Expanding Horizonsby Stormy NightChaptersInterrogations SuckWide Open SpaceThat's Right, It Starts With a JailbreakInterrogations SuckChapter Two: Interrogations Suck The room was dark, at least that's what Moonsong assumed. It was also small and damp. In one corner of it drop after drop of water fell to the floor. She'd counted the turns and steps that the other guards had led her through, tracking her progress through the labyrinthine structure. This was a small holding cell, not long term confinement. The only furnishing was a small table and a pair of mercilessly uncomfortable chairs. She leaned from side to side, scooting her rump around on the seat in search of comfort. It shouldn't be physically possible, she mused, for a chair to be so uncomfortable. It was almost certainly by design, a way to break the prisoner before questioning. There was no effort whatsoever to match the contours of equine anatomy, merely a perfectly flat wooden slab. The constant dripping of water continued, neither slowing down nor speeding up. Perfectly regular, one drip every three seconds. She'd been counting them since being left alone, or trying to. Two hours, forty-seven minutes. Three thousand, three hundred and forty drops. Counting drops of water and using them to track the passage of time got old very quickly. She had just lost count a few minutes later when the door rattled open. Hoofsteps traced a path to the table, then stopped. The pattern was off somehow, perhaps due to some sort of injury. The chair slid across the stone floor, steel legs screeching. Moonsong winced at the noise, made all the worse by her unusually sensitive ears. The pony sat across from her, silent but for their breathing and the beating of their heart. “Moonsong.” The voice was not one she recognized. It was that of an older stallion, deep and raspy. “I am agent Jet Black, Internal Affairs.” The air changed slightly, a subtle crackle of energy and the faint hum of particles being energized. Magic. Something dropped onto the table, paper by the sound it made. “I've reviewed your files. Test scores and performance evaluations are all excellent, no record of criminal activity. You are, by all accounts, an exemplary guard.” “Your point, sir?” Moonsong asked, still shuffling in search of comfort. “This 'questioning' seems awfully light on the actual questions.” “The point, Moonsong,” Agent Black replied, his voice carefully controlled, “Is that all of that makes your implication in this explosion all the more worrying.” He shuffled the papers before him. “Now, where were you at five fifteen this morning?” “I was asleep.” The mare replied. “My alarm is set for six, and that's when I wake up.” “I see.” the agent didn't sound terribly convinced. “Is there anypony who can confirm this story?” “Well duh.” Moonsong snapped. “Just ask Breezy and Glimmer. They're my roommates, I'm sure it says that in your file there.” She was beginning to get annoyed. Did they seriously think she would set off a bomb? “Ah yes.” He said, his magic once more humming to life. Two more stacks of paper dropped onto the table. “Midnight Breeze and Glimmer. I would very much like to question them, were it not for the fact that neither has been seen since shortly after the explosion.” The silence that followed his words seemed endless as Moonsong struggle to comprehend what he had said. Agent Black merely sat across from her. She could practically feel his stare, boring into her. “Breeze and Glimmer never reported to their assigned cell-block. They were last seen leaving the mess hall, along with another. As far as we can tell they just walked out and vanished into thin air.” “So what does that mean for me?” the mare asked, growing more frustrated and confused. “You can’t just keep me locked up like this!” “Actually, we can. Not only that, but we must.” The air filled with that intangible crackle of magic again, accompanied by the sounds of the files being swept aside. “Until we get to the bottom of this mystery, you are the only lead we have in our investigation. We have eyewitness accounts and photographic evidence placing either you or some identical twin we've no record of at the scene of the incident.” “Yeah, and none of that stuff can be faked.” Moonsong snapped, sarcasm dripping from her words. “And there's no way anypony involved was mistaken or lying.” “We are investigating that possibility.” the agent said, his voice infuriatingly calm and level. “As well as several others. Magical manipulation, impersonation, illusory magic. We cannot afford to write off any of these as an impossibility.” She was practically raging at this point. She'd never once been late for her shift, never had a single conduct issue, no problems at all in her five years as a guard. Now, just because somepony who looked like her was in some way connected to a bombing she was being locked up like a criminal. “I'm sorry to say this, officer Moonsong,” he continued unperturbed. “but until such a time as we are able to clear you of involvement in this crime you are to remain in custody.” “What's the big deal anyway?” She asked, “It's not like there's anything in cell block seven anyways!” “That is where you are wrong.” Agent Black's voice was calm, but Moonsong swore she heard something beneath that facade. “Cell block seven was a cover for the oldest and most secure section of Tartarus. Only the Princesses know who or what is imprisoned there, and they have yet to respond to our alert.” There it was again, that hidden emotion beneath the calm surface. She knew what it was now. Fear. “You will be escorted to a proper holding cell shortly.” His chair scraped against the floor as he back away from the table. His hoofsteps moved away, pausing only to be replaced by the rattle of the door as it shut and the dry, final click of the lock. “Well,” she said to the empty room. “this is a fun way to spend the day, isn't it?” She shuffled herself around again in a futile attempt to get more comfortable. The chair continued to deny her any respite. Time passed slowly, as it tends to when one is removed from all contact with the outside world. Only the steady drip, drip, drip of the leak in the corner broke the silence. While Moonsong was waiting in silence, Internal Affairs Special Agent Jet Black was striding briskly down a narrow corridor. Cell Block Seven loomed ahead, still littered with smoking piles of rubble. Agent Black was, unlike almost every other pony employed in the Tartarus Complex, not a Stygian. A smoky gray unicorn whose mane and tail were stark white, he had been named for his most remarkable trait. One of his eyes was a clear and vibrant blue, while the other was a featureless sphere of gleaming obsidian. Rumors flew about its nature: that it was a birth defect, or an injury, or a magical prosthesis. The eye, along with the prosthetic left foreleg that gave him his distinctive stride, helped him to create and maintain his carefully managed reputation. The guards parted before him as he passed, speaking in hushed whispers. The black cloak of his station flapped behind him, his cutie mark concealed in its shadows. He ducked beneath the yellow caution tape that bordered the field of rubble, taking in the devastation. The cell block had been empty, that much was true. The real secret was buried deep beneath, at the bottom of the smoking hole opened by the blast. He thought back to what he'd told the suspect earlier. While it had been largely the truth, one lie stood out. Whatever secret lay at the bottom of this tomb was older even than the princesses, older than Canterlot, older than the very nation of Equestria. The earliest unicorn settlers had discovered the pit mining for gems. From its very discovery it had been the subject of rumors and myths, a source of discomfort and fear to all who knew of its existence. Eventually the city of Canterlot had been constructed, a way to ensure that the pit would always be under supervision. The caverns had later been expanded, creating a vast network that honeycombed half the country. Tartarus, the underworld, home to those creatures so vile that they could never be allowed to see the light of day. Jet thought back to some of the things he'd seen in his inspections. A cell filled with nearly tangible darkness, within which two eyes had glowed with an unspeakable light. A cage, dangling from the cave ceiling, in which countless insect-like creatures buzzed and swarmed. Worst of all was a cell like any other, containing what had seemed to be a perfectly normal filly. It was only when she'd turned his way that he saw what she was, a midnight black creature with a dagger-like horn and leathery wings whose eyes were filled with a terrible hatred. She had been bound with cruelly thick chains inscribed with glowing runes that hissed and smoked where they touched her coat. Tartarus, simply put, was a place of cruelty. Necessary cruelty, in the name of that oh so commonly touted “Greater Good”, that allowed Equestria to survive. Most ponies couldn't tell, were unable to sense the flow of energy along the halls, but there was an even greater purpose behind this place. It was old magic, and dark. A spell that used arcane geometries in the prison's structure to channel the energy of the prisoners' suffering and despair into keeping whatever lurked down in that pit contained. “Any new evidence?” He asked as he approached a cluster of guards. They had been talking animatedly, but grew quiet as he made his way to them. “Nothing, Agent Black.” The commander replied, “Just the same pile of rock we've been combing through for the past three hours.” “Well, let me know if you find anything.” Black growled. This whole mystery nonsense was quickly grating on his nerves. “Immediately.” He drew in a breath to continue, but paused. A faint tingle of energy ran through his horn, a disturbance in the field that flowed through the prison. Somewhere, far off, another explosion rang out, and another. Dust fell as the ground shook. The tingle vanished, the energy dissipated, no longer flowing in its proper cycle. The vast and ancient spell circle was, after untold centuries, broken. Deep in the pit, in a darkness unlike any other, something stirred. It was ancient, it was hungry, and after all this time it was awake. In the holding cell, Moonsong felt the far-off explosions. She struggled against the shackle around her leg, desperate to get out there, to find out what was going on. In the hall outside, she could hear ponies running by, shouting at each other. The explosions had ceased, but a faint grinding rumble still filled the air. Sliding off the chair, she braced her rear hooves against the table leg and pushed. The table was heavy, not to mention bolted to the floor, and stubbornly refused to budge. The metal shackle dug painfully into her leg, chain creaking as she pulled on it. She threw herself against it with all her might, but to no avail. She relaxed, panting with exertion. As she recovered, she heard something new. The door rattled against its frame. The hum of magic filled the air, followed by a rending screech of metal on stone. She sensed another presence in the room, gave out a quick chirp. A figure stood in the doorway. Hoofsteps crossed the floor, stopping right by her head. “Stay still.” A soft voice whispered in her ear. She nodded. The chain was stretched taut. The other pony moved slightly, heart racing and breath coming in quick gasps. That hum of magic grew, and with a sound Moonsong couldn't quite describe, hit its peak. The chain shattered, smoking shards of metal singing her coat. “Run.” The voice whispered, “Run and don't look back.” Hoofsteps retreated rapidly, pounding on the stone, and faded into the general chaos of noise. Moonsong was alone. Not knowing what else to do, she took the voice's advice. She ran. There was no rhyme or reason to her running, no mental map used to plan her route. She took turns at random, sending out a constant barrage of echolocating chirps. She ran on as the chaos faded into the background, as a new sound took dominance. A colossal turning, a rending and grinding cacophony. A deep and guttural snarl. She hear enchanted doors slamming shut behind her, great slabs of stone designed to completely seal off the prison in the event of an emergency. She ran until her muscles screamed and her chest burned. When at last she stopped she stood on the verge of a great emptiness. A cool breeze blew, and there was a warmth on her face that she had never felt. She gulped and, afraid of what she might find but more afraid of not knowing, sent out a high pitched chirp. The echoes that returned painted a picture of a vast openness. She was outside of the caves. She was on the surface, for the first time in all her years. It was huge, enormous, completely overwhelming. Exhausted and terrified, she collapsed as the adrenaline wore off and the events of the day caught up with her. Her sleep was deep and dreamless. Author's Note So, here is chapter two. This one came slowly at first, then faster, and the finally escalating to a simply dizzying pace. That's kinda all I have to say right now. Hope you folks enjoy. Wide Open SpaceChapter Three: Wide Open Space As Moonsong slept off the trials of the day, Agent Black was contending with a different darkness altogether. With the disruption of the magical circle that maintained Tartarus' security, there came a disruption of other essential systems. The lights went first, plunging the cell block into total darkness. Black focused his magic, drawing in what energy he could and channeling it into a sphere of light. It hovered inches from the tip of his horn, casting some small illumination into the void around him. The faces of the others were cast in stark relief, growing fear evident in their expressions. Cell block seven was a huge area, nearly a mile across, but in the absence of light the walls seemed infinitely far. It was as if they were adrift in space, rather than a cave deep underground. Although the explosions had ended, a new set of sounds had taken their place. From far off, and growing farther, came a series of grinding crashes as vast slabs of stone dropped from the ceiling and closed off the networks of tunnels. Agent Black whistled sharply, cutting through the fearful chatter of the guards. When he had their attention, he began to speak. As he did, he sketched out a series of lines in the dust. “Allow me to brief you on the situation.” He began. “As you all know, Tartarus is laid out like a wheel.” He drew a circle on the floor. “We are here, at the center. Cell Block Seven is one of two hubs from which the hallways radiate.” Several lines were added from the center to the rim of the circle. “There is no way to get to the upper hub, which houses administration and the only known exit to the surface, without going out to the rim first.” He dashed one hoof through the sketch, obliterating the drawing. “Of course, none of that matters right now. The failsafe has been triggered, sealing each cell block off from the rest, and from the surface.” He stared at each face in turn. “We have no way to get a message to Canterlot, no way to warn the Princesses, no way to escape. We are, in a word, doomed.” The guards reacted to this news as he'd predicted. They were afraid, and needed someone to take charge. As they teetered on the brink of panic, one spoke up. “Can't we just use magic to send a message?” He asked, a hopeful expression on his face. Agent Black shook his head. “I'm sorry, but no. Every part of Tartarus but the Upper Hub is magically sealed. Magic cannot enter, nor can it leave. Some of the beings imprisoned here have no physical forms. If magic could escape then they could as well.” The light flickered. This far underground there was precious little environmental magic to draw upon. In order to keep going the spell would need to start draining life force instead. “Our only hope is that, in all of that confusion, somepony managed to get out before the tunnels sealed themselves.” Agent Black's voice was grim, but with a flicker of optimism still audible. “If so, then they might get word to Canterlot.” The light faded, then died. The chamber plunged back into darkness, and somewhere in that infinite void, something churned. A vast grinding groan that reverberated through the stone floors, it set off a new wave of panic in the guards. A denser shadow seemed to rise from the Pit, spiraling upward through the vast chamber. The low and grinding rumble shook the floors again, seeming almost like a low chuckle. Far away, separated by miles of tunnels and tons of stone, Moonsong slept. In her dreams, she wandered down empty corridors silent save for the echoing clop of her hooves. The air was cold against her coat, and totally still. “Hello?” She called out, and was answered only by her echoing voice. “Is anypony there?” Although the hall was silent, she swore that she could feel another presence. “All is silent in the halls of the dead,” a strange voice whispered. It echoed, fading in and out. “where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall silent, one by one.” Somewhere, deep below her, she heard a vast and distant thrumming. A low pulsating sound that droned on and on, it was both faint and deafening. Something about the sound set her teeth on edge, as if it were more than a mere physical vibration in the air. As if it were the sound of some unimaginable mechanism, an engine beyond comprehension that ran on in the core of the world. As she listened, it faltered. Somewhere in that vast unseen machine, a cog slipped. A belt snapped. The sound rose and fell in lunatic patterns, alternately limping and racing. Stone and metal screamed as chaos insinuated where order had reined. The corridor suddenly seemed tight, as if the walls were closing in. Moonsong's heart pounded as she ran through the shrinking halls, her hooves hammering on the floor. Her lungs burned with each breath, muscles screaming in protest as they were pushed to their limits and beyond. Behind her, the ceilings began to fall. Great slabs of stone were dropped by some ancient mechanism as the world was consumed in sound and vibrations. All hope of echolocation was lost in the rising thunder of grinding stone. She ran blindly forward, stumbling over debris loosened by the collapsing tunnel. Her hoof hit a rock, pain racing up her leg. She went down hard, landing face first in a pile of rubble. The ceiling overhead groaned as it began to fall. The vast slab of stone broke free, several tons of rumbling death rapidly accelerating downward as Moonsong screamed. She came awake still screaming, hooves scrabbling wildly at the warm stone beneath her. She felt the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze, and remembered everything. Standing, she began to stretch muscles made stiff by a cold night in the open. After working a particularly stubborn kink out of one wing, she surveyed her surroundings. The air was cold and crisp, utterly clean. The scents that assailed her nose were dizzying after the dank damp aromas of the caverns. The rich and fertile smell of the soil, the fresh perfume of flowers, and something else she couldn't identify. So many smells alien to her, it nearly brought a tear to her eye. And the sounds! Birds sang, small creatures chittered and squeaked as they darted through the underbrush, crisp leaves crunched under paws. In the distance, the unmistakable babble of running water seemed to call to her. She coughed, throat suddenly parched as if she'd not had a drink in days. The first few steps were nerve-wracking. After the close confines of the caverns it was unsettling not to feel stone brushing her outstretched wings, not to hear the echoes of her hooves on stone. The echoes that returned to her were muffled and distorted, deadened by the vast expanse of open space. But still she pressed on, the distant sound of running water spurring her on. It drove all fear from her mind, eradicated all concern. She could practically taste it, feel the cold liquid on her fur. At last, she came to the edge of the trees. The ground changed underhoof, no longer grass but the dense mat of decaying leaves and needles. She sighed, comforted by the proximity of the trees. The branches overhead were almost like the caves she knew and loved, and her wingtips brushed rough bark as she wove through the closely packed trunks. She was so focused on the sound of the water, the smell of it that wafted to her nostrils, that she never heard the steps coming up behind her. She never noticed the other presence until something rough and scaled came to rest on her shoulder. “I know that look,” A voice said, directly in her ear. “Snap out of it now, before it's too late!” She yelped, snapping her wings out and jumping away. A branch clipped her head as she landed, the jarring impact clearing her muddled mind. She faced the source of the voice, head down and wings extended. “Who are you?” She asked, making herself as threatening as possible. “And why did you sneak up on me like that?” She pawed at the ground and flicked her tail. “Whoa there, easy does it.” The stranger said, still standing where he'd ambushed her. “Just trying to help is all.” Leaves crunched, growing steadily closer. Moonsong's ears twitched as she analyzed his progress. Not hooves, too soft. Paws, perhaps. But that didn't explain the scaly appendage he'd stopped her with. “Just what are you?” She asked, pivoting to face him. “And what in the world are you doing in the middle of this forest?” “Ah,” Said the stranger, “How rude of me. I am known as Gerard, of the Gryphonian Border Patrol. I am patrolling the border.” The last sentence was tinged clearly with sarcasm. “Because there are so many ponies trying to cross into Gryphon lands in this particular corner of nowhere.” She could feel his gaze upon her, knew somehow that he was analyzing her as thoroughly as she had him. The moment of silence dragged on, and Moonsong began contemplating how a mouse must feel as a hawk circles overhead. “Haven't seen a pony quite like you before.” He said, his tone utterly casual. “You from around these parts?” His words were jarring, shaking her out of the trance she'd been in. The spell cast by his silent stare broken, Moonsong became distinctly aware of the rushing water. His voice faded into the background as she realized just how unbearably thirsty she was. She began to walk toward the sound, the woods giving way to a clearing before her. The sound was even louder now, drowning out all other sound. Grinning, she raced forward. The mat of leaves gave way to grass and then stone. She skidded to a stop inches from the brink, nearly sliding on the wet stone. The rushing water filled her entire world. She was vaguely aware of the strange gryphon shouting behind her, but found herself strangely unable to care. Her thirst was unbearable, her lips and mouth drier than the desert sands to the far east. Throwing herself down at the water's edge, she plunged her face beneath the surface and drank deeply. The water was cold, far colder than it had any right to be without freezing. It was the single most delicious thing she had ever tasted, with a crisp mineral flavor that she couldn't quite place. Each swallow seemed better than the last, and as she drank her muzzle grew pleasantly numb. All of her worries seemed to melt away as she drank, washed out of mind by the impossibly delicious waters. She'd been running from something, been on an urgent mission. There was an emergency, but beyond that she could remember nothing. Entire swathes of her mind were buried under a thick layer of fog. As she drank more and more was consumed. First hours, then days of memory grew dim and faded. The cold waters no longer seemed so delicious. The faint mineral taste now seemed bitter and foul, but still she drank. Every care in the world was erased as the waters washed over her mind, as it was replaced by the terrifying yet somehow comforting haze. No longer could she remember why she'd fled the caves, no longer could she remember the cause of her distress. There was only the water, and the tainted comfort of ignorance. “You absolute fool!” A voice cut through the haze as a talon roughly grabbed her mane and pulled her head from the tantalizing water. “I told you to snap out of it! Don't you know not to drink the waters of Lethe?” “Lethe?” The mare asked, tilting her head aside. “What's that? And who are you?” Author's Note Alrighty then folks! Chapter three at long freaking last! Not that very many people read this drek, but still... Trying to force myself back into writing, keep myself from getting rusty. Sorry about the infodump near the start of the chapter. Was either an "as you know" style speech or a clumsy paragraph of narration that would've seemed forced. I had to establish my idea of what Tartarus is, how it is laid out, what defense measures exist. That's Right, It Starts With a JailbreakChapter One: That's Right, It Starts With a Jailbreak It was a well known fact that the land of Equestria was home to the three tribes of ponies. The Earth Ponies, with their innate connection to the land and ability to draw crops from even the most difficult soil. The Unicorns, possessing sharp minds and great magical prowess allowing them to perform amazing feats. The Pegasi, whose in-born ability to fly and manipulate clouds allowed them to control the weather itself. What was less well known was the fourth tribe. Mysterious and aloof, creatures of the night and of darkness, they were shrouded in legend and mystery. They were the Stygian ponies. To much of Equestria, the Stygian ponies were little more than a myth. Bat-winged pegasi who had served Nightmare Moon during the Equestrian Civil War, they had largely vanished since their leader's banishment. Their numbers had recovered slightly since Luna's return, but they were still practically unknown in many smaller towns. To many, Stygians were an ill omen, a sign of impending darkness. It was thought that they still served their long lost master, and awaited her return and the onset of everlasting night. For that reason, it was difficult for them to find employment outside of Princess Luna's Night Guard. In other cities, Stygians eked out a meager existence scavenging at the fringes of society. They were feared, sometimes hated, targeted for violence. They slept in sewers, huddled together for warmth and stealing from garbage cans for meals. It was a hard life. Even less well known than the surface-dwelling Stygians, however, were those who remained in their ancestral home. The bat-like ponies hailed from the networks of interconnecting caverns and catacombs that ran beneath most of Equestria, and in that subterranean darkness they served a purpose that nopony save for the Princesses knew and that nopony could survive without. The Stygians were the wardens of Equestria's most secure prison, Tartarus. This is the story of one such pony, and the adventure that shook the very foundations of her world. Moonsong yawned and threw aside her blanket. The alarm clock at her bedside rattled and rang, just as it did every morning. She rose from the comfort of her bed into the chilly air, stretching her back and legs. The room around her was pitch dark, but she moved with grace and confidence. Each click of her hooves on the stone floor gave back an echo, picked up and amplified by her sensitive ears. They twitched and swiveled, tufts of fur at their tips drifting slightly behind. She made her way to the doorway, pushing aside the curtain and stepping into the main living area. This was the most hazardous part of her morning routine, navigating the ever-changing layout of the furniture. Whether her roommates were unable to decide on where to put everything or they simply enjoyed trying to trip her up was a mystery. This room, unlike the last, was carpeted. The thick pile muffled her hoofsteps, stopping the echoes she used to navigate. Undaunted, she let out a brief chirp. The sound rippled across the room, reflected back from the furniture and walls, and returned to her. An image formed in her mind, pieced together by some process she couldn't begin to understand. Grinning, she picked her way through the maze. The bathroom door loomed in front of her. “Nice try guys, but you'll have to do better to trip up this mare!” She called over her shoulder. Her hoof lifted off of carpet and set down on stone. Wet stone. It slid out from beneath her, sending her sprawling on her side. “You guys are jerks.” She muttered, hearing the muffled laughter of her roommates outside the door. She picked herself up and stood at the sink. Her forehoof rose to the shelf, feeling the notches carved into the wood, and hooked around her toothbrush. Squeezing out a dollop of toothpaste, she set to work. A few minutes of scrubbing later, she dipped the brush in the basin and set it back on the shelf. A glass of water sat beside it. She took a mouthful, rinsed, and spat. Her left hoof rose and lifted a washcloth from its rung beside the basin. She dipped it into the water and scrubbed her face, letting the cold jar the last remnants of sleep from her head. Hanging the cloth back up to dry, she pulled the plug on the basin. The water rushed down the drain, and she listened. For the first time all morning, Moonsong opened her eyes and stared at the mirror. The eyes reflected in that polished glass were not the gleaming amber normal in Stygian pones, but a blank and slightly dull shade of gray. They stood out from a coat so dark it was nearly black. She ran her hoof through a mane the color of smoke. The cutie mark on her flank was a trio of curved lines, each larger than the next, representing an echo. She turned sharply and walked out into the main room. The smell of breakfast cooking wafted up from the mess hall down below, and her stomach rumbled. “Morning Moonsong!” A cheerful voice shattered the peace and quiet. Glimmer, the officially unofficial backup alarm clock, seldom saw the need for an indoor voice. “I really thought we had you this time.” Moonsong chuckled. “Nice try, but you'll have to do better. Did you let Breezy set it up again?” “How could you tell?” The other mare asked, confusion clear in her voice. “Really? He's a nice guy and all, but that colt's not exactly playing with a full deck.” Moonsong replied, smirking. “Or have you been blinded by your love?” She teased, drawing out the last word and fluttering her eyes. She could practically feel the heat of her friend's blush. “Hey!” An indignant voice muttered from one of the other bedrooms. “I ain't deaf y'know!” Even muffled by the carpets, his hoofsteps were clearly audible. His voice was rough so soon after waking, his steps clumsy and irregular. He plodded heavily across to the bathroom, muttering under his breath all the way. Moonsong rolled her eyes. She turned her head toward the source of his grumbling. “Up late working on your floor plan, were you?” She laughed at his grunting response. “This is the same way you arranged it last week.” The distinctive sound of hoof meeting face reached Moonsong's ears, followed by Breezy's anguished voice. “I knew it seemed familiar.” he sat heavily on the floor. “I can't believe I spent all night working on a floor plan that I already tried!” He sighed. “I'm so tired right now.” “All night?” Glimmer asked, shocked. “There are only three chairs and a table!” :”See how clearly you think at three in the morning.” Breezy muttered, “I need coffee.” Moonsong threw a foreleg around the despondent colt's shoulders. “Don't let this failure get you down, my friend!” She said, putting on her best dramatic voice. “For are there not countless nights ahead in which to come up with even better plans?” Her eyes met his. “Buck up my young lad, you may yet pull the wool over these eyes of mine!” She dragged him onto his hooves, eyes fixed on where she knew his to be. “Just listen to old Moonsong my boy.” She was nearly shouting as she put one hoof to his chest. “Within this shell beats the heart of a champion, and I'll not let such potential go to waste! I wanna see a brand new layout tomorrow morning and I want you to be well rested and ready to attack the day!” A fierce grin played across her face. “Think you can manage that, kid?” Breezy chuckled. “First off, Ma'am yes Ma'am!” He said, one hoof clicking against his forehead not in frustration but in a salute. “And second, I'm a year older than you. Don't call me kid.” She let her wingtip flick him in the nose as she turned. “Manage to trip me up one morning, and I'll call you whatever you want,” She smirked as she walked toward the door. “kid. Now let's go and get something to eat.” The three friends stepped out into the hallway, Moonsong allowing her nose to lead her in the direction of food. Glimmer and Breezy flanked her, talking animatedly all the while. The hall had been carved out of the living stone, naturally formed caverns enlarged and leveled through years of work. It was merely one small portion of a tremendous underground structure deep below the base of the mountain that supported the city of Canterlot. A few turns and a spiraling stone staircase took the trio to the mess hall. As they passed through the thick curtain that hung across the doorway, the smells and sounds from within washed over Moonsong. The casual chatter of ponies enjoying their meals, the tantalizing aroma of cooking food, it was all nearly overwhelming. Glimmer and Breezy took the lead, making their way to a table with three empty seats. After staking their claim, they waded through the sea of activity to the serving counters. The line was long, and the smells mingling in the air made the wait all the more unbearable, but eventually the trio was able to get their orders. The carefully balanced trays swayed slightly as the ponies carrying them set off for a less crowded area. “Is it me or is this place more crowded than usual?” Glimmer asked as she narrowly avoided spilling her meal all over another diner. “Like, a lot more crowded?” “Beats me.” Moonsong answered cheerfully. The tray on her back held all of her attention. A steaming omelet loaded with fresh peppers, onions, mushrooms and cheese sat opposite a cup of coffee so dark it seemed to absorb all light that touched its surface. Her wings were extended, each resting on the shoulder of one of her companions. Breezy said nothing, merely plodding along. His tray sat between his wings, somehow maintaining perfect balance. He may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had an absolutely uncanny sense of balance at times. The three seats were still open, waiting to be occupied. The trio sat down, eager to enjoy the meals that they had worked so hard to transport. Moonsong picked up her fork, speared a chunk of her omelet and began lifting the cheese-dripping morsel of delight to her mouth. Just as she was about to take that all-important first bite, imagining the explosion of flavor as the tastes mingled on her tongue, a deep rolling thud shook the floor beneath her. An alarm began to blare. The klaxons cut through the mess hall chatter in an instant, setting everypony in the room on high alert. The speakers crackled, and a voice boomed out. “Attention all guards, there has been an explosion in cell block seven. This facility is on lockdown until all prisoners are accounted for. Report to your assigned wings immediately.” Food forgotten, Moonsong jumped to her hooves. She ran, not thinking about where she went but allowing her speeding legs to carry her along the path they knew so well. Her wings flicked out now and then for balance and to help with turns. She uttered a constant stream of high pitched chirps as she ran, the echoes painting an ever changing portrait of madness in her mind. Guards ran every which way, each dead set on reaching their assigned wing as quickly as possible. She darted nimbly through gaps and leaped over the backs of others when needed. Those others, she thought as she ran, placed too much trust in their eyesight. How else could she be moving so much more efficiently than them? Soon, the tunnel opened up. Before her stretched the vast expanse of the cell block. Cages of enchanted iron filled most of the open space, all manner of creatures chained within them. She spotted the meeting place for her group, spreading her wings and flying across the intervening distance. She slid to a landing in front of her supervisor, wings snapping to her sides and hooves clicking together. She snapped off a crisp salute and stood at attention. She listened, but could hear no other ponies around. Something felt off. “Moonsong reporting for duty, Sir!” She said. “Any more details about the explosion?” “Just one,” the older stallion began, regret in his voice. “A pony was sighted loitering around the area just before the bomb went off. Black coat, gray eyes, an echo for a cutie mark.” He sighed.”I'm going to have to take you in for questioning.” Author's Note Alrighty then. Throwing another tale out there. I've wanted to write a story with a Stygian (Bat pony) lead for a while, and this new EQD contest thingy is my perfect excuse. I just need to finish and submit it by the 31st of October. To anyone who's been following my other story, Catatonic, I've not abandoned it just yet. I've merely struck a bit of the writer's block. Kinda wrote myself into a corner and the only way I can see out is through a contrive coincidental plot twist. So, her goes another fun little tale. Let me know what you think guys, otherwise I'll never get any better at this stuff. Long days and pleasant nights, my friends!
Interrogations SuckChapter Two: Interrogations Suck The room was dark, at least that's what Moonsong assumed. It was also small and damp. In one corner of it drop after drop of water fell to the floor. She'd counted the turns and steps that the other guards had led her through, tracking her progress through the labyrinthine structure. This was a small holding cell, not long term confinement. The only furnishing was a small table and a pair of mercilessly uncomfortable chairs. She leaned from side to side, scooting her rump around on the seat in search of comfort. It shouldn't be physically possible, she mused, for a chair to be so uncomfortable. It was almost certainly by design, a way to break the prisoner before questioning. There was no effort whatsoever to match the contours of equine anatomy, merely a perfectly flat wooden slab. The constant dripping of water continued, neither slowing down nor speeding up. Perfectly regular, one drip every three seconds. She'd been counting them since being left alone, or trying to. Two hours, forty-seven minutes. Three thousand, three hundred and forty drops. Counting drops of water and using them to track the passage of time got old very quickly. She had just lost count a few minutes later when the door rattled open. Hoofsteps traced a path to the table, then stopped. The pattern was off somehow, perhaps due to some sort of injury. The chair slid across the stone floor, steel legs screeching. Moonsong winced at the noise, made all the worse by her unusually sensitive ears. The pony sat across from her, silent but for their breathing and the beating of their heart. “Moonsong.” The voice was not one she recognized. It was that of an older stallion, deep and raspy. “I am agent Jet Black, Internal Affairs.” The air changed slightly, a subtle crackle of energy and the faint hum of particles being energized. Magic. Something dropped onto the table, paper by the sound it made. “I've reviewed your files. Test scores and performance evaluations are all excellent, no record of criminal activity. You are, by all accounts, an exemplary guard.” “Your point, sir?” Moonsong asked, still shuffling in search of comfort. “This 'questioning' seems awfully light on the actual questions.” “The point, Moonsong,” Agent Black replied, his voice carefully controlled, “Is that all of that makes your implication in this explosion all the more worrying.” He shuffled the papers before him. “Now, where were you at five fifteen this morning?” “I was asleep.” The mare replied. “My alarm is set for six, and that's when I wake up.” “I see.” the agent didn't sound terribly convinced. “Is there anypony who can confirm this story?” “Well duh.” Moonsong snapped. “Just ask Breezy and Glimmer. They're my roommates, I'm sure it says that in your file there.” She was beginning to get annoyed. Did they seriously think she would set off a bomb? “Ah yes.” He said, his magic once more humming to life. Two more stacks of paper dropped onto the table. “Midnight Breeze and Glimmer. I would very much like to question them, were it not for the fact that neither has been seen since shortly after the explosion.” The silence that followed his words seemed endless as Moonsong struggle to comprehend what he had said. Agent Black merely sat across from her. She could practically feel his stare, boring into her. “Breeze and Glimmer never reported to their assigned cell-block. They were last seen leaving the mess hall, along with another. As far as we can tell they just walked out and vanished into thin air.” “So what does that mean for me?” the mare asked, growing more frustrated and confused. “You can’t just keep me locked up like this!” “Actually, we can. Not only that, but we must.” The air filled with that intangible crackle of magic again, accompanied by the sounds of the files being swept aside. “Until we get to the bottom of this mystery, you are the only lead we have in our investigation. We have eyewitness accounts and photographic evidence placing either you or some identical twin we've no record of at the scene of the incident.” “Yeah, and none of that stuff can be faked.” Moonsong snapped, sarcasm dripping from her words. “And there's no way anypony involved was mistaken or lying.” “We are investigating that possibility.” the agent said, his voice infuriatingly calm and level. “As well as several others. Magical manipulation, impersonation, illusory magic. We cannot afford to write off any of these as an impossibility.” She was practically raging at this point. She'd never once been late for her shift, never had a single conduct issue, no problems at all in her five years as a guard. Now, just because somepony who looked like her was in some way connected to a bombing she was being locked up like a criminal. “I'm sorry to say this, officer Moonsong,” he continued unperturbed. “but until such a time as we are able to clear you of involvement in this crime you are to remain in custody.” “What's the big deal anyway?” She asked, “It's not like there's anything in cell block seven anyways!” “That is where you are wrong.” Agent Black's voice was calm, but Moonsong swore she heard something beneath that facade. “Cell block seven was a cover for the oldest and most secure section of Tartarus. Only the Princesses know who or what is imprisoned there, and they have yet to respond to our alert.” There it was again, that hidden emotion beneath the calm surface. She knew what it was now. Fear. “You will be escorted to a proper holding cell shortly.” His chair scraped against the floor as he back away from the table. His hoofsteps moved away, pausing only to be replaced by the rattle of the door as it shut and the dry, final click of the lock. “Well,” she said to the empty room. “this is a fun way to spend the day, isn't it?” She shuffled herself around again in a futile attempt to get more comfortable. The chair continued to deny her any respite. Time passed slowly, as it tends to when one is removed from all contact with the outside world. Only the steady drip, drip, drip of the leak in the corner broke the silence. While Moonsong was waiting in silence, Internal Affairs Special Agent Jet Black was striding briskly down a narrow corridor. Cell Block Seven loomed ahead, still littered with smoking piles of rubble. Agent Black was, unlike almost every other pony employed in the Tartarus Complex, not a Stygian. A smoky gray unicorn whose mane and tail were stark white, he had been named for his most remarkable trait. One of his eyes was a clear and vibrant blue, while the other was a featureless sphere of gleaming obsidian. Rumors flew about its nature: that it was a birth defect, or an injury, or a magical prosthesis. The eye, along with the prosthetic left foreleg that gave him his distinctive stride, helped him to create and maintain his carefully managed reputation. The guards parted before him as he passed, speaking in hushed whispers. The black cloak of his station flapped behind him, his cutie mark concealed in its shadows. He ducked beneath the yellow caution tape that bordered the field of rubble, taking in the devastation. The cell block had been empty, that much was true. The real secret was buried deep beneath, at the bottom of the smoking hole opened by the blast. He thought back to what he'd told the suspect earlier. While it had been largely the truth, one lie stood out. Whatever secret lay at the bottom of this tomb was older even than the princesses, older than Canterlot, older than the very nation of Equestria. The earliest unicorn settlers had discovered the pit mining for gems. From its very discovery it had been the subject of rumors and myths, a source of discomfort and fear to all who knew of its existence. Eventually the city of Canterlot had been constructed, a way to ensure that the pit would always be under supervision. The caverns had later been expanded, creating a vast network that honeycombed half the country. Tartarus, the underworld, home to those creatures so vile that they could never be allowed to see the light of day. Jet thought back to some of the things he'd seen in his inspections. A cell filled with nearly tangible darkness, within which two eyes had glowed with an unspeakable light. A cage, dangling from the cave ceiling, in which countless insect-like creatures buzzed and swarmed. Worst of all was a cell like any other, containing what had seemed to be a perfectly normal filly. It was only when she'd turned his way that he saw what she was, a midnight black creature with a dagger-like horn and leathery wings whose eyes were filled with a terrible hatred. She had been bound with cruelly thick chains inscribed with glowing runes that hissed and smoked where they touched her coat. Tartarus, simply put, was a place of cruelty. Necessary cruelty, in the name of that oh so commonly touted “Greater Good”, that allowed Equestria to survive. Most ponies couldn't tell, were unable to sense the flow of energy along the halls, but there was an even greater purpose behind this place. It was old magic, and dark. A spell that used arcane geometries in the prison's structure to channel the energy of the prisoners' suffering and despair into keeping whatever lurked down in that pit contained. “Any new evidence?” He asked as he approached a cluster of guards. They had been talking animatedly, but grew quiet as he made his way to them. “Nothing, Agent Black.” The commander replied, “Just the same pile of rock we've been combing through for the past three hours.” “Well, let me know if you find anything.” Black growled. This whole mystery nonsense was quickly grating on his nerves. “Immediately.” He drew in a breath to continue, but paused. A faint tingle of energy ran through his horn, a disturbance in the field that flowed through the prison. Somewhere, far off, another explosion rang out, and another. Dust fell as the ground shook. The tingle vanished, the energy dissipated, no longer flowing in its proper cycle. The vast and ancient spell circle was, after untold centuries, broken. Deep in the pit, in a darkness unlike any other, something stirred. It was ancient, it was hungry, and after all this time it was awake. In the holding cell, Moonsong felt the far-off explosions. She struggled against the shackle around her leg, desperate to get out there, to find out what was going on. In the hall outside, she could hear ponies running by, shouting at each other. The explosions had ceased, but a faint grinding rumble still filled the air. Sliding off the chair, she braced her rear hooves against the table leg and pushed. The table was heavy, not to mention bolted to the floor, and stubbornly refused to budge. The metal shackle dug painfully into her leg, chain creaking as she pulled on it. She threw herself against it with all her might, but to no avail. She relaxed, panting with exertion. As she recovered, she heard something new. The door rattled against its frame. The hum of magic filled the air, followed by a rending screech of metal on stone. She sensed another presence in the room, gave out a quick chirp. A figure stood in the doorway. Hoofsteps crossed the floor, stopping right by her head. “Stay still.” A soft voice whispered in her ear. She nodded. The chain was stretched taut. The other pony moved slightly, heart racing and breath coming in quick gasps. That hum of magic grew, and with a sound Moonsong couldn't quite describe, hit its peak. The chain shattered, smoking shards of metal singing her coat. “Run.” The voice whispered, “Run and don't look back.” Hoofsteps retreated rapidly, pounding on the stone, and faded into the general chaos of noise. Moonsong was alone. Not knowing what else to do, she took the voice's advice. She ran. There was no rhyme or reason to her running, no mental map used to plan her route. She took turns at random, sending out a constant barrage of echolocating chirps. She ran on as the chaos faded into the background, as a new sound took dominance. A colossal turning, a rending and grinding cacophony. A deep and guttural snarl. She hear enchanted doors slamming shut behind her, great slabs of stone designed to completely seal off the prison in the event of an emergency. She ran until her muscles screamed and her chest burned. When at last she stopped she stood on the verge of a great emptiness. A cool breeze blew, and there was a warmth on her face that she had never felt. She gulped and, afraid of what she might find but more afraid of not knowing, sent out a high pitched chirp. The echoes that returned painted a picture of a vast openness. She was outside of the caves. She was on the surface, for the first time in all her years. It was huge, enormous, completely overwhelming. Exhausted and terrified, she collapsed as the adrenaline wore off and the events of the day caught up with her. Her sleep was deep and dreamless. Author's Note So, here is chapter two. This one came slowly at first, then faster, and the finally escalating to a simply dizzying pace. That's kinda all I have to say right now. Hope you folks enjoy.
Wide Open SpaceChapter Three: Wide Open Space As Moonsong slept off the trials of the day, Agent Black was contending with a different darkness altogether. With the disruption of the magical circle that maintained Tartarus' security, there came a disruption of other essential systems. The lights went first, plunging the cell block into total darkness. Black focused his magic, drawing in what energy he could and channeling it into a sphere of light. It hovered inches from the tip of his horn, casting some small illumination into the void around him. The faces of the others were cast in stark relief, growing fear evident in their expressions. Cell block seven was a huge area, nearly a mile across, but in the absence of light the walls seemed infinitely far. It was as if they were adrift in space, rather than a cave deep underground. Although the explosions had ended, a new set of sounds had taken their place. From far off, and growing farther, came a series of grinding crashes as vast slabs of stone dropped from the ceiling and closed off the networks of tunnels. Agent Black whistled sharply, cutting through the fearful chatter of the guards. When he had their attention, he began to speak. As he did, he sketched out a series of lines in the dust. “Allow me to brief you on the situation.” He began. “As you all know, Tartarus is laid out like a wheel.” He drew a circle on the floor. “We are here, at the center. Cell Block Seven is one of two hubs from which the hallways radiate.” Several lines were added from the center to the rim of the circle. “There is no way to get to the upper hub, which houses administration and the only known exit to the surface, without going out to the rim first.” He dashed one hoof through the sketch, obliterating the drawing. “Of course, none of that matters right now. The failsafe has been triggered, sealing each cell block off from the rest, and from the surface.” He stared at each face in turn. “We have no way to get a message to Canterlot, no way to warn the Princesses, no way to escape. We are, in a word, doomed.” The guards reacted to this news as he'd predicted. They were afraid, and needed someone to take charge. As they teetered on the brink of panic, one spoke up. “Can't we just use magic to send a message?” He asked, a hopeful expression on his face. Agent Black shook his head. “I'm sorry, but no. Every part of Tartarus but the Upper Hub is magically sealed. Magic cannot enter, nor can it leave. Some of the beings imprisoned here have no physical forms. If magic could escape then they could as well.” The light flickered. This far underground there was precious little environmental magic to draw upon. In order to keep going the spell would need to start draining life force instead. “Our only hope is that, in all of that confusion, somepony managed to get out before the tunnels sealed themselves.” Agent Black's voice was grim, but with a flicker of optimism still audible. “If so, then they might get word to Canterlot.” The light faded, then died. The chamber plunged back into darkness, and somewhere in that infinite void, something churned. A vast grinding groan that reverberated through the stone floors, it set off a new wave of panic in the guards. A denser shadow seemed to rise from the Pit, spiraling upward through the vast chamber. The low and grinding rumble shook the floors again, seeming almost like a low chuckle. Far away, separated by miles of tunnels and tons of stone, Moonsong slept. In her dreams, she wandered down empty corridors silent save for the echoing clop of her hooves. The air was cold against her coat, and totally still. “Hello?” She called out, and was answered only by her echoing voice. “Is anypony there?” Although the hall was silent, she swore that she could feel another presence. “All is silent in the halls of the dead,” a strange voice whispered. It echoed, fading in and out. “where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall silent, one by one.” Somewhere, deep below her, she heard a vast and distant thrumming. A low pulsating sound that droned on and on, it was both faint and deafening. Something about the sound set her teeth on edge, as if it were more than a mere physical vibration in the air. As if it were the sound of some unimaginable mechanism, an engine beyond comprehension that ran on in the core of the world. As she listened, it faltered. Somewhere in that vast unseen machine, a cog slipped. A belt snapped. The sound rose and fell in lunatic patterns, alternately limping and racing. Stone and metal screamed as chaos insinuated where order had reined. The corridor suddenly seemed tight, as if the walls were closing in. Moonsong's heart pounded as she ran through the shrinking halls, her hooves hammering on the floor. Her lungs burned with each breath, muscles screaming in protest as they were pushed to their limits and beyond. Behind her, the ceilings began to fall. Great slabs of stone were dropped by some ancient mechanism as the world was consumed in sound and vibrations. All hope of echolocation was lost in the rising thunder of grinding stone. She ran blindly forward, stumbling over debris loosened by the collapsing tunnel. Her hoof hit a rock, pain racing up her leg. She went down hard, landing face first in a pile of rubble. The ceiling overhead groaned as it began to fall. The vast slab of stone broke free, several tons of rumbling death rapidly accelerating downward as Moonsong screamed. She came awake still screaming, hooves scrabbling wildly at the warm stone beneath her. She felt the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze, and remembered everything. Standing, she began to stretch muscles made stiff by a cold night in the open. After working a particularly stubborn kink out of one wing, she surveyed her surroundings. The air was cold and crisp, utterly clean. The scents that assailed her nose were dizzying after the dank damp aromas of the caverns. The rich and fertile smell of the soil, the fresh perfume of flowers, and something else she couldn't identify. So many smells alien to her, it nearly brought a tear to her eye. And the sounds! Birds sang, small creatures chittered and squeaked as they darted through the underbrush, crisp leaves crunched under paws. In the distance, the unmistakable babble of running water seemed to call to her. She coughed, throat suddenly parched as if she'd not had a drink in days. The first few steps were nerve-wracking. After the close confines of the caverns it was unsettling not to feel stone brushing her outstretched wings, not to hear the echoes of her hooves on stone. The echoes that returned to her were muffled and distorted, deadened by the vast expanse of open space. But still she pressed on, the distant sound of running water spurring her on. It drove all fear from her mind, eradicated all concern. She could practically taste it, feel the cold liquid on her fur. At last, she came to the edge of the trees. The ground changed underhoof, no longer grass but the dense mat of decaying leaves and needles. She sighed, comforted by the proximity of the trees. The branches overhead were almost like the caves she knew and loved, and her wingtips brushed rough bark as she wove through the closely packed trunks. She was so focused on the sound of the water, the smell of it that wafted to her nostrils, that she never heard the steps coming up behind her. She never noticed the other presence until something rough and scaled came to rest on her shoulder. “I know that look,” A voice said, directly in her ear. “Snap out of it now, before it's too late!” She yelped, snapping her wings out and jumping away. A branch clipped her head as she landed, the jarring impact clearing her muddled mind. She faced the source of the voice, head down and wings extended. “Who are you?” She asked, making herself as threatening as possible. “And why did you sneak up on me like that?” She pawed at the ground and flicked her tail. “Whoa there, easy does it.” The stranger said, still standing where he'd ambushed her. “Just trying to help is all.” Leaves crunched, growing steadily closer. Moonsong's ears twitched as she analyzed his progress. Not hooves, too soft. Paws, perhaps. But that didn't explain the scaly appendage he'd stopped her with. “Just what are you?” She asked, pivoting to face him. “And what in the world are you doing in the middle of this forest?” “Ah,” Said the stranger, “How rude of me. I am known as Gerard, of the Gryphonian Border Patrol. I am patrolling the border.” The last sentence was tinged clearly with sarcasm. “Because there are so many ponies trying to cross into Gryphon lands in this particular corner of nowhere.” She could feel his gaze upon her, knew somehow that he was analyzing her as thoroughly as she had him. The moment of silence dragged on, and Moonsong began contemplating how a mouse must feel as a hawk circles overhead. “Haven't seen a pony quite like you before.” He said, his tone utterly casual. “You from around these parts?” His words were jarring, shaking her out of the trance she'd been in. The spell cast by his silent stare broken, Moonsong became distinctly aware of the rushing water. His voice faded into the background as she realized just how unbearably thirsty she was. She began to walk toward the sound, the woods giving way to a clearing before her. The sound was even louder now, drowning out all other sound. Grinning, she raced forward. The mat of leaves gave way to grass and then stone. She skidded to a stop inches from the brink, nearly sliding on the wet stone. The rushing water filled her entire world. She was vaguely aware of the strange gryphon shouting behind her, but found herself strangely unable to care. Her thirst was unbearable, her lips and mouth drier than the desert sands to the far east. Throwing herself down at the water's edge, she plunged her face beneath the surface and drank deeply. The water was cold, far colder than it had any right to be without freezing. It was the single most delicious thing she had ever tasted, with a crisp mineral flavor that she couldn't quite place. Each swallow seemed better than the last, and as she drank her muzzle grew pleasantly numb. All of her worries seemed to melt away as she drank, washed out of mind by the impossibly delicious waters. She'd been running from something, been on an urgent mission. There was an emergency, but beyond that she could remember nothing. Entire swathes of her mind were buried under a thick layer of fog. As she drank more and more was consumed. First hours, then days of memory grew dim and faded. The cold waters no longer seemed so delicious. The faint mineral taste now seemed bitter and foul, but still she drank. Every care in the world was erased as the waters washed over her mind, as it was replaced by the terrifying yet somehow comforting haze. No longer could she remember why she'd fled the caves, no longer could she remember the cause of her distress. There was only the water, and the tainted comfort of ignorance. “You absolute fool!” A voice cut through the haze as a talon roughly grabbed her mane and pulled her head from the tantalizing water. “I told you to snap out of it! Don't you know not to drink the waters of Lethe?” “Lethe?” The mare asked, tilting her head aside. “What's that? And who are you?” Author's Note Alrighty then folks! Chapter three at long freaking last! Not that very many people read this drek, but still... Trying to force myself back into writing, keep myself from getting rusty. Sorry about the infodump near the start of the chapter. Was either an "as you know" style speech or a clumsy paragraph of narration that would've seemed forced. I had to establish my idea of what Tartarus is, how it is laid out, what defense measures exist.
That's Right, It Starts With a JailbreakChapter One: That's Right, It Starts With a Jailbreak It was a well known fact that the land of Equestria was home to the three tribes of ponies. The Earth Ponies, with their innate connection to the land and ability to draw crops from even the most difficult soil. The Unicorns, possessing sharp minds and great magical prowess allowing them to perform amazing feats. The Pegasi, whose in-born ability to fly and manipulate clouds allowed them to control the weather itself. What was less well known was the fourth tribe. Mysterious and aloof, creatures of the night and of darkness, they were shrouded in legend and mystery. They were the Stygian ponies. To much of Equestria, the Stygian ponies were little more than a myth. Bat-winged pegasi who had served Nightmare Moon during the Equestrian Civil War, they had largely vanished since their leader's banishment. Their numbers had recovered slightly since Luna's return, but they were still practically unknown in many smaller towns. To many, Stygians were an ill omen, a sign of impending darkness. It was thought that they still served their long lost master, and awaited her return and the onset of everlasting night. For that reason, it was difficult for them to find employment outside of Princess Luna's Night Guard. In other cities, Stygians eked out a meager existence scavenging at the fringes of society. They were feared, sometimes hated, targeted for violence. They slept in sewers, huddled together for warmth and stealing from garbage cans for meals. It was a hard life. Even less well known than the surface-dwelling Stygians, however, were those who remained in their ancestral home. The bat-like ponies hailed from the networks of interconnecting caverns and catacombs that ran beneath most of Equestria, and in that subterranean darkness they served a purpose that nopony save for the Princesses knew and that nopony could survive without. The Stygians were the wardens of Equestria's most secure prison, Tartarus. This is the story of one such pony, and the adventure that shook the very foundations of her world. Moonsong yawned and threw aside her blanket. The alarm clock at her bedside rattled and rang, just as it did every morning. She rose from the comfort of her bed into the chilly air, stretching her back and legs. The room around her was pitch dark, but she moved with grace and confidence. Each click of her hooves on the stone floor gave back an echo, picked up and amplified by her sensitive ears. They twitched and swiveled, tufts of fur at their tips drifting slightly behind. She made her way to the doorway, pushing aside the curtain and stepping into the main living area. This was the most hazardous part of her morning routine, navigating the ever-changing layout of the furniture. Whether her roommates were unable to decide on where to put everything or they simply enjoyed trying to trip her up was a mystery. This room, unlike the last, was carpeted. The thick pile muffled her hoofsteps, stopping the echoes she used to navigate. Undaunted, she let out a brief chirp. The sound rippled across the room, reflected back from the furniture and walls, and returned to her. An image formed in her mind, pieced together by some process she couldn't begin to understand. Grinning, she picked her way through the maze. The bathroom door loomed in front of her. “Nice try guys, but you'll have to do better to trip up this mare!” She called over her shoulder. Her hoof lifted off of carpet and set down on stone. Wet stone. It slid out from beneath her, sending her sprawling on her side. “You guys are jerks.” She muttered, hearing the muffled laughter of her roommates outside the door. She picked herself up and stood at the sink. Her forehoof rose to the shelf, feeling the notches carved into the wood, and hooked around her toothbrush. Squeezing out a dollop of toothpaste, she set to work. A few minutes of scrubbing later, she dipped the brush in the basin and set it back on the shelf. A glass of water sat beside it. She took a mouthful, rinsed, and spat. Her left hoof rose and lifted a washcloth from its rung beside the basin. She dipped it into the water and scrubbed her face, letting the cold jar the last remnants of sleep from her head. Hanging the cloth back up to dry, she pulled the plug on the basin. The water rushed down the drain, and she listened. For the first time all morning, Moonsong opened her eyes and stared at the mirror. The eyes reflected in that polished glass were not the gleaming amber normal in Stygian pones, but a blank and slightly dull shade of gray. They stood out from a coat so dark it was nearly black. She ran her hoof through a mane the color of smoke. The cutie mark on her flank was a trio of curved lines, each larger than the next, representing an echo. She turned sharply and walked out into the main room. The smell of breakfast cooking wafted up from the mess hall down below, and her stomach rumbled. “Morning Moonsong!” A cheerful voice shattered the peace and quiet. Glimmer, the officially unofficial backup alarm clock, seldom saw the need for an indoor voice. “I really thought we had you this time.” Moonsong chuckled. “Nice try, but you'll have to do better. Did you let Breezy set it up again?” “How could you tell?” The other mare asked, confusion clear in her voice. “Really? He's a nice guy and all, but that colt's not exactly playing with a full deck.” Moonsong replied, smirking. “Or have you been blinded by your love?” She teased, drawing out the last word and fluttering her eyes. She could practically feel the heat of her friend's blush. “Hey!” An indignant voice muttered from one of the other bedrooms. “I ain't deaf y'know!” Even muffled by the carpets, his hoofsteps were clearly audible. His voice was rough so soon after waking, his steps clumsy and irregular. He plodded heavily across to the bathroom, muttering under his breath all the way. Moonsong rolled her eyes. She turned her head toward the source of his grumbling. “Up late working on your floor plan, were you?” She laughed at his grunting response. “This is the same way you arranged it last week.” The distinctive sound of hoof meeting face reached Moonsong's ears, followed by Breezy's anguished voice. “I knew it seemed familiar.” he sat heavily on the floor. “I can't believe I spent all night working on a floor plan that I already tried!” He sighed. “I'm so tired right now.” “All night?” Glimmer asked, shocked. “There are only three chairs and a table!” :”See how clearly you think at three in the morning.” Breezy muttered, “I need coffee.” Moonsong threw a foreleg around the despondent colt's shoulders. “Don't let this failure get you down, my friend!” She said, putting on her best dramatic voice. “For are there not countless nights ahead in which to come up with even better plans?” Her eyes met his. “Buck up my young lad, you may yet pull the wool over these eyes of mine!” She dragged him onto his hooves, eyes fixed on where she knew his to be. “Just listen to old Moonsong my boy.” She was nearly shouting as she put one hoof to his chest. “Within this shell beats the heart of a champion, and I'll not let such potential go to waste! I wanna see a brand new layout tomorrow morning and I want you to be well rested and ready to attack the day!” A fierce grin played across her face. “Think you can manage that, kid?” Breezy chuckled. “First off, Ma'am yes Ma'am!” He said, one hoof clicking against his forehead not in frustration but in a salute. “And second, I'm a year older than you. Don't call me kid.” She let her wingtip flick him in the nose as she turned. “Manage to trip me up one morning, and I'll call you whatever you want,” She smirked as she walked toward the door. “kid. Now let's go and get something to eat.” The three friends stepped out into the hallway, Moonsong allowing her nose to lead her in the direction of food. Glimmer and Breezy flanked her, talking animatedly all the while. The hall had been carved out of the living stone, naturally formed caverns enlarged and leveled through years of work. It was merely one small portion of a tremendous underground structure deep below the base of the mountain that supported the city of Canterlot. A few turns and a spiraling stone staircase took the trio to the mess hall. As they passed through the thick curtain that hung across the doorway, the smells and sounds from within washed over Moonsong. The casual chatter of ponies enjoying their meals, the tantalizing aroma of cooking food, it was all nearly overwhelming. Glimmer and Breezy took the lead, making their way to a table with three empty seats. After staking their claim, they waded through the sea of activity to the serving counters. The line was long, and the smells mingling in the air made the wait all the more unbearable, but eventually the trio was able to get their orders. The carefully balanced trays swayed slightly as the ponies carrying them set off for a less crowded area. “Is it me or is this place more crowded than usual?” Glimmer asked as she narrowly avoided spilling her meal all over another diner. “Like, a lot more crowded?” “Beats me.” Moonsong answered cheerfully. The tray on her back held all of her attention. A steaming omelet loaded with fresh peppers, onions, mushrooms and cheese sat opposite a cup of coffee so dark it seemed to absorb all light that touched its surface. Her wings were extended, each resting on the shoulder of one of her companions. Breezy said nothing, merely plodding along. His tray sat between his wings, somehow maintaining perfect balance. He may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had an absolutely uncanny sense of balance at times. The three seats were still open, waiting to be occupied. The trio sat down, eager to enjoy the meals that they had worked so hard to transport. Moonsong picked up her fork, speared a chunk of her omelet and began lifting the cheese-dripping morsel of delight to her mouth. Just as she was about to take that all-important first bite, imagining the explosion of flavor as the tastes mingled on her tongue, a deep rolling thud shook the floor beneath her. An alarm began to blare. The klaxons cut through the mess hall chatter in an instant, setting everypony in the room on high alert. The speakers crackled, and a voice boomed out. “Attention all guards, there has been an explosion in cell block seven. This facility is on lockdown until all prisoners are accounted for. Report to your assigned wings immediately.” Food forgotten, Moonsong jumped to her hooves. She ran, not thinking about where she went but allowing her speeding legs to carry her along the path they knew so well. Her wings flicked out now and then for balance and to help with turns. She uttered a constant stream of high pitched chirps as she ran, the echoes painting an ever changing portrait of madness in her mind. Guards ran every which way, each dead set on reaching their assigned wing as quickly as possible. She darted nimbly through gaps and leaped over the backs of others when needed. Those others, she thought as she ran, placed too much trust in their eyesight. How else could she be moving so much more efficiently than them? Soon, the tunnel opened up. Before her stretched the vast expanse of the cell block. Cages of enchanted iron filled most of the open space, all manner of creatures chained within them. She spotted the meeting place for her group, spreading her wings and flying across the intervening distance. She slid to a landing in front of her supervisor, wings snapping to her sides and hooves clicking together. She snapped off a crisp salute and stood at attention. She listened, but could hear no other ponies around. Something felt off. “Moonsong reporting for duty, Sir!” She said. “Any more details about the explosion?” “Just one,” the older stallion began, regret in his voice. “A pony was sighted loitering around the area just before the bomb went off. Black coat, gray eyes, an echo for a cutie mark.” He sighed.”I'm going to have to take you in for questioning.” Author's Note Alrighty then. Throwing another tale out there. I've wanted to write a story with a Stygian (Bat pony) lead for a while, and this new EQD contest thingy is my perfect excuse. I just need to finish and submit it by the 31st of October. To anyone who's been following my other story, Catatonic, I've not abandoned it just yet. I've merely struck a bit of the writer's block. Kinda wrote myself into a corner and the only way I can see out is through a contrive coincidental plot twist. So, her goes another fun little tale. Let me know what you think guys, otherwise I'll never get any better at this stuff. Long days and pleasant nights, my friends!
