//------------------------------// // With What Manner Of Hubris Are You Satisfied? // Story: Fault Beyond Reason // by PettyPonyDearest //------------------------------// She falls through nightmares incarnate of the most hideously twisted mind imaginable. She falls through a landscape of endless pain and horror, of suffering and anguish. She falls through a mine of the void without beginning or end, a terrible gnawing hollowness that threatens to devastate her and wipe away any last trace of her very existence. Abandoned foals scream out for help, for escape. Their throats are hoarse for want of their own voices and their hopes flicker on and off carelessly in the last nightfall's breeze. No one is there to hear them scream for help. The only sound in this ghostly, almost perfectly quiet vacuity is the pounding of her hooves against the ground. A remote griffon sounds out its SOS, screeching helplessly, as her song begins fading into nothingness. Wherever there is chaos, wherever there is destruction, she is there flying high above it all, basking in the salty wind against her soft cheek. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend that everything is right, that those things exist... But the rose is dying. The wind is not. It's in her feathers, in her eyes, in her mouth, in her heart. The rose has already disintegrated under the stress, the once magnificent flower has disappeared without a trace. The mountain is still there. But it can't be reached. She does not have the energy to fly there. She doesn't know what's on the other side, but she hopes that it's a sanctuary. ---- --- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THERE IS NO SANCTUARY, UNLESS YOU MAKE IT FOR YOURSELF - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ---- With a jolt, she opens her eyes. She's still in the cave. Apparently a servant of her own gloom; she managed to wander back somehow. Her sub-conscience must have dropped her off in the night and left. If she ever wanted to squawk again, she would berate herself at her incompetence. If her father were alive, he'd likely say the same. Despite being covered in bruises, cuts, and abrasions, she feels fine. Merely hungry. It's no wonder she came back. She finally thought she had passed on, but, she was still breathing. She didn't bother eating for three days straight, so, she would be too weak to try again. That's not going to stop her now. She idly gazes at an unwrapped piece of gum, frowns, and changes her mind. Atop a lonely cold, mountain, a waned griffon begins her descent and sets out in search of treasure. The light beats down into the overhang, burning the top of the young pegasus' head as it quickly flies from horizon to zenith in a split second. Passing straight through her. Miles below, a dark blue lake shimmers as its surface is broken by a seemingly never-ending waterfall that cascades from the very peak she rests on. The trees begin to get smaller and further apart until eventually, she can see nothing but barren rock for miles around as she meticulously ascends. The stars shimmer in the perpetual darkness that has enveloped her, broken only by the occasional floating island of lush grass. These lonely islands are covered in creature-eating mushrooms, each one seeming to follow their own set of (counter-intuitive) rules of survival; some explode in showers of searing light, while others seem to drift about in total isolation. There's no way to know which ones are deadly and which ones are not unless one has memorized every single type. Which she has. Despite being in the open, the oppressive darkness begins to feel less tangible, more like a rubber sheet that is being stretched out indefinitely. Her ears try to detect the sound of the wind blowing, but none can be heard. There are no birds flying across the sky, or clouds drifting through the endless expanse of space... only her... always only her... The stars are beginning to shift about in dizzying spirals, trying to drill their way through the back of her mind. The mare looks down at herself, trying to find her body in this pool of darkness. Her eyes then land on something that she cannot comprehend. The air is beginning to solidify, trapping her in place. The dark rubbery feeling is now so thick, so tangible, it feels like attempting to move through molasses. The small blue-green island is still in the distance, seemingly immune to the horrors of this place. I have to keep moving... The mare attempts to ascend still but is immediately brought to a halt as the darkness starts swirling around her wingtips, solidifying into cubes that trap them in place with sharp spikes. In front of her eyes, the cubes twist and morph, turning into bizarre flowers... which quickly turn their faces towards her and hiss. She is nonplussed as they begin swarming all over her, poking at her body and whispering indecipherable things into her ears. She remains plaintive, and she frees her wings with a shrug and a ruffle. The darkness is closing in all around her, finally manifesting into pony shapes. Vaguely, at least; they have no eyes, gaping sockets leering at her, tongues lolling out of their mouths. Large tendrils begin to grope her body while others attempt to insert themselves into uncomfortable orifices. Her wingtips become sharp, and the tendrils rescind themselves within themselves with a-; POP. The mare is shaken back to reality, her head whirling in pain but she has a firm grip upon the rock face. As she pulls herself over the ledge, the air around her is suddenly different; it's no longer black and rubbery but is now reddish-brown sand. All around her, the sky swirls in a vortex, twisting into an upwards hole that she doesn't dare look into for long. With a sigh, she begins her long lonely trek up the never-ending dune. She needs to reach the top, where the bright dots are all clustered together, shining brightly. When she reaches them, she'll finally be at the next leg of her journey. One between a thousand more further. The sun is setting, painting the sky spirited reds and oranges. In front of her stretches an ostensibly boundless range of sand, with only a lone tree jutting out from a crack in the earth. She hugs herself, wrapping her wings around her, trying to find warmth within the cold desert dusk. She slowly continues trotting, somehow knowing that elsewhere, time makes more sense, and night has meaning. It's getting darker, nothing she can do to stop it... The little red pegasus slowly trods onward, staring out into the horizon. She stares at it for however long she can, before lying down on the sand to rest.