//------------------------------// // Act 4- Chapter 13: Dreams and Nightmares // Story: Icon: Remnants of the North // by Vixavior //------------------------------// Dreams and Nightmares Proofread by TehSporkBandit Your ears detect something like a ragged sheet flapping in the breeze, but a quick look around the ostentatious room reveals nothing amid the shifting shadows. Each laboured breath stings your lungs as painfully as if your chest were being scraped from the inside. “Ah hate to ask, but ah don't suppose anypony's got a plan to get out, do ya'?” “You know, there are still four other Unicorns in here.” Rarity calls before her voice drops to a terse mumble, “Now, where did those lights go to? I know it's cold, but does it have to be cold and dingy?” “Ah know that, Rarity, ah'm just saying that it's somethin' we need ta' know or else we're just stuck here.” She shakes her head in the dark, illuminated almost strictly by the narrow beam of light from beneath the door and the surrounding entrances to the rooms that cage the other abducted Unicorns. “Hey, relax. We'll take a two minute rest, get back on our hooves, then make a break for it.” Rainbow shrugs as if it was no big deal. “Oh, maaaarvelous plan. Truly brilliant, did you think that maybe not everypony can sprint down an unseemly number of stairs, through the hall, across a wide dreary plain in a snowstorm, past a pack of miserable, blood-sucking feather-brains, and then… then… whatever else is between us and a sensible pot of tea and a comfy west coast bed-and-breakfast?” Rarity huffs as she uses her magic to light up an area no larger than a candle. “There must be lanterns somewhere around here. Pinkie, be a dear and help me look for one.” “Don't take it out on me. It's not like I figured there'd be Windigoes to go around.” Rainbow blows her bangs out of her eyes. “We put our hoof in it, didn't we?” Fluttershy murmurs as the Ravens roost around her. Rainbow rolls her eyes, “Yeah, well, it could be wor-” The door creaks ominously as the bar strains to keep it closed. Several worried looks are exchanged before you and Rainbow fling yourselves at the weak wooden barrier. As you slam your good shoulder into it, you can barely hope to lean against the door and use all your weight to keep it shut. Perhaps the creature is merely testing the entrance before going around another way. Maybe another is making its way down one of the chimneys at that very moment, it’s hard to say. “Rarity, find us a light so we know what the hay we're doing!” Rainbow grits her teeth as the door suddenly groans and bulges again. “It ain't no picnic o'r here either Rainbow! Come hay or high water, y'all gotta gimme' a few seconds ta' get these here ponies out! Pinkie, gal, do us a favour and get a fire started. Ah'll go knock down a couple'a doors. It's a heap easier kicken' 'em in this way than it is from the inside.” Applejack's voice is anything but perky, but the confidence in being told what to do is comforting. It was hard to object to that. You might not even have time to object as the pulsing pressure builds as you strain. The door itself begins to hiss again, and in the last vestiges of azure light cast by Rarity's dwindling magic, you can see the door turning from dull brown to putrid black as the timbers wither then warp. The first jolt of pain quickly lances through your elbow where it touches the metal hinge. “Gah, this is really starting to burn.” A rebellious smirk forms on Rainbow Dash’s muzzle as she strains against the mounting pressure, “Oh, it's not that cold. Tough it out.” Every breath is painful and your joints are feeling like they are literally freezing. Each breath produces frost clouds that are drawn towards the minute cracks in the doors. “Howdy there, don't you fret none, we're here to help. Hang on just a spell and we'll have ya' all out a' there.” Applejack's softer coo drifts through the darkened void. “Fluttershy, mind taggin' along? Ah reckon it'll be nice ta' see a friendly face after that's happened.” “Then what?” You grunt and hiss, trying to get around the metal bands holding the door without easing up. “The storm barge is too far away. You think we can fight through them then outrun the rest?” “You worry too much.” Dash snorts and shakes her head. “Yeah, and you worry too little!” She just flicks her tail in derision, carelessly dismissing you. It only serves to elicit a growl of irritation, “Well, it is true, you just don't-” “You don't think we'll get out of here, do you?” Rarity asks out of the blue. “Well…” “Well?” Rainbow grunts and eyes you again with a narrowed glare, telling you to spit it out. “It's not that I don't, it's that I can't see how.” “Oh, you can't see how? Weeeell…” Pinkie draws it out with the distinct sound of scratching flint. The first flickering light grows in the darkness. A single oil lamp is lit, bringing the pink mare into sight and illuminating the exhausted Alicorn. “Ta-da! Now you can see how.” Aside from your friends, you can't make out anything but the shifting shadows in the rotunda. “W-woah.” Pinkie shivers and looks around in confusion. “That's not quite what I meant, Pinkie, I still don't exactly-” There is a loud bang as Applejack's solid buck demolishes another door. Fluttershy coos indistinctly, but several moments later the pair of ponies emerge with a gangly looking Unicorn. The mare stumbles out ungainly before slumping forward, nearly falling flat on her face before she catches herself. She brushes the forelocks from her eyes and peers out into the gloom. There is something about it all of a sudden, watching the single mare hold a hoof up to block the insignificant light source like it’s the noonday sun. Dirty, emaciated, and unkempt, none of that matters as she takes a deep racking breath and clings to Fluttershy with a garbled hiccup and babbling note of gratitude that dissolves into a racking sob. Something had changed in that moment, something that makes you close your eyes and dispel the reservations you'd had about helping them when your friends were at stake. A life is a life, even if you don't know them, even if you can't see them. It’s more than just a random picture in a police file now. A second kick bursts another door to kindling. An exhausted tan mare emerges, a sour expression still locked on her face. She takes a step to the side and juts her jaw out at you. Not one step back. A look of recognition passes her muzzle in the gloom of the darkness, something genuinely discontented at you being here. Fear, mistrust, and even hatred sweeps across her face as Fluttershy directs her towards Twilight with a soft gesture and a reassuring pat. You wordlessly hold your position, but the freezing cold has worn through the door and even as you start to dig your feet in and push against the frame you realize your strength is waning as the creatures grow ever stronger. Pinkie spasms and shudders again in the dark, nearly convulsing before shaking her head to ward that off. “Pinkie, could you please help me? Rarity, you too, we need to make them comfortable after such a horrendous ordeal.” Fluttershy's gentle request coaxes Pinkie to canter ove, though she still casts her gaze around. Rarity nods as well, primping a large pillow in the middle of the room and setting Twilight on it. Rarity glances back over her shoulder, hesitantly eying her old room, “There’s a few serviceable blankets and pillows still in there. I suppose that would help. I’ll be back in just a moment.” She nervously slips back towards her room in search of .more comfortable furnishings One after another, Applejack smashes the doors flat, releasing the other imprisoned Unicorns. Though you could see the mesmerized looks of relief, fear, and joy on their faces of each and every captive equine, something else bothers you. When did the oil lamps from before die? There's no frost in this room. A thin reedy scratch whispers among the rafters. Looking up, the playground of shadows spins and creeps across the vaulted dome as the oil lamp's lambent pall bounces shades of red and gold across the plaster. A ragged shape moves from its lofty perch, high above Twilight, poised like the sword of Damocles. A glimmer of ivory sparkles in the darkness along with a glow of beady red eyes. Your protector, your teacher, your friend: Twilight rests limply in her seat, eyes fluttering open as her muzzle forms a smile. It’s relaxed, unguarded, a soft gaze of unequaled serenity. “Twilight!” You may be her ward, but in a flash, you are the protector as the bat-like shade descends. “And now the light goes out forever!” A vicious shout echoes in the deeps as Iblis all but materializes from the gloom, a single spar of horn held like a dagger. Time seems to slow, as if by magic. He chose that moment to strike, knowing that everypony was watching, everypony was occupied, everypony was helpless. A sinister grin of devilish glee erupts across the Gremlin's hateful visage as he hurtles towards his intended target. Your quick action pulls you over top of Twilight like a shield. A burning pain screams from your back as the Alicorn horn plunges deep into your flesh. A few fuzzy crackles of energy crackle across your skin as the lancing pain grows even greater and more insufferable. You scream, and that cry swiftly cracks and fizzles as if distorted by an electronic filter. Your senses begin to fade, leaving you in that immutable gulf of static, deaf, dumb, and blind to everything but silent, floating flakes of black and white dust. ♣ The scintillating haze of dust slowly starts to spin around you in a serene, monorhcomatic whirl. A vapid pressure pulls you forward into its soothing embrace, moving towards the eye of the silent storm. You can't see your hands or feel your legs, the slow drifts feels natural but insubstantial. You are nothing but a disembodied wisp, like a dust mote borne aloft by the evening breeze wind and as formless as mist. A silhouette slowly forms from the miasma. Your palms touch loose gravel and small pebbles dig into your shoulder. The world is just as dull and lifeless as in the static storm. “Where…” Your own voice trails off as a thieving zephyr steals your words away. All around are the last crumbling edifices of an aged manor; freestanding plaster walls and wooden beams jut out from heaps of crumbling masonry and rotted thatch. The vaguely familiar ruins loom up just off the gravel path. The mournful dirge whistles by you, stale and cold. Meandering down a lonely causeway, flanked by the desolate shells of empty buildings, you instinctively follow your feet. The crackle of debris and the rasping of loose grit in dismal cobblestone streets passes by unchecked. There is nopony, no hint of anything as monochromatic shades shroud the world in stygian gloom. You mindlessly meander through the streets and cross a little footbridge past boulevards belted in shriveled trees and wizened split rail fences. Even the grass is little more than brittle grey blades that disintegrate into ash at the slightest disturbance. A familiar entrance to an acreage looms up as you turn off the deserted path and cross under a sign. It creaks as the wind toys with its lonely plaything, and abandons it just as the world seems to have abandoned you. The spectral image of a ruined farmhouse appears out of the perpetual dusk. The roof bellies inwards as red paint peels off desiccated grey wood. Every numb step forward brings with it a sense of dread. Something is crudely etched above the door's mantle in a fiendishly familiar language: They will curse your name as postmortal winds howl through the skeletal spars of empty cities and the whole land decays when the light goes out forever. And there you are, whether you know it or not, at the last toll of the daylight hour before the sun begins to set and the last glories leave this land. As you read the inscription, scratched on the wooden beam, a throaty rumble of thunder rolls over the vacant hills and desolate orchards. A darkness sweeps across the sky like a veil, dragging the world further into the dismal mires. A single glimmer winks from inside the derelict dwelling. You shove against the door, hanging awkwardly on its hinges. As you slip inside, navigating the awkward heap of debris, you see a mirror laying on its side. A reflection twists and swirls inside, creating a distinct picture in the maelstrom. The familiar outlines of a school and a street full of yellow buses greets you. You can see the flagpole, a few scuttling students, a dull, late autumn day; they are the last images you remember before being dragged to Equestria. A disembodied voice whispers in your ear as if carried upon a stifling breeze, “You've done your part well. Superb.” The whisper is a familiar serpentine tone. Turning around, there is no figure, no form, just Iblis's drifting voice. “Now I'm going to give you what Ulf wanted, a chance to go home. There's nothing here. Go back, go, leave, thank you for your assistance. We'll be in touch.” His lowly cackle swells in volume as you stare at the beckoning mirror's glittering surface. Within moments, a white crack splits the floors like so many luminous spider webs. Iblis's cackle disappears just as quickly as the world itself peels away. The woodwork cracks, the plaster walls shatter and fall in sheets, leaving nothing but a swirling white expanse around you. Only the brazen mirror remains in the vast gulf of purest white light. Radiating pulses seem to surge through your open palms, tracing up your body and easing the tensions of disaster and failure. There is a soft trill of a meadowlark, and as you bring a hand up to your eyes, the fulfilling warmth of the sun beats down upon your shoulders. Bright springtime grass pricks your palms and a vast rolling field leading to rolling foothills spreads out before you in dappled islands of light and shadow. Dark thunderheads rumble and the fresh scent of rain fills your lungs. Taking a deep breath, you look over the quickly moving clouds in the bright blue sky. A muzzle touches your back, a hoof around your waist. There is no scent of lavender, it’s something as earthy as damp soil after the spring shower. You try to turn and catch a glimpse of whoever it is, but a quiet 'shuush' stills you. Instead, you find yourself staring at the brass mirror propped up against a tall poplar tree. It still shows the same scene, the late autumn, the pavement, and human students flitting about from bus to bus. “Dreams and nightmares. Both are the same thing.” A gentle feminine voice whispers in your ear, but while the touch of breath soothes your skin, there's no one there. Yet, you are not alone. A single figure stands upon the crest of a hillock in the distance, silhouetted by the sun. Try as you might, you can make out nothing but the most vague outline of an Equine. Her soothing voice has a deeper sense of gravitas that commands your attention, “Hopes and fears, one in the same thing, intangible but just as powerful. To help or to heal, to heal or to harm; each impulse feeds us all and drives us onward. You merely have to choose which. I have seen it, the same request, a wish for a land of peace and plenty. It isn't the same as your own. But you may go back and make it that way, if you can follow the same truths you know so well. You may choose to go, or choose to stay. A mirror or a dream. Just reach out and touch it and you'll be home, free to live your life just as you did once before. Or, close your eyes, awaken as another. The choice is yours. I give this gift to you.” You look at the mirror, knowing that this is no dream, but some vision, or a space between spaces. Perhaps you are dead and you just couldn't accept it yet. Slowly, you reach towards the mirror, feeling that embracing figure slowly loosen its grip. The mirror's swirling surface spins like a whirlpool inches from your fingers. Slowly, closing your eyes, you withdraw your hand and lift your face towards the sun. ♣♣ “Suga'cube?!” you awaken with a gasp and a dull throbbing pain lancing pain through your torso. You slump past Twilight's prostrate form and land heavily on the floor. The jarring impact drives the breath from your lungs, accompanied by the ruffle of freathers and clatter of hooves. The bubbling croaks of Ravens fills the air as you're swiftly enwrapped by the buffeting cloud of flapping wings. But for the first time, they aren't ripping and tearing at you, rather, they swarm about you like a living shield. “Shoo, shoo, go away! You are not welcome here!” Fluttershy's remonstrates the Gremlin that lashes out with the dagger-like Alicorn horn. Iblis spins and reels with a howl of rage, stabbing in every direction while being pecked and harassed by the relentless flock. A fuchsia flash speeds past you, scampering behind Rarity and tugging her backwards. The Fashionista's protest goes unheeded as Rainbow is left to struggle against the door. Your hand slowly grips your side while a sliding hoof bumps your ear as a pony skids to a step over you and in front of Twilight. Applejack's protective pose just lets you look out from under her forelegs like a foal, seeing the harassed Gremlin as it seethes and stabs. “Just you try'n hurt him ya' two bit, slacked jawed, rag-tag, slime skilled, no-good varmint!” “For fur-and-feather's sake, somepony get over he-” Rainbow's muted curse is cut short as the door is rocked open by a single great push. The Pegasus shoots across the room and slams into a high-backed chair before sprawling out in a heap. The door hangs open wide as a Windigo scuttles inside with a shrill howl. Pinkie sprints forward, grasping the scruff of Rainbow's mane and pulling her back towards the group as the Ravens stream back out of the way and behind Fluttershy. Iblis waves the last of the retreating birds away before fixing Twilight with a malicious grin. The Alicorn's return gaze is nothing like the Gremlin's; it's sad, laboured, and pained. She casts her gaze down and looks away from him. Iblis barely manages to turn, confronting the monstrous horror snorting clouds of frozen crystals from its nostrils, lips peeling back to reveal the mangled rows of blackened teeth. It tenses as the Gremlin's hands crackle with energy. With a yowl, Iblis throws his hand up towards the lunging Windigo. The winter spirit strikes first, snapping at his shoulder and biting in as Iblis shrieks in pain. The loose crackle of lightning dissipates from his fingers as the Windigo shakes him like a rag doll. With a few last dog-like snaps, it flings him to the ground and stamps on his back. The icy tendrils slow his movement as he crawls on his elbows and uselessly flaps his lethargic wings. The Gremlin twists to confront the Windigo, just as the ice-wraith's spiked hooves crash down onto his unprotected back. Iblis's hollow screams ring throughout the rotunda before being cut mercifully short. You feel yourself being dragged backwards towards one of the empty rooms. Even as you try to stand up, the insistent farmmare never lets go, and ceaselessly pulls you back as your feet push against the floor. The Windigo gazes up from the now still Gremlin. A soft breath echoes from Twilight as she leans against the frame of the shattered door. A graceful and sublime smile crosses her muzzle for the most fleeting of moments: “And in despair I bowed my head; ‘There is no peace in here,’ I said; ‘For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace in here, good will to all.’” Her thin tone slowly begins to swell into something more substantial. A clarion voice arises from the tired haze, rejuvenated and powerful. Even as you try to force the rickety door shut and draw pained breaths, a hoof gingerly touches your back. Looking over your shoulder with a twist that sends an agonizing jolt of pain down your spine, Pinkie Pie tugs at your sleeve, “Come on, join in. It'll be fun, I promise.” Twilight continues her song as the fragmented voices of other ponies emerge: “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: ‘Good is not dead, nor does it sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace in here, good will to all.’” The melody rings throughout the comfortable chamber. Despite the wailing and gnashing of teeth outside the door, the irritable snorts of lethal cold, and the occasional glimpse of the smoky translucent body, the rickety door holds against the onslaught. Applejack eases you into a cushioned seat before sitting down on the edge of the same pillow. You're just another among the Equestrian throng, another voice trying to pick up the lyrics as you go with a little bit of prompting from Pinkie and Applejack. Pinkie's enthusiastic, albeit off-key caterwauling even brings a weak smile to your lips: “‘And on the day of jubilee, All ponies 'round shall come and see; With hearts most true, We welcome you, There's peace in here, good will to all!’”