t know every twist and turn of this place.” Kla’atra’s eyes flashed back from the shadows ahead: “And it will have made to appear that the topology here shall have shifted somewhat.” Gil nodded as he stopped next to Zecora: “True--it’s not exactly the same. Bramble’s right: things really have shifted markedly if even this protected area is warped.” Zecora furrowed her brow: “Is it still safe then? Could gaps have opened?” Gil shrugged: “No way to know without going on, and we have to go on--there’s no other path. Even if this cave passage is compromised it’s still worlds better than being exposed above.” Zecora moved forward again, keeping pace with Gil as Green Streak closed ranks from behind: “You said something about this place having echos of Grey Thorn’s chambers? What did you mean?” “Several of the other shielded areas correspond to alien places, as does the Swamp itself, but down here exists an analog to Grey Thorn’s secret chambers beneath Canterlot.” “So the echoes are of the things he did?” “In part, but they’re heavily laced with his own dreams and delusions. Each time he stripped another piece of himself away it was a terrible trauma, and his mind would collapse in on itself  in defense.” “So I assume another of his shades is down here as well?” Zecora and her three companions pulled up short as Bramble suddenly appeared in front of the group, standing before a low entrance: “Two, actually. Grey Thorn had what he thought was a breakthrough and tried to push forward as fast as he could. He’d barely recovered from one sacrifice when he attempted another.” “Is there anything to learn here, anything of value that I can try to pass along to Luna?” “I don’t know. I’m not really sure what she’s doing with the information, so I can’t tell you what may be valuable.” Zecora shook her head: “I don’t know, either, though I assume Twilight is likely behind it.” “Your young friend? I hope she’s made of sterner stuff than most if she’s tampering in this. Grey Thorn discovered terrible secrets and saw darkness beyond mortal understanding.” Zecora nodded: “I’m sure she’s as prepared as she can be, and she has had the experience of wielding Death’s power as the Harbinger. Surely that has toughened her some.” Gil shrugged and drifted forward past Bramble: “Maybe, but there are things worse than death…” The five companions passed beneath the entrance to the chamber beyond, and as they spread out a bit Zecora stopped and stared. Gil looked back with a wry grin: “Not quite what you were expecting I take it?” The zebra took a tentative step forward and peered at the variety of ponies engaged in all manner of sexual groupings, from two to five or more. She scanned the dimly-lit cave and saw stallions mounting and thrusting into mares, ponies licking and sucking each other with wild abandon, mares riding atop stallions or grinding against other mares. The air was filled with ecstatic moans and gasps as pony after pony reached their climax, only to shift position and partner, and begin anew. Zecora stepped delicately around a pair of unicorn mares engaged in mutual oral sex as a dark-brown stallion put his hooves across the top mare’s shoulders and mounted her from behind, driving his loins into the lower mare’s face. Zecora furrowed her brow and glanced at Gil: “What am I seeing here? What’s going on?” Gil drifted over and around a pegasus stallion splayed out spread-eagle on the floor with a pale-blue mare atop him, grinding her sex into his muzzle. “These are the echoes of Grey Thorn’s ecstasies.” “Ecstasies?” Bramble stepped up beside Zecora: “He would often experience sexual release as part of the process of giving and taking energy from this place.” Gil nodded: “So what you see here is a kind of play, if you will, using shades as characters to act out those fantasies he could never achieve in real life, energized by his sexual tension.” Zecora squinted into the gloom: “Are--or rather, were--these real ponies, or just fantasy images?” “A bit of both. Most were real victims, pulled in from dreams as they died, shaped by Grey Thorn’s fantasies.” “But now…?” “Now they are merely shades.” “Were they aware of what had been done?” Gil nodded grimly: “Oh, yes--they were quite aware of their surroundings and situation. They were compelled to act out his erotic delusions.” Zecora grimaced: “Continually?” “Until they finally succumbed to the Vacuum, yes. Its drain is slower down here, but inevitable, all the same.” Zecora chewed her lip: “Is-is he in here, too?” Bramble pointed toward another narrow opening in the far wall: “He’s back there.” Zecora picked her way across the floor until she stepped clear of a dark orange stallion driving breathlessly into a yellow unicorn mare who was in turn sliding her glowing horn in and out of a panting, white pegasus, held aloft by her wings spread across a pair of stone outcroppings. Gil drifted beside the shuddering zebra and nodded at the rump and switching tail of a thrusting, gray stallion: “There he is, engaged with his own personal fantasy.” Zecora moved closer and noticed a pair of dark, elegant wings spread on either side of Grey Thorn. A glittering, black horn  suddenly rose in response to Grey Thorn’s cries, and Nightmare Moon’s voice rang in the air: “More! Give me more! Never stop, and we will live forever!” Gil slipped around in front of the bench over which Nightmare Moon was bent and nodded to Grey Thorn: “At it again?” Grey Thorn’s shade stopped and opened its eyes: “Always. Where else would I be after an exchange?” Zecora maneuvered beside Gil: “Exchange?” “What he called it whenever he extracted a pony’s essence and channeled it into his creation. Really anytime he interfaced directly, but it was most, well, stimulating, when he took a pony’s lifeforce.” “So he would fantasize about being with Nightmare Moon when he was killing?” Gil turned toward Grey Thorn: “Did you openly fantasize while you were draining ponies?” Grey Thorn slid down off Nightmare Moon’s back and sprawled across a nearby couch: “Sometimes. But usually the stimulation just rushed up on me. I found those were the best times--the ones I wasn’t ready for.” Zecora furrowed her brow: “Why Nightmare Moon? Surely he knew he couldn’t have her.” Gil smiled: “Why Nightmare Moon? She was in exile--what hope did you have?” The shade blinked slowly and stared into the distance. Zecora tipped her head sideways: “Had you never asked him that question?” Bramble stepped up alongside Gil as the ersatz Nightmare Moon moved from bench to couch and climbed atop Grey Thorn’s member with a sigh. She tipped her head down and Grey Thorn ran his tongue along the length of her horn. Bramble shook his head: “He asked, but this version never answered.” Zecora furrowed her brow and turned away from the sight of Nightmare Moon’s dark, sweat-streaked body bucking against Grey Thorn’s ghostly loins: “Why?” “It was complicated. He avoided directly encountering Nightmare Moon in the dreamscape out of fear of her reaction. Also, he was nursing all kinds of fantasies at this point, including a plot to kidnap Celestia and force her to return her sister from exile.” “That’s even crazier than stalking Nightmare Moon around the dreamscape!” Bramble nodded as he sidestepped a pair of unicorn stallions pinning-down and  penetrating a gasping, squirming, semen-smeared pegasus mare: “Oh, you have no idea just how crazy it got. Follow me.” The group passed beneath a low archway, led by Bramble. The chamber beyond appeared dark at first, but as the five entered, the area was slowly flooded with a dull, red light. Zecora wrinkled her nose: “What is that smell?” Gil floated alongside: “I assume your mind is interpreting it as burning hide and flesh.” She nodded weakly and coughed. Green Streak stepped around Gil and grimaced: “I smell blood…” Bramble’s horn began to glow, bringing the surroundings into sharp relief; Gil joined him: “It changes depending on who’s here to observe. I’ve noticed a pattern over the centuries based on who’s in attendance.” Zecora took out a small vial from her bag and quaffed a bit of a pale violet potion: “Is it just the smell that changes?” Gil shook his head: “No. Other elements will be different, too. As with the last chamber, this place is informed by Grey Thorn’s various shifting fantasies. There’s a rather broad variety, given all the centuries, though most of us will experience many of the same elements.” Zecora stepped further in and squinted at a broken, writhing pegasus collapsed across a pile of smoldering bones and coals. Flames had burned through his wings, and his hide was blistering and splitting open. Zecora recoiled and skirted aside, nearly stepping on a disemboweled unicorn, frantically trying to scoop her intestines back into her blood-soaked abdomen. “I-I don’t understand. The last place made some sense--it was an outgrowth of Grey Thorn’s lust and sexual energy, yes? What is the point of this terrible place? Did he want to torture and kill, too?” Gil shook his head: “Not exactly. Many of these poor ponies died in the midst of nightmares, and brought those visions with them as they were pulled in.” He turned and tipped his horn toward a pink unicorn having her skull crushed under a pile of stones while a foal sat nearby weeping: “He would occasionally amplify the experience at the moment of death. That foal, for instance, wasn’t part of this poor mare’s original nightmare.” Zecora looked away from the spreading pool of blood and brains and chewed her lip: “Why would he do that?” “He was experimenting, trying to amplify ponies’ death experiences. He believed that more energy could be extracted if a pony were to die in a state of heightened emotion.” Zecora pitched forward, went to her knees and brought her hooves up to block her ears as a shriek tore through the air. She tipped her head to one side and cracked an eye open, looking for the source. She rose unsteadily to her hooves just a flaming figure barreled towards her out of the gloom, filling her nostrils with the acrid tang of seared flesh. The shriek redoubled as Zecora stumbled backwards, eyes wide. Suddenly Green Streak dove between the zebra and the burning apparition bearing down on her. She threw up a wing and braced for impact. The shade dissolved in a burst of smoke and ash as it came into contact with the pegasus. She slowly lowered her wing and looked at Gil with a cocked eyebrow as the ash vaporized with a faint shimmer. Gil smiled: “Well done, though you can see there’s no real effect--these are just phantasms which have no real physicality.” Zecora rose unsteadily to her hooves: “But neither does Green Streak, true? What would have happened if that flaming apparition had run into me?” Gil pointed behind her at the wall, some ten yards away: “The same thing that happens every time it hits the very real wall--it disappears and reforms on the far side of the chamber to do it all over again.” “But I hear and smell--or at least my brain thinks it does. Why wouldn’t I feel an impact?” Kla’atra stepped beside Gil and nodded: “This is to have been a most perceptive question. Perhaps, as though in a vivid dream, you might have felt an impact. It would have been possible that your mind will have perceived it as real.” Gil tapped his chin: “I’d never thought of it that way.” Zecora smiled: “Why would you? You’ve never encountered a mind attached to a living entity here before.” “True. Well in that case, we will need to be careful as we traverse this space. There are many vivid things happening here that might take you unaware and cause you real distress, if Kla’atra’s theory is sound.” Zecora nodded: “I appreciate that! So where now? I assume all paths through here are awful?” Gil sighed: “Since this is literally a chamber of nightmares, yes. We’re simply going to strike out directly across in an attempt to get to the other side as quickly as possible.” Zecora took a deep breath: “I understand. Will we encounter Grey Thorn’s shade?” Gil nodded as he turned away: “Just before we leave.” Zecora gritted her teeth and fell in behind Green Streak and Kla’atra. Bramble lingered, his brow furrowed: “You all go on. I’ll catch-up in a minute.” The four companions moved slowly forward, avoiding a large, chocolate-brown earth pony being pulled apart limb from limb by a cluster of monstrous trees. Zecora squinted and tipped her head sideways as the screams reached her ears. She hurried past as a phantom leg popped free with a sickening ‘crunch.’ As she opened her eyes wide again, she caught a glimpse of something dark above--a shape trimmed in silver that seemed to blend in with the ceiling. She pointed up: “What is that up there? It seems to follow us.” Gil glanced toward the ceiling: “That’s Nightmare Moon’s omnipresent phantasm. It moves and drops and rises and coalesces like a dark fog. We need to be especially aware of that, if Kla’atra is right, and you actually can feel effects. I would rather not have that particular shade make contact with you by surprise.” Zecora’s eyebrows jumped: “Agreed!” Gil glided forward, followed directly by Zecora who was averting her gaze from the horrors surrounding her, keeping an eye on the dark, craggy roof above. She came to a sudden stop at Green Streak’s shout. “Oh, sweet Celestia! It’s Top Cover!” The pegasus surged past the startled zebra, sliding to a stop before the broken, heaving body of her partner. The crushed, cream-colored stallion hung in mid-air, twisting and stretching like fleshy putty, gurgling and sobbing as he was smeared and reconstituted over and over. Green Streak trembled and held out a hoof: “Is--is he really here, or is this just a v-vision of him? How can this be?” Gil frowned: “This was your wingpony who was pulled in before you?” Green Streak nodded weakly “This must be his final vision and memory, captured by the Sentinel as it consumed his essence. I doubt he was ever really here; the Sentinel occasionally absorbs an essence almost immediately, leaving only a brief imprint.” “S-so he died in a nightmare…” “More or less, yes.” Green Streak bit her lip and trembled: “I don’t want to end up down here as a faded memory! I-I want to get out!” Gil opened his mouth to speak, but Green Streak bolted, heading for the far end of the chamber. Zecora stepped forward, shying away from Top Cover’s mutilated shade as its wings splintered: “Green Streak! Wait--” Gil shook his head: “Let her go. She’s going to have to come to terms with the reality of this place, the sooner the better. I’ll sit her down once this is all done and explain that she won’t end up here. She’ll stay with us in the Compound until…” “Until what? You’ll end up a phantasm in any event, yes?” Gil nodded. “Let’s assume there is some way out for me. Is there no way out for you, too? You’d be an unbound spirit, and I assume Reaper would send you onward as should have been done a thousand years ago.” Gil shook his head as Kla’atra stepped beside him: “We have not had any longer sufficient lifeforce for the maintaining of cohesion. If we would to have passed beyond the boundary of the Vacuum, that very act must have destroyed what shall be left of us.” Kla’atra pointed to the ceiling: “Going out might only have been possible to one bound to an entity of sufficient energy to make resistance to the Vacuum upon exit.” Zecora nodded sadly: “I’m sorry.” Gil smiled sadly: “As are we. And to that end--of getting you out, at any rate--we should keep moving. We’re going to need to make one last stop as it is.” Zecora closed her eyes and swallowed heavily. She slowly opened her eyes and glanced at the ceiling for a moment before staring uncertainly at the floor directly in front of her hooves. Kla’atra led Zecora across the floor with Gil close behind. They wound their way past a variety of grisly tableaux, from impalings to dragonfire to Zephyr’s shrunken corpse splayed across a bed. Gil caught sight of Nightmare Moon’s specter leaving that scene on its way back into the gloom above. He pointed to the withered figure: “We’re getting close to the end, and for better or worse I suspect we’re going to encounter Nightmare Moon one more time as we meet Grey Thorn’s shade.” Zecora peeked up for a moment: “Why better or worse?” “It will answer some of your questions, but if Kla’atra is right, it’s going to be a rough experience.” Zecora furrowed her brow as she focused on Kla’atra’s form in front of her: “I don’t understand. I won’t have to make contact with her, will I?” Gil sighed; moved beside her and pointed past Kla’atra’s shoulder: “No, but you’ll have to go through that.” Zecora gritted her teeth and looked ahead at the low opening. It was blocked by a large white shape that took her a few moments to resolve. “Is-is that Celestia?” “Yes, and if you look off the the side you’ll see Grey Thorn’s shade sitting on a broken throne.” Zecora looked to her left and saw the grey unicorn sprawled across a scarred, smoldering, ornate chair. He was firing beams of golden magic into Celestia’s body. As the three came closer Zecora could see that Celestia’s wings were staked to the wall behind, and her hind legs were broken, stretched to the floor and bound with iron shackles. She jerked and cried out as the bolts of magic pierced her. Zecora crept closer to Grey Thorn’s shade: “What is the point of this? I know you said he had some crazy kidnap scheme. Is this just frustration?” Gil stepped in front of Grey Thorn: “Why are you torturing Celestia?” The specter stopped and turned to Gil: “As a beacon, of course. I hope to attract Nightmare Moon’s attention and interest.” Zecora shook her head in confusion: “That doesn’t make any sense. He was in here, and she wasn’t!” Gil smiled: “Remember, he trawled the dreamscape looking for victims. He could have made contact with her.” “But he didn’t--so how would this ‘beacon’ have worked?” Gil turned back to Grey Thorn: “You never actually encountered her, so clearly this ‘beacon’ of yours never worked. Why not?” The shade shifted uncomfortably and formed a flaming blade mid-air which he plunged into Celestia’s throat: “I tried, but I could never find the right way to make my presence known. She was very self-absorbed, and I never broke out of the shadows enough for her to notice. I came close a few times…” Zecora shook her head and pointed to the broken, twitching form blocking the exit: “Well, that clearly would have done it!” Gil shrugged: “I’m sure it would have, but like a nervous suitor who never works-up the nerve to ask his beau for a date, he just kept fantasizing and internalizing.” “And he never acted on any plot against Celestia, either.” “Not that any of his victims through the centuries ever mentioned.” “Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad he never actually attacked Celestia, but he seemed to have fallen into a pattern of never really seeing anything through to its end.” She waved a hoof around: “Even this place, as you and Kla’atra have made clear, was not truly finished, just patched together enough to work, at great cost to himself and his victims. And for what?” Gil blinked slowly and looked over his shoulder at Grey Thorn’s shade: “What did you hope to gain out of all this? You had your creation and could hide out in the shadows--why did you care about Nightmare Moon? Was it simple lust?” The translucent specter gazed at Gil for a moment: “The dreamscape is a gateway. I have traveled to scores of other worlds and realities, and they all share one thing in common: a dream realm. If I could master our dreamscape and perfect my unstable creation I could transcend our world without ever having to physically move. Nightmare Moon could be a great help.” Zecora shook her head: “But he clearly never did. Would that have even been possible?” Kla’atra nodded as her eyes flashed pale blue: “In theory he may have been able to have moved between realities using my engine and the properties of the dreamscape. But his creation should have had too many flaws to carry that out successfully.” Gil pointed at Celestia’s twitching form, writhing as black bands of dark magic crushed in its ribs: “And so he just lurked, hoarding what little lifeforce he had left to stay alive and harvest spirits in Nightmare Moon’s shadows, too afraid to risk encountering either sister.” Zecora shrugged and stepped forward toward Celestia’s bloody phantasm as a dark cloud coalesced unseen above and behind her: “Then I guess we’ve heard all we need to from him, and since I can clearly see this vision in front of me--” She stepped into the shade as Gil glanced at the bands of dark magic, then up to the ceiling in alarm: “No, don’t!” Nightmare Moon’s specter suddenly shot down from the gloom above with a  shout of rage and impaled her sister’s image with her glittering horn. The chamber was filled with a burst of dark, violet light and a cry of unearthly agony as Celestia’s body exploded in a gout of blood and entrails. Zecora pitched forward across the chamber’s threshold and collapsed, senseless. The dull red light returned to the chamber as Grey Thorn’s shadow turned to Gil: “That never gets old…”