There she was playing honoured guest to the most insane creature of all of Equestria. Through a fog of buzzing black flies, Charity struggled to fathom what she had gotten herself into. Staring hard enough she could make out a few details. On a long table with seats accommodating a meagre eight or so, Charity sat at the head of the table. Opposite of where she supposed the host would be. The flies flew just slightly above the level of the table's height and slowly thickened as the cloud of insects buzzed closer and closer to the ceiling. As a result the room was dimly lit as the burning lamps above were obscured.
Charity looked up towards a set of chandeliers above her and narrowed her eyes to see struggling silhouettes within the gaps of the black cloud, forming solid black shadows that obscured the light. Her friends were there struggling against the ropes tied on each pair of their legs. They were held up above by thick metal chains that rattled with each little movement. The pair were swinging pointlessly amongst the chandeliers in the pink room and for some reason her concern for the two felt so alien.
Streamers and balloons lined the windowless, doorless walls with red stains seeping through the fabric of the wallpaper. Despite the lack of memory of seeing the room in it's unobscured entirety, she just knew these details. Blood. The room stank of it. The whole room buzzed as petulant flies swarmed the place in droves as five mares lined the seats to the sides of her, attracted by their dead, decomposing flesh. She stared at them in turn, their faces hidden in a cloud of flies, but their hooves and torsos visible just below the cloudline. From their posture, they all sat up straight with their forehooves neatly on the chair arms.
Charity tried to move herself from that very position but found her hooves binded to the chair arms herself. Her stomach and chest tied to the back of the chair as well, to maintain her posture. A normal person would panic, but she felt a resolve of surrender. She knew it was pointless somehow, she knew her fate was inevitable. Whatever fate that may be.
The chains above rattled a little more vigorously now, as the muffled voices of her two friends cried out to her in vain. She knew in her heart of hearts that she should do what she could to save those poor souls. It was, after all, in her element to do so. But in this reality, she felt nothing for them. To her they were perfect strangers, no one of her business or acquaintance to care for. This isn't right! I should help them! They were of no consequence, what mattered was what will soon befall her, in this dark, bloody room.
The two struggled against their bindings, dispelling the flies around them a little to make them a little clearer to see. Charity reacted to the increase of light that caused and forced her eyes to struggle against the glare. They spoke muffled warnings and cries of panic over the loud buzzing, yet she could hear their muffled words clearly, as if they shouted into her own ear. She did not heed their words, they matter little to her, they weren't important in the slightest. There was no fear in her to understand the direness they feared. Charity stared at the pair with interest, intrigued as any would be by the alien and strange. She didn't know those two but for some reason she was certain they were her friends. She searched her memories and couldn't fathom such things. Her? With friends? What, indeed, is a friend? What could possibly make her so sad, as to want those?
Intrigued by the prospect she noted them. Taking in their details and committing them to memory. It could mayhaps be her clue into an ever implausible mystery that was harmony. That word. Her eyes furrowed in thought at the word. Harmony, peace, tranquilly, what nonsense is that? She stared, enquiring inwarding, staring unheeded by the buzzing insects that dare perch themselves in her eyes.
The two ponies above were two colts. One was blue coloured colt, who wore big rounded black rimmed goggles. The glass over his eyes were a deep coloured magenta. His silver mane was cut in a simple straight cut, protruding from which was a blue horn that swung as his head did to and fro in a vain attempt to cut the ropes that bind him. Ropes that rattled like chains. The other colt was orange and wore a stetson hat on his head in defiance to gravity. His body was lined with vines that caressed him. His green eyes looked at her speaking with them, as if to say-
Nope, never met the likes of you in my life.
"Tea time every pony!" With a loud clanking slam a pink mare had placed a silver tray filled with pink tableware, complete with a tea set for eight. Upon the voice of the cheery looking mare the flies had dropped. Dead.
Looking across the falling veil of flies, she saw the pink mare meet her eyes with her own big rounded ones and grinned widely. Her mane was as bubbly as her personality as they curled and puffed to look almost as if it were made of cotton candy. Each tiny movement funnily made it bob up and down, the spectacle of which drew Charity's attention to that. Now her eyesight no longer obscured, she made a point to look at the other guests. Chiming in at her attentions, the pink mare began her horrific little party piece.
"Can ah have some tea Pinkie pah?" The pink mare moved to the Stetson wearing corpse's mouth like a puppet and spoke in a bad southern drawl. The stetson wearing colt above could be heard screaming a muffled shout of rage at the display.
No
"Why certainly Miss Turnip." The pink mare replied, making a point to raise her chin to seem dignified and poised. Dashing off to the side of the dead mare, she delicately placed a saucer and cup before it and poured out a red gooey liquid out of the pot. She had held it high so that each lumpy part noisily splashed out of the cup. Grinning at the on looking Charity she continued to throw lumps of sugar into the cup whilst she stood on two legs on top of the table. Clearly she was taking great pleasure on how uncomfortable she was making the little filly feel. Diving off of the table she vanished behind the dead cow-mare and appeared beside a rainbow maned pegasus.
Stop it.
"This is one great party. You really outdone yourself!" She held out a hoof over the shoulder of the corpse and began to jostle the head in time with the mimed speech. Her impression gave her a gruff masculine voice to her character.
You monster, stop it.
"Why thank you Rocky." She said in a quick reply until she dashed off to another.
Stop hurting my friends.
"I'm having a delightful time as well." An elegant and poised white unicorn, said. No the pink mare mimed. This was getting out of hoof. I want out of this. Charity made her attempt to move but had found her hoofs still tied to the arms of the chair. Suddenly her neck looped through a rope, forcing her head back to her seat. Her head looked up now as her neck craned against the top of the chair.
Don't touch her!
"I'm so glad Sir Lintsalot" The pink mare projected over the table from besides the little white filly. Charity had to look down to her chin to see what was happening.
A demon has no business violating a saint!
"Might I trouble you with another slice of cake?" The pink monstrosity flapped the child's gums in a high pitched voice.
"Why, of course!" The rope around her neck had grown taut as she felt an intense burst of pressure on her windpipe. "Take your cake and eat it."
Gasping for air Charity had found herself reaching out to the dead white mare. Her curly purple mane, those elegant eye lashes. Rarity... Save me... I... I need you... That's right she knew that mare. The element bearer of generosity. Saint Rarity save me. Her vision was blurring now and her vision had begun to fade into black. Her lungs on fire and just about to burst.
Charity awoke with a start and instinctively reached for her neck. She could feel nothing was amiss and looking at her hoof she had realised she was merely drenched in hot sticky sweat. By the soreness of her eyes, there were tears as well.
It had been all a horrible dream She took a deep breath to calm herself. Almost immediately her heart slowed to a canter. I am with the order, in my chambers, safe and sound. She attempted to sigh with relief but was instead welcomed with a fit of coughing. A hacking, irritable kind as she gathered whatever was building in her throat with a great hawking and spat out what was threatening to choke her.
There in the middle of her room, a small spatter of congealed blood lay there. And by the tang slowly building on her tongue, more was coming.
"Saint Rarity save me. The demon nearly had me." Her voice was hoarse but she was definitely alive and breathing.
Charity scanned through her memories despite how much it scared her to. You need to be brave Charity. You have a job to do. She knew that all of her dreams had meaning, prophetic dreams of which the spirit of generosity guided her to her next goal or to her dismay often times warnings from the demon mare.
Pinkie Pie had not grown wise to it yet but she had been using these nightmares the pink mare gave her as a guide. Pinkie Pie was not an intelligent beast, acting on impulse and emotion she tended to do rash things, Charity had found. Leaving behind a clue here, an indication there, she followed the horrid visions to their conclusions. Often times saving many lives as a result. Today was a warning for her, the demon of laughs wanted to her to beware the six mares and the two colts she knew. Charity had been on the right track all along.
She had no doubt now that the saint had made her, her prophet. Rarity wanted her to go on this pilgrimage she had been dreaming of since foalhood. And by Pinkie's apparent fear, it was clear to her that she was ready to make a start on it.
"I'm not afraid anymore Pinkie. I'm not your foal anymore. I'm not."
I'm not a child anymore. I am a prophet. The successor to saint Rarity.