The mirror wasn’t much, but it was the best that could be hoped for in a place such as this. Dim’s whole body trembled while he cast the necessary enchantments, and was working entirely from theory, using all of the ‘what ifs’ he had learned during his extensive schooling. The small mirror had a wooden body and handle, the glass was clear, and had a good reflection. Something made of silver would have been better by far, but this would have to do.

As he cast multiple spells on the mirror, it began to glow with an eerie astral light. It was now extradimensional, protruding into multiple planes of existence, all of which Dim could see. Sweat poured from him in a flood, and when he went to lick his lips, they were as dry and crinkly as old parchment. His tongue, too, was also dried out, and it felt shriveled as it traveled over his thin, wrinkled lips. He was so dehydrated that he could feel his eyelids scraping over his eyeballs with every blink, a painful, distracting sensation that threatened to be his undoing.

“Blackbird…”

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said you had a perfect ass,” Dim said to his companion. “Keep that in mind, because I am about to kill myself.”

“Dim, I wish you wouldn’t—”

“There is no other way.” Dim cut off her protest with a few harsh words and eyeballed the phial of foxglove poison. “Remember, pour the antidote down my ear if something goes wrong.”

“Right.”

“Dim,” Gesundheit whispered, “good luck.”

“If my luck holds, perhaps I will see my sisters again… both of them.” Dim laughed, a terrible, dreadful sound in the darkened room. It was the worst kind of laughter—mad laughter—and it turned into a hacking cough that made Dim see starbursts floating in his vision.

“Catrina is wrong,” the colt whined, “there is something scarier than Grogar!” He collapsed into wordless whimpering and covered his face with his forelegs. “I don’t want to live to remember this!”

Still laughing, still coughing, Dim examined the phial of digitalis poison. It glowed with a faint, flickering magical aura, and it was quite a sobering sight. The laughter ceased, but the coughing did not. When he lifted the phial in his magic, it was consumed in a dark glow, the faint light snuffed out.

“Dim”—he could hear Darling’s voice in his ear, and he was certain that he felt her lips brush up against him—“you’ll be joining me soon, dear brother. I’ve missed you, Dim. Every day without you is an eternity of anguish.”

Each word whispered into his ear made his body jerk and Dim held the phial just in front of his nose. Now, he began to shiver, as the sweat pouring from his body chilled him. The cold grasp of the grave was upon him and he began to wonder if, perhaps, it would be best to not take the antidote. It might be best to just accept what was coming to him and be done with it.

Memories, given life once again by lysergic acid diethylamide, began to play out in real time. He thought about Darling pinned beneath him, writhing, the scent of her clinging to his nostrils, the soft muscles of her back rippling against his belly. The incessant urge to go deeper, the whimpers of pain that rewarded his cruelest efforts, and his brain was on fire with the memory of how Darling’s hind legs would stiffen when the pain was too much for her to bear.

Sometimes, it had been just what he needed to push him over the edge.

But like any other drug, the powerful feeling of intoxication faded over time, becoming weaker, and his cruelties had to become more and more fantastic to fuel his lusts. The muted whimpers were soon not enough, and sometimes he strove to make her cry out so he could have his release. The stiffening of her legs ceased to be enough—no, she had to spasm and convulse with pain—but even this once titillating thrill had become commonplace and boring.

The edge, ever moving, ceased to be an exciting place once it was experienced.

Unstoppering the phial, Dim made ready to take his medicine.

With each passing second, Dim felt his heart grow weaker, and a terrible pain ricocheted around inside of his ribcage. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite grab whatever it was that was lurking in the necrotic ulcer. It remained elusive, not quite real, it continued to be nonexistent to his magical touch.

There was a rushing sound in his ears, which was almost enough to drown out the sounds of Darling Dark’s singing. He could see her in the corners of his vision, a haint given life by his guilt, shame, and remorse. Something cold and icy gripped his heart, constricting it, making it impossible to keep beating. Haints had to be kept away by something blue. He had nothing blue, nothing at all, but he had the blues.

Keep your focus, Dim, the pink voice said within the folds of his grey matter.

Something cold and unnatural slithered through his guts, heading down towards his clenched-tight asshole. The skin of his scrotum had gone flaccid to the point of being almost wrinkless, and his balls felt like two lumps of dry ice. This was dying, he had felt it before. He was close now, he stood at the veil, with nothing left to do but push through it.

Perhaps then he would have the means to touch his enemy.

As entropy devoured his heart, Dim became aware of two more figures in the room. One was a zebra, who was quite like the Sea Witch, and the other was a pale alicorn. They started out fuzzy, indistinct, but as his heart continued to slow, they gained contrast. When his heart gave one last final shudder in his barrel, they gained total clarity and Dim could see them quite well.

Cᴜʀɪᴏᴜs, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴀs ɪғ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ ᴜs.

This was the pale pony speaking, and he gave a sidelong glance to the zebra.

Iᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ ᴜs.

While speaking, the zebra’s dreadlocks formed puzzled question marks around her head.

“I can see you,” Dim croaked, and the words almost took more effort than he could bear. His ears were filled with the sound of reverberating thunder, and Darling’s singing had gone silent.

Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴅʀᴜɢ ғᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

For some reason, Dim doubted the pale pony’s words.

Tʜᴇ Nᴀᴍᴇʟᴇss Oɴᴇ's ᴛᴀᴍᴘᴇʀɪɴɢs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ғᴀʀ. Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴡᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ, Lɪᴍᴀ?

Nᴏ, Pᴀʟᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴜsᴇs ᴍᴇ. Lᴇᴛ ᴜs sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʟᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴇs. Sᴇᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇ sᴛʀɪᴠᴇs ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜɪs ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss? Lᴇᴛ ᴜs ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ʜɪᴍ, ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

For hallucinations, they were annoying and haughty. Dim ignored them, he had precious little time, and he had something that demanded his attention. He focused his magic upon the tentacular horror lurking within the patch of diseased tissue. Much to his disgust, he was able to touch it now, now that he was dead. Contact with it made his dead flesh crawl with revulsion.

I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. Yᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ's ʙᴇᴇɴ.

“Silence, you disgusting primitive.” Dim’s lip curled back into a hateful sneer. This, whatever it was, was slimy to his magic touch, and slippery as well. Grimacing, he reached beneath the skin, and pushed his magic down inside of the colt. The world seemed to have gone still, and nothing moved, saved for the pale pony and the zebra.

Lɪᴍᴀ, ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ?

Wᴇʟʟ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʀᴜᴅᴇ—

I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ!

A wordless snarl slipped from Dim’s dead lips as he tightened his magical grip and gave a yank. Whatever it was wasn’t keen on coming out, and it tried to burrow in deeper, all while keeping a firm grip on two very different realities. Dim was starting to fade now, and he wondered, how long had it been since his heart had stopped beating? Blackbird seemed to be frozen, unmoving—would she even be able to save him?

Lɪᴍᴀ, ʜᴏᴡ ɪs ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ? Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛ.

Gritting his chipped teeth together, Dim gave another yank, and somehow he became a gardener trying pull out a weed. This was menial, manual labour, and Dim found it quite degrading. The strain pulsating through his brain threatened to make his eyeballs pop out of his head like over-eager wine corks. Refusing to be beaten, Dim threw everything he had into it and pulled even harder.

Pᴀʟᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴍᴀᴅ. Wʜᴀᴛ sᴀɴᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅʀɪʙʙʟᴇs ᴀ ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴏɢᴇɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇʙᴀʟʟs? A ᴍᴀᴅ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʜᴏ!

I ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴡᴇᴀʀʏ ᴏғ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴅ.

Yᴏᴜ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴡᴇᴀʀʏ ᴏғ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ, Pᴀʟᴇ.

“Silence, you disgusting, degenerate primitives!” Dim’s fury gave him strength, and he gave a mighty heave. The tentacular horror was pulled free with a slimy sounding slurp, revealing an amorphous blob of ectoplasm that jiggled like gelatin at the end of the tentacle. “What the fuck is this?” he shrieked while he flung the eldritch lurker into the mirror. It passed through the glass and plopped like a fish landing in a fishbowl.

A ɴᴇᴄʀᴏᴠᴏʀᴏᴜs ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ.

Nothing moved. Dim’s right eye blinked, and then a fraction of a second later, his left. He thought about taking a deep breath, but there was no need to breathe, not really. He looked down and much to his own surprise, he saw his body sprawled out on the floor, unmoving. This was a bit alarming, alarming indeed, and he raised his head to look at the haughty hallucinations that just wouldn’t shut up.

“I seem to have lost some weight,” Dim remarked in perfect deadpan, and his words caused the zebra mare to begin chortling while she covered her mouth with her dreadlocks. “This wasn’t how I expected things to end. This is rather anticlimactic.” Everything seemed frozen, save for the necrovorous demon swimming in the mirror and the two strange beings who never took their eyes off of him.

“Carry me to my fate,” Dim said, resigning himself to whatever afterlife awaited him.

The pale alicorn shook his head.

Nᴏ. Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀssʜᴏʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. I'ʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇʟʟ-ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ sᴜғғᴇʀɪɴɢ. Wʜᴇɴ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀs.

There was an indescribable sensation and Dim felt himself being flung…

The first ragged breath was the worst. Agony came in the form of white hot lances piercing his body and striking what felt like every major organ. Blinded, he could see nothing, and he couldn’t make his legs move. Something oozed down his ear, but he couldn’t make it move to make the ticklish sensation go away. Whatever was in his ear left a bitter, metallic taste in the back of his throat.

“There is something in the mirror, but I can’t quite see what it is. If I try to look directly at it, it becomes quite indistinct and the mirror seems dark somehow—”

Sucking in as much air as he could, Dim shouted out a warning: “Don’t look!”

Nothing else seemed to work. Breathing was labourious and excruciating. His entire body was drenched with sweat and his heart seemed as shriveled as his tongue. His ear twitched, but it seemed as though it was disconnected from his head and far away. His balls felt like lead lumps against the smooth wooden floor.

“Come Blackbird, let’s get Dim sorted out. He doesn’t look well.”

Now, Dim froze. The sweating had ceased and now, he shivered so hard that his teeth clattered together. He sat on a bed, wrapped up in several blankets, hunched over a steaming cup of pine-scented tea. His barrel ached in a most dreadful way, and Dim had a strong suspicion that he had done permanent damage to himself.

The colt—his name was Swift Swirl—remained close to Dim and seemed eager to do anything to help. The dreadful mark was gone, and with it, the dark shadow that existed over the colt. Swift was in a much better mood now, he was outgoing, friendly, and kind. For a short time, he had started talking, just blurting out anything and everything, but this had ended when Dim had snapped at him.

“Doesn’t it feel good to have done something—”

“No!” Dim’s reply came with a snarl for emphasis. “Nothing about this feels good!”

“But Dim, you did something brave… something good… you did something to help a fellow pony,” Gesundheit said, keeping his voice down to a low whisper. “Swift, why don’t you give Dim a little space?”

With an apologetic whinny, Swift took one tiny step backwards away from Dim, and then just stood there, his eyes wide with grateful astonishment. Blackbird reached out with her talons, grabbed the colt by his tail, and gave him a gentle yank to pull him away. Swift yelped in fear, but them swallowed his panicked cries before Dim could begin shouting his angry words.

“What do we do with the mirror?” Gesundheit asked the question that begged to be uttered. He glanced at the mirror—it rested on a small wooden ledge by the bed—and then he looked away, fearful of the mirror’s power. “Can it be destroyed?”

“I don’t know,” Dim confessed, “I was working with theorycraft… I didn’t expect this to work. The mirror has become a vessel that is spirit-bound. It is probably nigh-invulnerable now, as things with bound spirits tend to be. There are things that might be able to destroy it, but I don’t have the means. I don’t even know what destroying it would do. It might send it back to the black pit that spawned it, or it might set it free on the world.”

“We could drop it in the lake—”

“Swift, don’t be foolish.” Gesundheit raised his eyebrow at the colt.

“That isn’t a terrible idea.” Dim slurped some tea, but couldn’t feel the teacup against his lips. His face was numb and his head seemed disconnected from his body. He closed his eyes, trying to ward off the hallucinations that were still appearing in his vision. “Secure it to something heavy. Drop it into a deep part of the lake. Maybe the beast that lived in the lake had an underwater cave or a lair where it hid from the light.”

Blackbird raised her talons. “You know, this can be discussed later. Right now, I think Dim needs his rest. I’ll stay with him and if anything is needed, I’ll be the one to fetch it. Now, go on and get outta here while I’m asking nice.”

Nodding, Gesundheit acquiesced to Blackbird’s suggestion. His eyes lingered on Dim for a time, worried, and his face was pained when he began to back up towards the door. “Come, Swift, let us depart and give your saviour the quiet that he needs.”

“Okay!” Swift was entirely too cheerful for his own good.

Dim was not sorry to watch them go.

Author's Notes:

Yeah, yeah, sorry in advance.