A Secular Haze

They were all dead. One morning they were there and then they were gone, torn by gnashing teeth and jagged hooves. He watched as the bodies of his family fell lifeless to the ground. Death came for each of them, now it had come for him. The writhing mass of the war band charged through the underbrush as the sorry silver hybrid scrambled to escape. By some miracle of his small stature Uriah was able to weave through the tight foliage of the forest while the bulkier warriors struggled. But they were not far behind, and with each bounding step they were getting closer. Brambles and twigs pulled at his skin as if to drag him into the waiting mouth of the beast a grimace forming with each tug and cut. Uriah stole a glance behind fearful for what he might see charging behind him.

He didn’t see his pursuers. In fact the forest in its entirety had disappeared, replaced with a wonderful, terrifying realm. As his sight moved forward Uriah could feel his stomach lurch as his body fell into nothingness. His hooves scrambled to find footing where there was none, and his ‘wings’ flapped instinctively. What was before him now was a temporal world of sound and color. The glowing ichor was a multitude of hues, many he had no words for, and the din of indescribable sound filled his ears until he could hear nothing else. The experience was maddening, but also beautiful. He had experience no place like this, and he believed no other existed. Uriahs’ legs hung limply and his featherless, stunted wings calmed and stretched as far as they could. For a moment he was flying through the world. He inhaled deeply, smelling the scent of smoke and electricity that tickled his nose and lungs. He felt alive.

What felt like minutes in the rift for Uriah was merely a second before the world around him blinked out of existence, leaving him in darkness. The small stallion stumbled from the sudden jolt of stillness, his scarred knees sinking into the mire underfoot. Uriah stood shakily and looked at his surroundings. He had come to a shadowed land. Remnants that reminded him of the world he had just exited floated above, glowing lazily in the darkness. The din in his ears was replaced by oppressive silence, and he could only smell murk and wood rot. “Have I died?” He wondered out loud in barely a whisper. The sound echoed into the trees and reverberated until they were only a perversion mumbling into the shadows. He found it unlikely he could escape such a fate, and the world he had just left had beauty beyond compare. Now he was here, in a plane reminiscent of a dark and unforgiving underworld. If he had died where was his family? Had he been forsaken? The silver stallion remained eerily still as he pondered this outcome, his lonesome gaze affixed to the lights dancing above.

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Magic
Poor baby boo Uriah has none, guess it's another thing for him to pout about?

Mutations
Underdeveloped Wings; While normal at birth his wings only grew slightly and never produced the flight feathers needed.