I hate Canterlot.
The trip to Canterlot was, as expected, uneventful. A simple road stretched through the plains between Canterlot and Ponyville, It was well traveled, well patrolled, and utterly barren of savage beasts, fearsome brigands, and other such horrors. No, for a simple mare from Ponyville, all the horrors lay at the end of the trip, inside the town proper. High class citizens who feel it is their civic duty to look down upon those who actually know a hard day's labor, and my "derp" eyes most certainly didn't help matters. Asking around for a cheap hotel, I thought I'd actually managed to find a charitable soul. He led me to the insane asylum, assuming I was an escaped patient. Another stallion said I must be too poor to afford corrective eye surgery, and threw a bit at my head. I've still got a mark on my forehead from that.
"Come dear, ignore the retard and she'll go away."
"Ugh, I wonder what hick town this tourist crawled out of?"
"Sweet Celestia, what on Equestria is that... thing!?"
All of these insults and more I could overhear as I made my way down the street. Each time I came, I dared the city to show me one shred of compassion, one ounce of decency. The princess and tourists don't count. As my requests for where I could find a cheap hotel were ignored yet again, I pondered how easy it would be to pay their hospitality back once I'd found the Storm. Surely I'd simply pass back south, and pass over the city once more? A wicked smile curled across my face as I fantasized about frying them to a crisp and burning their homes.
As evening turned into twilight turned into night, I was still without a hotel. The few I'd found were completely out of my price range, so I settled for the old pegasus staple of finding the nearest fluffy cloud and going to sleep.
I'm standing with a group of other ponies surrounding a stone dais in the middle of a grey field. The sky is overcast, and the thunder booms overhead. It's asking for a sacrifice. I look around at the ponies, and I recognize them: All of them are various ponies that had insulted me over the day, and for a brief moment I considered that any of them would make a fine sacrifice.
The thunder speaks again. One by one, it names off the sins of the ponies, and then it comes to me. I am the Innocent, and the choice is mine. It told me to pick one pony, and one alone, to be given to the Storm. I looked over the faces of all those present. They were all afraid. Some wept openly. Their petty crimes and insults made me angry, but I realized what was truly being asked of me: Only one of those gathered would meet the Storm. This included myself. Could I truly abandon my love for something so petty as revenge? No, I could not. With no regrets, I walked up onto the dais, and raised by forehooves to the heavens.
A bolt of searing hot lightning flashed down, and I could feel myself burn. As I became the Storm and the Storm became me, I looked around at the rest of those gathered. They could not comprehend me, and they were afraid. As the Storm, I looked down upon my tormentors and had pity on them. They lived in fear and confusion, lashing out at everything because they felt everything was out to get them. How could I possibly wish death on such poor creatures? As the lightning tore me apart, I could only smile at them and hope they found something to love as strongly as I loved the Storm
I awoke with a start. Sweat matted my coat, my wings were fully extended, and my breath came in short ragged pants. The dream was so startlingly vivid, and for a moment I'd forgotten where I was. I tried to make sense of the dream in those early hours. The plea to spare the people of Canterlot was an obvious one, but what about the rest? The Storm in the dream had destroyed me, and my survival instinct took it as a sign that maybe Twilight was right: Maybe I should abandon my quest. Still, I could not deny how the storm had made me feel, how I felt at that very moment waking up from it, and the reason for sparing the people of Canterlot: They acted the way they did because they did not know love the way I did. If I gave up my quest, turned to more "sensible" pursuits, would I simply end up like them?
I flew north to the woods bordering Canterlot. There were a great many signs here warning travelers not to go into the woods, but I figured I would be perfectly fine: I wouldn't be going into the woods, I'd be going over them! Indeed, as I flew past the treetops, I could hear the sounds of timberwolves, serpents, giant lizards, all sorts of dangerous creatures stuck on the ground as I flew above them. I thought myself invincible, figured the troubles of the woods to be literally beneath me. Such hubris, did I learn nothing from my contempt of the Canterlot upper class?
It is a common myth, perpetuated by stories, that a manticore will roar at it's victim before attacking. In the stories, this gives the hero a chance to know his foe, and escape. In real life, manticores hunt down prey on a daily basis to survive, and know the importance of stalking. As such, I did not notice the leathery flap of wings behind me until a scant second before its venomous tail sank into my back. I immediately felt a burning sensation begin to spread through my body, my wings barely able to keep me at a safe speed as I nosedived towards the forest below. I could feel the manticore's warm breath just behind me, and gave a blind buck. Thankfully I hit his nose instead of simply slamming my hooves into his maw.
With the slight lead that attack gave me, I plunged into the trees and began trying to lose my pursuer. Unfortunately, dense thornbushes and vines made the woods a bit more restrictive than I would have liked, keeping me to the main trails. I could hear the manticore catching up, and I knew I couldn't keep running for much longer with this poison in my veins. A clearing ahead filled me with hope: Maybe I'd broken through to the other side? My hooves splashed in an algae-filled puddle, and the ground felt less firm as I ran forwards, remembering Twilight's warnings. The Lethean Bog. That's what this clearing was, I could see the air clouded with some kind of gas as I pressed onwards, but I couldn't go back. Not with that beast chasing me. As I plunged deeper into the bog, Twilight's words echoed in my mind.
"That place is... intoxicating...toxicating...toxicating..."