We Are Born From The Mist

by NeverEatTheLemonsAlone

V

Green flashed by beneath Hurricane as she winged her way ever north. Several days had passed since she had found the Array, and since then, there had been no signs of either the great shadow or the Nimbus Ring. Well, at least I know that I’m on the right path. That was a small comfort. Whatever that massive beast was, it was stronger than anything Hurricane had ever seen. Even the greatest wars had been insufficient in destroying or sabotaging the Arrays in the belly of the Nimbus Ring.

So absorbed was she with her thoughts was that she didn’t notice the terrain beneath her growing steadily greyer until the last trees had gone. Glancing around in confusion, she looked backwards at where she’d been. That’s odd. From what I remember of the map, that forest goes on for far longer than this. She was correct.

In fact, it was just some sort of clearing. On the other side, the forest resumed. Looking down from above, she could see that the empty space was a flat and perfectly circular sheet of stone, a few shades darker than her mane, stretching perhaps thirty meters in every direction.

Etched upon its surface was a carving, its lines sharp and crisp, of an enormous circle. Dipping down and landing inside of the ring, Hurricane observed with some surprise that the enormous circle was composed entirely of tiny runes. It took her a moment to recognize them; they were written in a language called Proto-Equid, which was used long before even Old Equus had surfaced. Something about that seemed somewhat…off. It took her a moment to place exactly what it was.

If this had been written when Proto-Equid was commonplace, it would’ve worn away long ago. Not so, though. The writing looked fresh. Brand new, in fact; Hurricane could still see the marks from the tiny chisel that carved it. Taking a few steps back, she watched warily. Too many curious things had happened in this forest for this to be just a curiosity.

When no effect was forthcoming, she sighed and dropped her head, turning and walking out of the ring. As she passed the runes, they sparked nearly unnoticeably. She twitched slightly as she felt an itch, but looking down and seeing nothing, she continued trotting away.

Then, hearing a noise behind her, she instantly flipped around, her teeth already clenched on each other and spear already sliding from the harnesses in her armour. Whatever she expected, though, it certainly wasn’t what she saw.

In the dead center of the ring of runes that now burned with effluent ice-blue light stood a pony as black as pitch. It was neither a stallion or a mare; its shape gave away nothing. It didn’t even seem to have a coat; it was smooth, hairless, like a midnight shadow come to life. As it opened its mouth to give vent to a raspy, creaking laugh, it began to move towards her.

There was no movement in its legs. It didn’t walk, trot or gallop. It simply moved flowing across the ground like oil over ice. A trail of blackness enfolded the stone behind it, as though it had torn a hole through the world into the nothingness of the Primordial Void. Its mane, dark as its coat, twisted and bubbled like a sickly fluid, seeming unhealthy and unnatural.

As it drew closer, the gaze of its empty white eyes paralyzed Hurricane with fear. They bored deep into her soul, drawing out all of her fillyhood fears and crushing her under their weight. She may have died there and then, her heart stopped from the sheer terror of the thing’s unnatural gaze, had it not moved into the ring of light.

Instantly, it made a sound like a dying thing, shying back as though in physical pain. The spell of the eyes broken, Hurricane dropped to the ground, breathing heavily. In time, as the shadow-thing went silent, she raised her head to it, staring boldly into the cold orbs of white.

Now that she could see its prison, its gaze held no power of her. She stood proudly, daring it to come for her. Again it lunged, and again it was forced back by the ring. Now she understood why the carvings were so pristine. It wasn’t that they characters themselves were new; they were ancient. They were simply recarved and deepened, century after century, to keep this thing bound to the runic circle.

But what was this thing?

Hurricane had heard the stories. Demons from the Outer Darkness, shredding holes through universes and dimensions to reach wherever they were going. None of those stories had ever mentioned something like this, though. There were no runic rings, no pony-shaped shadow creatures. Whatever it was, it was something entirely different.

A voice like stone grating on stone spoke and she jumped in surprise and fright. The thing’s mouth was moving. She stared, intrigued. So it could speak?

You are a piece…of the prison…

A confused frown came over Hurricane’s face. A piece of the prison? What prison? The runic ring? Experimentally, she tapped it. Nothing happened. The creature refused to drop its hate-filled glare. Swallowing, she replied, “What do you mean?”

It began to laugh in a raspy, croaking gurgle, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When it finished, it once again spoke. I can feel it in your hoofsteps. I can hear every single thing in this world quieting as you pass. Even the little whispers of the air around you go silent. You are a piece of the prison. It lapsed into silence for a moment, before it continued. The world hates you just as much as I do. You are rage, you are fury. You are the Hurricane.

Now that, Hurricane was not expecting. She took a few steps backward, purely out of shock, before stomping forwards angrily, standing just behind the runic border. “Who are you? What are you? How do you know my name!?”

The black pony-thing laughed again, the sound beginning to grate on Hurricane’s ears. Hurricane is what they call you? Oh, that is perfection. Its voice dropped, now low, soft and threatening. You would not understand me, nor could you understand. Just know that you will not run. Nothing can fly faster than fate.

With that, it sank into the ground, pooling into a puddle of absolute blackness before seeming to seep into the stone, vanishing from view. The ring slowly dimmed from a blue blaze to a soft glow, then finally dissipated entirely, leaving the pegasus standing there, confused and filled with a feeling of foreboding. Somehow, the final words of the black thing had seemed…familiar.