Through A Glass Darkly

by Odisboinski

Insanity is an interesting state of mind, just as it is an interesting place. Will Sweetie Belle be able to survive in such a twisted land? Horrendous secrets, terrifying enigmas, and an eerie chess game await in the land of the Mind, a place ravaged by grief. Reviews and PMs welcome. Dedicated to Liya.

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Another End

"You wander the hamlet in the darkest of nights. Water laps at your feet. Is that a lighthouse you see?" ~Anonymous

Sweetie Belle actually blanched as she heard the hinges screaming as memories of her first step into the MIND came rushing back. In a moment she felt as if something was fundamentally wrong… But she could not turn back now. She had done too much; she had changed too much. Holding her Zepto Sword high, Sweetie Belle slowly stepped into the tower... and found herself in the middle of blackness. Though light had indeed be streaming out to meet her eyes when she had been standing before the door, it did not matter. The instant she placed a hoof into the tower, she was hurled into another void. But this void was different. Every void she had entered had always had a horrible feeling. She was either too confined or too alone in every other situation. But this void, once again, was different. It was alive… and it was inspiring. Though darkness was predominate, Sweetie Belle was aware of the shadows. Light irradiated from her, bringing disparity. But this was not a harsh disparity that had been whispered about in the ravished land of Effort. The light and dark simply were, they signified no undulating expectations of either side of the moral scale. In addition to that, Sweetie Belle felt no fear, only pure interest. Her curiosity was piqued, despite the fact that pure nothingness was her only companion in this new plane of reality (or non-reality).

Then came a voice. "Sweetie Belle."

Sweetie Belle started. Only a couple beings in the MIND knew who she was. What being here knew of her, or her past?

"Y-yes?" she called, her voice vanishing into darkness.

"You traversed the MIND. You collected the Living Keys. You found the door in a land of failure. What drives you so?"

Sweetie Belle actually froze in shock of the question. She was utterly unsure, just as she was unsure of whom was asking the question. However, the latter did not matter at all here, all that mattered was the question. It had been so long ago when she had first ventured into the MIND. Why had she done such a thing in the first place? What had driven her to undertake the task of treading the cursed regions of the MIND? Surely nothing could have made her do something so irrational and horrible… But she was here nonetheless.

Hearing nothing from Sweetie Belle, the voice continued to talk. "Your efforts have been terrifying in their magnitude. Your mark would have been left in each region had not the Shadow, a horrible Furor, been at your every other turn. Verily, your convictions rival the forces of Grief itself. Mayhap there could have been hope in combating its writhing armies had it not been for the Shadow."

"Wait a second," interjected Sweetie Belle, "I could have… BEATEN the Grief?"

"It is possible," said the voice, "You did many things to transcend Grief. Many questions forced earthward, many evils made aware and destroyed. The greatest of enemies are not always the visible, young one."

"Do I need to go back?" asked Sweetie Belle, actually torn between horror of actually having to do so, and interest in the possibility to crush the force that had corrupted so many of the ponies she had known throughout her journeys.

"No," came the reply, "There is nothing you can do. You have been marked by the Shadow. The cycle will continue. I am sorry."

There was a pause again as Sweetie Belle tried to comprehend the voice's speech. What exactly was it trying to say? She did not know, and she had no time to even continue attempting to understand, for a second later the voice continued to talk. "Here you are. You have survived the unthinkable. You have done the unspeakable. What is it that you want from all of this?"

Sweetie Belle's stomach churned with excitement, and her heart nearly beat out of her chest. It was almost over. She could tell. For a second she could not speak because her throat was so dry, and because her head was veritably swimming with relief.

"I… I… I WANT MY OLD LIFE BACK!" cried Sweetie Belle. She started when she realized she had practically screamed her request.

A minute passed before the voice replied. When it did, it was soft, almost condescending. "Do you even remember what your old life was?"

In less than a second Sweetie Belle's excitement turned to fear as she realized that the voice was posing an impossible-to-answer question. In all honesty, she did not recall her past life. All she remembered was screaming… crying… that was it. Those two elements of Grief were all that she remembered of her past life, and it had been following her ever since. Silence... The Sweetie Belle whispered a plaintive word:

"N-no…"

Sweetie Belle's voice was quiet and grief-stricken, barely echoed in the void. It was swallowed instantly by silence.

An eternity seemed to pass as Sweetie Belle felt whatever was left of her life crumble to dust. She wanted her old life back, but it seemed her old life was what she had just escaped. But that made no sense. She knew in her very soul that there had been a different life. She knew there was more to this… didn't she? There must have been something else.

A hole in the void abruptly opened up, and hearts of the Great Questions drifted through the opening.

"You fought so hard to retrieve these. Though Shadows whispered of the nature of these organs, you were right to bring these before us. It is indeed sad that they came at such a cost, but doesn't all knowledge? Tell us… What drove you to do what you did?"

Sweetie Belle gulped as her mind struggled for a response. The more questions were brought up, the more she realized that she had no answer.

"I… I got them because Madness told me to," she whimpered, "He told me that if I brought them to you, you would help me."

"Help you with what? You have not told us of what you want. Knowledge can achieve much with its retrieval, but the answer to the pure unknown is not one of them. Only One can answer that, and we will never be One. So tell us… What do you truly want now?"

A single tear rolled from Sweetie Belle's right eye as her throat caught. "I want something more. I want a new life. One void of everything I have experienced… I don't know. Can I truly have a better life?"

"So… You want one final answer to one final question."

"Yes…"

The void suddenly shifted, and Sweetie Belle found herself in a beautiful garden. However, it was an odd garden indeed. The sky constantly shifted, as if time itself distorted the weather, and the earth underneath her hooves was glowing with an unnatural light. The flowers shivered and shifted actively, as if they were performing an unusual dance.

"Where am I?" asked Sweetie Belle, looking about, "What is this place?"

"You are on the final path," said the voice. It still came from nothing, like the air itself had been given a voice, and it was addressing her specifically, "This is the garden of beginnings."

"Why is it so strange?" gasped Sweetie Belle, trotting up to a flower and poking it gently with her Zepto Sword.

"Aren't all beginnings wondrous?" breathed the voice, "You must journey to find the Mirror. It has been said by the other to be your answer. Goodbye."

"Wait!" cried Sweetie Belle, "Were you the Council?"

"We were, Sweetie Belle."

"But… You were not as grand as the stories of Effort! There was simply… nothing…"

"You must figure out what you saw on your own, Sweetie Belle. Find the Mirror."

With that, the voice vanished and Sweetie Belle found herself alone in the garden of beginnings. Sweetie Belle sighed. It seemed that there was one final step to take… But she knew it had to be taken. The Council had, like everything else in the MIND, brought up more questions than answers, but the questions that had been made apparent were vastly more important than anything else she had considered. It was true… She could not remember anything of the past. Sweetie Belle sat down in a clump of glowing grass and shut her eyes tight. Shivering with exertion, Sweetie Belle struggled to recall her past. Her mind reached far, far, far back… To the furthest memory she could recall…

Stumbling through grass… Crying… A dear friend had died? Who? She couldn't remember… But it had made no sense. They had been so important, so very important. Darkness… Then Perspective… Then the MIND…

Sweetie Belle felt an unescapable sob wrack her body as she gave up attempting to remember. All she could recall was Grief. Sweetie Belle broke down crying. Her sobs echoed in the calm, iridescent sky for many hours as the little filly cried her heart out. Finally Sweetie Belle pulled her nerves together and slowly crawled up to all fours. After rubbing her eyes to clear it of tears, Sweetie Belle squinted at the garden of beginnings. It was indeed odd, with the strange grass and awe-inspiring sky. Already the sky had gone through a dozen dusks and dawns, though there had been no moon and night sky in between.

"I suppose the only thing to do now is go forward," sighed Sweetie Belle out loud. She didn't really care that she was talking to herself. If others thought she was crazy, then that was fine by her.

Slowly she trotted forward, looking in wonder at the odd glowing plants around her, and, especially, the sky. Aside from the rapidly-evolving clouds, there were odd statues and pillars of stone that floated by high in the air. Gravity apparently meant very little in this land. Fortunately for Sweetie Belle, the land before her was very straight, and she could see between the many moss-covered boulders that lay in the garden willy-nilly. As Sweetie Belle continued to trot, she noticed that the boulders had begun to be replaced by marble figures of trees. And so there she was, trotting within a garden of glowing plants and stone trees. The marble trees started to thicken to the point that Sweetie Belle was squeezing between trunks, and then, suddenly, she found herself in a clearing. There was a shallow lake in the area clear of marble trees, and a large round island resided in the very middle of the lake. In the middle of that round island resided a massive oblique-like monument of obsidian black. Sweetie Belle slowly approached the island, pushing her way through the crystal-clear water of the lake. The monument was not at all impressive, only being about as wide as Sweetie Belle and three times as high. But despite that, it held an aura of mystery and foreboding about it (like most of the unusual constructs within the MIND). Sweetie Belle peered at the monument, and saw, carved upon it, some writing. It read:

"Here lies the first and last resting and birth place of Bilik Alma, the Assassin, the Harbinger of the First Disparity, the Advocate for the Nature of Dark, and the Conjoiner of Destruction."

Sweetie Belle cocked her head to one side. Was this the grave of Bilik Alma? She knew of this strange being by name, of course, for he was the reason the Land of Effort fell. However, why was his grave here? She voiced this concern out loud.

"Hmmmm," she mused, "This is the garden of beginnings, and yet someone has their end marked here. Odd."

Suddenly a voice answered her promptly. "You're calling this place the garden of beginnings? You must have been talking to the council of knowledge. Only do they call this region such a thing."

Sweetie Belle turned around, almost nonchalantly, to face the source of the newest disturbance. She was shocked by what she saw. At the far end of the shallow lake was a massive wall of black stone… and bound upon the black stone with chains of burning steel was a stallion as dark as night. He was so black that it seemed like all color and light about his was being sucked inward, with his surroundings distorting and twisting. The only thing that gave off light as opposed to absorbing it was his eyes, which were glowing an eerie green.

"W-who are you?" breathed Sweetie Belle. She could tell he was clearly bound to the huge wall of rock, but the air of the stallion gave her a feeling of dread and meekness.

The stallion tugged idly at his chains. Not a single link shifted. He then shrugged and replied, "I am Insan, the First Element of Harmony, and the Seventh of the Pillars of Good. Of course, all of those are false names now, so I generally settle for calling myself Insan, bearer of hate, seventh element of disharmony. It matters not what you call me really. But what might you call yourself?"

"I'm Sweetie Belle," replied Sweetie Belle, rather cautiously. She found herself inching away, almost as if she feared that Insan would abruptly break loose of his formidable bindings and rend her to nothing.

Insan blinked. "Sweetie Belle, is it? An odd name for an odd pony, I presume. Either way… No doubt you have heard of me before?"

Sweetie Belle nodded. "I have. You brought ruin to all these regions."

Insan shrugged. "I could just as easily blame those travesties on Bilik Alma, who showed me the path of disharmony. But I digress, as I do not really care what you think. My followers have been scattered in the MIND, ensnared by the Punishment… And here am I, powerless to do anything but watch as the world crumbles, and then is reborn, and then crumbles. You would not believe how many times I have seen an era restart only to meet the exact same end via the exact same means. Astonishing, really."

Sweetie Belle just stared. Whatever Insan had said had gone straight over her head. And thus, she immediately tried to switch the subject. "Insan… You said earlier that only the council of knowledge called this place the garden of beginnings."

Insan rolled his eyes. "Indeed. Only beings as foolishly presumptuous and blindly contemporary as that council would ever dream of attaching such an odd name to a place like this one."

"Huh?" said Sweetie Belle. What Insan had said seemed to not make sense. How could the council be as blind as he said?

"You question my declarations?" asked Insan, guessing her reason for confusion. "Well, I do not blame you. Rarely would one guess that a group named 'council of knowledge' could be in such audaciously benightedness. But then again, knowledge evolves over time, and though it updates in a cumulative fashion, many elements of importance are lost as chaos rocks eternity's timeline. You see, little pony, this place may be currently called 'garden of beginnings' by some young foolish ponies somewhere, but the true meaning of this region is rather different. In the time before the first disparity, this place had another name: it was called 'vale of ends.' Much more fitting, and a whole lot more explanatory, wouldn't you think?"

"I suppose…" mumbled Sweetie Belle, thinking upon Insan's description of the follies of the council, "So if this place if the vale of ends, then is what I am doing coming to an end?"

"Perhaps… But then again, perhaps not. Hence the later name of 'garden of beginning.' One can never really tell," replied Insan with shrug.

"You seem to know a lot, Insan. In this case, could you answer me two questions?" said Sweetie Belle, hoping to finally get some answers, now that she had met someone who was not entirely nonsensical.

"Ask away, strange one, and perhaps I will find it within the dark void of my soul to answer," said Insan complacently.

"Well," started Sweetie Belle, "Can the Grief find me here?"

Insan actually started laughing. "You are still worried about that old thing? Goodness! It must have given you some nasty frights in the corrupted lower lands of the MIND. Why be so concerned? The Grief has done its work. You were lead and then pushed over the precipice that was required by the Shadow! It will not need to bother you. But if you want a more literal answer, then think on this: the vale of ends existed before any of the other lands. It was built outside the former lands of knowledge, and resides within the void outside the ruins and buttresses of disparity. You are too far for the Grief to reach… But then again, why reach here? This was where it was told to lead you."

Sweetie Belle's stomach did a somersault when she heard the phrase 'This was where it was told to lead you.' What commanded such terrible power that the Grief would bend to its will. "What?" she breathed, "Something told it to chase me?"

"Of course, strange one," snorted Insan, "Nothing acts on its own volition in those regions of existence. But that is all you will get from me on that matter. The end is nigh, and there would be no fun to be had if it did not end and restart without some unanswered questions that would remain unanswered the next time around! You said you had two questions. What is the second?"

Sweetie Belle looked down at her hooves and pondered the response. She needed to ask for the Mirror. It was what she was told to ask. If she was to complete her mission, then the Mirror simply must be found. Indeed, that was a reasonable second question, right? She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything…

She heard it: The faint tolling of a bell, far, far away.

It was rich, but deep and somber, echoing as if trapped within an all-consuming sepulcher. Twelve. Twelve times it rung, tolling out the time in a land that time had forgot. Sweetie Belle closed her eyes. That bell. It had reminded her of something. She had heard bells like that eons ago, in a memory that was so old, so utterly repressed that it seemed almost foreign. And that was it. A memory. A memory of the past. And with that revelation, Sweetie Belle's tired, bloodshot mind resurged, and Insan's once fatuous ramblings were cast in new life. In an instant the last thing that Insan had said began to bother Sweetie Belle, and, before she could think of it for even more than a second, she cast away the second question.

"You said this… That… That there was a restart. What do you mean?"

Insan paused, and for a second he looked surprised, almost as if he had been caught stating something he had no business relaying. Then he blanched, his face turning the palest of pale. That was never supposed to happen. That question was never supposed to be asked. What was going on? Finally, Insan bowed his head, so that his face was clouded by the shadows. For a minute he lay there, bound by the sulfurous chains of his sins. An eon passed… Then he looked up, and his eyes had a new light. His eyes were reflecting something this land had tried to kill ages ago: Determination.

"Ahhhhhh… And here was I, thinking this run would be like all the others, Strange One. You would run off, I would hear a scream, then, a couple days – or perhaps centuries, one cannot really tell – you would come back asking for the same thing. 'Two questions', you would ask, 'Answer me two question.' And I would answer them, and, as always, your second question would be about the Mirror. Always about the Mirror, just as you were told. But today… Well, today is something else indeed, Strange One. That bell… Oh, that bell has never been rung. It resides deep within the Mind, in the very center, where every element of Grief and Loss lie, conglomerate in one sentinel and gargantuan monument. A Risen Citadel, of the name Hope. Oh, yes indeed, Hope has been rung, my sweet Belle. And now new questions are being asked by none other than yourself, for the first time in an eternity."

Sweetie Belle blinked. Insan sounded happy, almost estatic about something. She wasn't quite sure, but she knew one thing: Something had snapped. Deep within the land of the MIND, something had broken, and it was signaling the start of something new.

Insan looked about furtively, as if worried that what he might say next could be illegal in some way. "Strange One," he murmured fervently. "For eons upon eons now, you have been trapped here. And for eons upon eons, you have run through this land of the MIND, doing Madness's bidding in a vain attempt to escape Loss and Grief. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, correct? And that's exactly what Madness wants. He wants this insanity."

Sweetie Belle's jaw dropped. "Madness… Orchestrated this?"

Insan ground his teeth together, spit and saliva frothing at the jaw as he fought to hurry the conversation along. "Yes! Oh yes, he has. From the very beginning of reality. From the moment the Pen of Time touched the Paper of Reality to draw the unending circle he's been directing you down the same course."

"But… But why?"

"Hush child! You will understand at a later time, and even if you do not, it matters not, for now that the Bell of Hope has rung, we have naught to do but commit to the path we have set upon. We cannot aim for a second pass at the restarting of this hellish reality, for now both of us remember too much! Nay, we remember all! You must go, Strange One. You must go beneath ebony obelisk! The monument of Bilik Alma undoubtedly houses a crypt…"

"Wait!" interrupted Sweetie Belle, heart beating fast as she was caught up in Insan's frenzy. "Undoubtedly? Do you not know?"

"No!" shrieked Insan. "But it must be, for Bilik Alma was a liar! The liar of all liars! But beneath every lie is a core, a core truth that must be hidden, and for this falsehood to reach so momentous of a magnitude to trigger this unending hell, it must be protected, even in death in a pit of sorrows so deep that the seven layers of hell pale in comparison!"

Sweetie Belle whirled around and rushed to the gravestone of Bilik Alma. She slammed her hooves into the unyielding stone. She even went so far as to chip away at the smooth obsidian with her Zepto Sword. Nothing. Not even a mark. The filly whirled back to Insan, her bloodied and matted mane swishing across her muzzle in a mad dance. "It's not opening!"

Insan bared his teeth. However, he wasn't baring his teeth at Sweetie Belle. No, he was snarling to the sky, in defiance of some overpowering force that had held him locked in an undying death for an eternity and a half. He then closed his eyes as the stallion wracked his brain for something that might help. Then the bell sounded again. A second time. The thrumming, sepulchral sound rumbled in the sky like lightning, illuminating the MIND with an arcane knowledge forgotten by time. Twelve times it rung. Twelve. It filled the air, permeating every molecule in this cursed land. Every particle in existence vibrating in harmony to the booming noises of the bell. Then Insan remembered.

His eyes shot open and he opened his mouth… But then he hesitated. For a fraction of a second Sweetie Belle saw an emotion flash through the eyes of this being of darkness: Fear. Insan struggled with his chains as he fought down the waves of terror beating at his frame, and then he went limp, his eyes closing. A minute later he opened his eyes, and he smiled. "Strange One… Do not fear death. Nay, when you have lived as long as I you will welcome it. As dark and hideous as cessation may seem for oneself, it offers one simple comforting fact: The End. There is an end in death, and you will have naught to worry about for the rest of time. I remember now. Before the onslaught on the Land of Knowledge, Bilik Alma spoke to me of my task, the task to deceive the Knights of Harmony, my loyal soldiers. What he said to me wasn't important, no, it was what he said the Cistern."

"A Cistern?"

"Yes, child. A gaping well of pure nothingness. The void of the void, the black hole within the black hole. Before the war of disparity that brought ruin to the MIND, Bilik Alma meditated by the Cistern for a millennia, never leaving its side. But the day he left, I was present. When he left it for the last time, he spoke to it as an old friend speaks to another. This is what he said… 'A crime unforgiven. A valued life lost. The burning of hope. One's sanity tossed. An endless curse. An endless pit. Naught put to rest as the Dark has seen fit'."

Before the last syllable had even dissolved into the air, the sky was shredded in the wake of an ear-splitting noise emitting from the obelisk of Bilik Alma. The monument to all things unholy was moving. Slowly and surely, it was moving. And then it stopped, revealing the Cistern. And it was indeed just that: A Cistern. The edges of the bottomless watering hole were cobbled by ancient stones, chipped and discolored from age, and rotting wooden planks crossed the hole, barely covering up its gaping maw. From deep within the pit came the sound of water, calm and serene, lapping gently against aged stones, set deep within the core. Sweetie Belle looked at Insan in shock. She had no idea what she should have expected, and yet she was still surprised beyond words.

Insan grinned, his maw the picture of wild ecstasy. "Jump, child. Jump and shatter the cycle. End it all."

Sweetie Belle edged up to the edge of the Cistern, inching open a couple of the boards blocking her view of the bottom of the pit. Not surprisingly, when she did shift the boards, there was no bottom in sight. Feeling nervous, Sweetie Belle could not help but ask one more question in a vain attempt to stall the inevitable jump.

"Is… Is Madness truly the enemy here?"

Instant continued to grin, his yellowed teeth pointed and needle-like. "As many injustices as that THING has done to me and my own personal reality, I suppose simply saying 'yes' would be a lie. And we wouldn't want any more lies written upon these chains of fire, now would we? JUMP!"

That last word was said with such venomous force that Sweetie Belle stumbled… And fell straight into the pit. She screamed for a whole minute as she fell, and she continued to fall even after she had stopped screaming. It was pitch black, and the sound of water continued to echo up to her as if she was seconds away from a collision with the water at the bottom of the well. And yet that expected crash never occurred. Instead she continued to fall…

"Is this it?" mused Sweetie Belle, quietly to herself. Now that she had been falling for at least an hour, she felt no fear, only a slight apprehension and wonderment at her predicament. "Is this how the end is? A bottomless pit? What was it that Insan said? 'An endless curse. An endless pit. Naught put to rest as the Dark has seen fit'."

Suddenly Sweetie Belle's stomach inverted and she began to decelerate rapidly. The next thing she knew her hooves were gently touching the water that she had been hearing for over an hour now. It was naught but a couple inches deep, but it chilled her soul to the bone. Sweetie Belle looked about, peering through the darkness. Nothing. Just black water that stretched to every horizon. She looked up. Nothing. It was as if she had entered a different world, bound by water of the Black. The waterscape was deathly silent, save for the gentle murmur of water that echoed from every corner of reality. Sweetie Belle was alone, her isolation complete. However, the filly didn't give up. She pushed her bowler hat a little higher up her brow and continued to peer fastidiously into the abyss. Then she saw it: Far in the distance were a couple pinpricks of light. Without a second of hesitation the weathered child readied her Zepto Sword and worked her way through the endless ocean of well water toward the lights. An hour past. Then a day. Then a century. And then she was there. Before her loomed a town, half flooded. The buildings were quaint, but they were rotting away, their original colors having been faded to gray eons ago. They were distorted too, leaning at odd, impossible angles, and straight lines zigzagging as if reality itself was being distorted. Rusting, dilapidated lampposts stood sentinel in the water, casting the faint lights Sweetie Belle had been following for what seemed like a century. But despite the haunting appearance of this macabre hamlet, it all seemed somehow… Familiar. Sweetie Belle had been here before. She must have. A lifetime ago.

The filly approached the town, well water sloshing about her hooves. But before she could make it to the town borders, she noticed something was making its way toward her. In a flash Sweetie Belle had readied her blade and pulled her bowler hat far over her brow to cover her eyes. She glowered at the unidentifiable creature, ready to slay it at the drop of a hat. The literal drop of a hat.

The creature got closer, and soon it was near enough to be identifiable to some degree. It was a pony, but both its face and its body was draped in veils of black, stained deeply in blood. The blood stains were so deep and the black was so dark that, in fact, those bloodstains were the only reason that this pony had been visible in the poor lighting at all.

"Stop!" snapped Sweetie Belle, showing once again how little she resembled her former self. A shadow, if anything. "Come one step closer and I will skewer you!"

The pony stopped, and then cackled. The cackle was husky and thick with rot and poison, but despite that Sweetie Belle realized – to her absolute horror – that the speaker was young in age. Whatever that meant in this time-forsaken land. It was a filly. A girl. "An endless curse! An endless pit! Naught put to rest as the Dark has seen fit!"

"Who are you?!" hissed Sweetie Belle, now on the verge of killing first, asking questions later.

"Me? Who? Me? Nameless! Nameless am I, Nameless are we!" The cackling reached an intense volume, and then suddenly transformed to weeping and gurgling. A mighty mood-swing if there ever was one. "But no… No… No… Mercy! Mercy for the poor children! Mercy for the murderer. Not our fault. Not her fault. But then he came. Curses! Curses on him! An endless curse!"

The pony Nameless stopped and swayed on her hooves in a drunken stupor. Inebriated in grief and rage. Sweetie Belle lowered her blade just a tiny bit. This wretch had no control of her faculties, it seemed. She would give very little trouble.

"Where am I?" breathed Sweetie Belle, fully expecting to get little in the way of response.

"The pit. Oh, deep in the pit. So deep. Deep. Deep. Deep. Deepest memory, darkest memory. Repressed beyond the light of day, repressed beyond the land of sight. So deep."

Sweetie Belle inched around Nameless, keeping her blade in the ready position. She was having no more of this verbal garbage from this hideous shadow. In a minute she had circled between Nameless and the town. Then, without a second thought, Sweetie Belle whirled and dashed toward the town, well water shooting up in gouts as her hooves thrummed through the eternal lake. As she galloped, she could still hear Nameless's voice in the distance.

"Not our fault! Not her fault! No! Forgiveness everywhere, but no forgiveness for us. Darkness. Darkness around, biting, suckling. Insipid tendrils prying apart the gashes in the soul! But it wasn't our fault! It was over, and then he came. Curses on him! Curses! An endless curse! A bottomless curse!"

Sweetie Belle was in the town now, and it all was so familiar. It had to be. Water lapped at her feet as she slowly spun in a circle, looking around. The buildings, the gazebo, the clock tower. Despite the rot and decay that ate at the heart of every structure, every single square centimeter of the place resonated with a forgotten memory. Not just one. Countless. An entire lifetime of memories lay here, dormant beneath the frigid lake of eternity. Sweetie Belle sat down hard in the water. The horrid liquid chilled her rump, but she didn't care. Her Zepto Sword followed her backside, splashing loudly down beside her. Mumbling incoherently, Sweetie Belle rubbed her temples with the tip of her hooves rapidly, doing all in her power to remember. Nothing. An impenetrable wall of black. It was impervious and almost seemed… Sentient. As if another foreign force was occupying the wall of forgetfulness, operating its defenses in an all-out effort to prevent her from remembering anything about this odd, odd hamlet. Then, from countless kilometers above her head, through thick stone and layers of earth… The bell began to ring again, for a third and final time. Twelve. Twelve times it rung. And then it was silenced, forever. And, once again, Sweetie Belle remembered. Like tar, the wall of amnesia bubbled into naught but a putrid pool of ebony pus, and from behind it rushed a tsunami of remembered memories. This was the town of Ponyville. Or was. Something had happened here. Something dark. Something horrid. But even the bells could not reveal that. Indeed, that event was so deeply buried, so profoundly rooted in the Dark that the repression was absolute. It would need to be discovered anew. And, undoubtedly, the advent of such a recovery seemed to be at hand.

As if in a trance, Sweetie Belle slogged her way to the center of the town. She felt nauseous, dizzy, as Déjà vu ran rampant within her mind. There was Sugarcube Corner. There was the library. Barely recognizable due to age and water-rot, but they all still stood out, burned into her mind. And then Sweetie Belle's journey came to an end. The water had taken on a tar-black hue now, sucking at the filly's hooves as she entered the town square. But even this could not stop her now. Suddenly Sweetie Belle noticed something that certainly did not belong in the town. A monument. A monument to her. Indeed, a black-tinged, marble statue, crafted in the likeness of Sweetie Belle sat the epicenter of the town square, in the heart of this corrupted Ponyville. From the eyes of this stone effigy came two thin trickle of tears. On a hunch Sweetie Belle bowed her head and lapped lightly at the tarry water rippling about her hooves. Salt. Tears. The endless lake that she had been traversing for what seemed like a century had been tears, coming from the eyes of this statue. The statue stood upon a large base, upon which a plaque rested, chiseled deep within the marvel and layered in discolored bronze. Sweetie Belle took a step to get a closer look.

"Do you think this will change anything?"

Sweetie Belle turned slowly, knowing who she was about to face even before the entity had finished speaking. It was Madness. He stood there, his powdered white face, his sheening black coat, his sweeping gray jacket, and his gold-tinged eyes. He looked at Sweetie Belle in a calm manor, an eyebrow raised.

Without knowing it, Sweetie Belle's knobble knees began to tremble, and she urinated herself. "Madness."

Madness trotted up to her and bowed his head, looking straight into her eyes. Her soul froze, and the world began to blacken.

"What are you doing, Sweetie Belle?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, the child began to back away. "I'm finding out the truth, Madness. That bell… That bell rang, and now I remember everything. I remember my past life. I… I had a big sister! Rarity! I went to school! I had friends! I was happy."

Madness narrowed his eyes in an almost accusing manner. "Perhaps you were, Sweetie Belle. But if you were happy, then why did you go on a journey?"

Immediately she remembered. If she hadn't already wet her hooves, she would have then. "A friend… They… They're dead."

Madness nodded his head sharply. "Indeed. A friend dearest to you is dead. And you know why? Because of you. You killed them, Sweetie Belle. You killed them and then you ran away, because you couldn't handle the grief. And so you let it fester, like a disease, eating away at your flesh. It invaded your mind and chased you through the corridors of your consciousness."

Sweetie Belle gulped. "But… But Insan said the Grief was being controlled."

Madness smiled. In all of the eons that Sweetie Belle had lived, nothing had terrified her more. "But of course. Grief came in the wake of something. It arrived during the onset of Madness."

Then it all made sense. Madness was the Shadow. Madness was the Dark. Madness was Bilik Alma. He had never died, he had never wavered. He had always been there, egging Sweetie Belle on to complete one more run in the eternal circle of the MIND.

Sweetie Belle wanted to slump to the watery floor, overwhelmed, but her muscles had locked up in fear. She was trapped. "W-why?"

"Why?" Madness continued to smile, reality distorting simply from the look of his grin. "You asked me here, Sweetie Belle. When your friend died, you let your soul go, and let me settle in its place. And so I did. I gave you purpose. I gave you a mission: To eternally fight the Grief. A reasonable option to the vegetative state you were about to succumb to I am sure."

Shaking her head rapidly, Sweetie Belle squeaked, "No! No Madness! I don't want to anymore! Leave me alone!"

"But why? I have myself a home here. Right in your MIND. You let me fester, you let me stay, and now I shall reside her forever. Now come, we must travel to the Fade of the Reality, where you will produce the Mirror and start anew. Another run. Another curse. An endless curse. A bottomless curse."

Sweetie Belle looked at Madness for what seemed like an eternity, and then she whispered, "A crime unforgiven. A valued life lost. The burning of hope. One's sanity tossed. An endless curse. An endless pit. Naught put to rest as the Dark has seen fit."

Madness opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, he reeled from an unseen blow. It was Nameless, she had appeared from nowhere, and was now attacking the obsidian stallion, shrieking at the top of her lungs, "YOU! YOU! A CURSE ON YOU! A POWERFUL CURSE! A BOTTOMLESS CURSE! AN ENDLESS CURSE!"

Madness dematerialized for a second, allowing Nameless to pass harmlessly through him. He the rematerialized behind her and clapped his hooves. Once. There was a loud crack, and Nameless fell to the floor, her neck at an odd angle, her spin split in two. Madness calmly and complacently turned to attend to Sweetie Belle, but the filly had dashed to the statue in the center of town. Madness readied to chase her down, but then stopped himself. Instead he smoothed his overcoat and waited. It was too late now. He would have to wait to see what transpired. Then he would act. To help or to kill. That was now the question.

Sweetie Belle dashed up to the plaque set deep into the base of her statue. It was unreadable at first, covered in grime and moss, so she hurriedly bent down and scrubbed at the metallic surface, uncovering the eldritch script beneath. And there it was. The core of the horrors. The truth that had fed lie after lie after lie. Protected by Madness, buried deep beneath the land of the MIND, drowned in an endless lake of tears. It read:

HERE LIES BUTTOM MASH.

Then Sweetie Belle remembered. A cooking excursion with her little 'colt-friend.' Crossing a river. Traversing a forest. Skirting a ravine. They were there now. Near the edge of Ghastly Gorge. Sitting by the edge, enjoying each other's company. Joy. Happiness. Cordial banter. A good joke. A friendly shove. Disaster. Button Mash has slipped. Clinging. He's clinging to the edge of the gorge now. Help. She needs to help him. She grabs his hooves. She pulls, pulls harder than she ever has before. She tries her magic. It's useless. She pulls again with all her might. She slips. She lets go. He's gone.

Sweetie Belle screamed. She remembered it all now. She had gone on a picnic with Button Mash while Rarity and Twilight had gone to catalog equipment in the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters. They had had been eating lunch on the edge of the ravine when Sweetie Belle shoved Button Mash too hard and he fell. She tried to pull him out, but only managed to ensure his plummet. He struck the ground, and his skull split, pouring out his brains in a cascade of blood and mush. Button Mash was dead, and she had caused his death.

Madness smiled, thoughtfully tapping the corpse of Nameless as he watched the little filly thrash in the water. This was going well. He felt himself get stronger as Sweetie Belle's grief rose to impossible heights.

Sweetie Belle collapsed into the water, the tip of her muzzle submerged; a centimeter away from the plaque of Button Mash. But at the apex of her maddening grief she noticed something: A hidden inscription, at the base of the plaque. Not only was this inscription covered in grime, but it was heavily scratched, as if someone had attempted in vain to file it off the surface of the marble. In addition to that, it was scrawled upon the plaque, as if someone had been added later, ages after the statue itself had been installed. Slowly Sweetie Belle reached up a hoof and pushed away the grime. What she saw caused her heart to stop. It read:

"A poor crime forgiven. A valued life mourned. The bright hope of lives. Sanity adorned. An endless curse. An endless pit. All put to rest as life ends its fytte."

As if in a trance, Sweetie Belle reached up and touched the markings once more. And then suddenly she remembered more. The memory of Button Mash's death had been violated, defiled. A black blotch, staining deep into the flimsy film of her memory. It all had been warped and altered. Just like the curse of Madness that had unlocked the Cistern, apparently. Everything had been desecrated. Everything had been profaned by Madness to fit his own eldritch cognition. Then, like a wave, the newly revealed memories came crashing upon Sweetie Belle's skull.

"Don't let go, Button Mash!"

"Sweetie Belle! I'm pulling you down with me!"

"I'll be fine! J-just hold on!"

"No! You're slipping! If you keep holding on you're going to fall!"

"Please! Keep holding on! Twilight's on her way I'm sure!"

"No one's coming, Sweetie Belle. You know that."

"NO!"

"Sweetie Belle. It's over. If you keep this up, we'll both fall."

"NO! NO! NO! BUTTON MASH!"

"I'm letting go, Sweetie Belle. I love you. And I forgive you."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Sweetie Belle jerked back into "reality." Her memory was clear now, and it all made sense. The memory had been traumatizing, and had burned itself into her brain. But it didn't end there. From that point, Sweetie Belle had replayed the memory. Again. And again. And again. And like a film that has been played too many times, the memory became frail, and it began to deteriorate. Repetition festered disability, and mourning ate her mind away, leaving nothing left. And when there is a void within the mind, something else always comes to fill it. Enter Madness, and in his wake: Unending Grief. The MIND collapsed, the Land of Knowledge deteriorated.

But now Sweetie Belle remembered. In his last moments, Button Mash had told her two things: He loved her, and he forgave her. And with those two components standing sempiternal, something new was being birthed within the hollow soul of Sweetie Belle: Hope.

Madness blinked. Something was different now. Sweetie Belle was rising out of the water, like a proverbial bird from a pit of despair. She was on her feet now, and she was drawing her Zepto Sword from its watery grave. Now she was turning, his bowler had hanging low over her brow, shielding her eyes in a shadow deeper than the abyss. She pointed the tip of her weapon at Madness, her emotions deadpan.

"Madness," she murmured. "You need to leave."

Madness frowned. "My dear Sweetie Belle, you have no right to ask me to leave. This land is my house. The MIND is my domain. You handed the keys over to me the second your sanity faded beyond the vale. I am absolute ruler now."

"No!" cried Sweetie Belle. "You are ruler no longer! I am SICK of you, Madness! I am sick of your lies, your deceit, and your manipulations! You've played me like a puppet for too long, trapping me in an endless cycle of madness, but now I'm about to cut those strings!"

"Indeed," chuckled Madness, though his muzzle was set in a grim line. "But such foolhardy and asinine talk will do you little good, captious child. You cannot fight me. You know you can't."

The last sentence was spoken in a whisper, but it chilled Sweetie Belle to the bone. Her knees began to shake, but then, in a burst of insane bravery, she dashed at Madness with a wail, thrusting her Zepto Sword at the dark stallion blindly. In an instant Madness was behind her, without so much as a flick of his tail. Sweetie Belle had overextended herself, and she stumbled stupidly as her weapon found little purchase in the empty air. She flopped to the ground. Madness chuckled again.

"Cantankerous imbecile. You cannot fight me. I hold dominion over this place. I led the Grief into this land; I tricked Insan and brought down the Knights of Harmony. I razed the Palaces of Knowledge. There is naught that I have not tarnished. My mark is everywhere, my stench absolute. There is no way you can wipe me from reality, Sweetie Belle. There is no way you can banish me from the MIND."

Bumbling about blindly, Sweetie Belle sent water cascading in all directions as she swung her blade in a wide horizontal ark, hoping against all hope that she would at least nick Madness. Anything to keep the eldritch embodiment of insanity from pouring more venom from his lips. But to no avail. Her blade cut air as Madness shimmered out of reality, only to shimmer back in an instant later a safe distance away.

"Yes. This entire time you've been my pawn, my toy. In fact, you've been my plaything for longer than your memory even suggests. Ah, you have no idea of the countless runs you've made through this reality. Not a single memory that marks the trillions upon trillions of times you've taken my guidance blindly."

"SHUT UP!" screamed Sweetie Belle, swinging her blade wildly at her opponent. Madness didn't even bother teleporting this time. Instead, he let the blade pass through him, as if he was made from naught but smoke. Smoke blacker than the blackest night. Sweetie Belle threw herself at Madness, teeth bared, but she passed through him as if he was but a spectre. She landed headfirst on the corpse of Nameless, sending up spurts of blood and water everywhere.

"Give in, Sweetie Belle. Give in and start anew…"

Sweetie Belle stopped swinging her blade. She stared at him, her face a mixture of pure hate and terror. For one second she wanted to collapse, to give in and let herself drown in the folds of Madness's arousing, tantalizing, voice. But then one saying drifted into her mind on its own accord, accompanied with the soft, melodious ringing of bells.

"I'm letting go, Sweetie Belle. I love you. And I forgive you."

Sweetie Belle pushed the bowler hat up her head, allowing Madness to see her eyes as she stared deep into his gold-infused pupils. "But aren't you worried, Madness?" she murmured, her voice thick with defiance. "Aren't you the tiniest bit concerned? Insan has betrayed you, just as he betrayed his friends. I bet you that in the countless eons I've spent wandering the MIND, I never once have found myself here, in this Aphotic Hamlet. In this Eclipsed Town. And who knows? Even if I die here, what's to stop me from returning? What if I keep coming back to this place? And you know what? I will. I swear to all that is good and evil that I will. And each time I will rise up and fight you. For the rest of eternity we will stand here, locked in combat. And no matter how many times I die, I will always rise again, throwing off my shackles and calling you out for who you truly are: A madman."

Madness opened his mouth to respond, but then he hesitated for one moment. Sweetie Belle acted. In one smooth motion she seized the veil that covered the carcass of Nameless and hurled it at Madness. It struck him and covered his face, blinding him. Sweetie Belle reared back her blade, prepared to strike at the phantom of insanity, but before she did she glanced at the uncovered body of Nameless.

It was her. Lying in the lake, wallowing in a watery mixture of her own blood, was Sweetie Belle, a perfect twin. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, her mouth slightly agape to allow a thin trickle of lifeblood to seep past her cold, dead lips. Time froze as the live Sweetie Belle stared at the dead one. Then clone's bloodshot eyes swiveled in their sockets to stare deep, deep, deep into Sweetie Belle's.

"His hat."

That was all Nameless said, her voice gurgling and thick with blood. Then, with a death rattle, she went limp once more, her eyes rolling away into milky white.

Sweetie Belle didn't even question it. Eyes wide, she took the bowler hat off her head and skewered it with her Zepto Blade. In an instant the air was filled with the most horrid, heart-stopping sound reality had ever known: Madness screaming.

The dark stallion threw off the veil that blocked his vision and stared at Sweetie Belle in pure hate, his maw open wide, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth. He took a step toward Sweetie Belle still emitting that mind-rending shriek. With a small gasp Sweetie Belle stumbled backwards, tripped over the corpse of Nameless, and fell hard on her rump. As she did that the Zepto Sword was driven even deeper through the fabric of Madness's bowler hat.

Madness reeled backward, slamming into Button Mash's gravestone as his scream reaching a pitch that surely would shatter the walls of the dimension. It vibrated through every particle, thrumming in an all-consuming pitch that blotted out even the remotest possibility to think. Sweetie Belle collapsed, covering her ears and wailing in pain as the scream got louder and louder and louder… And then it was over.

For what seemed like an eternity Sweetie Belle lay floating in the endless lake, in a stupor. Then she was jerked back into reality by a sharp pinging snap that resonated through the air like the death rattle of the world's last good thing. Sweetie Belle raised her head out of the water to search for the source of this sound. It was her Zepto Sword. It had snapped in two. Both Madness and the hat were gone, and now everything was quiet. Slowly, ever so slowly, Sweetie Belle rose to her hooves. As if in a trance, she stumbled toward the gravestone of Button Mash, but she was only halfway when she stopped and turned around. She stumbled to the corpse of Nameless, her clone. Before the skewering of the bowler hat, Sweetie Belle could've sworn Nameless's face had been twisted in a grotesque manner, a product of rigor morits. But now it was different. Nameless's eyes were closed, and upon her sweet, innocent face played a soft smile, as if she had merely fallen into a deep, calm sleep. Sweetie Belle gently touched Nameless's face and nodded her head in respect. She felt a deep kinship for this copy of herself. Or was she a copy of Nameless? Who truly was this being that lay before her, locked in the slumbering arms of death? She would never know.

Tiredly, the ragged filly turned about and made her way to the gravestone. She waded up to it, and lay down, her head level with the plaque that marked Button Mash's passing. Slowly Sweetie Belle closed her eyes and lay her head against the aged marble.

"I loved you too."

Then everything was gone.

You move your remaining knight to E5. Check. The Unknown resigns. It cannot win this fight. It will have to wait for another.