The Sisters Grim

(At Death’s Door)

The door creaked, grinding against the stone that surrounded it. The churning, clunking sounds of ancient machinery moved amongst the walls as the locks and bars clicked in and out of place, allowing the massive entrance to slowly sing open.

Inside was a sight Steelhoof wished was impossible.

The room which existed beyond that steel wall revealed itself to be a nightmare, one far surpassing that of the disastrous state of the asylum itself. In essence, there was little of a room to speak of, which lead to the surge of terror that swept through Steelhoof, and less noticeably the Princesses.

Through that door was only a narrow, crumbling stone path that floated in an endless void of pure black. It sat suspended in nothingness, blanketed by the emptiness around it. There could have been a bottom- he saw the path was built up from somewhere in the abyss below, but it stretched so far down that the rock gave way to nothingness.

Surely the pure absence of space went down deeper than actually possible? It certainly seemed to climb higher than the distance they had travelled down, it made no sense.

And the shadows that surrounded them, they were the most crippling experience of the “room”. Steelhoof swore that he saw shapes- uncertain figures squirming around in the darkness. They twisted and turned and slithered about in the heavy darkness, moving just out of sight, even if Steelhoof could feel the weight of their gaze on every part of his being.

Whispers, just like those outside the room, were traded between these unseen entities.

“Come,” Celestia’s shaking words cut briefly into his fear, “let us push forward. It is only a short distance now.”

They all proceeded, with staggered steps, down the shadow-drowned pathway. It was a silent walk, save the whispers, until Luna began to speak. What she said only unsettled Steelhoof further.

“And on this path we walk,” she muttered under her breath, looking nowhere but down at the stone path before them, “silent as the dead we seek/only speaking words of prayer/To pass those who find death unto death.”

It was a prayer of some sort, that much Steelhoof was sure of, but he had no knowledge of its origins. Princess Celestia, meanwhile, seemed to be following along in silence.

“We walk down this path of life/under the everbearing shadow of Death,” she continued on, any constitution in her voice gone, “and we hope to greet thee in kindness. We art stained on body by blood/we art stained in soul by strife/we art stained in mind by terror/and we come to thee in fear of what is to come after thee.”

Steelhoof’s nerves now were beyond calming- he felt that after today, he would never be the same, and never be able to forget what he would witness.

“And in the last lights of our day/when all semblance of life doth leave,” Luna’s voice carried a strange echo as it was carried through the void, “we will meet thee in dignity, or in pity/and you stand waiting at the edge of the world/whispering silently in our live at all times.”

They stopped walking, Steelhoof noticed, and stopped in front of a hunched over figure.

“And in this last of lights we gaze upon thee,” the figure said in a hushed, otherworldly tone, “and see thine figure against the darkness of the afterlife/where all ceases to be.”

The figure looked up, and stared each of them in the eyes, “And we shall say unto, as many said unto us in passing.”

Celestia, Luna and the figure finished their prayer in unison, reciting the last words together.

“We bring to thee our souls, and come to the in reverence/and by our eternal right to die we welcome thee yet shun thee. With mortality we speak unto thee; Death.”

(At the Edge of the World)

Steelhoof chose that moment to let his fear take over, and he fainted. The Princesses and the figure paid him no mind, as they were focused on each other.

The figure was a tall human woman, almost reaching eye level to Celestia even when curled up on the floor. Her body- save for the head -was bound completely in old, time-stained white clothes, made of a heavy cloth and covered in straps and chains, confining her completely within. A single noose hung around her neck, frayed a few feet down.

She had untamed, wild black hair that fell down around her, and would easily come close to her own monstrous height in its length. Her skin was pale, matching the almost blinded look of her eyes, which were stark white, with thin black lines marking where her iris might be, and no pupils or color to speak of. She was thin and gaunt, looking sickly and almost appearing as dead, if it weren’t for her being able to move and speak.

Scars marked from her mouth and chin, all the way down her body, though the majority were covered by her heavy attire. More scars, though only a small number, crawled down from the bottoms of her eyes.

“Why have you sought me?” She asked the Princesses in her strange, hollow voice, which echoed across the void, “Am I finally to die?”

“No!” Celestia shouted quickly, receiving a frown from the figure. She tried to regain her self, “No... that’s not why we are here....” The figure stared up at her with a blank expression, making the Princess even more uneasy.

“A pity,” she finally said, “but I should have suspected. You did not let me die when my purpose was fulfilled, and you would yet allow me to now.” There seemed to be a slight pressure growing in the air as she spoke, “Instead you torture me by keeping me in this cell; I am to die when my purpose is over, yet you deny me my right. It hurts me more than dying ever would.”

“We... we could not let that happen,” Luna muttered, “especially not with the recent events....”

The figure turned to her, “Recent events?” She stared off to the right, into the void, “Yes, several guards have died today, all in a manner much more gruesome than any sane being could accomplish. What has happened?”

Celestia traded a glance with her sister, becoming extremely uncomfortable under the increasing pressure bearing down, which only added to the immense feelings of unease she had in such a place.

“It would seem...” she finally whispered, “that we were correct in keeping you here, alive. Your purpose never ended....”

The pressure immediately ceased.

“Tell me. Now.” The figure demanded.

“T-the Sisters Grim... Victoria and Elizabeth escaped their prisons.” Celestia swallowed a lump in her throat, “They never died, they were only trapped, and waiting to break out....”

The shadows in the void around them seemed to twist and contort even more violently, and the whispers turned into harsh screams of anger and suffering. The Princesses reached up and clasped their hooves around their ears, attempting to drown out the cries, though they were fruitless in their endeavors.

Slowly, pushing herself from whatever invisible force separated her from falling off the edge and into the void, the figure stood. She almost doubled Celestia in height, at a towering ten feet, looming over and casting a shadow over Steelhoof, who had fainted between the two monarchs.

“I require payment to leave this place... the Sisters are not a guarantee, as with their last run of terror on this realm....” She looked down to Steelhoof’s prone form, “I suppose he is to suffice?”

Guiltily the two sisters nodded, and Celestia muttered, “We brought him for that purpose, even if he did not know it....”

“Deceiving as ever.” The figure said. She lent forward with an outstretched hand and looked ready to grab the Commander. Instead, however, her hand phased through his body, leaving her wrist-deep into his chest, with not a drop of blood.

She slowly pulled her arm back, pulling along a thin, spectral white string, which fluttered in a non existent breeze. His body went limp the moment the last inch of the string left his body.

“I thank you for this most grievous payment.” She said simply, and let go of the ethereal strand. It simply floated off into the void, disappearing into the screaming shadows.

“Now, let us leave.” She started down the path, over Steelhoof’s corpse and past the two Princesses. They quickly followed, making a decision to leave Steelhoof’s body behind; the less evidence of what transpired, the better.

As they marched back across the stone pathway, the darkness swallowed what they left behind, always staying just inches behind their heels, waiting for them to leave so that it could devour the rest of the room.

As the heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, the locks clicking back into place, and as the void at the rest of the world beyond it, the figure spared herself one thought, and one thought only. A small memory of when she had last met the two sisters, Victoria and Elizabeth.

**

She was thrown away by Victoria in anger, slamming painfully into a wall. She heard a loud crack from her right shoulder, it’d surely been broken by the impact. She cried and placed her hands over her eyes as the pain only became sharper- they had planned to implant those demon’s eyes in her own head and take control over her. It had failed, and now she sat there, blind and in agony.

“You are worthless to us now,” Elizabeth said indignantly, “either leave on your own accord, or we kill you. As far as your feet carry you, if it is still within the bounds of our reach, we will end your life.”

She desperately clawed at the ground, trying to pull herself away so that she could escape. It was futile; her legs were broken and bruised, and the immense pain in her shoulder made it impossible to drag herself away. she resigned herself to her fate there on the floor, waiting to be killed.

“So be it.” Victoria said.

She felt a stab into her chest and screamed.

“What is....” She faintly heard someone say.

Pain, followed by a cold, stinging sensation shot through her entire body, and her vision went white.

**

She remembered nothing from that day afterwards, but one thing stuck out in her mind; something she recalled saying sometime- maybe years -after she was killed, a revelation she’d had.

A small few sentences, which might be viewed by others in any other context as being a result of madness. But, for her, it was something that stuck with her for thousands of years, a statement of what she was, who she was.

“Those who walk in the shadow I cast,” she muttered, “leave no footprint on the waking world.”

The Princesses barely heard this, but the tone and content of what she said disturbed them, just as it always had.

“For those who tread in the shadow of Death, may leave no mark on the world of the living.”