//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 // Story: The Dream of Many // by WiseFireCracker //------------------------------// I could see nothing. I could hear nothing, smell nothing, touch nothing, taste nothing. I floated alone in nothingness. The darkness stretched forever. I was alone. My wings were enlacing my midsection, my chin touching my chin, my tail curled over my belly. I was alone. Safe. I was safe. The voice repeated. “Stay,” it said, and I knew its concern was true. The outside was scary. Flashes of bright colours and deafening noises came back to me, alien. Incomprehensible. And, a strange feeling in my chest, I fought back to return to the darkness. The nothingness was safe. Safe, repeated through my mind. The void stretched forever without any foreign presence. Only me. I'm safe here. Away from the... From the what? The thought gave me pause. Something to tick and poke at the back of my head. I felt myself move, uncurl and test the void with my gaze. What is scary out there? The flashes returned, with strength so great I needed to avert my eyes. No. Not those, I told the darkness. Those had been aggressive, in-your-face, but they hadn't been so much scary so much as startling. What part had been scary? “Everything,” the voice said. Then, sensing my dissatisfaction, it shifted and grew closer. Close enough to be at my sides, to lay a hand on my shoulder and squeeze gently. “The Strings, the wolves, the alicorn, the hunger.” Snapping teeth. Fangs that were the colour of bark, and saliva, that of a fluorescent slime. A part of me scoffed. Feathers ruffled, chest puffed. A part of me with a name: pride. The wolves aren't scary. I killed them. I caught glimpses of glowing eyes, glaring through the dark of a forest. Annoyance ticked at my brows, furrowed, and this time, the insistence curled my lips. I killed them. Broken birches laid on a bed of leaves, broken skulls ten feet away from broken torsoes. Now, the hesitation filtered through the air. The presence in the darkness moved more slowly. Its invisible hands hands brushed against my sides, as if wanting to touch me but uncertain as to how. Phantom lines dug into my skin, circling my neck, strangling. The String-Man is dead. A corpse laid beneath me, of ink and crawling insects. I'm not afraid of dead things. Blue eyes. Blue light. Thunder and shouts. Luna wants to work with me. I'm not scared of an ally. Agony rippled through my mind. Molten lead poured on my forehead, at the base of my horn, and dripped into my eyes. I trashed. I rolled onto the ground, screaming, shrieking above the sudden berating growls that rose from the nothingness. Claws seemed to dig into my chest, pushing apart organs, seeping deeper into me, until they grabbed my stomach and squeezed. My mind went dark. I could see nothing. Hear nothing. Smell nothing. I writhed. My fangs sunk into thin air. My claws tore at walls in the dark. My wings flapped in thunderclap of leather. I wanted. I hungered. The need grew from the bottomless pit clawed at. It was an impulse that filled every corners of my mind to the point I could think nothing else. Eat. Eat. Bite. Eat. Tear. Eat. Rip. Chew. Bite. Eat. EAT. The shadows became ponies. Small, little, fragile things laying on their backs. Fear in their eyes. Whimpers in their throats. A name on their lips. “Prince William...” I wiped the drool dripping on my chin. The hunger hammered at the front of my mind. I needed to eat. Dreamons ate the living. They feasted or died. It was a natural thing, it said to me. And my lips moved to repeat the words. “Take them...” flew out of my mouth instead. The hold on me splintered into pieces. A shriek reached my ears, one so distant and bestial that I knew not its origin. The presence had faded. And my mind had cleared to a newfound, but oh precious truth. The hunger was scary, but I did not fear it. The void did not stretch forever. It was clinging to my skin. It was suffocating me. I pushed with all my might, pushed so hard the muscles I did not know I owned burned from the effort. I could feel my whole body straining, and my whole body was that of a sailor stallion with years of experience. Then came a sickening crunch, and the facade gave in. The tip of my hooves surged through, suddenly cold but caressed by a hot wind. A frantic part of me pushed at my hind legs, refused the embrace of the now slime-like liquid, and spread the rift wide. I fell out with a screaming gasp. My wings flapped, sending drops and chunks of slime off my feathers. My chest rose in fast, heaving breath, snorts pushing away bubbles of ink from my nostrils. “I... I did it.” I panted. The only thing I should fear was myself. And how could I ever escape myself? Jaw clenched, I probed my teeth with the tip of my tongue. Flat, for now, I realized with a shudder of relief. I could be a dreamon, a true beast of shadow and fear. Prince William, please! had screamed the foals. The foals lived. I could be myself. Could I escape that? “No,” I told the crawling shadows, and with a stomp, sent them packing. “I can't...” What did hiding do for me? Burying my head in the sand hadn't helped. If I had believed Luna right away, the foals wouldn't have ever been endangered in the first place. Granted, the whole thing was as unbelievable as they came, but hadn't there been a nagging feeling at the back of my mind? A little voice to tell me things weren't as they seemed? Lowering my head, I sighed. Maybe there could have been something, maybe not. The past was in the past, and even in a dream, I doubted we could rewind time to that. Small Pond would have still been sleeping for... what, days? The energy drained from her wouldn't be coming back. Just like... My stomach twisted, and I felt a pang of hunger and guilt. No. Nopony would be coming back even if we did try to turn back time. “I can't change the past, nor who I was, but I can decide what I will be.” I cast a cautious look to my surroundings, beyond the immediate shadow. It was there, I knew, but a cold finger ran down my shoulder at the thought of piercing through that darkness. “I will not be afraid.” Without giving myself time to think, I forced my horn to become lit with a red brazier. The walls of the caverns were a dark pink under the crimson light. But that shade was no trick of the light. Those walls weren't of rock or metal. They were of flesh. The Serpent had eaten me. “I will not fear,” I said with a strong, unshaken voice. A hissing rasp carried on the putrid breeze, like a ghostly presence whispering in my ears. Go back to sleep, my child. “Can't hear you,” I grunted, false cheer heightening my pitch. “Not listening!” Now, internally, I was freaking out, but... okay, I was also freaking out externally. This was a part of people's anatomy that I had never wished to get a closer look of, especially not from the inside. But alas, there I was, jumping at the puddles of ink-like acid, wondering if being digested was an active or passive process when it came to the metaphysical. Oh, that was a bad thing to wonder when I might have first seat for that little spectacle later. I started trotting. At a peaceful pace, as if nothing weighted down on me. The situation might be urgent, but if I galloped, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. The careful hold I kept over my emotions would shatter. So, I went slow, as if exploring, as if a genius spelunker inside a particularly hot and disgustingly pungent cavern of red clay. Somehow, that particular image didn’t help much. It still felt like monsters in the dark would jump me as soon as my horn’s magic gave out. Reflected glimpses of light became like the glowing eyes of demons, the flashes of teeth of a monster. Was the rasp sound in the wind the breath of a creature following me? Stay safe, the hissing voice repeated to me. Return. “Return or be killed,” I muttered. Classic, but a stubborn part of me overrode the fear and looked back to the shadows. “Return and be killed. I know where I am. I will get out.” The rasp was anger now, shivering and quivering in a rage only it could see. Guttural growls licked at my ears, indistinct whispers wormed themselves in. The drips of acid and blood faded with my hoofsteps. I could only hear the wind. The rage and the contempt and the black, oiling feeling of a predator looming a struggling prey. “Get away.” That hadn’t been me. “Get away...” a mare's voice said. “Get away from me...” Could it be? No, of course it had to be. Who else was there in here? “Leave me alone...” the voice begged with a distinctively familiar tone. It was her! My legs moved on their own. The walls on my sides blurred while the wind became raging, slapping me in the face. “Small Pond!” I shouted. “I'm coming, Small Pond! Don't give up!” Her voice echoed throughout the air, less than a whisper. “Please...” It whipped my blood in a frenzy. I would not – I could not let her down now. I had to find her. She was close. I knew she was close. I could feel the gold. I could hear sobs. My gallop came to an abrupt halt. The sight before me hit me like a slap in the face. If not for her cries, I could have missed her entirely, lost as she was in a cocoon black as a moonless night. Only her head stuck out of the mass of blacked tendrils. Only that little glimpse of her remained, and all I could see of her was a heartbreaking despair. She hung her head low, strands of her mane half-obscuring her face, ears drooped. The sight of her like this reminded me of a puppet without strings. Without the faint shimmer of gold covering her, one would be hard pressed to say if she still lived. “Please...” she murmured. “Leave me alone.” Something cracked in my chest. “Take my hoof, Small Pond,” I beckoned her with a sad excuse for a smile on my face. “It's going to be alright, you just need to come with me instead of staying alone in the dark.” She couldn't stay much longer. The moment those sparks of light died out, so would she. I swallowed, licking at my lips. A small part of me shivered at the foreign feeling, but I clamped down my focus on Small Pond's face. She refused to meet my eyes and the shadows inched further through her fur. They crept just over her chin now. My heart skipped a beat. Think, William. What could I do? If nothing changed, the darkness would claim her for good. And then... the Serpent would win. It'd eat her, her brother, Luna, me. It probably wouldn't stop there. Without Luna, I'd bet the barrier would clear out, and the path to the stars would be opened. The quick glimpse of the starry fields beyond the dream floated at the back of my mind, and with them, a handful of youthful voices. My next heartbeat came with startling strength, a throb that spread through my body, from the sole of my hooves to the tip of my horn. With it, a heat. A fire. “You know what? You're right.” I gave a weak laugh. “It is hard to trust a stranger. And that's ultimately what I am to you. I never did tell you much about me, did I?” “William?” Small Pond's voice was suddenly stronger, unashamed and even confused. For a moment, it had stopped being about her, the ashamed sister tormented by her heart's desire, and started being about the stallion that kept saving her life. Around her, the darkness shivered, receded. Small Pond looked at me with hungry curiosity. “Did I ever get to tell you that I'm no alicorn at all?” “You...” she stumbled, looking left and right, shaking her head as if to search for the memory. “You said something, maybe. I'm not sure anymore... You look the part.” I had to grin. An emotion so childish grew within me, and I examined my feathers with careful disinterest. “It's true. I may look the part, but it's all an elaborate optical illusion.” A fleeting smile graced Small Pond's lips. It looked the part of a smirk, the kind that told people 'yeah, right' with the subtlety of a truck honking down a busy street. Still, she humoured me despite her exhaustion. “What are you then?” “Human.” Dreamon. “I'm not exactly here by choice. And by here, I mean trapped in a dream like everypony else. Or heck, more precisely, here, as in within the guts of a ravenous serpent the size of the damn ocean. However, I would probably stay around you even if given the choice, so don't worry about that, Pond.” Some red touched her cheeks, and I very deliberately ignored that. Around us, the walls of flesh still oozed that sickening ink. The light of my horn kept it at bay, for now. There were more pressing matters. Obviously. Like getting Small Pond out of that cocoon before it swallowed her whole. “What else is there to say about me?” I mused out loud, with as playful a tone I could manage. I will not fear, the words repeated at the back of my mind, I will not let fear control me. “There isn't much, actually. You'd be shocked at how boring I can be. Guess what I am studying to become these days.” Now she looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “I'm not joking. Take a wild guess,” I urged with a smug shrug. “You won't get it right.” She frowned, so incredulous. “...A royal guard?” Now, I'd admit, that was kind of a boost for my ego. And I could use it right now. “Nope. An accountant, can you believe that?” At her jawdrop of disbelief, no, she couldn't. “Of all the things I could be, I chose to go with that. My friends never let me hear the end of it. And, I mean, okay, I kind of get their point. I'm just good with numbers, and I don't mind a desk job so this is fine for me.” “That's... There's no way! You're all knights and ladies and 'I'll save you'!” “Well, it is a power fantasy. Sure, my normal life isn't much in the way of excitement. But this?” – I gestured to myself and our surroundings – “This is the kind of adventure I dream of. Maybe not in those exact details – I could do without being eaten –, but I just want to save the damsel, kill the monster and head off in the sunset for a happily ever after. You hit the bull's-eye there. I know it's silly, but everyone needs something like that, right?” Yes, she wanted to say, but did not. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, I knew. But the shadows clung to her like chains. Her heart was not a thing so easily freed. Not yet. Small Pond bit her lips then, seemingly in deep thoughts. “Why are you here now?” “I'm not sure. I was having a nightmare.” I frowned, at first. When her expression turned sympathetic, I shrugged with my wings and put on a brave face. “Nothing special. I was running in the woods, with timberwolves chasing me.” It hit me as it hit her. Really? her eyes conveyed. I could admit, the coincidence felt uncanny. The both of us? I wondered what that said about me when Small Pond had been hiding a whole mess of insecurities and bitterness under the guise of giant shellfishes. “Hmmm, you know, maybe I also have a big brother that unknowingly stifles my dreams until my subconscious imagined him as a trio of wolves.” She chuckled. It was a little thing, barely a few seconds long. But I heard it clear as crystal and so did she. It felt as the turn of a key in a lock. With a moment's hesitation, she reached forward. Her right front leg was stretching against the shadow's hold. And Small Pond did not even seem to notice. “So, what happened next?” she asked. Curious, concerned. Oh, I couldn't resist. Both wings flared, a winning smile on my face, I wiggled my eyebrows. “I decided that an alicorn could kick any timberwolf's wooden ass, so that's what I became.” “Celestia...” she groaned, freeing another one of her hooves to hit her forehead. “You're serious, aren't you?” I looked her straight in the eyes, and this time she did not look away. “Dead serious. You can't beat your fear by running.” She stopped smiling. Grim, I offered her my hoof once more. “Small Pond, you have to stand up. I'm not going to pull you out. You have to do it yourself.” Fear glinted in her gaze. My pitch black hoof seemed to be the waiting jaw of a monster to her. To grasp it would be to let its fang sink into her flesh. Her legs stilled within the embrace of the darkness. She took it. The cocoon unravelled around her. Strands and whole blankets of nothingness fell like petals of a twisted flytrap. Small Pond stumbled and clung to my hoof, looking so small and yet so solid in that one moment. Her fur matted with slime, she closed the distance between us in two strides. And the snarling shadows hissed as they retreated back further in the leviathan guts of the Serpent. I could not and did not hold it back any longer. With all my heart, I hugged her. Wings, legs, face. Full body hug. She had tried saving my butt at the expense of her own. “I'm glad you're alright, Pond,” I whispered, my voice thick and trembling. She buried herself against my shoulder, her shapely form warm against mine, and a gentle smile on her face. “Thank you, Prince William.” Feeling unexpectedly bashful, I rubbed at the back of my head. “Just William is fine.” “William...” she said slowly, rolling my name on her tongue as if to test it. A small smile tugged at her lips. I felt my breath get stuck in my lungs, and I hastily cleared my throat. “N-n-now, about... er... about those pleas for me to get back, were you trying to save me? Or was it just an excuse to hide?” She flushed. “It wasn't. Pr-... William, you're...” Small Pond sighed. “You're a friend, and I care about you.” The words left a pleasant warmth trailing through my chest. Friend. It was the oddest thing, I realized with a quiet chuckle. How had I even made a friend through such a nightmare? “Then, am I allowed to return the favour?” I asked with a pointed look. “Can I care for you too?” With a touch of apprehension, she nodded. “Caring means I'm not letting that wound I saw fester any longer. It helped chain you down into this nightmare. It's... You didn't want to leave. You liked the nightmare better. What's so different from the waking world?” She inhaled deeply, then... “Nothing.” I nearly growled in frustration. She still tried to stay her tongue? Had she really not learned what I was trying to tell her?! But... then I saw the look on her face. And the emotion died in my chest before it could fully bloom. Understanding made me gasp. Small Pond hadn't deflected my question. Her voice, though quiet, had carried nothing but sincere disappointment. Nothing would change for her, once she woke up. She could hardly feel the difference. “I'm starting to feel...” Her gaze was distant. Glazed over. I hardly could see my own reflection in those dead eyes. “...Like I'm dying a slow death. Just going through the motions. Forgetting what it means to live. To dream. I see the ocean every day, I see the horizon calling me, and every day I have to resist the urge to follow. It's like diving to swallow sea water when there's a bucket full of fresh drinkable water on deck.” “Pond...” What could I say to that? It hurt to see the life going out of her eyes, to see her become this wooden, unliving mare. Her next words were so quiet I nearly didn't understand them. “I can't do it anymore.” A shrivelled hand had shoved a dagger of ice straight in between my ribs. I knew her meaning. Granny Orchid smiled at me, asked for a kiss for the road, faded. And I saw with an extraordinary clarity Small Pond on the deck of her ship, alone at sea, just before she jumped overboard. I herded her away from the cocoon of shadows. I pushed her away with harsh shoves. I pushed as if the depths of the sea were just behind us. She did not fight it. Her body moved without any sort of resistance, or will. I hated it. To keep my tone even had become a torture all on its own. Yet I refused to show Small Pond anything but a friendly face. “Well, even if you forgot, it's never too late to remember.” My horn flickered, a flash of black before the red, and my ears flickered to catch the noise of crackling fire. “William, is that...?” Small Pond's shock was so great she forgot her tiredness. But truly, I could understand. Even if I was the one to conjure them, it was surreal, absolutely fucking surreal, to have marshmallows roasted on a campfire inside a digestive tract. The walls of flesh throbbed, the dark pink floor twitching, with an imperceptible attempt to push us back into the mass of writhing shadows. I will not be afraid. Despite the cold sweat rolling on my temple, I sat down on a random log, and grabbed a marshmallow stick. “Where do you want to go?” Small Pond sighed and let herself fall right next to me. “Anywhere. Everywhere. I don't want to stay in Horseshoe Bay all my life. I'd like to start with the celestial sea. Maybe find my cutie mark's namesake. I haven't even seen one of those yet. I don't sail far enough to.” “Sounds nice. One should know themselves and all that philosophical wisdom.” The good humour didn't last. “I sense a 'but' though.” “But there's Small Fry. He's family. He's my gentle big brother, he's always looked after me. I can't abandon him, can I?” She looked down. In the corner of my eyes, I saw chains slithered near her back, ready to strike as would snakes. A bolt of red lightning incinerated them. "Honestly?" I shrugged, giving her a shameless grin. She squeaked when I brought her closer to me with a pull of my wing. "I don't know, Small Pond. But then again, neither do you." Her jaw slackened. "W-what?" "You've never told him how you feel, have you? It's always been this fear about something you're so sure of. It's always been something you've kept hidden, because of how unworthy the thought made you feel." Small Pond shrunk on herself, and I felt unease pool in my chest. “You can't go on like that. Look at where it's left you: the belly of the beast.” Despite all tenets of sanity, I actually chuckled. “It's quite frankly the lowest point possible in either of our existences. Stuck inside the digestive tract of a titanic dreamon. If I didn't feel so numb, I think I'd be screaming my lungs out.” Small Pond held the roasted treat closer to her mouth, but didn't bite into it. “I'm sorry...” That made my ears tick. “You have nothing to apologize for, Pond.” I brought her closer, in an attempt to comfort her, but she pushed away. “I know,” she said, a cross look briefly appearing on her face. “I... I know, Prince William, but I am sorry that this happened to you. You did not deserve any of it.” It near brought tears to my eyes. “Neither did you,” I breathed out. “This isn't anything that someone deserves, Pond. You did not call that monstrous dreamon to you. Your fears and insecurities aren't wrong. They're bad for you, but you shouldn't feel terrible just because you have them. Love... I guess love is a shackle as terrible as fear.” Understanding dawned on her face. She looked at me, truly looked at me, and I could not quite tell what she saw. Not a mockery of a pony that would make her flinch. Not a dreamon, nor a human. Maybe... maybe what she saw and gazed at in wonder... was just me. “You did not want to be an accountant, William.” Her impish smile startled the warm fuzzy feeling out of me, and in its stead left a bubbly laughter just waiting to erupt. “Again, with this? Even here, in the land of ponies and magic?” I threw my arms-slash-forelegs in the air. “What's with people and not letting me bore myself to death?” Small Pond punched my shoulder lightly, eyes twinkling, smile wide. “I guess they just like you.” “Impossible!” I bellowed to the heavens. “No one likes an accountant in the making!” She laughed with me, loudly, freely. The sound was a melody, a little something to keep my heart warm. I loved to see her this way. Finally. When her mirth subdued, the joy remained, and a light of a greater thing still twinkled in her eyes. “I d-” A sickening squelch cut her off, as we jolted away from each other. Together, we turned to the nearest wall of flesh. Slowly, a bump appeared on one membrane, a growl getting louder the bigger it became. It tore apart, flesh broken, blood gushing, when a horn gore through it, followed by a roaring stallion. At that point, my eyes more or less bulged out of my skull. Small Fry blinked out of existence, inches from the fleshy ground. Instead, he appeared on his hooves, as if he'd never fallen, despite the grime and blood covering every inch of him. “Pond!” he cried out as soon as he saw us. “Fry!” his sister called back, so immensely relieved despite all her previous insecurities. The fair stallion near barrelled into her, catching her in a crushing hug, unspilled tears in his eyes. He whispered a handful of indistinct words in her ear, just before he turned a heavy glare in my direction “You, stay back!” he snarled, his face transformed into a mask of brotherly fury that made me flinch. Normally, I wouldn't be afraid, but this stallion had just punched and bitten his way into a high-end dreamon's intestines. It wasn't exactly normal as far as I could tell. Luckily, someone else could take offence on my behalf. “Fry, don't-” “Sis, you okay?” he breathed out, taking her face in his hooves. “Thank the Princesses, you're alright. I was so afraid.” He seemed colt-like now, every one of his emotions so clear-cut. “When I saw that snake, and you threw us off, and, and you didn't do it for yourself! I thought I had lost you.” He inhaled sharply, his forehead gently pushed against hers as if making sure that she did indeed stood there. “You can't imagine what it was like, looking for you in the sea, not knowing if you were still alive.” Small Pond's forelegs pulled him into a gentle hug. “I'm sorry for making you worry...” Small Fry chuckled, fondness all over his face. “Everything's okay now.” My eyes glided from that touching reunion to the path from whence he had come. The tear in the flesh remained, a constant flow of a bright red blood escaping from it. Now, it wasn't in me to question the logic of dreams anymore, but I was absolutely certain that Small Fry hadn't been eaten. Which could only mean... “You conveniently made us an escape route as well?” Man, that guy was full of surprises. And good ones so far! “I might just have to kiss you, Small Fry.” Either he had no sense of humour, or that particular expression was unknown to Equestrian, for Small Fry jumped back a good feet. “Don't you dare!” A wicked idea wormed itself through my brain, and I grinned. “Too late.” Small Fry made a strangled squawk against my lips, not too far from Small Pond's dying whale cry at the sight of us. A vague nausea fought with the repressed desires of a certain old mare inside me. The dizzying feeling only worsened when new images exploded inside my head. A calming heat curled in my chest, near my stomach, and next rose a strange urge to purr. I broke apart from Fry with a jolt. I'm taking too much! The electrifying touch raced across my skin, from my lips down my neck, lower, over my barrel, then in a straight line over my belly. And there it settled between my hind legs with a jolt. Damn! I blinked back stars and day skies and hotel rooms, and a bunch of mares. Without dwelling too deep on that last part. “Okay, so I might have lied, but I really wanted to get feelings back into a certain part of my anatomy.” Which had happened, mission complete. The fact that my stomach didn't feel quite like a gaping pit at the moment hadn't been the main factor. Small Fry laid on the floor, traumatized. Small Pond alternated between outrage and a very obvious desire to laugh her rump off. “...What?” Her voice trembled. “Feelings where?” “Oh, don't worry about it.” I waved a dismissive hoof. “It's all dreamon talk, you wouldn't get it anyway.” Small Fry's hoof collided with my face and lifted me off the ground. Admittedly, I deserved it entirely. In midair, my wings flared open. It slowed my ascend to a stand still, and there I chose to stay. Just for a minute or two. It might allow me to filter a bit the... uncomfortable memories I found myself assaulted by. Turned out trying to revive feelings in my loins involved sex. Who knew? “What the hell?!” Down there, Small Fry frothed at the mouth. Again, I understood. But it was also kind of hilarious. Cautious, I landed only after Small Pond placed a hoof on her brother's shoulder and pulled him a few steps back. The cries of pleasure rang faintly in the back of my brain. Heat puffed in my chest, in my face. I hadn't thought this through. This wasn't the time to be thinking of sexy times with mares and... and... and I recognized those two. Well, Granny would. “Wait... both of the Net sisters?” Small Pond frowned. “What?” I felt my jaw drop. The details had focused. Their ghostly images didn't stack. They hadn't simply switched places in my mind, colours of their coats and mane and tails mixed by a blurry memory. “At the same time?!” I gasped. Small Fry turned a very interesting shade of crimson. “What?! Fry?! Celestia! I'll never be able to shop at their stall again!” Even in the bleakest moments, laughter had a place. Ponies understood that. The six great virtues of ponykind. I admired that. I loved the joy that bubbled inside me, just to see Small Fry spluttering and Small Pond crying for brain bleach. I clung to it like a lifeline. God, I wanted them both safe and healthy by the time this was done. “This is pathetic, William.” Cold blew away the silliest thoughts with a whisper. The smile was wiped from my face in an instant. But instead, the fiercest urge made a low growl rise from deep in my guts. A mangled black leather shoe stepped into the ring of light. “This is not who you are.” Skeletal fingers reached out for us. “You are so quick to forget. Do you really not recall the taste of life?” My blood froze in my veins. Yes, replied a treacherous voice in my head. It was an experience beyond my wildest dreams. And I was too late to squash that hesitation. He saw. The String-Man's smooth, featureless head emerged from the darkness on its thin pale neck. Black oil dripped from his chin, onto an open ribcage where only a mass of writhing bugs moved. “You do,” said his gravelly, moaning voice. Fury exploded inside me. “Leave!” Jets of flame flew past his head. “Do you hear me, monster?! LEAVE!” The air rippled at my order, carried my will, struck at him. It slid on the String-Man like water. He stood, motionless, his arms slack, his absurdly thin fingers touching the floor. A silent challenge radiated from him. “What is that thing?!” the siblings cried out, and I suddenly remembered their presence. “That's the String-Man!” I pushed them with my left wing. “Stay behind me! I'll protect you!” “The what?!” Small Pond screeched, her grip on my wing painful. “I don't understand, William!” The String-Man's head tilted in an abrupt jerk, as if its neck had given out. His eyeless stare seemed affixed just past me. “Is this your ruse, William? Do you make them seek you before you eat them?” A harsh curse came out of Fry's mouth, and Small Pond's grip slackened. Yet, I dared not take my eyes off the nightmarish creature to check on them. A mistake now would be fatal. “The String-Man, Pond.” I growled, my horn lowered and ready to unleash any number of destructive spell. “He's a man made of string, and other nasties. Not an imaginative name, but it does the job describing...” Realization washed over me like a crashing wave. She did not understand because... Small Pond is a mare. It couldn't be... The thought seized me and I jolted as it surged through my body like wildfire. Suddenly, my senses were acute. The pungent smell that drifted through the serpent's bowels carried a hint of rot and sour. Clicks rang when the thin fingers of the String-Man touched. Under his smooth, featureless face, I could see twitches, like mandibles, legs, stingers. Maggots. I saw Small Fry in the corner of my eyes trying to step in front of his sister. She looked past him, she stared at the horror, and to her it was nameless. The String-Man was a tall, bipedal creature that knew my name, in the dream of an innocent mare. The part she hadn't understood was him being a man. “You're my nightmare,” the words came out in a single breath. I took the first step forward. He was my nightmare. The only one that could have spawned the thought of him was me, because I alone knew what a man was. In the world of Equestria, no one else could have imagined the String-Man. Not like this. And if I squinted, I could recognize the parts my brain had pilfered off horror stories and the likes to create him. The burlap sack on his head ripped at the level of his mouth, and clicking mandibles peaked out. In the back of my mind, some part of me understood that it was a smile. “Or am I more than that?” The wings on my back flapped with a thunderclap, and I felt the hot, acidic air bore into their leather. “Enough of these lies!” Fangs sunk into flesh. I tore at the burlap sack that made up its head. I clawed and bit at the oily, inky skin and ripped it to pieces. Black dust floated off the wounds. Worms crawled out, and those fell apart from the snap of my jaw, their blood a bitter taste. The String-Man himself made no move other than moan and gasp, as I stripped away layer upon layers, until I could see, truly, what was underneath. Not the swarms of insects, not the nothingness of a smooth, doll-like head, not even a seeping horror. A skull's empty sockets stared back at me. I could no longer breath. I had been able to do so underwater and trapped in grim, but now my lungs were burning and my sinews flaring as I stared down at the black hole in the skull's head. Bugs crawled out. A corpse. The String-Man is a rotting corpse. I scampered away from the bloodied, formless mass of strings. Without a word, I turned my back to Small Pond and her brother. Then, I emptied the content of my stomach on the floor. Chunks of black congealed blood splattered my forelegs. Worms crawled out of some. More chunks followed. The foul substance covered the inside of my mouth. I could not breath through the rough heaves that wracked my body. Tears blurred my sight. “Do you not recall the taste of life?” I heard him ask again as the taste of rotten meat and crushed shells lingered on my tongue. I stumbled away from the mess with my head swimming. “I'm okay,” was all I could say while wiping out the slime sticking to my cheek. My companions didn't run to hug me better. The two of them kept a respectable distance, their body language very defensive. Small Fry especially tried to block the sight of his sister from me, his glare piercing despite the slight tremble that I noticed in his legs. “Is... is it dead?” Small Pond squeaked. Maybe it was dead all along. “Yes.” The String-Man was dead. I had killed it twice. Perhaps it would come back again, if I conjured it. Some hidden part of me called to him. My nightmare. He had to be my nightmare. Small Pond couldn't fathom him. I encountered it first, alone, away from any other. I had dreamed of him. How else could I be overpowering him so easily? But he made the armour cling to me. It was his strings that lifted me up like a puppet, that threw me into the shadows. It was him. He made me a dreamon. “Nopony ever is.” Dreamons weren't born, according to Luna. I'd been made a dreamon, by this piece of my nightmare. By him or by the Serpent? Which was the true creature that had turned me into what I was now? He was a walking corpse. Yellow eyes searched through the ocean's water. “Nopony ever is.” Were all dreamons like me? Worse, was I like all other dreamons? I eyed the walls of flesh through the flickering light atop my horn. Was that the sight Granny had seen? My abs clenched suddenly, the urge to throw up greater than ever. I remember the taste. A sweet and gentle flavor. Hints of the sea breeze, the faintest traces of mango and a flowery smell. Ache spread through my gums and my teeth. We had to get out of here. I had to get out. Now. The drops of sweat glistening on my fur turned into shards of ice as I searched for the tear that Small Fry had made. I could not find it. Small Fry and Small Pond were right there. The sparks of light on Pond's fur carried a hint of spice and sweetness. I will not be afraid. I will not run. If someone had been able to punch and bite their way in, what could stop them from doing the same for the way out? It may be scary, but I am not afraid. If the way closed, what stopped us from punching it down again? Us, I answered but the confines of my mind. The only limits existed within our imaginations, or our wills. And right now, the desire to leave this place in one piece... A new weight settled in my grip, a very comforting weight. The urges could be set aside with this kind of support. It would be fine. Without looking down at the blade, I fumbled for the chord. The chain stayed firmly aimed at the exterior, despite the ponies behind me curiously inching closer to get a look at what I was holding. “...What's that?” “This, my dear Pond, is my chainsaw.” The motor roared to life. Its vibrations climbed up my hooves and legs up to my shoulders. In the corner of my eyes, I noticed the shadows fleeing. Oh yeah, they had better run. And then... then I pondered. Was it really the best my imagination could do? Even Small Fry had managed to dig his way through with nothing but his teeth and his overprotectiveness. The weight in my hooves increased, and the fleshy intestine walls suddenly glistened with pink light. I didn't need to see my reflection to know that on my face was plastered a truly magnificent shit-eating grin. “Actually, scratch that, it's my laser chainsaw.” Both siblings stared with worried looks on their faces. “That's...” A flick of my hoof revved up the engine. Its snarling dragon snore noise was true music to my ears. All that power, right there, in my grasp. “It's the same, but better. Trust me.” “I don't,” Small Fry grunted. Well, that was more or less the answer I expected. So, I cackled and brought down the chainsaw upon the walls of our prison.