Incantations

RIXEN and if you are to love, love as the moon loves; Then there was someone - someone else. It was as if he’d appeared out of thin air to stand before me, saying nothing but studying me intensely as I would now study him. Without moving any more than my eyes, I scanned him carefully, gaze running from the top of his head to the tip of his youthfully short tail. He looked to be no older than a colt, one that I’d never encountered before. I hadn’t seen him around the Rift before. Or if I had, there was no recollection of it. What was most curious about him, though, was his wing. Yes, wing. Singular, without the ‘s.’ Where most pegasi had two wings, this grullo-patched stranger had only one. It sat somewhat awkwardly upon his back, the downy feathers slicked down with sweat in the warm sunlight.  "W-who are you?" I was the first to speak, emerald orbs fixating on his icy blue ones. For some inexplicable reason, one which I could not control, my voice was sharp, mixed with undertones of wariness. It lacked it's usual liveliness completely, and the smile that often spread across my lips when meeting someone new was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only expression that presented itself on my features was one of confusion, as if nothing in the world made sense anymore. Whatever was happening to me was inescapable. Trust me, I tried to fight it with every ounce of willpower in my bones. But the Rift continued to lurk like a predator in the back of my mind, whispering in an eerie voice that sent chills running down my spine.  Listen… murmured the Rift, the word standing out in particular among the surging perplexity of my thoughts.  "What is happening to me? Please, if you can, show me the way-" I accidentally stammered aloud, forgetting for a moment that I was not alone. Certainly I looked quite mad, just as mad as I felt. My question went unanswered, in part. To be healed of your impairment, there are three tasks you must complete: pick a fight with another, collect a palubov tusk, and finally, escape Ennunyenda's tricky fog.  How am I supposed to- Look in front of you. The pale-colored colt was still standing innocently before me, with no notion of my internal battle. He said nothing, even as I spoke to myself, instead blinking up at me with doe-like eyes and childish curiousity. I could hardly contend with my own thoughts, much less the idea of harming a child.  Tell me more, I cried internally. But the clear voice was gone, vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared amidst the confusion that had unexpectedly washed over me and that I was now forced to contend with. I was supposed to fight him? But he was only a colt… I couldn’t do that. I would never lift a hoof against him, and nothing would change my mind.  According to the Rift, it was the only way. It was the only way that I might be able to rid myself of whatever ailment it was that had overcome me, fogging my brain and making my ears ring. My silver-tipped ears swiveled back and forth atop my cranium, an outward display of my anxiety. What could I do? Then a thought dawned on me. What if- what if this was something like the “trial” Kiada had explained to me when we’d explored the Green Labyrinth. What if, instead of having to eat a bear’s eye or fight the Magnus Metus, I had been given these different tasks? If that was the case, and with ever passing minute I was more and more certain that it was, then the real question was where exactly the Rift was leading me. What did the Rift want from me? Surely I would have to comply before I went completely mad. It was a strange feeling, how I was aware that something was horribly wrong with my mind, yet at the same time powerless to fix it.  Perhaps, if I thought hard enough, a workaround could be found. Maybe I had to fight this colt in particular, but if it could be helped, I’d instigate a fight without permanently hurting the stranger. Trying to formulate a plan amidst the chaos inside, this Rift-induced disease or whatever the like could be called, was akin to gathering up a million tiny pieces of a shredded picture and piece them back together again. Studying Vynter carefully, I finally decided to target the one thing that was most obvious: his lone wing. Hopefully this would be quick and minimally painful. "You only have one wing? Most all pegasi I’ve seen before have two." I turned my attention back to the child, trying my best to assume a condescending tone. Unsure how convincing my front really was, I forced a disdainful expression onto my features, eying the mass of feathers on the colt's back. Fighting was something I had seen enough of, even in my short life time, and there was nothing more painful than having to participate in any sort of violence, even when no blood would be shed.  "Talk." it does not steal the night — it only unveils the beauty of the dark

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 @Vynter