An endlessly swirling nothing, forged deeply from the tears of the sleepless dead, pulsated and throbbed to the eternal wailing of misery. This is where consciousness came to die, as souls of the lost, broken, and damned collected for their final moments. Normally, nothing is left but an utter oblivion for all those who congregated here, but all rules have exceptions. In the infinity of this horrible place, every now and again, a strong enough will would rip itself away and claw back into the realm of the living. For some, they succumb to despair from a world that has long forgotten them. Others writhe with rage in mutiny for how they were so easily cast away, and wish only to repay the living for these perceived transgressions. A few, clear minded or not, choose to find a new home or a new vessel in order to try to continue their unfinished business. For why is always uncertain, whether it be selfish desires and material things, or simply to leave a legacy or remain in memory. All of these examples are rare, but none are more common among them than a will that managed to resume the affairs they left behind, only to become excised and thrust back into the void.
In one such case, a harrowing soul with extraordinary talents managed this, before confronting something that shouldn't have even existed and becoming promptly erased. It was twice that the deceased individual was snuffed out, and there was no going back. Any rage, anger, or hatred it carried was no longer enough to ferry it, let alone inspire another chance of escape. Its original vessel, its body, was dead and gone and any remnant ties to the living world were severed entirely. For the lingering consciousness, there now was no hope.
What a pleasant feeling...
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Deep in a rather expansive basement full of all assortments of nick-knacks, a light aquamarine mare carefully constructed a rather crafty and complex contraption at the far back end. Giving her light greyish cyan and white striped mane a hard brush from her hooves to get the sweat away from her eyes, she wandered over to the last pieces of the thing she was building. It had been a long and hard journey, but it was finally nearing its conclusion for the little mare named Lyra Heartstrings. Keeping everything she had done quiet up until now was a nightmare, not even mentioning that gathering together what she needed were pure strokes of luck, for better or worse. In fact, if it weren't for the creature that called himself Elvis showing up in Ponyville, or the mechanized being known as Monsoon, she wouldn't have even thought to go through with it in the first place. One would say her efforts would be redundant, as she already has two individuals that could satisfy her curiosity. However, if you would tell her that, she would easily reply that Elvis, while looking the part, clearly isn't the creature she's looking for. Monsoon on the other hand straight up terrifies her, keeping her from ever wanting to ask any questions.
It all started when she was a little filly, reading a book about myths and legends. She always wanted to know about the unbelievable, and nothing more unbelievable to her was reading about a strange bi-pedal creature that resembled a hairless monkey. The most striking feature it possessed was the stubby claws that had a count of five digits on each arm, unlike a minotaur's three. Unfortunately, she could never remember the name of the creature, or the name of the book she read, for the day after she read that book when she was little, it was signed out by another young foal and was lost since then. It was a stroke of just the worst luck, if anything, but the image of that thing, that strange creature, stuck with her well into her independent life.
Her best friend and roommate, Bon-Bon, whom knew about her eccentric hobbies and interests, was also none-the-wiser about her recent activities. At least, Lyra hoped so. She knew that while her friend tolerated her and her desire to see such strange specimens, she knew that Bon-Bon would probably attempt to stop her latest actions, especially with how dicey things had gotten. It couldn't be helped, and being missing for a few days didn't make things any better. Well, not for her roommate, at least. Lyra's little adventure into Whitetail Woods proved to be rather fruitful, despite the initial hiccup of being captured by creatures known as Diamond Dogs. Evidently, they were trying to capture a specific pony, and as the days went by, they became more desperate to the point of simply kidnapping at any random that wandered close to their territory. Never the less, their leader ended up treating Lyra quite well, even producing a rather old book they found written by Starswirl the Bearded to exchange for luring their real target down there. The musical eccentric originally would have spat at the offer, but upon giving the book a skim, she realized it held information she needed to fulfill her dream. Among the many spells and contraption blueprints, it had diagrams and detailing about a summoning portal, powered by musical hymns and magic. Apparently, Starswirl was never one for music, and never managed to get it to work, but left the notes behind in case someone did. Lyra found it odd that there were some addendum notes attached that mentioned a 'Black Heart countermeasure', whatever that was, but ultimately paid that no mind. Still, what was in the book was more than intriguing, and even more than just irresistible. It was a hard sell, and she always felt guilty for feeding false information to Rarity's little sister to lure the seamstress into a trap, but Lyra figured she'd make it up to her later some day.
It was then, just before the Great and Tyrannical Trixie was dethroned, where further motivation kicked in. Seeing the odd, maroon mechanical bi-ped duking it out against Elvis made her want to make haste with the project detailed in the book. Collecting left behind metal scraps, among other things, and storing what she needed in her basement while Bon-Bon was busy with the rest of the townsfolk, she kept tabs on the book. Not among the scraps, however, was one vital thing she needed to even attempt to complete what was in the book: A magically susceptible musical instrument for channeling.
Something like that wasn't impossible, but it wouldn't be easy either. Enchanting a musical instrument, like any other object, so it was properly able to absorb and transfer magical energy was a task that could take weeks, if not months, from an especially skilled unicorn. Longer if the instrument was bigger. Lyra had mused that she could probably request Twilight to assist her, but stopped herself upon realizing that the Element of Magic may get suspicious as to why it needed to be done, and ask further questions. When it came to secrets, she could keep them well enough, but direct questions could chip away at her mental resilience and probing from Celestia's student would just break her down faster.
Luck struck again recently, when she went out on a picnic with Bon-Bon at Winsome Falls, a rather beautiful location that sat at the edge of the cloud city of Cloudsdale, and sat below the Wonderbolt Training Acadamey. Bon-Bon had always wanted to go there, and Lyra figured they both could take a break from all the excitement that had been going on. During the trip, Lyra spied a rather odd object that was just sitting in the grass all alone: An elegant, golden trumpet. At first it seemed rather normal for what it was, if a bit garish with its gold and bejeweled design, and it even played really well. However, Lyra quickly realized something was off. Levitating the instrument swiftly became gradually harder and harder as if it were slowly siphoning her magic from merely being in contact with it. It was then Lyra realized she found her last piece of her puzzle.
It wasn't hard for Lyra to convince Bon-Bon to let her keep it, seeing as Lyra was a musician by trade. What was tricky to discuss was why she needed to borrow a synthesizer keyboard set up from Vinyl Scratch, too. Ultimately, she persuaded her friend on the idea that she wanted to experiment with lots of different sounds with it and the trumpet, and see if she could come up with something new. It wasn't a clean tale for her friend to swallow, but it worked for the time being.
And it all came down to this: The machine was finally, painstakingly completed, hooked up to both the trumpet with the keyboard below it so she could play the notes and channel the magic into the metal door-frame. It was a rather foreboding device, as if it were a gate to some twisted dimension. Never the less, she was too close to just give up out of the lack of nerve, and began channeling magic into the garish trumpet, which took to it like a dry sponge in water. Within minutes, Lyra was exhausted, but she gritted her teeth and bore with it. Upon finishing the channeling, she pulled out an old book of organ pipe hymns, and began to flip through the pages, looking for something fitting. After enough searching, Lyra's eyes laid upon a single sheet with an interesting title. It was called "Hymn of the Saddened Mantis". The song in question was simple enough, sticking to four parts, starting off with a repetitive bass hum that remained constant, before it added soprano notes that switched to tenor notes, then to alto soprano notes before all four parts came together on one full choir, before petering off by dropping the alto soprano notes, then the tenor notes, and leaving the bass to drone. As it was only one page, she assumed it was likely a song that was meant to be repeated.
Upon playing the hymn, she found the song itself seemed rather foreboding, but also kind of sad, just as the title advertised. As the notes were played, chills crawled up and down her spine in ominous anticipation as the bass continued to drone along with the rest of the music. Looking to the makeshift door frame, and then the trumpet, she soon saw the magical energies travel from said instrument through the haphazardly cobbled together metal piping, before the energy began to slowly swirl between the frame edges. Her face began to light up with glee as she kept playing the sombre song on the synthesizer keyboard, already rounding the end of the song in at a minute and a half. The device hadn't done anything but channel the magic, so Lyra repeated the song, hoping to see a change.
Sure enough, the swirling magic began to take a soupy consistency, as electrical discharges erupted from it, spooking the mare. Intimidated, but not undetermined, she continued to play, rounding the second play and going into a third. More discharges of static erupted from the magic as the soupy consistency soon became less viscous and almost seeped out into the rest of the basement. Lyra coughed from the sudden gaseous invasion. She looked back to the door-frame, only for her eyes to grow wide in tension.
From the magical swirl, the surface began to warp and twist as something small and thin began to slowly poke through. Lyra stopped playing and moved before the frame with a big smile on her face, clacking her hooves together in anticipation. Soon enough, the small protrusion was followed by four more, before it was joined by a flat surface between the five points. Lyra's heart skipped a beat. It was someone's hand. An honest to goodness hand in the flesh.
As it pushed further, the magical essence that covered it melted away and revealed almost what she was hoping for. The only difference, however, was this individual wore a black leather glove with the index and ring finger entirely exposed. As the limb pushed out further, more leather was what could be seen all the way up to the exposed bicep. Soon enough, the rest of the entity's body surface passed through the gate much to Lyra's combined excitement and confusion. She got exactly what she wanted, but what a strange being it was. The creature was bound in more tight leather from ankles to the neck, with tight thin rubber boots adorning its feet, and was tattooed with barcodes on the naked shoulders, with one more tattoo on the right side of its head, and a vicious scar right above the aforementioned barcode. Most worrisome of all though, was the harrowing gas mask it wore, complete with deep orange lenses.
The machine deactivated as the slender and emaciated figure took a shaky step forward, reaching out towards the pony. However, its efforts were in vain as it breathed harshly through the mask, before collapsing forward at Lyra's hooves. Lyra let out a yelp, flinching away after it fell, but gathered the courage to investigate the now rather still being. She slowly checked it over, gently prodding at the skinny neck, looking for a pulse, and listened for breathing. Everything, from pulse to breath, was slow and unsteady. Something was wrong.
"BON-BON! GET DOWN HERE QUICK!" she bellowed out.
The sound of hooves crossed above her as the basement door was suddenly slammed open, pouring bright light into the dim basement. The mare known as Bon-Bon raced down the stares in a panic, and froze upon seeing the haphazard contraption with her dear friend standing over the strange being that wasn't supposed to be down there.
"What the HAY is going on down here!?" she barked, hoping for a reasonable answer, but expecting something ludicrous.
"I'll tell you later, but we need to get this human to the hospital, NOW!"
"What? Human? Is this-" she started, pointing to the makeshift machine, before letting her hoof rub her forehead in exasperation, "Lyra, I told you-"
"Look, you can chastise me later, but right now, this human needs help. Its heart is beating very slowly, and I'm really worried!"
Bon-Bon sighed, and moved over to the being's right side, picked up its slender arm, and draped it over her own shoulders. Lyra did the same at her side. The two began hauling the unconscious and barely alive human out of the cellar, where Lyra couldn't help but smile in glee, where as Bon-Bon was justifiably not amused.
"After this, we are going straight to Twilight, and we are going to have a VERY long talk about what you've been doing, and you WILL spill every detail, got that?"
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His mind was in a haze and all of his limbs felt numb. Eyes creaking open, he gazed into an unfamiliar location through the orange tint of his lenses. His breath was shaky as he slowly gazed about the room in weary lethargy, trying to figure out where he was with the best of his groggy abilities. After a moment or two processing the information his tired eyes could gather, he realized he was in a hospital room. It was a bit rustic, but it was definitely for medical purposes. Looking to the side of the bed, he noticed an IV tube attached to his arm, which was no longer wearing the long leather glove that he'd normally have on. Looking down, he noticed the thin blanket that covered his thin and sickly body. It was as if he were some sort of impromptu patient. He then realized something was very wrong.
It took him a bit to recall, but he remembered one very important detail he was stuck with for years. He was dead. He shouldn't even have a body anymore. At least, that's what he thought. The horrifying images of the slain and the victimized screaming in his face was not an easily forgotten memory. He even remembered how he managed to escape that terrifying place once, if briefly, only to be thrown back to the ether to continue inching towards total oblivion. It was sort of strange that, in those last moments, he had figured it would have been a graciously accepted finale, all things considered. However, here he was, feeling the standardized hospital fabric against the few exposed portions of his skin, smelling the sterile air through his mask, and seeing the dim light of the moon peek through the windows.
He looked about once more, and realized he was alone. It was comforting to be in solitude, but the implications of the situation pointed to one thing. His isolation will not last. Whoever brought him here, and the staff that worked here, would likely return. He was actually quite curious. How did he even come back?
New memories began to trickle to the forefront of his thoughts. There was the pull of something in that nothingness he resided in for so long that he felt... attracted to. It wasn't a light, but something like a sound. It was familiar, if a bit nostalgic. He followed it, and...
He clutched his head tightly after a sharp pain jabbed at his mind. The memories that once trickled now began to flood in agonizingly. Feelings of searing physical torment, as if every nerve in his body was re-activating one by one. Flashes of muscular spasms, and blurred images from his own rapid eye movement. He could remember strange faces and colors that didn't belong. He remembered something trying to take his mask, and an unconscious response to stop the attempt.
The throbbing in the head subsided while he calmed down and let the memories fade. He tried to sit up, but felt far too weak to make it so. He tested his legs, and while they had the potential of mobility, they were also just as weak and useless. It was an odd feeling to be so helpless. Not wanting to entirely give up, he decided to test the one thing he relied on for so many years ago. Fixating on a chair, he raised his hand towards it and willed with all his might to lift it. When nothing happened, he concentrated harder, clenching his fist in the attempt. The chair moved ever so slightly; scratching the floor below it briefly and sharply, but nothing else came of it. With that, his body sunk back into the bed he laid upon, energy spent.
There was no other option. He would remain as is, allow events to play out, and see exactly what sort of nightmare he is trapped in. Once he regains his full strength, both mental and physical, maybe then he could crack open some minds and see what he's up against.