//------------------------------// // Chapter 14: From Out of the Depths // Story: Misty Morals // by Dragonfire2lm //------------------------------// Mist was acutely aware she was dreaming, despite the bleak, empty landscape before her, and the burning acidic agony eating away at the inside of her chest. There was no dreamy haze, no out of body experience, just her and the gray barren wasteland before her. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe and every step was a monumental effort. Still, the mare forced herself to move, her movements sluggish, her breath soft in a futile attempt to ease her suffering. Storm clouds rumbled ominously overhead and creatures skittered just out of sight. Doggedly, she pressed onwards, the coarse gravel beneath her hooves adding to her discomfort. "This is a load of horseapples," she rasped. "Absolute, utter bullshit, I'm stuck who-knows-where and Right could be hurt or worse." Her fury, directed at the pain she was in, her weakness, gave her motivation. She clung to that self loathing drive, voice dripping with spite as she allowed herself to release the pent up emotions and stress from her year of isolation. "I am better than this, I hate this! Stars knows how long it'll take me to claw my way back to wherever my body is." A spike of pain forced her to stop, a snarl ripped it's way out of her throat in protest. "No, rut you," She growled as something seemed to dig its hooks into her chest. Something grabbed at her legs, curled around her wings and encircled her throat. Purple mist filled her vision and the pegasus roared, shambling out of the things grasp. She looked around, she was alone. A scowl set into place as she addressed whatever monster was out to get her. "I don't care if you're some entity from the lake, I don't care if you're from the Dream Realm, I don't care if you're me! I am getting out of here, you hear me! No matter you say or do, no matter how much pain I'm in, I am waking up and going home!" Mocking laughter filled her ears as a wave of hopeless rose unbidden, threatening to drown her in despair, in hatred. Hatred towards herself. She was overwhelmed, battling herself as she was, she took a shaky breath, and winced in pain. Her body screamed at her stop, her instincts were to remain still, to wait out the pain, and Mist plodded along defiantly as the laughter ceased. And the silence became deafening. "I'm not going down that easily," she said quietly. "I'm used to this..." The distant hope of her place among the clan, her friendship with Right, the duties Reginald had given her. These simple things were her driving force, the things her addled mind latched onto despite the storm of unchecked emotions rolling inside her head, and the tricks of her unseen foe. She was better than this, and with grim determination chasing away the unwanted reminders of her fragility, Mist Veil pushed through the pain in search of a way out. Reginald sat in a chair beside Right's beside in the opulent medical wing of the palace, the white walls and marble floor gave a clean, sterilized atmosphere that was heightened by the uniformed nurses and doctors rushing about. It was a constant flow of ponies coming and going, several hovered around Mist, the unconscious mare on a bed on the other side of the room. Reginald held her jacket tightly as tests were run, medical professionals spoke in hushed tones, and the machinery Mist was hooked up to beeped steadily. An indicator she was alive, that everything was being done to help her. The Toppat Chief ran through the confrontation in his mind, he pondered over every scenario, every option they had at their disposal, and sighed. No matter which way he looked at it, without knowing beforehand that Mist was going to be targeted, there was no other way things could have gone differently. He heard Right shift and looked over at his enforcer. Right was watching Mist like a hawk, his expression schooled into an impassive look, but Reginald noted how his Right Hand Man sat up straight, shoulders tense, idly fiddling with his hat, and ready to spring into action despite still recovering from the affect the lake had on him. Wordlessly, Reginald rested his hand on Right's shoulder. A look in Right's direction, an understanding expression, and Right grunted. The wait, the uncertainty despite the reassurances from the guards and medics on scene, was nerve-wracking. They both hated hospitals and anything associated with them, it brought to mind the many times throughout their youth one of them (usually Right, time had tempered, not dulled the man's fierce temper and overprotectiveness), that one or the other had been injured badly enough to warrant hospitalization, and neither of them would be relieved until Mist was awake and the three of three were back on the airship. Reginald couldn't afford to show the depth of his concern as Right leaned back into the pillows of the bed, he was the chief, he was a pillar of strength for the clan, he couldn't afford to show weakness. Even if Right was the only one of his subordinates present, even though Right was in his mind, his equal, his brother. So, Reginald waited quietly, watching the hustle and bustle as ponies worked ceaselessly to treat the unconscious pegasus. He ignored the worry gnawing at his mind, and waited. The sound of hoof steps heading closer to him made him look over to the entrance to see Ocellus nervously walking over to him. The young nymph was levitating the forgotten bag of jerky that had been left behind in all the chaos. "Ah, are you alright?" he asked, a nugget of guilt worming his way into his voice. He'd been focused on dealing with the threat and ensuring his clanmates were safe than keeping tabs on the girl. Ocellus quietly passed him the packet as she nodded shakily, he nudged Right and gave him the food, despite the look his enforcer gave him. "I bought extras with me, and you haven't eaten since we left the ship." Reginald reminded him quietly. "Is Miss Bluebird going to be okay?" Ocellus spoke up meekly. Reginald gave her his best reassuring smile as Right begrudgingly scarfed down the leftover jerky. Both the chief and the changeling looked over at the small crowd around Mist. "...According to the doctors, she's taken quite the hit, they won't know the extent of her injuries until she wakes up. She has a lot of foreign magic in her system. a dangerous thing for a pony." Reginald explained. "Yeah, that's really bad," Ocellus commented. "We're taught if we use too much magic on a pony, the pony could develop dulled emotions, or lose their magic. Changelings need to feed without getting caught... well that's what I was taught.." "You'll have plenty of food once you get to know the crew, and any friend of Mist is a friend of ours." Reginald said. "Y-Yeah, I hope so." Mist found herself wading through her own memories. The familiar sight of Canterlot Castle's ballroom greeted her, an orchestra played clear as day despite the overly murky appearance of the ponies gracefully dancing around her. She was wearing a dress. The way the material hugged her chest, had her trying to remove in instinctual alarm. Constrictive clothing meant pain, instincts borne from her year of dealing with acid reflux and chest pain screamed at her to remove the offending piece of clothing. She couldn't. She sighed and looked around the room. She had an inkling of when in her past she was as a stallion approached her. "And nope, I'm out." she deadpanned and looked for the nearest exit. She remembered this night, it was one of the first high society parties she'd been forced to attend a couple of years after moving to Canterlot. All dolled up in a fancy dress that drew the eye to her wings and tail, the assets stallions often paid the most attention to, and with no way out Mist was forced to mingle. The looks she'd been given had gone over her head, but the way many of the stallions and mares spoke, the alien ideal that she should flaunt herself for the opposite sex, that she would be expected to lay with a pony before getting to know them, and that the best thing she could contribute to society was her bloodline. One of her ears flicked in irritation and revulsion coiled in her gut. She swiftly strode over to the edge of the room and scanned the room. The stallion, faceless, nameless, was relentless as he weaved his way through the crowd towards her. Mist scowled and kept moving. She ducked into the sea of bodies, stress gnawing at the corners of her mind as discomfort crawled up her chest. The entryway was in sight, and with all the grace of cat, Mist darted around dancers and partygoers to reach it. She slipped out of the room before this insanity could continue. She let out a relieved sigh, sagging slightly. That experience was one of many were she spent an entire night existing in a state of constant discomfort that she only really understood later in life, after discovering how she much she differed from "normal" ponies. The world around her warped as if in response to her line of thought. From the interior of Canterlot Castle to... the school dorm she shared with Sunset Shimmer in the last few years of their education. The details were fuzzy, blurred around the edges but what stood out was Sunset sitting at a desk, while the memory version of herself excitedly tried to explain something to the unicorn with a bright, beaming smile on her face. "It makes so much sense! I didn't even know that's what attraction was, I don't feel it," Memory Mist said. "But I still get hyper fixated to fictional characters, and all the courting stuff Nana's been pushing me to do has made me really uncomfortable and now I understand why! I'm demi!" Meanwhile, the real Mist felt her heart sink at the unimpressed look Sunset gave the overjoyed pegasus in the memory. "Why are you telling me for?" "Because it's important, it's a big deal-" "What's important is our grades, showing that we're the best students in the entire school, getting ready to leave and make a name for ourselves, not this label stuff," Sunset scoffed. "So having feelings is your kink, whatever." "It's not a kink..." The Mist in the memory protested. "I don't care." "Bitch..." The real Mist muttered as she saw the look of devastation on her younger self. The topic of her orientation had been something that even now, she kept to herself. It was with a sense of resignation that she realized she was lonely. Her instinct was to share what she knew, to express her joy about her self-discovery by hoping to connect with others over it, and Sunset, Mist's first attempt at trying to explain, to share, was quashed unceremoniously. Since then, she had kept her thoughts to herself. She had no outlet for this facet of herself. And in response, she mirrored her former friends sentiment of it not being important, something that didn't impact her life or the lives of others, and thus she kept to herself. And it was further compounded by her unwillingness to be a bother or burden to others. Mist shook her head, she had a real world with far more important things to get back to. She left the memory behind her and steeled herself for what the dream would throw at her next. When Mist stepped through the doorway, she found herself in a beautiful blue void filled with shining white orbs. the winding road beneath her hooves glittered and sparkled, and on each side of the starry path were a row of doors in all manner of colours and designs. Mist scrambled out the dress she was still wearing and found herself able to remove it with ease. The gown vanished in a wispy puff of dark purple smoke as soon as it was off. A sense of peace and calm permeated the area, and the mare, still cautious walked down the only road at her own sedate pace. "Progress... I think," Mist said quietly as she walked. "Now how the rut do I get out of here..." "That is indeed quite the conundrum." a deep voice rumbled from behind her. Mist turned around and looked up at the robed alicorn that towered over her. Shadar The dark mage's face was obscured by darkness, only his pale white horn and long reddish orange mane that hung down to frame the ever-present darkness were the only things that could be seen by Mist. The djinn's black robes almost brushed the floor, and the power that the wizened stallion radiated warped the peaceful void around him into a dark, foreboding storm of darkness. "Hello." Mist said politely. "Greetings," the mage replied, amused. "You have done well, to overcome the magic borne from The Lake of Dreams. To face the blackest depths of your soul is no small feat." "It's something I've had to face before... though in a more straightforward manner..." Mist replied and softly added. "Less weird dreams and more... downward spirals of hopelessness and self-loathing..." Shadar nodded sagely and walked past her, moving with a prominent limp. "I will lead you back to the waking world." "Thanks..." They walked in companionable silence. Something ate away at Mist as she slowed her pace to walk beside the alicorn. Here was one of the most feared magic users in history, while Equestria scared their foals with tales of Nightmare Moon, the rest of the world told tales and legends of The Dark Djinn. A master of long forgotten magics and Lord of The Forest of Hopelessness had taken one look at her all those years ago, a terrified filly out of her depths... And saved her. "Your Lordship," Mist began and the djinn turned his attention to her as they walked. "Why take such an interest in me? Aside from my talent, I'm nothing special." "Indeed, you are not one that has a great destiny predetermined, as the chosen champions of Celestia have..." Shadar replied. "It is through your actions and choices that you have earned your destiny, carved your fate with your own hooves. And such a feat is worthy of my attention." "You remind me of what I once strived to be," he added solemnly. "And though I cannot be saved, I will not have history repeat itself." Mist hummed in agreement, struggling to find the words. "I worry about that sometimes, that I could... cross a line." "The fact you worry about such a thing is but one measure of ensuring it will not come to pass." Shadar stated. "I know..." "I will remove the worst of the injuries you have suffered this night. If only so you may face me with the full breadth of your abilities in the trial to come." Mist was unsure how to take that statement, it took her off guard. "Thanks... I'm not as strong as I used to be though." "Strength is more than just raw physical and magical power. You know that better than most, Fair Bluebird." Shadar commented. The path ended at a large, glowing staircase, and at the top of the stairs was a massive set of ornate double doors. Shadar stretched out a wing and drew a rune that resembled a resembled a horseshoe with a vertical line through the middle. The rune and doors glowed with power and Mist watch in awe as the doors slowly opened. "This door will lead you to the waking world," Shadar explained. "Know that you will not have my aid until after your trails have been completed." "Of course, Your Lordship," Mist replied. "Thank you for your help." "Until we meet again, Lillian Meadows."