It began with a rumbling, low and ominous, like thunder but from deep within the center of the earth. She lifted her head against the deep purple night sky, her distinctive dark shape bathed in silver moonlight. A light breeze teased the tresses of her long mane, lifting it from her neck as if to comfort her. Lies. The earth groaned again, quaking beneath her nimble hooves and Black Heart Machine knows there is trouble. She lifts herself into a brisk trot, her tail flying behind her like an emblem. The ground beneath her is slippery-smooth and with every lurch and rumble she slides, nearly losing her balance. The descent from the summit of the Peak was precarious, but she knew the path well and despite how it tested her, she remained steadfast.

It was not until the very mountain beneath her began to splinter and crack that Black Heart Machine panicked. She ran for her life now, her legs unstable as what little footing she had fell away behind her. Rocks of all sizes whizzed by her head, grazing her cheek, skittering off her hindquarters or colliding with her flank upsetting her balance even more. Casting a sidelong glance behind her, Black Heart Machine sees only plumes of thick, black smoke and ash billowing from the summit. Flames raced her down the mountain as the heat intensified, bringing tears to her deep brown eyes.

As a massive piece of the great Peak splinters away from its face, Black Heart Machine slips, falling forward and down the side of the mountain. Her ribs crack as she slams against the rocks, and she tumbles into the raging river that encircled the Peak’s base. Underwater, the ice-cold jolts her into motion again and she struggles to swim up for air as the myriad of rocks and boulders sink all around her. Gasping as she breaks the surface, ash on her tongue and sulfur in her nostrils, she coughs and flails her forelegs. The current is too swift, too strong, and Machine cannot do more than manage to keep her head bobbing above the rapids.

She looks to the Peak—the very mountain she had come to love and cherish with all its glory—and she screams. Decimated. Not a mountain, but a volcano. Her beloved Peak spewed hellfire and brimstone forth from within it, destroying all it touched. Writhing in the water, her entire being trembling with devastation and anger, Black Heart Machine closes her eyes. Ghosts fill her subconscious; faces of her late lovers and companions that she’d been bold enough to care so deeply for. They leer at her. Judging, mocking, sneering. She cannot take it.

“COWARDS!” Black Heart Machine shouts, and suddenly she is awake. Somewhere else—somewhere dark, without stars.

Covered in a thin layer of sweat, she breathes heavily, her narrow sides heaving from the effort of having undergone such a vivid and horrifying dream. As Machine goes to move she finds her hooves are heavy, as though they were filled with sand, yet she presses on anyway. She could not stay here. The demons had found her and they would not let her forget. There was no slipping away from those Islands, that Peak. It beckoned her back, daring her to finish what she started.

Black Heart Machine ran, the sand in her hooves flying out with every step, its weight steadily lifting, and her heart beating with anticipation. She felt young again, despite the silver streaks in her mane and tail, running faster still and leaving the abyss behind her in a storm of fury and determination.

At last, the outline of the Peak against the rising sun slowly broke the horizon and Black Heart Machine throws her head as she runs, leaping and kicking out in jubilation. The indomitable force still stood tall and proud, immovable and unbreakable. There would be no stopping her from taking her place atop the Peak, and leading the force against any and all who wronged the ideals she had spent her entire life fighting for in any way she knew how.

Black Heart Machine would sooner die than watch her Peak erupt from afar.

BLACK HEART MACHINE