//------------------------------// // Part 2 // Story: The Pact // by Crowley //------------------------------// Up and down cease to have a meaning here. Same goes with most other directions. You don’t know whether you’re falling or simply drifting through this swirling, never-ending void of fog. Your head feels somewhat unresponsive and slow, like there’s a thick layer of wool wrapped around your brain. You somehow gain a foothold on the ground beneath the misty veil, or maybe you were standing on the mist itself. The deep breaths you take to calm yourself in this confusing world seem far easier for you despite the smoke that dances around you. Before you can gather the wits to think of what to do, something steps forward from within the cloak of mist. Something dark, foreboding, powerful. Something beautiful. She’s perhaps twice, three times your size. Her flowing mane and tail seem to be one with the miasma that envelopes you both. A long, imposing horn sits just above her forehead, black feathered wings spread commandingly on either side of her. Two glowing, blue eyes pierce through the surrounding darkness as she gracefully takes one step after another toward you, her long, slender legs uniformly swinging as she draws closer. Your first initial reaction was the pang of fear that rattled in your gut; she was no pony of natural means, a living picture of personified sin. From the high-ranking threat she radiates from owning both a horn and wings, to the unnatural blue glow that pulsed behind her slit eyes. She was something out of a fairytale made to scare young colts and fillies. And she was very much real. And standing right in front of you. “Well, well, well.” she sighs, her silky voice matching the cries for help you heard only hours ago, “If it isn’t my saviour.” Her bare hoof rises to your face, stroking it coyly. You crane back from her proceeding, the hopelessness of your situation creeping up on you with a fatal realisation; you’re without your saddlebag. Your pen-knife, your rope - even your hat! - is in a whole other world to you, and you’re face-to-face with something that seems to emit darkness without any form of defence. “Shy, my saviour?” she coos. Was she mocking you with that word? “I’m sorry if I was a little… forward… in my advances, but that glass bottle just wasn’t making a good home for me.” Faking bravery, you recollect your nerves. “Who do you think you are?” you demand, trying to pull your face into a scowl, “Where are we? What did you do?” She recoils with a hurt expression, “Why, I’ve already apologised, what more does it take to gain forgiveness?” she lowers herself into a bow, perhaps showing that she means no harm. “I suppose I owe you an explanation for your help.” Lying down on her stomach, she pats a part of the mist-covered ground with her hoof. “Please, sit. I promise no harm will come to us.” Come to… us? What? Lowering your guard, if only just this once, you do as you’re asked, if only to ease her into giving answers. “I’ll start from the beginning, my dear host,” My dear what-now? “My name is - or rather, was - Nightmare Moon. For the past one thousand years I was living within a dear friend. Sadly, we were made to part ways recently. A shame, too; she was a princess by the name of Lu-” “Horse manure.” “Pardon?” You rise from your sitting position, certain that she’s not telling the truth. She just couldn’t be serious… could she? “You can’t be Nightmare Moon, that old madmare villain from the old stories. That’s impossible, from the stories I heard you’re a quarter-million miles away if you existed at all!” You point an accusing hoof at your captor, hoping she’d vanish amidst your logical claim. “And another thing! You should be thousands of years old, and you look way too young to fit that description, unless you have some sort of-” “You think I look young? I‘m charmed.” Perhaps it’s the way she says it, or maybe the sly wink she throws your way, but it blows your train of thought straight off-course. “Th-that’s not what I- uh…” you shake your head, attempting to disperse the heat that suddenly rose to your face. You take a deep breath and try again. “Look, I’ll play along for now; let’s say you are, in fact, the evil, immortal sorceress who likes to destroy the world via means of a… a really long night, but that still doesn’t explain where you’ve taken me. And what you intend to do here.” “Where I‘ve taken you? Don‘t worry, you‘ve been here many times before. In your dreams, your thoughts, your fantasies…” You look around, the dark blue fog seeping around every inch of the area. Nope, no clue. You’re certain you’ve never been here before. “I give up, Nightmare. Just tell me.” “Straight to the point, my little host. I like that. Very well, I’ll tell you where you are.” She looks you straight in the eye, as if to show her utmost honesty as she tell you; “You are lying down under your bedcovers. In your bedroom. Asleep. Your consciousness is currently inside the confines of your own mind, as am I. This must be the first time you’ve had true lucidity here. Don‘t be alarmed.” Your purely metaphorical jaw drops to the not-really-existent ground. This isn’t real. None of it is. It’s all in your head. But if this is the inside of your head, that means the blue mist is there too. She’s swirling around inside your skull, inside your mind - without your permission! “You’re looking pale,” she states the obvious, placing an unusually gentle hoof on your shoulder to calm you, “I’d advise you to lie down, if you weren’t already doing that in reality-” “Get out.” Your brow furrows into a genuine scowl. This time it wasn’t just for show; you never had respect for intruders, and she was no exception. “What?” her eyes briefly widen in surprise, “You mean I-” “You heard me. Get out of my head. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I didn‘t ask to play some host of whatever you have planned!” “I don’t think you understand the situation, little one,” she looks you up and down, perhaps wondering where you got your sudden hot temper, “I was weak when you found me, thanks to some… accursed Elements. If you hadn‘t come by with your tiny glass bottle, I would‘ve surly perished! But a bottle just isn‘t good enough to sustain my presence, you see. I needed a living being to enter. To thrive.” she places her hooves on your face, drawing you closer to hers, “I needed… you.” “It wouldn’t have hurt to ask first,” you scoff, “It’s my mind we’re talking about here! My body you’re stuck inside!” “Aw, don’t worry your petty, mortal head over such things,” she strokes your face with a hoof, running it silkily down one cheek over and over again as if trying to sooth you, “I think you’ll find the benefits of our… living arrangement far outnumber the disadvantages.” Nightmare‘s odd behaviour starts to grate on you; how she looks down upon you with words like ‘petty mortal’ and how she rudely forced her way into your skull earlier. While at the same time treating you to a cheeky wink one minute then gently stroking your face with her hoof the next. Perhaps she’s new to the whole concept of ‘being nice’. Perhaps she’s unaware of just how mixed her signals are. Only one way for you to be certain though. It’s not like you have anything to lose. “Tell me about these benefits you mentioned…”