Work Text:
The stallion was sprawled on the ground beside a half finished mushroom.
He was struggling to get up as he tried to breath.
Blood staining his beautiful hooves.
It wasn't his.
Alone in the maze.
Rivals and companions alike had ceased to exist.
He was the last standing pony.
He had failed.
A chuckle turned into a coughing fit.
Witnessing so many deaths.
Limbs pulled apart.
Horrors that won't leave his mind.
He wondered why he decided to go to the maze.
Was it because he was bored?
It looked interesting?
Wanting to unlock its secrets?
Wanting to prove his worth?
He doesn't remember the reason now.
The calming and soothing effect was slowly fading.
As he lifts up the mushroom with his magic, sparks were uncontrollably let out from his broken horn.
The moment he ate it whole, his world exploded in a range of colors - vibrant and bright.
Unfortunately, as quickly as it came... It quickly died down into pitch black.
Empty.
Then it wasn't.
A memory of his arrival to the maze appeared at his side.
Another one before it was him finding out about the maze.
Soon he found himself trotting back into the past.
Memories after memories. Some good and some bad.
Like the time where he had broken his horn.
His last magic show.
And the start of his career as a magician.
To amaze the world...
To inspire ponies...
To be the greatest magician.
His dreams were shattered along with his horn.
A failed magician.
Truly pathetic.
He was too much of a coward to face the thing.
This would be the death of the-
No...
It can't end like this.
Something sparked inside him.
He doesn't want to die.
Not yet.
Not until he was able to-
At once, his weakened body jolted up as he proceeds to cough.
To breath as if it was his first.
He was alive.
That day was the day Atticus felt awake.