Chapter 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.