Darkness enveloped me and I hesitated for a moment. True to the mare-from-tartarus' words, my vision was limited to little more than a few paces from my own body and everything beyond was just an endless void. There was nothing to mark the course except for the white arrow painted on the ground, urging me forward. As much as I didn't want to, I had to press forward.
It was... eerily quiet. No labored breathing except my own, no screams of the poor souls in front of me. I felt alone. The kind of alone that fills the heart with dread and makes mindless fear into an understatement. I shook my head, unable to afford the hesitation. The next stallion would be coming soon and if I was still here, I wouldn't put it past Sergeant Boomer to make good on his threat and throw me out.
If that happened, I didn't think I would have the guts to make a second attempt...
I broke into a brisk trot, moving as quickly as I dared with my limited vision. It felt like ages went by before I came upon something. I'll admit, it wasn't what I expected. There before me was a cart. Not just any cart; it was my delivery cart. I would know the various scratches, the lean on the left wheel, and the chafing harness anywhere. Did they bring this all the way here just to mess with me?
The sound of trotting hooves hit my ears and I panicked. I'd spent too long looking at the cart and the pony behind me was closing in. Shaking my head, I hopped over the cart and broke into a canter, keeping my ears and eyes alert for signs of the first obstacle.
I wandered for a few minutes wondering why this walk was taking so long. Where was the first obstacle? Was the field just as empty as it had looked? If so, why were so many of the stallions shouting in terror? There were too many questions and not enough answers.
That's when I came across my cart again.
I stopped in confusion, blinking like an owl. I cursed under my breath. I had walked in a circle. I was assuming that the spectators had some way of seeing inside and they had just watched me make an imbecile out of myself. I swore softly in the encroaching darkness as I heard hooves approaching again. Maybe if I hurried, they wouldn't accuse me of anything and I could at least make it to the first hurdle without getting disqualified.
This time I broke into a gallop as I charged into the darkness, intending to either hit the course or the edge of the barrier. A few more minutes passed, only the thudding of my hooves to keep me company as I squinted in a vain attempt to see further.
I tripped over my cart now.
I groaned, rolling back to my feet, staring at the aged wood in disbelief. Reaching out, I poked it, flinching as the echo of hoof on wood echoed in the darkness. This was spooky.
More hoofsteps in the shadows. At this point, I didn't care about being thrown out, I needed answers. I waited. What suddenly appeared in my circle of vision made me gasp.
It was me.
Well, not me exactly. Colt me. From years ago; a time before I had my Cutie Mark. The younger me had his eyes squeezed firmly shut as he jumped up into the back of the cart and before my eyes, the stains and wear of age faded, leaving it in pristine condition... just like it had been before it was mine.
I could only sit there, watching myself cry as my brain tried to restart. I... remembered this day. I'd been one of the last foals in my class to get a Cutie Mark and like so many before me, I'd been subject to ridicule as a “blank flank.” More often than not, I came to this place to be alone; this cart parked at the edge of my grandfather's fields...
There he was, stepping out of the void, just as I remembered the brown, old stallion. Sturdy in his old age, my grandfather, Plum Tucker, had always been an easygoing old coot. As a colt, I couldn't appreciate the wisdom that he carried in his steps as his wrinkled face turned up in an understanding smile. He met the teary-eyed gaze of my younger self and gently patted him on the head before moving around to hitch himself up to the cart.
Words weren't needed for the two of us to communicate. Getting carried around the old farm had always calmed me down and his presence had been... deeply appreciated. In a daze, I could only fall in stride with him as he moved forward, leading me through the dark. Just like he always had.
It was then that his kind old eyes fell on me. As in the me currently armored from head to tail. He still had that smile for me as he spoke, “Remember a time like this, Lucky? It was easier, wasn't it?” He looped one leg over my shoulders, pulling me close as he walked with me.
I could only look back toward the younger me with a dry chuckle, “Y...yeah... I used to be in such a hurry to get my Cutie Mark... then I got it and I...,” I took a deep breath, wanting to lose myself in this moment, but something urged me to ask, “Gramps... what is this? You...” I choked on the next word.
His smile faded into a gentle frown, “...Died, Lucky. It's okay to be honest with yourself. Merciful Celestia, it's one of the virtues of harmony to be so. Honest with yourself and others.” He went quiet and I became aware that the world around me was growing steadily brighter. Looking ahead, I gasped again.
My grandfather's field spread out before me, reaching over the hill just beyond it and down to the river hiding there. It was as breathtaking as I remembered and I felt my eyes water as nostalgia took over me. This farm had been my constant source of peace... before...
The creak of wheels coming to a stop drew my attention as Tucker unhitched himself and looked at me with a sad smile. Gesturing back toward the field, he sighed, “This is your first obstacle, Lucky,” I stared and he chuckled, tapping his head, “up here, you're still stuck around this old place... I'm flattered, but,” he gestured back toward the cart and the gently slumbering foal within, “eventually, the old has to give way to the new...”
Shadowy figures appeared not far from the two of us and I heard a whispered conversation that broke occasionally...
“...has passed on, there's little reason to keep holding the land...”
“...was his pride and joy, and Lucky...”
“...is for the good of the family, dear...”
I felt my breath hitch. After my grandfather's passing, my parents had been approached by a rich stallion. A complete scumbag. He'd come to them in a moment of weakness, since we were low on bits and couldn't pay the upkeep for the farm, they ended up selling the farm to him... my place of solace.
I cocked my head to look to my grandfather only to be met with a simple gravestone. My eyes widened as I read the words etched into its surface:
Here lies Plum Tucker,
Doting Husband, loving father, and encouraging grandfather.
May he rest in peace.
I was breathing heavy now as the sky darkened, filling the pure blue with fiery reds and oranges. What in Tartarus was going on here!? A familiar weight appeared on my shoulders and I reached up to touch the harness securing me to the cart and a glance over my shoulder showed that the younger version of myself was still sound asleep.
A flickering light drew my attention further back and I felt my eyes widen.
A massive inferno rose like a wall of rage and death not far behind me and a whinny like the call of a damned soul sounded from it. The fire whipped and parted before the shimmering image of a pony with a body of smoke and embers, burning eyes staring down at me. A moment passed, my mind, body, and soul all frozen in place as a massive hoof was lifted, trailing flashes of the blaze.
Move forward... Run.
My grandfather's voice shot through my broken thoughts and I couldn't ignore those instructions. Slamming my hooves into the dirt, I shot forward as fast as I could, barely avoiding the slam of a volcanic limb where I'd been before. Strangely, all I could think of was all the horrible things I was going to say to the lieutenant and sergeant if I survived this.
I was in the farm proper now and another glance behind me confirmed that the monster was still in pursuit. Its movements were slow and deliberate, the sheer size of it allowing it to keep just behind me. The acrid scent of smoke hit my nose as its fiery body set the field ablaze.
Sadness hit me like a yak at full sprint. As pumped full of adrenaline and fear as I was, it somehow wormed its way into the cracks and settled like a weight on my heart. My already labored breathing got worse, my lungs seemingly refusing to pull in the necessary oxygen. It felt like my legs were turning to stone with how heavy they were getting.
An ember touched my back, forcing me to give a startled yelp and look up. I was certainly glad that I hadn't drank anything yet, or I might have pissed myself as I stared up at the pillar of blazing doom hovering above me, ready to descend and crush me. I tried to run, only for my legs to scrape uselessly against the dirt, unable to move the weight behind me.
Looking back forced a curse from my throat. My legs might have metaphorically turned to stone, but the cart had literally turned to stone. What sort of messed up place was this Shadow Run!? There was no way I could manage to unhitch myself fast enough to avoid the monster above me, but I had to try. I scrambled for the fastenings, fumbling with them in a panic.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” came a startled cry from the cart and I looked back just in time to see “me” falling from the cart. The small colt had experienced the mother of all growth spurts... and gained that cursed Cutie Mark somewhere along the lines. As he fell, flailing wildly, his hind hoof kicked something into the air, firelight glinting off of polished metal.
My grandfather's sickle came down in an arc and I tensed, twisting my body to avoid the sharp blade as it came down.
Slice.
I blinked, looking down at the severed lengths of harness that had been holding me to the cart for a moment. Only a moment, since another ember decided to tap me on the flank and remind me of the mortal danger above me. I moved to break into a gallop only to hear my younger self groan. He was still laying on the ground, holding his head in a daze.
I'm not sure what possessed me to dart back and scoop him up onto my back before making my mad dash for safety. He was so dazed that he didn't fight it or question it, but as he looked back, I heard him give a startled squeak. He wrapped his hoof on my back, “We have to go back! That's grandpa's farm!”
I stumbled as a painful memory surfaced at those words...
Standing in front of my parents, not understanding why they weren't stopping the ponies destroying his farm. Shouting, screaming, and begging while my parents tried to calm me down. It didn't belong to them, no matter what a piece of paper said! I grit my teeth, tears stinging my eyes from both the billowing smoke and the weight on my heart.
Move forward...
“Not anymore, colt,” I said through my teeth, forcing my legs to keep moving, “he's not... not there anymore...” A flash of light in front of me lit the darkened world and I raced for it, plunging into the rip in reality before I could think about it...