Twilight Sparkle and the Witch Baby

by Brony_Fife

Chapter 1: Waking Up

CHAPTER 1—Waking Up

Cold. Dry. Scratchy. November? July? Twilight Sparkle was unsure of the time. Her head throbbed as if it were a beating heart, every thump and every thud clouding her sight and weakening her legs.

Where was she right now anyway? The sound of crackling dirt and shuffling sand under her hooves told Twilight she was in a very dusty place, possibly some kind of badlands. Made sense. There was no breeze, the cold being still as if dead; and despite the cold, Twilight felt very thirsty, and very filthy. How long had she been wandering here anyway?

Suddenly, she felt herself opening a door. Twilight racked her brain to remember where she was. Badlands. Badlands. Pews. Walking by the pews. Walking past a pulpit. Church? In a church now? Where is home? Where is here? Twilight Sparkle shuffled forward, through another door and into a room where the cold was somehow even more invasive. She sniffled, her nose running. Her sight dimmed again for a second or two.

Her head continued to pound as she felt herself walking up a flight of stairs. Her eyesight and thought processes were still slowly coming back to her, and as they did, her ascent upstairs began to slow. When she was fully whole and awake again, Twilight’s body remembered how tired it was from its long trek, and she fell against the nearby wall, and slid down to her knees and lay in a heap.

Twilight Sparkle. Celestia’s greatest and most faithful student. Lives in Ponyville with her assistant Spike—a baby dragon with a big heart (and bigger mouth). Friends with… Friends with…

As she rested her head against the wall and collected her thoughts, Twilight was suddenly very disturbed. She could not remember her friends! What kind of trick was this? Why was she here? Where WAS here?

Twilight attempted to work herself back up to her feet, and as she did she attempted to connect the pieces: she was currently inside an abandoned church in the middle of nowhere, in the badlands. From the still cold and hardly any light, she guessed the current time was very early morning. Her body was very tired, so she may have been walking all night. She remembered her name, social standing, home, Celestia and Spike, but she couldn’t recall very much after that.

She began to see where this was all headed, and she didn’t care for the answer one bit.

Twilight Sparkle was coming down from a mind-control spell, a very powerful one at that. Only the strongest ones made the victim forget certain things as well as becoming subservient to its caster.

Twilight quickly looked down at her hooves, and was relieved to see no blood. At least she hadn’t been controlled to kill anypony. She was likely here in this church because she was commanded to come here. What was more, mind-control spells are temporary, and take a lot of magic to constantly renew. However, there was always a dismissal option ready. If she had reached her destination, then that very likely meant that either A) this church was where she was commanded to go to accomplish a set task, or B) whoever cast this spell on her in the first place lives, or at least was hiding out, in this church.

Twilight groaned slightly. She was in no shape to fight, obviously—her body and mind demanded sleep. She didn’t have the energy to escape this place, and even if she could, there’d be nowhere to go. She didn’t even know where she was. If she stayed right where she was, whoever else was here would just come get her anyway. She had no choice but to continue up these stairs.

Her stomach lurched. Ooh, another side-effect of mind-control hangover. How lovely.

Twilight fought her way up the rest of the stairs, fighting off the urge both to vomit and to faint. At the top of the stairs, was a door. She attempted to use her magic from her horn (For she was a unicorn, mind you) to open the door, only for her head to split. Well, not literally—if her head split, then she would have died, and we wouldn’t be able to continue the story.

Her magic wasn’t behaving correctly, likely another side-effect of the mind-control spell. Stupid Twilight! she thought. Of COURSE your magic would be on the fritz! The mind-control spell was strong enough to erase some of your memory, for Pete’s sake! Wake up, girl! Get it together!

Twilight moved out her foreleg and swept the door open, as it was already open a crack. She peered inside carefully, fully expecting her adversary to be in this room—I dunno, sitting on a throne of skulls, surrounded by tribal fires, doing his homework. Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

Instead, in this room were some stacks of chairs in the corner, a fallen tapestry near the wall, some boxes… and a beautiful stain-glass window of many colors, depicting the birth of the world. Or at least, that’s what Twilight thought, looking into it: it showed a pair of hands holding the world, with a ring of clocks set at different times surrounding it. She wasn’t sure this was apart of any religion she was familiar with, but the five-fingered hands suggested it was not practiced by ponies.

As she stared at this window, Twilight hadn’t realized she was walking into the room. When she did, she immediately tensed, remembering that whoever cast that mind-control spell was very likely in the same room. She looked about the room—the chairs, the boxes, the tapestry, all seemed undisturbed since she entered.

Suddenly, she froze—but not of her own choice. She had become the victim of a “Stop” spell. As her every movement stopped, she began to panic. She remembered reading that there were many kinds of Stop spells: her heart was beating, her lungs still drew air, her stomach and intestines hadn’t been stopped or she would have felt them bloat (Which is painful, by the way) … so this was only a minor one. Others were able to stop every organ in the body from functioning—effectively killing the victim within minutes.

Her panic began to rise as she heard hoofsteps, slowly, hard and heavy ones, clomping from her right. These hoofsteps moved behind her. Oh, Celestia’s mane!! she thought. Please, don’t let this be what I think it is…!

The hoofsteps stopped as they worked their way from behind her to her left. She tried moving her eyes to see her foe, but the spell still had a strong hold on her. However, she could tell that the stranger next to her was a pony—stallion, large. At least, much bigger than she was. In fact, Twilight feared this pony was probably the same size as her mentor Celestia.

Suddenly, she felt a hoof trace gently down her spine. It stopped at the point where her back curved to her rump, then traced its way back up to her neck. It was terrifying—but at the same time, comforting, like a lover giving her his seductive attention. Suddenly, she felt hot breath against her neck, and a voice—dark, ominous, deep—speak into her ear, as if sharing a secret.

“Twilight Sparkle,” he began. Twilight was suddenly grateful for the Stop spell—she would very likely have made a mess on the floor from fear alone. “Celestia’s most faithful servant.” Twilight took note of how he referred to her as a servant instead of a student. He said this last part as if he meant it as an insult—and he probably did.

The hoof tracing her spine went away, as did the voice and breath. She heard the hoofsteps continue behind her. When he was behind her again, he chuckled. Twilight’s heart began to race. She had never heard a sound so devoid of any kindness before. “I have waited a very long time for this, Miss Sparkle. For revenge.”

Revenge? What revenge? What did she do? Didn’t matter. Twilight wrote herself off as dead now. This guy, whoever he was, was an insanely powerful sorcerer. He mind-controlled her to come to this abandoned nowhere church, he cast a Stop spell on her so he could make his presence known… he was going to kill her. This thought raced through Twilight Sparkle’s mind, devouring her courage like a starving disease.

“What’s the matter, girl?” came the voice from behind. “Afraid?” The hoofsteps sidled up to her again. This time, the hoof stroked her cheek, gently at first. Then her head was pulled to the side, and she saw him—or rather, the first thing she caught were his eyes.

Oh Celestia’s mane, his eyes. They rested in sunken sockets, sparkling darkly as if they were ghostly purple lights in a cavern tunnel. His irises were a horrifying shade of poisonous red, his pupils tiny pinpricks in an ocean of blood and darkness. Even though they felt far away, they also felt much too close; and they burned with a fiery hatred, and they chilled with an icy cruelty, and they were

looking

right

at

her.

His face was hidden by a mask, which if his eyes were any indication, was a blessing. Twilight probably wouldn’t have been able to take it if his face was as scary as his eyes. This mask however, was rather ornate: black leather, with regal spirals and leaves decorated the mold, and on the forehead, around the horn (for he too was a unicorn) were knives, circling the horn like a bloodletting ritual. The mask itself stopped around his mouth—when she noticed it was there, it curved cruelly.

It seemed every new feature about this guy Twilight was introduced to was intended to make her want his presence less and less. His smile was no exception, for it felt like something unnatural and invisible was pulling his lips apart, showing his hideously sharp, blackened teeth (Which nopony was ever meant to have).

For a few minutes, he stood there, holding her face dominantly. She could only stare helplessly—stare at this paragon of pure hatred and spite. She attempted to formulate a plan, but she was at a complete disadvantage: her sickness from coming down from the mind-control spell still interfered with her magic, and being stopped didn’t exactly leave her many options right now anyway.

Twilight Sparkle could only stare at these jaws, these burning eyes, and await her fate.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I am not going to kill you, my dear,” he said, moving his hoof from her face down to her foreleg. “Although you would deserve it.” He continued to stroke her foreleg. Twilight’s breathing became raspier as she began to have a panic attack. “No, my dear, there are far worse things than a simple crushing of the skull, a breaking of the spine…”

His hoof wove its way back to her neck. He moved his head down, as if to kiss her. As his lips were on her neck, Twilight felt his breath, his horrible sharp teeth, as he whispered, “A snapping of the neck.” She couldn’t hold it anymore. Twilight’s eyes began to fill with tears. She realized, that of all the organs and parts he allowed her to move, the tear ducts were on the “working” list. He had wanted to see her cry, to taste her fear.

And taste it he did. And he relished in it.

However, he moved away from her, and trotted up in front of her, moving her frozen head with his hoof to keep eye contact. She could see now, his size. He was as big as Celestia, though obviously heavier. His coat, his long mane, and his wispy tail were all a ghostly white, making him seem like a specter. His black armor wove around his legs, chest, and back, the same designs as the mask decorating them—on the chest plate was a large grinning skull. The place where his cutie mark should have been instead had an image of a beautiful, six-legged winged horse being torn in half.

“No,” he continued, “I find a greater punishment for your misdeeds is to break you, Miss Sparkle.” He stood between Twilight and the stained-glass window from before, the image bringing to Twilight the idea that she was at the mercy of an unforgiving, contemptuous Judge—a god, mad with power and darkness.

He smiled again. “What awaits you is a world unkind. Cruel, and senselessly so. You will be reminded of your crimes, and you will have no friends to help you. If you can endure the despair and loneliness, survival will be your only goal for the rest of your days—however many you want there to be.” His judgment had been cast.

Twilight began to levitate off the floor, pulled by this Judge’s power. She hovered just in front of the window. “Oh, and Miss Sparkle?” said the Judge, grinning.

“Welcome to the Jungle.”

And from there, she was cast through that beautiful window and out of that church, into an unfamiliar and unkind world. The Judge collected himself, went back down the stairs, walked past the pews, and closed the door behind him—and that was the last time anyone, pony or otherwise, had ever set foot in that church. Over the years, the church would continue to crumble, as if in despair; a perverse reflection of the continuing, unstoppable deterioration of the world its priests had once attempted to enlighten.

* * * * *

The first thing she felt was a pounding headache. The first thing she heard was cheesy elevator music. The first thing she tasted was morning breath. The first thing she smelled was burning oil. The first thing she saw, upon opening her eyes was a radio.

That’s all my senses, Rainbow Dash thought wearily. As she came to, she lifted herself out of her bed. It was a simple bed: mattress, pillow, a light blanket… wait.

Wait a minute. That’s wrong. That’s all wrong!

Rainbow Dash, now more aware, looked about herself. This wasn’t her room, wasn’t her house. Instead of the safety of her clouds, she was surrounded by tubes and pipes, bronze and metal, fumes and steam. The air around her was warm and greasy. The smell? Oily. The lights above cast an eerie yellow shade upon the metal, and nearby furnaces emitted a yellow eerier still. The pipes on the wall crawled across the room like a gigantic maze. Occasionally, they hissed. For an environment that seemed so robotic, it still felt unnervingly alive, as if she had been swallowed up in her sleep by some enormous robo-whale.

Dash looked about, trying to find an exit. When her eyes fell on a door, she got out of her bed and bolted for it. Upon trying the knob, it wouldn’t turn. Rainbow Dash, for a moment, wondered why she had attempted working a doorknob with her hooves in the first place.

She stepped back, then tried bucking the door. The sound of hoof meeting metal reverberated across the room, bouncing and dispersing against the pipe maze. She was locked in. Cursing under her breath, Rainbow Dash went back to investigate the rest of the room.

She looked about her environment again. Besides the bed and the stuff on the nightstand, there didn’t seem to be much of interest. Come on, Dash! she thought. Think! You’ve read all those adventure books, now it’s time to think like an adventurer! What would Daring Do do in this situation? Rainbow Dash wrinkled her nose at her last sentence. What would Daring Do have done if she were in this situation?

Dash surveyed her environment one more time. Reinforced door. Walls looked too thick and were covered in pipes—she had no idea what they did, but she didn’t want to break any, in case they were carrying some dangerous gases in them. She flapped her cyan wings and got into the air for a bit and looked around some more. Her eyes fell on something she thought could be useful.

An air vent! Awesome! The air vent was on the ground, near a corner. Rainbow Dash hovered over it for a bit and did a diving stomp from above. The air vent did not bend. In frustration, she hit the air vent with her hoof. “Stupid air vent! They always broke away easy in the books!”

Not one to give up easily, Rainbow Dash flew up again—this time, higher—then stomped again. She tried at least ten or twenty times, becoming increasingly agitated by the air vent’s sheer refusal to bend. “YOU! STUPID! AIR VENT!” she roared between stomps, “YOU! WILL! BOWWWW!”

But the air vent did not bow, quite possibly because it knew Rainbow Dash was not its master. Tired, her hooves hurting, Rainbow Dash called it quits, but not before sticking her tongue out at the obstinate vent. She went back to the bed to recollect her wits, and her eyes fell to the nightstand, and the objects it held.

There was a little radio playing some lame elevator music, a small mirror, and what looked like a little black plug. Dash looked into the mirror to see if whoever brought her here did anything to her face before he or she left her in this room. Thankfully, she was still one hundred percent awesome: that colorful coat! that multi-colored mane! that fierce face! those energetic eyes! those wonderful wings! Rainbow Dash nodded in self-satisfaction. Everything seemed in order.

Putting down the mirror, Dash turned her attention to the little black plug. It was small and tubelike, but strangely it looked as if it were meant to be worn. It had two little red lights on it, one at the top and one at the bottom. Whatever it was, it was certainly home here in this strange, alien world.

As Rainbow looked over the plug, the lame music suddenly came to a halt with a startling pop. Over the radio’s speaker came a robotic-sounding voice.

“Good Morning, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash abruptly bolted upwards in shock, her wings carrying her back onto her bed. “Wh-Who are you?!” Dash thundered. “What do you want?!” She quickly calmed down, feeling silly for yelling at a radio the same way some ponies did when the DJ said something they didn’t like. Suddenly, the radio began speaking again.

“In due time, Rainbow. In due time. For now, please put the earpiece on.”

Rainbow Dash looked at the radio incredulously. Then to the plug. That was an earpiece? Like, something you put in your ear? Gross! She wouldn’t want that thing anywhere near her head, let alone her ear!

“Do it.”

She looked around. Door, locked. No windows. There was an air vent, but it was reinforced steel. No way to tell where she was, or how to get out. She was totally trapped. Rainbow Dash glared at the radio, tempted to smash it in frustration.

“Please.”

After a few seconds of staring, Rainbow Dash reluctantly put the earpiece on. As she fixed it up so it didn’t feel uncomfortable, she heard a small hum. Afterwards, the robotic voice began to speak directly into her ear. Rainbow Dash, again startled, jumped back onto her bed.

Much better. Now I can speak to you directly. We wouldn’t want anyone listening in on our conversations, now would we?

A loud squeal came from behind Rainbow Dash. She turned her head, alarmed. The door that was locked before had been opened. The Exit sign over it lit up in a sickly green.

Please go through this door.

“Now wait just a minute, I—”

GO THROUGH THE DOOR, OR. I. WILL. Shut it.

Rainbow Dash could tell this was going to be a painful day.

She groaned and did as she was told. Now that she had a clearer idea of what the voice sounded like (As in, not clouded by radio static), she felt much more creeped out. It had a flat monotone that still held some emotion (Dash took note of the underlying malice, for starters). It contained a high pitch, and was very soft, but was still identifiably masculine. It spoke with no breath, as if she weren’t talking to a living being. For all she knew, she probably wasn’t.

Rainbow Dash walked through the door and into a hallway. This corridor seemed longer than it really needed to be. There were small green lights on the ceiling, casting a creepy olive radiance all throughout the hallway. Everything seemed to glow because of it. The smell of burning oil was stronger in this hall for some reason. The pipes on the wall hissed as she walked by, as if they knew she was there.

As she walked through the corridor, the Voice began to speak again.

Right now you are probably wondering why you are here. I am afraid I cannot answer that question at this time. However I can give an answer to any other question you may ask.

Rainbow Dash breathed a little and slowed her pace. She had begun to notice that her heart was racing. She wondered if it was a result of the overall tension of this strange, alien place. After carefully thinking over what questions she wanted answers to, she cleared her throat.

“Where am I exactly? And who ARE you anyway?”

You are in an experimental facility once used by the Machina. I am its current operator.

OK, that solved nothing. Rainbow Dash was not much of a reader outside her favorite adventure novels, but she had a feeling she knew somepony who probably knew who the Machina were, and that somepony was… was…

…was…

Who again? What?

“H-How come I can’t remember anything? My friends, I-I…”

That would be a side-effect of a mind-control spell. It was cast on you to make you more easily swayed. However, I have had it removed so that you would be given back your free will. You might remember them in due time, but there is only a 50/50 chance of success.

“A 50/50 chance I could forget my friends completely?”

I have experimented with this mind-control a little myself. I can safely say that, in the early stages of mind-control recovery, there is a large chance that the subject may forget many things about their past before being controlled, and absolutely nothing about the time they spent under the influence of the spell. In the later stages of recovery, the subject has either regained most of their memory on their own or not at all. Only time will tell if you can remember your friends, or if you can remember what you did under the influence of the spell.

“Aren’t mind control spells…”

Illegal? Yes. Celestia had forbidden mind-control spells many years ago. However, her law does not reach where we are.

She shivered. She had been under someone else’s control, for Celestia knows how long, and couldn’t remember anything about it? Anything could have happened.

Anything.

And she couldn’t remember it. For some reason, this knowledge scared her more than anything else in the world ever had. But not knowing what she may have done (Or what may have been done to her) was not even as scary as not being able to remember her friends. Rainbow Dash was able to recall some ponies she’d met, but wasn’t sure if any of them were friends or not. In a sudden, cold sweat, she hoped against the odds that she WOULD remember her friends, but not remember what occurred while she was mind-controlled.

Rainbow Dash was at the door at the end of the hallway. She was surprised a little at first that the door opened by itself: the doors slowly opened from top to bottom, like a giant mouth eagerly expecting a meal. Inside was a chamber for one—an elevator.

Going up?

She gingerly walked into the elevator. The door closed behind her with a loud and hideous clang. A few seconds passed; then Rainbow Dash heard a series of clicks and clanking. After a sudden jolt, the elevator began a slow ascent.

Rainbow Dash gathered her thoughts. Ok, I was mind-controlled, but was broken out of it. Should I ask this guy what I did while I was mind-controlled? I probably should, but it’s not like he’d give me a straight answer. Besides, what I did might not be something I want to remember. I don’t remember my friends, but I do recall being a talented flyer and a weather-pony—not that that’s gonna help me in a place this cramped. There’s gotta be something I can do…

In the middle of her elevator ride, Rainbow Dash decided to ask. “How am I going to get out of here?”

It is simple, Rainbow Dash. Merely survive the challenges I present you. Then I will allow you to leave. Whether you remember anything at the end of these experiments or not is of no concern to me.

It IS a concern to me, thought Rainbow Dash. “What kind of tests we talkin’ about?”

At first she received no reply. Then the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

Proceed.

The hallway was similar to the Green Hallway from before, except the color of the lights was now blue. For some reason, although blue was her favorite color, it gave Rainbow Dash chills: this shade of blue reminded her of pictures she’d seen of the ocean floor. While there were fewer pipes running along the walls, there were glass windows on her right, and fans on the left. Passing by the fans was not a good idea, as a horrendous smell was thrust into her nostrils. (Next time she had to walk by, she'd have to hold her breath.) As she trotted past the windows, she dared to look inside. The room on the other side was pitch dark.

“What happened to the lights?”

Suddenly, the lights turned on. Rainbow Dash quickly regretted asking her question.

Inside the room, was a pony—no, it had a pony shape, definitely, but it was hard to call it a pony. Most of its face was completely gone, and its back legs had been traded for metallic appendages that, to Rainbow Dash, reminded her of giant spider legs. In place of the pony’s face was metal, and teeth, rotted and bent in atrocious ways. The teeth were stained with a hideous shade of red that Rainbow Dash only hoped was rust.

The creature’s single good (That is, still pony-esque) eye lit up as soon as the light turned on, and a sound escaped its mouth. Rainbow Dash couldn’t really describe the sound exactly. It was like a short gasp, but when heard through a pipe. She was certain no living pony could replicate that sound. Suddenly, the creature ran forward, emitting another sound—one that Rainbow Dash placed between a shriek and a dentist drill; it smashed into the wall right in front of Rainbow Dash, scratching at the window with its hooves. She jumped back, her reflexes still good even when she was in a state of shock. She noticed the creature’s right hoof was replaced with what looked like a spike.

The Voice came back.

This is a Freak. It will hurt you.

“R-Really? Naaawww!” Rainbow Dash said sarcastically over the Freak’s high-pitched screaming (attempting to not sound scared, although she was close to screaming herself). Then it hit her. “Oh no… oh no, you want me to…”

In the next room, there will be more. You must avoid them and make it to the exit. Do not confront them.

Rainbow Dash cursed her luck. The Freak began smashing its face on the window; Dash pressed her back against the wall in fear. She stared back at the creature in shock as it tried its hardest to get through the window and to her. After a few minutes of bashing its face and hoofs into the window, Dash noticed its metallic parts beginning to dent and fall off. Another few minutes of thumping and screaming, and it had killed itself by caving in its own head against the apparently (and thankfully) very strong window.

She sat there for several minutes afterward, shivering; listening to a slow gurgle coming from the room behind the glass. Eventually it stopped.

As you can see, Freaks are not very smart. Any intelligent creature would have ceased attacking a wall when they began to feel pain. I took that away from them. They begged me to remove their pain. Now all they feel and think is nothing.

Rainbow Dash felt tears welling up in her eyes. Her forelegs were shivering like crazy, and her wings had frozen up. Although she usually felt unstoppable, for the first time in her life, Rainbow Dash felt reasonably, genuinely afraid.
But hey! She was Rainbow Dash! She was able to clear skies in ten seconds flat! Perform a Sonic Rainboom—the point where light and sound collided into an explosion! Rainbow Dash defined herself by finding the impossible, then destroying it! She could do this, right?

Right?

After a few minutes to calm herself down, Rainbow Dash gathered herself, stood back up, and marched down to the end of the hallway. The door at the end opened up and revealed a different room. Inside, she faintly heard scrapes, and giggles, and scratches, and sobs, and moans.

Her fear began to creep back up her spine, but steeled herself for what came next. She took her first step into the den of lions before her.

All right, Dash, she thought, let’s rock.

Comments

[lostdarkstellan]

Nice !!
remind me i little the movie serie SAW

[Derpy Mooves]

It's well-written.

Word of advice-Don't use "very" unless it's dialogue or internal monologue. If you want to add emphasis to something, use a more powerful word.
e.g. Rather than "very cold", use "freezing" or "frigid". Rather than "[character] hit [character] very hard", try "[character] smacked [character].". I find that when I feel the urge to use "very", it's time to crack out the thesaurus.

[Brony_Fife]

305492
I try to use "very" as sparingly as possible. I could have said frigid, but the fact was, it wasn't what I'd call frigid. It wasn't snowing, it was just a chill without any wind: therefore, it was "very cold", almost a "dead cold". Actually, that sounds better.

Anyway, thanks for the feedback and until next time, nip it in the bud!

[Brony_Fife]

305396

SAW? Why the SAW movies? How does it remind you of the SAW movies?

[BenMitchell90]

Dude. Holy fuck. This was amazing. I could picture everything perfectly. And not only was it mysterious, it was also pretty damn scary. (I caught the reference to the "RED FREAKS" - I forget what game it was, but I do remember it scared the hell out of me). And that Judge guy is an awesomely scary design.

"Welcome to the jungle".

Five bucks says he'll show up later and say "You know where you are? You're in the jungle, baby! You're gonna DIIIIEEEEEEE!"

So yeah, you definitely have my interest... and I'm definitely taking some notes. Your writing is out of this world.