//------------------------------//
// Proving Fire 
// Story: The Hero's Journey 
// by Gabriel LaVedier 
//------------------------------//

	Hooves shuffled listlessly through the burning sands, up and down over dunes in a sea that lacked all shade. Big Macintosh licked his chapped lips and pulled Smarty-Pants off of his back, gently placing her into the relative shade of his horse collar. “Y'all'll... be fine in there, sugar. It's... shady.” Big Mac smiled and licked his lips again. “Mighty fine desert ya got here. Can't imagine what might be worse.”
“I have seen far more terrible things than mere heat and dryness. You will as well. Also, a life in the Veldt prepares body and soul for regular doses of great heat. Certainly nothing like this, but it does prepare a body for such. Humblebee was fortunate in that respect. From the Veldt and with a strong personality. I do think she almost believed she could scold the sun from the sky...”
“Humblebee? Was that... yer mare's name? Right purty.”
Argus did not respond for a time, merely trudging the sand with a regular gait. “This nostalgic heat loosens my tongue overmuch. But I did promise I would say more as we moved along. Yes, young one. Her name was Humblebee. I called her Humble at first but she always preferred to be called Bee. Industrious and strong, that was her way. But let us hold. Though I do not suffer beneath the hammer of the sun, you are crushed against the anvil of the sand. Talking would not do either of us any good, but you least of all.”
“Ain't too bad... jes wish ah had kept mah pack. Princess Luna was nice enough ta gimme some water 'n' such. Mighta come in right handy here.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. You may have found the water boiled away to nothing inside the container. This land is strange. It does not wish you to take in help that does not belong to your love. We had water. Enough for one, with the screaming of two throats. And we shared, of course. Love can slake thirst if it is combined with a mouthful of water, and a smile on your lover's face.”
Big Macintosh nodded slowly, wiping his brow and then tapping his horse collar lightly. “Ah'm a workin' pony, mister Argus. Long days on th' farm, tendin' th' orchard, haulin' the crop and fixin' everything that might be broke. Wouldn't even be a challenge fer me. If she needed it, she'd get every last drop. Nothin' spared when it comes to Smarty-Pants. Ah'm here. That's proof enough.”
“You feel; that is why you are here. Proof of 'nothing spared' will be when you reach the solution to our trouble. You can't say you've conquered the challenge until you reach the end.” Argus motioned with his stick at a vaguely circular rocky area in the midst of the sea of sand. “You're in luck. You walked only a little ways before reaching the next step. The real step. This desert... you will remember it fondly, young one.”
“So ya say, ol' stallion. So ya say. Ah'd say ah doubted ya, but after trottin' through that town and that forest, ah ain't gonna put anythin' past this here place.”
They trudged along in silence to the rocky area. The stones grew in size, almost with every step the took, attaining the profile of natural monoliths, leaning slightly in random directions. While they at first looked to be a solid wall of settled rocks, there was a small opening created by the leaning of two adjacent stones. It was just enough that with some digging at the base a hefty stallion like Big Mac could squeeze through. Argus simply slipped in, tapping the stones with his stick. “These were a lot tighter before. The land is truly miraculous.”
“Eeyup. That's one way ta put it.” Big Mac dug at the ground, tossing hot sand in all directions as he exposed an ever-wider space. At last there was just enough of a gap for him to wedge in his body and wriggle through, his flanks and sides being cruelly scraped by the coarse stones and the gritty sand that seemed to be everywhere. “Urrg! Sorry fer you'n'yer lady havin' ta scrape yer way past.”
“She was caught. Being a gentlestallion I went first, to face any dangers on the other side. I scraped through; she was wedged in. I could have gone on, brought help from the figure we sought. She seemed well-settled. But, no water, no real shade, sand everywhere... I worked on her problem for an hour, or that's my best guess, when she came free. Again, this desert is kind to you.”
Big Mac scraped at the sand and clopped his hooves against the restraining rocks hemming him in. He strained and pulled, once more finding the bulk of his great body working against him. He was starting to see how the new world in which he found himself was set up to punish every pony no matter how powerful or talented they happened to be. While it scraped his flanks and agonized his straining muscles, he finally pulled free, flopping onto the burning sand in the middle of the ring. It was like it was noon at every point in the desert. “Any more'a this kindness and ah won't be in no shape nowise ta be a good 'n' proper match fer Miss Smarty-Pants.”
“You have good fortune, young one.” Argus pointed to the very center of the stones, showing a gaping maw of sand-ringed stone. “The purpose of the desert. All the burning agony to hide this single opening. Into the earth you go, to find what you most desire... and what you are truly made of.”
“Sorry ta do this, mysterious bein' what made the place. But ah'm gonna ease mah way through this place y'all made. Ah loves miss Smarty-Pants, an' nothin' y'all 'r any'a yer lil tricks can do is gonna change it.” After declaring his challenge, he boldly strode forth and leaped into the mysterious aperture.
The ground of the new cavern was softer than he expected, and cooler. The sand that had fallen in created a fine-grained mound which served as a cushion, shifting out of his way as he fell onto it. And despite the sun shining directly on it, something about the environment moderated it, making it far, far cooler than the blistering misery it had been topside. Big Mac welcomed the change, then slowly slid off of the pile and called up, “It's safe, mister Argus! Jes jump down and this'll cushion ya.”
“As it was before it is again. But I find myself not needing it. It is your challenge, young one, not mine.” Argus was already there, standing near to the downward-sloping exit from the rough-hewn entrance cavern into which they had come.
“Ah do suppose there're some advantages ta havin' been by this way already. But y'all got a way'a botherin' a body with the way ya can appear like that.” Big Mac trotted placidly down the sloping passage, giving Argus a curious look as he passed.
“'Parlor tricks', as Bee called such little manifestations of magic. Or even the big ones. Parlor tricks; we all do parlor tricks, from unicorns to zebra mystic workers. Didn't mean much to her. Hard to impress, she was. Makes me glad when I could.” Argus chuckled at the memory and followed behind.
The path sloped down into the ground, lit by the reflective walls of the cave, which managed to transform the streaming sunlight into a decent illumination. It hardly seemed to get weaker, despite the depth and distance from the entrance hole. “Mighty curious about the light. Never seen such a thing before.”
“The walls of the cave are shot through with light-reactive crystalline deposits. They scatter the light around and around. You... will not appreciate the ability to see soon enough.”
“How's that?” Big Mac was about to look back in confusion, but found his eyes locked on what came into view beyond the hazy glow of the tunnel. They had entered a large cavern. What looked like a wall, twenty feet high, with a single arched opening, loomed before them. The ceiling was hung with brightly-glowing crystal spears, showing off the silvery brilliance of the wall and the surrounding rocks. It was a very natural yet unnatural location. “Guess ah know what's next.”
“You don't. I feel sorry for you, and wish this was not the way it had to be. But, we all must pass through this chilling fire, to prove our worth. I do not envy you, because I have been you. I wish you every bit of luck and strength. This will serve as your only tempering, for what lies in the dark below...” Argus stopped at the entrance to the cavern, looking at the apparent wall with some trepidation behind his stoicism.
Big Mac stepped to the opening, finding that it led not into a new room but faced another wall, while a corridor led to the left and right. It looked like the entrance of a maze. “Aintcha comin' mister Argus?”
“It is your challenge, young one. Not mine. And truth to tell... I would not relish doing that again. No... I could not bear to stare into that maze. Least of all alone.” Argus gave a shudder and waved his stick. “Go. You will find me again at the end of your wandering in those mirrored corridors. If I do not see you... I will say, you have done better than many. Be proud.”
Big Mac nodded his grand head and slipped down the passage, choosing to move to the right. The surface of the walls became more and more reflective as he made his way down the narrow corridor, letting him see his reflection in every flat surface. It became eerie as the effect grew recursive, each wall reflecting the opposite wall over and over, creating a diminishing corridor of trotting red stallions.
The mirroring made travel both difficult, and simple. Turns and passages could be inferred from the breaks in the repeating infinity, or suddenly being confronted with himself. At the end of one turn he did not encounter himself. Tucked inside the reflection at the dead end was his sister's friend Rarity. “Miss Rarity? Jes what are you doin' in a place like this?”
The reflected Rarity seemed to both hear him and not hear him, her smiling face not changing much. “Now, Big Macintosh, I know you have been alone for a long while...”
“Eeyup. But don't make no nevermind ta me. Jes what...”
“...and we've all been very concerned.” The reflection spoke as if she had not heard. “So, because I know that you have always secretly fancied her deep inside I have convinced Fluttershy to go on a date. Won't that be lovely?”
“Wh-what?” Big Mac staggered back, his army of reflected clones following suit. “But miss Rarity, Fluttershy's yer fiancee! Why would ya do something like that?”
The reflection Rarity strode forward in the dead end wall, suddenly appearing on the reflected walls. “Isn't it spectacular that she is single? I do fancy myself a matchmaker. And now I shall show my great talents. So, come along, Big Macintosh. You do desire Fluttershy, do you not? Of course you do. Everypony knows it. Come, then, we shall go to her.”
“G-git back ta Tartarus, whatever ya are! Ya accursed land! Yer tryin' ta besmirch a good mare!” He turned tail and ran from the approaching army of reflections, which were all smiling the same solicitous smiles, offering a quick and easy pandering end.
In a blind panic Big Mac cut down any corridor he could find, almost seeming to outrace the army of his own reflections. He only stopped when he hit another dead end, and found the reflection of Fluttershy. “O-oh, there you are. You know I've been waiting for you. We'll have a beautiful date...”
“T'ain't gonna happen. Ah dunno what ya think ya are. But ya ain't miss Fluttershy and that's a fact. She's gonna marry miss Rarity some day an' that's all there is to it.” Big Mac stomped his hof firmly and gave a great snort.
“Oh, I know how scared you must be...” The reflected pony took a step forward, growing larger as she appeared to approach inside the reflective surface. “You've been alone for so, so long. All alone...” She stepped forward again, head emerging along the side walls, even as the dead end showed nothing but a refection and not a living being. “Cold and alone, so alone...” The voice... voices echoed, delivered from the army of throats. All the reflections had the same look, a flattering look meant to draw in the eye and heart. “One little date... you know I secretly love you.”
“No ya don't! No ya don't!” Again Big Mac was tossed headlong into flight. “How can ya do this? Do it to good mares that ain't hurt nopony!”The maze did not answer. There was only the soft echo of familiar voices, an army of familiar voices.
He did not need to meet a dead end before he found more reflections facing him. He did not recognize the new figure multiplied over and over on either side of the corridor. He was just a unicorn stallion, all white with a white mane. His horn was lit up with a crackly aura. “Come along now, you're late. You have had me on retainer for so long I thought you would be used to the schedule. The time has come to apply the spell again. I have done it so much it is becoming second nature.”
“Who are ya, stranger? What kinda magic ya got brewin' there in that horn?” Even though he looked friendly, and even if he seemed to know Big Mac, the big stallion still moved backwards, reflexively reaching in to pet Smarty-Pants.
“'Who am I?', he asks... Have you been overworked, mister Apple? I am the sorcerer you hired to continually, for lack of a better term, 'wind up' your doll. You know we have regular sessions to refresh the come-to-life spell to ensure that any cancellations are infrequent and short. As I understand she has only lost vitality four times. And you report her existential crisis is minor. Sufficient to continue. She's only a doll, after all.”
That got the big stallion's ire up. “You take that back! She ain't jes a doll! She's mah sweetheart! An' Twilight knew better'n ta do that. She unnerstood ah didn't want her livin' an' dyin' over an' over! Git away!” He charged forward into the empty corridor, somewhat surprised to feel some kind of invisible resistance which tugged on him from all sides, as if his reflections were really plowing past the unicorns in the reflections.
He broke free of the collection and tumbled headlong into another dead end. As he looked up he saw a most elegant stallion. White, with a blue mane and mustache. He had been in town more than a few times, usually hung out with the other folks with mustaches. Seemed like a good stallion. But the kind light in his eyes had been replaced with a hateful coldness. There was another white unicorn squatting submissively before him, being repeatedly lashed with a whip held in a magical grip. There looked to be small figures on either side of him, but they were hard to discern. He strode forward imperiously, the white mare following along, even as she was whipped. “Look at you. Hideous. Giving your love to some common scrap of cloth. A disgusting rag.” As his doppelgangers appeared in the mirrored sides, the two small figures came into view. Two of the local town foals, bleeding and unconscious, looking to have been whipped and beaten before being tied to his body with complicated harness straps. “How improper and vile. Uncouth...” A particularly hard lash echoed out, amplified by the sheer number of reflections. “Ungentlecoltly.”
“None a y'all 're who ya look like. Ya may wear his face but ya don't act like that gentlecolt. And ya can't tell me nothin' 'bout being ungentlecoltly if that's the way ya act ta mares 'n' fillies. Mah love fer Smarty-Pants is pure. Ah love her 'cause she loves me back. When we was courtin' ah was a gentlecolt. And now she can't speak ah still am. Ya ain't gonna make me feel ashamed ya stolen-faced hypocrite!”
He was off, down more twists and turns, haunted by all the sounds from the combined reflections seeking him out. “Oh Big Macintosh. I'm so glad we found you.” From every corridor he could see came images in marching files, side by side. Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash. It was Twilight's voice, but with a persuasive coo he had never heard before. “Please let us help you, Big Macintosh. We only want to help you. To give you all you could need...”
“Dunno what yer thinkin' takin' the faces of mah friends an' townsponies. Ah ain't about ta believe what ah know ain't so!” He was trapped. He had already forced his way through just one multiplied pony. “Don't matter none how ya chatter at me! Ah ain't goin' out with no pony, ah ain't lonely, and ah ain't gonna feel bad 'bout bein' in love with miss Smarty-Pants!”
He could hear the sounds from all around the maze, all the repeated chatter from the things inside the walls, together with the cruel and repetitive strike of the whip. He didn't know what would happen if they caught him. Would he be forced to give in as his reflections were assaulted? Would they wear him down as the echoes assaulted his mind as he slogged through a sea of phantoms?
There was no time for hesitation or halting. They weren't going to get any less diffuse. He chose a corridor and took it, closing his eyes tight and rushing through whatever chattering phantasms he encountered. Once his shoulder hit the far wall he looked again and was off. Right into Applejack's reflections, stalking down the corridor towards him with an angry glare. “Consarnit, Big Macintosh! Gitcher flank back to the farm! We need you ta work! Now you stop alla this foolishness. Ya ain't never gonna make that little lump-a nothin' inta yer marefriend! There ain't no critter out there ta make it happen!”
His sister. His own sister... “You were wrong, critter, thinkin' ah'd listen to mah sister's voice when ah know she ain't here. She don't know ah'm here so... but... no!” He glared up at the approaching reflections. “Ah ain't gonna be made ta think it was a waste and that ah'm sneakin' around! This here world is real! It's strange an' incredible but it's here! And there is a critter at the end makin' all this happen to make sure ah'm worth the time!”
“There ain't no granter of wishes out there!” The phrase was screamed out with one loud voice, echoing along the reflective walls, every magical throat calling defiance to the big stallion.
He ran. There was no hesitation and no uncertainty. He was in no mood to be manipulated by lying faces and voices. He would not just listen to those he knew when he knew well they would never act like that. His reflections met the reflections of his sister, the first time his form had been used in anger against his own kin. Even as an illusion it made him shudder. Another way to crush his resolve. No wonder they took on the faces of those he knew. But sister or no, it was just a reflection. Not even a physical imitation.
The other figures piled in. The presumptuous sorcerer, the pandering Rarity, the flattering Fluttershy, the sadistic fancy stallion, the falsely consoling Twilight, Pinkie and Rainbow Dash. His muscles strained as he pushed against empty air, his army of reflections matching his every thrash and shove, moving inch by inch. There was only so much the mass of bodies could do, while he worked with a singular will.
His struggling shoves finally pushed the collection of reflection phantoms to the end of the corridor, into a wall that was hazy. The figures seemed to grow weaker, as the reflectivity of the wall got weaker and weaker. Something about that clicked in Big Mac's head. The entrance. The walls had shone, but not been very reflective. Even if it was just the way back, he could gather his thoughts and push out the illusions.
They got weaker and weaker, numbers growing smaller as they got too hazy to push or simply vanished. At last, there was no more resistance, and no more reflections at all. That allowed a panting Big Mac to trot his way down the single passage which led down the non-reflective aisle and through another hole in the wall. Rather that the entrance passage he found a simple semi-circular cave entrance that looked to slope downward into an unknown darkness.
The huge stallion huffed out loudly and gave a smile. “Ah do see yer point, mister Argus. Ah do so see yer point. Ah miss that desert already. Ain't nothin' gonna get me back inta that maze. What's the next move mister Argus? Mister Argus?” Despite all the calling, and turning around around, he found nothing. He was all alone.