There was no dream, nor nightmare this time; only dimness, and constant airy whispers. They were eventually drowned out by the rise of larger voices. Twilight could not see a speaking figure in the darkness of what she was convinced was her subconscious, but heard them quite clearly.

“Is he sure of this one?” The voice was calm, and seemed young. The sound brought a strangely joyous ringing to Twilight’s ears, and a pink glow illuminated a corner of the blackness as it began. “Personally, I prefer the one with the balloons. It definitely knows how to delight a crowd. If not, I’ll have to settle for the white and grey musicians.”

A flurry of red sprang up, shifting and spasming furiously, the voice booming, and clearly annoyed.

“None of your nonsense, Dark Prince! If anything, we should have chosen a fighter! Curse the sorcerer’s silver tongue for persuading me to accept this one using cowardly magic. Blood should flow face to face between foes! What of the red one with the mark of the green apple? Under my mark he shall be greater than Dorghar!”

A green, and brown haze began pushing back against the shouting red cloud, speaking slow as if it had a mouth full of glue. It inhaled raspily every few words or so, like a struggling hospital patient.

“The red one… offends me with his health, and damned physical integrity… The fourth treasure must bear… the mark representing us all. No one of us can… claim patronage.”

The red cloud burst back, “But the sorcerer has clearly made this choice on his own! You claim they must be of Undivided, but it clearly favors magic over any other practice! This is a gross misrepresentation of the Ruinous Powers!”

New lights began to shine, slowly growing in intensity, until she could make out that it was a room. Torches were arranged around the walls, which rippled dark red with ranks, and ranks of protruding spikes of gleaming brass. Weapons, and suits of armor hung across the walls, and great banners bearing a strange symbol were displayed from the ceiling. It appeared like a triangle, with four arms emanating from the top corner.

The colored clouds at this point, coalesced into three individuals sitting around a quartered, multicolored table; though the blue corner was conspicuously empty of an occupant. What was once the stagnant green haze, was now one of the most repulsive things Twilight had ever witnessed, even for what seemed like a dream.

The blob was short and fat, its legs arched like a mutant toad. All forms of bodily fluids leaked from craters, sores, blisters, and cuts, all over its body, not sparing the smallest surface. A miasma of filth, and flies swirled around it, and it did not try to swat them away. Pus, and plasma were dribbling from a mouth of broken, discolored teeth, collecting on its obese belly, before falling to the floor. A necrotic rupture in its abdomen, revealed intestines, drooping out, unraveled, deflated, and rotting away. Small creatures like miniature versions of itself, were squirming, and playing around in it, like a macabre jungle gym.

The pink mist focused into what seemed like a gorgeous creature. Its skin hosted a perfect complexion, the exact opposite of the sludge monster before it. Its eyes sparkled the noblest shade of blue, and reflected the entire room in its cornea. Hair of a golden blond flowed from its head, and an immaculate, thick white cape draped from the shoulders, hung down to its feet, and further, sprawling for five feet behind it. the rest of its garb was hideously garish, the colors painful to the eye. Though, Twilight could feel herself involuntarily smile at this being.

“Could you hold off on drinking for even a minute?” It asked the one she had not seen yet. “You’ll jade your senses with over-indulgence.”

The red beast thunderously slammed down a tankard on the table, dripping what Twilight assumed to be a punch of some kind, but thicker.

“And you haven’t been weary with your circus of a palace for the past hundred thousand years? You spout hypocrisy, challenging my practices like that!”

The last one was almost completely clad in armor, blazing crimson, and trimmed in brass. Save its head, which it apparently needed access to, to drink. On the chest plate, blazoned the same symbol hung over the walls. The armor heaved, but held with every breath it drew, and blade-like spikes, shot up from pauldrons bolted to its shoulders. Skull decorations adorned every corner, and hinge of its frame, and a dark grey colored its tight-drawn, bald skin, and its eyes glowed gold. Jagged teeth grew on the outside of its mouth, which was still dripping with that odd punch. The fluid was somehow flowing up its chin, between the teeth, and disappearing into its mouth.

“Where is the infernal shape shifter so that we may begin? If he does not arrive before this refills, I will run you both out of here with flesh hounds, and this assembly shall be over!”

The rotting blob, and pinkish caped one began fidgeting, and exchanging looks.

The red beast chuckled at their anxiety, and gestured with one gauntleted hand. A stream of the red fluid flowed out of a pit behind him. It navigated to the table, and jumped up, splashing around arrows emanating from the circular rim. The leading end of the stream surged up the sides of the tankard, and began to accumulate within. Both the immaculate, and defiled beings stared timidly at the liquid snake. Then, just as the end left the table, and the growl of dogs, could be heard down the hall, a new voice rang out -- dark, brooding, and condescending.

“You’ve never had the mental capacity for patience, Khorne.”

From the same hallway as the sound of now-silenced growls, it emerged. Upon its head, it wore a helm of bronze, crowned with two massive horn blades that jutted forward, and upward from the sides. It wore greaves on its arms, striped, alternating between bronze, and steel. Bony talons on the end of its arms, were illuminated an eerie blue, and its skin was a purplish-brown. Carvings, and drawings of eyes, dotted its clothing. Great wings, with feathers thicker than any pegasus sprouted from its back, bearing the appearance of that of a godly raven.

“At last!” Khorne bellowed. “The blasted snake that chose a Pony…” He grew more furious, a universal growl vibrated the space. “…as the fourth treasure, has arrived!” He began chugging the newly filled mug.

The creature of perfection blurted in rushed relief, “Tzeentch! We were about to give up on the meeting, had you arrived any later.”

Tzeentch approached the table, randomly teleporting short distances with almost every step.

“Each of our powers moves on its own pace, and all things under my jurisdiction will move at mine, particularly meetings of collaborators. Slaanesh, has it finished?”

“Yes. It’s over there.” Slaanesh motioned an arm toward Twilight’s position of vision, seeming to point at her. “I began summoning its soul ahead of your arrival, as you peremptorily requested.” He said in annoyance.

“I see it is alive…” It glanced at Twilight, then back at the pink figure, and spoke with mock amazement, “…and unspoiled. Good.” A black cloud enveloped Tzeentch, and once he was no longer visible, imploded on itself, and disappeared. A split second later another cloud burst open in front of Twilight’s vision. Tzeentch stood barely a foot away staring directly forward, meeting her sight. “So the illusion works.”

“Why are they focusing on this one spot?” Twilight thought. “Is there something the dream won’t turn around to?”

“You should wish it was a dream… but this encounter is more than real,” the dilapidated monster said.

“Oh sweet Celestia, it can hear my thoughts!?” Twilight’s mind yelled. The thought of the insane colt returned. “Tzeentch… Khorne… No!”

Tzeentch grinned a wide, malicious smirk. “My agent did well. Congratulations, Nurgle, on being the second of us to realize it can speak.” He remarked, turning his head slightly in Nurgle’s direction.

“I’ve seen my share of… oddities in the universe, sorcerer... regarding I was the first to gain sentience… Nothing surprises me anymore.”

Twilight tried to look around to get her bearings on the situation, but couldn’t; she couldn’t feel anything, as if she were awake, but in body still unconscious. She began to panic, but outwardly, appeared calm, and frozen.

Tzeentch could sense her struggle. “Slaanesh, give her some control. It’s not ours, but that of the Everchosen, to bring this feeling to mere mortals.”

Slaanesh shot his eyes at Twilight. They shuttered pitch black, like the eyes of a squirrel, no pupil to be found. A plethora of sensations rushed through her body. A description of these feelings would be almost impossible to describe in words, but could be summed up as best as possible with one.

Bliss.

It was over, as soon as it began. Slaanesh’s eyes turned their noble blues again. “So, it is a she, now? That’s quite formal, for addressing an animal.”

Tzeentch responded, “This one’s unique among equines, and I’ve had a… personal touch to it.”

Twilight’s nerves finally located her forelegs, and felt a great stinging pressure near their ends. She lifted her head to look at the cause of this discomfort. Eyes widened, and jaw dropped upon witnessing the assailing object. Clasped around the end of her legs were ribbons of barbed wire, glowing pink but not cutting into her limbs. As her senses came back, a great pain coursed through her legs. Her fur was flushed a whitish blue, glowing with a faint light. Her wheezing from rediscovering her breath, before it turned to hyperventilation, when she found no feeling in her hind legs, and she slumped her head down only to see a smoky, wispy tail, trailing off from her abdomen. Nerve signals were saying ‘wiggle your legs,’ but the tail only swung back, and forth in response.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, my legs! Where are my legs!? I look like a ghost!” Twilight thought frantically, but was audible to her four captors.

Slaanesh laughed at the little mare squirming in terror, but Tzeentch couldn’t stand to see him enjoying himself.

“Let her off the harness. I fear she may… distract you from this talk. She can’t get out of here, anyway.”

“Hmpf. Fine,” Slaanesh pouted.

The barbed wire unraveled, and slinked away. Twilight’s whitened form slowly drifted from the uneven surface used to restrain her, wringing her hooves. She looked back, and it was another eight pointed star. No horn pains erupted, though. Balance was difficult to maintain, as Twilight never tried to stand without legs, let alone upright for extended periods of time.

Khorne, and Slaanesh, laughed at her attempts to stay erect, and not somersault in midair. Nurgle started to laugh, but vomited on the floor instead, which quickly ended their mirth. The tiny creatures in his guts jumped down, and started eating it. Tzeentch looked on in disgust, and teleported to his seat across from Khorne.

Though freed, and somewhat calmed, Twilight remembered Tzeentch’s comment about not being able to get out, and heeded it. She peeked at Khorne, who had a “go ahead and try” expression on his face. Now she knew not to run.

She glanced at Tzeentch, who was motioning with a finger, signaling her to come to him. Twilight didn’t want to say she didn’t know how to move, so just closed her eyes, and thought about moving forward. Eventually she felt a thud, and opened her eyes. She’d hit the table, barely missing an arrow point that jutted from the rim.

“I did it!” She thought.

“Just go to your misbegotten master,” growled Khorne, in annoyance.

The beast prompted her around the table, taking a path to avoid Khorne, and wound up at Tzeentch’s side. She remained silent, and simply rested her hooves on the table, fighting the twitching of her insides, brought on by the raven’s aura.

Nurgle began, “…Now that all is settled… who shall put forth the first word—“

Khorne slammed his giant fist on the table, and roared, “Why’d you choose a damned pony as the Everchosen’s steed? And an avid magic user at that! Have you forgotten we all must be embodied?”

Tzeentch sat, calm, and cool, his manipulative smile never fading. “I have my reasons, Khorne, and you know that in matters concerning the Everchosen, or Chaos Undivided, there is no room for jokes.”

“Then explain!”

“Gladly. I had stumbled on her world in a book, newly shelved, by the Horrors in my library. As I read, I was astonished by their vast usage of magic, and treasure troves of knowledge, and information. The inhabitants of their nations possessed a trait the horses of the Old World lack: self-awareness. Their ability to think, reason, manipulate tools, and even organize systems of government was tantamount to human intelligence. I couldn’t manipulate the fate of the princesses of their largest nation, Equestria, due to their own magical resistance, but this one…”

He put his hand on Twilight’s head, and began stroking her luminous, gravity-defying mane. She stiffened with uneasiness, as he continued, “…proved to be the third most powerful of them, and open to my influence. She has immense potential just locked away, buried under the surface.” He lifted his hand off, and she slumped down with a feeling of drained strength. “She also has connections with associates that may prove useful to the Everchosen’s new retinue of champions.”

Slaanesh interposed, “Well that’s reason enough to choose her, if not for a few problems. She apparently prefers magic, your specialty, over any characteristic of ours. She has a sand grain’s worth of fighting experience, so Khorne refuses, she isn’t very gregarious, so I can’t, and relatively healthy, body, mind, and soul, something Nurgle cannot accept.”

Nurgle nodded, belching up a spill of bile over his chin. “Flesh is fleeting. Rot is forever.”

Twilight gave Nurgle a cringing look-over. He sucked back his bottom lip, dangling by a thread of skin. It was too much for her to see, and she tore her eyes away. Her mind was clogged with what was going on around her. These monsters - and why her?

“During her adaptation, after she receives the mark, you may have your way with her aspects - but leave the capacity for magic, as I believe it is her most useful trait,” Tzeentch said.

“Adjustments can be made, then!… We shall have our say after all.” Nurgle said, happily.

“Bold barter, sorcerer.” Khorne intoned darkly, “How can you take such risks with the likes of me?”

“Because I know you’ll give anything for another chance that the Everchosen will have Grimgor’s head on a pike. Imagine, the skull of the greatest ork warlord, a part of your Skull Throne.”

The god of war grinned.

“Wait a minute,” Intruded Twilight, “Everchosen, chaos - what are you talking about? Did you guys know Discord? He's the spirit of chaos, in Equestria.”

Khorne flicked her a surprised glance. “So the coward’s in Equestria!? Haha! My warriors will find him! He shan’t escape the fate he should have shared with Malice— death at our hands!” He raised a dripping claw to the heavens.

Tzeentch answered the questions in layman's terms, “The Everchosen is our mortal representative on the physical plane - a mere human who has shown his dedication to us, and earned our greatest favor by collecting the six Treasures of Chaos. You have been chosen to replace Dorghar, Fourth treasure of Chaos and steed of the Everchosen, the incumbent being Archaon, who is searching for you now. He’s following a beacon bearer of your species we brought into serving us. The minion recently passed through your town, and Archaon will follow him to it. Our anointed one has set alight every town he came across where you were not found. It produced a fantastic glow across the night sky.”

Twilight remembered the light on the horizon, how it grew brighter each night. He was advancing. The light was either the torchlight of some vast horde, or the glow of villages, and towns burning down. Twilight thought about her friends, the letter Celestia seemed to never respond to, Ponyville itself at the mercy of a maniac, favored by these four.

“Lucky for us,” Tzeentch chuckled, “… you didn’t notice the letter from Celestia telling you to flee town, and head south due to a series of… unknown tragedies. Even if you had fled, Archaon would have put your town to the sword, and kept following after. He will find you; you will serve him, and us.”

“What makes you think I’ll agree? I’m not gonna give in to Artichoke, whatever his name is!”

Tzeentch’s eyes radiated a burning red. “You have no choice.”

“If you don’t, I get to kill you, and we lay waste to your entire world. I drain your body of blood; Slaanesh gets your hide; Nurgle, your soul, the form you are now; and Tzeentch, your shattered body to lament a failed scheme over. Then, we will simply find another steed for Archaon,” Khorne disclosed, as the backup plan.

Slaanesh remarked offhandedly, “While I suggest you not give Khorne the satisfaction of slaughter, your coat is very well groomed and it would look wonderful in my collection of pelts.”

Twilight was horrified to hear such words spoken so nonchalantly. She floated back from the table in dread.

“You have two paths before you, and they both go through us,” Explained Tzeentch, standing from his chair to face her, “Die, here, and now, condemn your world to oblivion, and postpone our plans by mere weeks; or serve us, spare your world from our wrath, and doom a different one.”

Twilight could think of nothing to say to change their minds, as their demands seemed final. Slowly, she hung her head, and hung her forelegs down in defeat.

“Just as planned,” Tzeentch whispered, lifting an arm, and snapping his fingers.

A dark cloud began to envelop Twilight, who was now tearing up with an idea of what awaited her.

“Comrades!” Tzeentch shouted, with an eagle’s screech scrambled in, “Next order of business, resurrection of Vardek Crom.”

When the gods couldn’t be seen anymore, the cloud imploded around Twilight. Swirling clouds, discharging lightning were all that was visible. The twinge from before had become a torrent of convulsions, tremors, and what felt like a violent rearranging of the insides of her disembodied soul. She screamed in pain, as anybody would, feeling like their lungs were being yanked out through their mouth. The hurricane of darkness suddenly broke, after a short while, the convulsions stopped, and the blackness was still.

Then she felt… a rocking motion.