It was difficult to tell whether or not the world had changed colors or if it had always been that way. There was a chance that this was a dream, which would make more sense than the snow and moon turning black or the sky taking on a lack of color so intense that its purity seemed endless. There were no stars, there was no great being ready to bestow the logic of this inverted world upon Rexanna, there was only a sharp whistle in the distance.

The sound was small, then rose and bloomed. It overtook the sky with self satisfaction, and extended itself like a large celestial body. The heavens were not cradled so much as shot, and the sound created a wound so unforgiving that the perfect blanket of the above tore open and revealed something like a black hole. Only this black hole had a localized target, and its tug was more gentle than violent. Slowly, from wherever she may have stood in blissful sleep, Rexanna was to be pulled. The wound worked like that, weaving its way into her mind as it extended fiery trails across the strange sky. There were no voices, there was only the quiet coercion of a dark firework, come from an even darker place and now invading this light one.

If she were to walk closer, and embrace the sound, the black snow beneath her feet might dissolve wherever she was not looking and fade into the inky darkness of sleep or nonexistence. For perhaps this was only a dream.

""

As Rexanna moved, so too did the world. It shifted around her feet in small circles, quiet swirls that were so subtle they perhaps might not be noticed. At least, not with all the commotion in that white sky above. The sound that had pierced through the haze of sleep was persistent and repetitive, firing off again and again with merciless intensity. Like a siren going off in the mind of only one, it warned of change to come.

But this change was not necessarily the wicked kind. No bodies littered the black field, green blood pouring out from closed wounds, despite the fact that they had once and long ago. In the moment that Rexanna visited, all was (relatively) peaceful. Perhaps that was why the firework tearing apart the heavens drew so much attention.

As if it had eyes to see, the most recent explosion paused in its ascent when Rexanna appeared. It was pulled down, as if solid--bound to the earth like a prisoner. There, at Rexanna's hooves, the dying black embers glittered and writhed. Sparks shot off from them but they were cold, and felt more like splashes of water.

What would the mare do, confronted with this... thing? It was not an animal wounded by nature's ferocity but its movements, its indivine struggle, elicited similar sympathy. The whistles were quieted and akin to whimpers, to dying sounds. Was it Rexanna that had pulled this free thing down, or something else yet unseen? This world had many secrets, and still much to reveal.

That is, if she did the right thing. But who knew what was right in an inverted world like this?

""