Where the Monsters Live.

by Hopefullygoodgrammar

Rating: teen
Tags: King Sombra, Queen Chrysalis, Adventure, Crossover, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Sad
Length: 12096

Chrysalis, now the last of her race, seeks forgiveness in a place she's only seen in her dreams: a place called Midian. Crossover with Nightbreed

Queen Chrysalis is a queen no more. Her children are dead, her body is broken, and the love that Shining Armor and Cadence hit her with has sent her far, far away from Equestria, far from the world that she knew.

Now she lives on the fringes of human society, taking love where she can, not sure why her will to live hasn't been extinguished, wishing for forgiveness for failing her poor children.

Then the dreams begin, dreams of a vast, sprawling necropolis, a place where the monsters live, a place called....Midian.

So, driven by guilt and by hunger, she heads off, North of Athabasca, East of Peace River, near Shere Neck, North of Dwyer, to Midian.

There she is welcomed by the Nightbreed, a group of monsters who shun the human world and live in peace.

Chrysalis believes that she may have found a new home. But her arrival has caused some stirrings, and an old foe of hers has awakened and joined forces with a human madman.

Now Chrysalis will have to confront the ghosts of her past to protect her new family, and her journey will take her from Midian back to Equestria as a fallen king and a serial killer hunt her and her friends down.

Diverges from MLP and Nightbreed.
MLP is owned by Hasbro.
Nightbreed/Cabal is owned by Clive Barker.
The pic is a Fright-Rags t-shirt.

Published 2015-04-24 11:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-25 23:20:07 UTC

The Fallen Queen.

In her dreams, Chrysalis was in the dark.

It wasn’t the dark of night, which was darker on Earth than in her homeland of Equestria.

It wasn’t the absolute dark of space, which she had seen stretching before her in an endless vista as the concentrated love of Princess Mi Amor Cadenza and Prince Shining Armor burned into her, its raw power mixing with her own and sundering reality itself to propel her into a new existence.

No, this darkness was heavy, but not all-encompassing. There was light somewhere, somewhere that she could not see.

There were smells in the air: incense, vanilla, exotic spices and old earth mingling with spoiled meat, animal musk and cigarette smoke, fair and foul blending into a singular, and singularly arresting, whole.

And there were sounds, too. Heavy grunting, snuffling, claws clicking on stone, laughter, voices raised in argument, roars of outrage and dismay, the groans of carnal lust, the soft whisper of silk against the earth and the flapping of wings.

It was usually when the sounds reached her ears that Chrysalis realized that she was buried alive, her equine form encased in a cold stone sarcophagus.

When these dreams had first came to her, a month after she had been banished to Earth, the dream would end there, with her trapped and pleading for a way out, and she would awaken with tears tracing tracks down her grimy cheeks.

But, as time wore on, the dream lengthened and she was left to contemplate her predicament.

And it was in this solitude that she would inevitably think back on the day that the last voice faded away.

As Queen, Chrysalis had been connected to her children and subjects via thousands of unseen, intangible tethers, each one serving as a psychic telephone line that allowed her to hear the voices of her fellow changelings and experience their emotions.

There had been rules, of course, she had allowed them their privacy, had allowed them to keep their secrets and talk amongst each other. But their presence was always felt, no matter where she was, she was always connected to them, and the thought had comforted her in the moments when everything else around her was quiet.

But then came the failed invasion, and she had been thrown from her world and into one without magic, stranded and unable to come to her subject’s aide.

And so she listened as their voices, pleading and desperate, faded into a silence that was more profound and stomach-churningly sorrowful than any heartbreak or sadness that she had partaken of in her years as an infiltrator.

Her children were gone and she was alone, utterly alone.

And she felt the full sting of that reality not as a heaviness, but as an emptiness that no amount of feeding could sate.

And, in the emptiness that crept up upon her in that dark tomb, there also came a name, one which always woke her up when it came to her in the darkness….

“So, how are you feeling today?”

Chrysalis slouched back in the chair with a heavy sigh. It had been a month since she had been picked up by the human authorities and transported to the facility, and it surprised her that her human guise had held up as well as it had.

She had to admit a certain admiration towards the humans. She had been standing on the rails of a bridge, watching the moonlight dance across the dark, foaming waters below. She had expected to be allowed a few moments of contemplation, a minute to pray that her children would forgive her, before she threw herself into the cold waters below.

But then came the voices, raised in alarm. She had tried to block them out and take the step out into nothingness, but the humans had pulled her down before she could embrace Death.

She had kicked, bitten clawed and screamed. She had even activated her magic and had caused some damage. But, in the end, the fatigue had claimed her, and she had succumbed to unconsciousness.

She had been processed and hoofed over to the hospital the following night.

I can’t even join my poor children. she thought, feeling the now-familiar ache in her heart, I wonder how long it will take before they’re all hunted down. I doubt that any of the Princesses will show any amount of leniency towards my little changelings.

“Chrissi? Are you alright?”

The voice jolted her back to the present and she affixed her gaze on the man sitting before her.

Dr. Phillip Curtis Decker was an odd human to say the least. He was of medium height, with a gaunt physique, brown hair that was streaked with gray and possessed, behind a pair of eyes that were as gray as his hair, a cold, calculating gaze that Chrysalis felt could pierce through any lies told like a knife.

Decker had been appointed as her psychiatrist a week into her “stay” at the facility and he had displayed a quiet interest in her tales.

She had, in the first few weeks when she had been consumed with anger at not being allowed to end her own life and sorrow at the memory of her homeworld, told Decker about Equestria at length.

Decker, for his part, only rarely interrupted to ask a question or to ask her to repeat what she had said. His manner had been utterly calm, his tone even and soothing, but Chrysalis knew that he didn’t believe a world of what she was saying.

Not that she could blame him. Although she had grown to loathe the nickname that he had given her in lieu of her real one as a -quote- “compromise” between her real name and a “normal” one.

“Sorry,” said Chrysalis, “I was….zoned out.”

Decker nodded in understanding, “I see.”

No, you don’t.

“You asked me a question?”

“Yes,” said Decker with a small smile, “I asked how you were doing.”

“I’m fine.” she said succinctly.

Decker’s gaze bored into her, “You have bags under your eyes, Chrissi. Have you been having the dreams again?”

Damn, he’s perceptive. Chrysalis sighed and nodded, “Yes.”

“Same as before?”

“Same as before.” said the former Queen, her gaze straying to the clock mounted to the wall opposite her. The hands rested exactly on the 7.

I’ve got another hour with him. she thought, exasperated, And then it’s on to another wonderful day of swallowing pills, listening to crazies babble and feeding off the love from those two orderlies who’re having a fling on the...what do they call it? Oh, yeah, the Down-Low.

She turned back to see Decker glancing out his window at the chunk of Los Angeles that it revealed. The sun was going down, tinging the skies with the faint orange hues of evening.

“You look rather distracted yourself, doctor.” said Chrysalis, noticing the slight furrowing of his brow, “Am I boring you?”

Decker turned back to her and his mouth quirked up in another weak smile, “I’ll admit that your silence is making me a bit….put-out. But I do have some business to attend to tonight, across town.”

Chrysalis caught a faint taste of excitement from Decker as he spoke those last words and she smirked at the knowledge that he was probably seeing someone. For some reason, the image of straight-laced, cold-as-ice Dr. Decker with another woman-or man-struck her as amusing.

Decker caught the mirth that crept onto her face and his smile widened, “You might be shocked to know that I have a personal life outside of this facility, Chrissi.”

Chrysalis chuckled and allowed her body to relax.

Decker returned his full attention to her and folded his thin hands together in a manner which Chrysalis had come to realize meant that he was ready to begin his questioning at length.

“Last time you were here you told me about your dreams in more depth. You said that you were buried alive and that you heard things moving around you. Have you seen anything else since our last visit? Perhaps something to do with...Equestria?”

Chrysalis shook her head, “My dreams don’t take place in Equestria.” she said.

“Where do they take place?” asked Decker, raising a brow.

“Midian.”

Chrysalis felt the name from her dreams exit her mouth before she could fully comprehend what she had said.

Decker nodded and reached for the notebook which rarely left his side. As he began to jot down his notes, Chrysalis reflected on that name.

Midian. The name held an air of mystery and dread for her that few things could. But that was understandable, it had come to her in a dream that was far too vivid to be just a dream and had seared itself into her mind.

Midian. It sounded like a place that wasn’t on Earth, a place like Equestria, even.

Midian. The syllables rolled off her tongue in every form that she could take, on those nights when she wasn’t being watched. The name even had a taste all to itself, one that was faint and undefinable save for its sweet bitterness.

Chrysalis looked back to the clock and saw that it was now 7:43.

Oh, thank the Maker. she thought with a small sigh of relief.

Decker had stopped writing, but his gaze had returned to the window, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. Chrysalis caught a taste of lust in the air.

She smiled wryly, At least one of us is having a good time.

Chrysalis returned to her room 17 minutes later and found that she had a roommate.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the staff to forget to notify the patients of certain changes to the daily routine, especially if said patients were considered to be more “normal” than their screaming, violent brethren.

And Chrysalis was, by far in a way, the most “Normal” of her fellow patients.

Of course, it still came as a surprise to her when she entered her room, hoping to rest and reveal her true form in private, and found a man standing with his back to her, looking out at the darkening sky.

Chrysalis, who had, out of habit, begun to shirk her human form as she entered, stopped, reversed the subtle darkening of her fingers and cheeks, and cleared her throat.

The man was slow to respond, he turned slowly, slouching up against the wall as he did as if he feared what she might do. The notion almost made her smile as she remembered the fear that she used to instill as Queen.

She cut the thread of that line of thought before it could reach its logical-and depressing-conclusion.

“Uh….hello?” she ventured, putting on what she hoped was a comforting smile.

The man narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at her, studying her as she did him. She saw, clearly and tasted acutely the instability that had etched itself on his sweaty, grimy face and flickered behind his green eyes.

“What do you want?” he barked, his cracked lips parting to reveal yellowed teeth.

“I….reside here.” she said, straightening up and regarding him coldly.

The man sneered, “Not living?”

Chrysalis slumped, “What?”

“You said ‘reside’” said the man with a small chuckle, “Meaning you don’t ‘Live’ here. That’s good, that’s good. That means that you’re not completely hopeless, at least.”

He turned away from her and resumed his watch of the falling sun.

Chrysalis snorted and walked over to her bed, throwing herself down with a huff.

“This isn’t the place for ‘Living’” the man continued, “This is the place where the world locks up its freaks and lets ‘em kill themselves or turns ‘em into zombies with all that shit they sneak into the food.”

Chrysalis hummed in agreement even as she thought, This sounds like it isn’t his first rodeo.

“What I wouldn’t wish to be free.” the man’s tone whiplashed from conversational to morose, “I have dreams, y’know? Dreams of a place where I can exist, free of the judgment of others, a place where all my sins can be forgiven.”

Had Chrysalis been in her natural form, her ears would have perked up.

“I’ve heard others talk about it.” said the man, “They have the dreams, too, they even have the same name for it, it’s-”

Chrysalis cut him off, her curiosity rising inside of her, “Excuse me, Mr…?”

The man turned to her, his face betraying his annoyance at being interrupted, “My name’s Narcisse, not that it matters.”

“Fine, Narcisse.” said Chrysalis, ignoring his tone, “This place that you’re talking about, would it be called Midian?”

Narcisse’s eyes widened, “What do you know about it?” he asked, his tone accusatory.

Chrysalis snorted, “I have the same dreams as you, is that really so hard to comprehend?”

Narcisse scowled, “You look to….Normal to know about Midian, you must have heard it from someone.”

His dismissive tone coaxed a growl from the changeling.

“Why? Because I don’t look like I bathe in the contents of a septic tank? Because I’m a woman? Because I’m not crazy like you?”

“I. Am. Not. Crazy!” bellowed Narcisse, his face reddening under the grime, “I’m worthy! I always have been!”

His hands strayed to the pockets of his jeans.

“I know I’m one of them, I have to be! Ask anyone, I’m worthy to be among Them in Midian!”

From the pockets, Narcisse withdrew two, small, silver blades attached to small rings which he fastened to his thumbs. He lifted his hands and curled them into tight fists, laying his thumbs on top to that the blades faced outwards, towards her.

Sensing the danger and reacting instinctively, Chrysalis dropped her human form.

The change on Narcisse was as quick as a sword stroke. Upon seeing her real form, with its insectile wings, jagged horn and vaguely equine structure, he let his arms drop to his sides as he stared at her.

Chrysalis expected him to run or call for help, she didn’t expect him to do what he did next.

Narcisse fell to his knees before her and gazed into her reptilian eyes with undisguised reverence. The shift was so sudden that she was caught utterly off-guard. Back in Equestria, she had been used to seeing that look on the faces of her subjects or on those of the ponies that she had ensnared.

But she hadn’t cast a spell and, despite the brief flutter of happiness that passed through her at the notion, there was no way that he was one of her lost subjects, meeting his queen after being separated for so long.

“They sent you, didn’t they?” asked Narcisse, his eyes roving across her gleaming chitin, her glistening fangs, taking in every detail with almost sexual attentiveness, like a fresh lover seeing his partner in the nude for the first time.

“They sent you to test me.” said the madman, smiling through the tears leaking from his eyes.

Chrysalis was dumbstruck, she had been taken off-guard and was not liking where the conversation was headed; she could practically taste the looming danger in the air.

And yet…..and yet Narcisse could prove useful, that is, if he knew where Midian was. If Midian existed, if it truly was a place where all her sins could be forgiven, if it was a place where she could stay and be herself and ruminate on her past in Equestria, then maybe it would be best to indulge the madman’s notions.

“Yes, I’m one of them.” said Chrysalis, smiling with all her fangs to enhance the effect.

Narcisse closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath as if in prayer.

Lowering her head so that her snout was mere inches from his face, she asked, “Do you know where Midan is?”

Narcisse’ eyes snapped open and he got to his feet. Turning from her, he beckoned to the window. Chrysalis saw that night had finally fallen, and crescent moon hung in a cloudless sky, casting blue shadows on the city below.

Narcisse pointed to the bordering mountains that lay outside the city limits and recited the directions as if he were reading them aloud.

“North of Athabasca, East of Peace River, near the town of Shere Neck, North of Dwyer.”

Chrysalis smiled at him, “Thank you, Narcisse.”

She gave an experimental buzz of her wings and was gladdened to find that the many hours of concealment and disuse had only rendered them stiff. Chrysalis turned and began to visualize Dr. Decker, hoping that she could make her escape from the facility with his face.

Narcisse, seeming to sense her desire to flee, ran up to her with panicked look in his eyes.

“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly, laying a hand on her flank to get her attention, “I don’t look right, that’s what you need, right? For me to show you?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Chrysalis, annoyed at the distraction.

“This face-” Narcisse gestured to face, “-is a mask. I’m an actor, see? There’s a face underneath this one.”

Chrysalis saw the blades move up, but she didn’t have time to intercede. Narcisse had already begun to peel his scalp off by the time that the shock wore off.

Chrysalis screamed, she couldn’t help it. The sight was too appalling, the mutilation too sudden. She stumbled back as the man, howling in pain, held out two dripping chunks of scalp towards her like an offering, one that she wouldn’t accept.

The changeling backed away as Narcisse brought the blades up again, ready to do even more damage.

Behind her came a scream that was not her own nor that of Narcisse.

A nurse stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and horrified, taking in the sight of Chrysalis’ true form and the mutilated, bleeding Narcisse, who had turned his blades to his ears, having finished carving his scalp off.

Chrysalis stood frozen for a moment, then, with a wail of frustration, sadness and horror, she activated her magic.

She winced as her body compressed itself into a smaller form, her wings shrinking even as they grew frail and translucent, her chitin softening and taking on a sickly blue sheen as her eyes bulged and grew until they had eclipsed most of her face.

In the blink of an eye, the space that had once held her true form was now occupied by a small, bloated housefly.

The nurse fainted dead away and Chrysalis flew, on minuscule wings, away from the attention that their screams had brought. The last thing that she saw were the orderlies rushing into the room.

The tormented, agonized screams of Narcisse followed her out of the facility and brought tears of guilt to her eyes.

But she didn’t stop. She knew that her stay at the facility was done.

Author's Note

Here it is, the first chapter of my crossover with Clive Barker's Nightbreed, my favorite film. It's really one of the great's and, if you have Netflix Instant you should watch it. Netflix got the Director's Cut, which is how Clive wanted it to be.

Go watch it, you won't be disappointed.

As for this story, please shoot me a review if you want and don't forget to like. See ya soon :)

PS. If you have seen the movie, then don't spoil it for anyone, please.

The Button-Faced Man.

By the time that Chrysalis had made it to the other side of town, the skies had darkened with swollen clouds that bled torrential rain and a powerful wind had picked up to drive fine particles of dust into the changeling’s sensitive eyes.

Chrysalis had wanted to go farther, but the lack of sufficient love at the facility meant that she could only concentrate on keeping her housefly body cohesive, and even that task, one which she and all other changelings had learned to perfect in their early years, was beginning to tire her.

So, with great hesitation, she took shelter in the lobby of an old theater.

The theater was located on the outskirts of the town, which was composed of crumbling tenements and abandoned storefronts, where the stink of piss and stale cigarette smoke clung to almost everything and where hungry eyes watched from alleyways and peered from between blinds.

Chrysalis didn’t fear the druggies, or the more desperate of the homeless, or even the paltry amount of gang members who clustered about the less decayed of the buildings. Even as Love-starved as she was, she was confident that she could deal with anyone who wished her harm.

What she didn’t like, however, was how quickly her memories caught up with her.

She had flown as fast as she could, going over the directions that Narcisse had given her, hoping to reach Athabasca by morning.

But the storm had put a swift and decisive end to that hope, and now the horrors that she had witnessed were clawing their way from the dark places that she had relegated them to.

I saw a man die today. she thought as she returned to her natural form, stumbling over her hooves from either exhaustion or lingering horror, I saw him, I saw him take his blades to his skin, his own precious skin, all because he wanted to prove that he was like me...all because I toyed with him.

A pang of guilt struck her heart and she stopped as her legs began to quake. It was true that she had played mind games with the ponies back in Equestria, always whilst under the guise of another, but it had never resulted in self-mutilation.

This world is far, far crueler than Equestria and Narcisse was clearly unstable. You should have known better. she chided herself.

Chrysalis let her ears and head droop at the realization.

And who was to say that her little love games hadn’t resulted in death? She had never stayed around for too long after she had fed herself and obtained enough love for her subjects.

“Stealth and subtlety are a changeling’s forte.”

That had been the phrase that her royal tutors had hammered home over the years. If she was to be a queen and rule well, she had to maintain a cover of deceit and cunning, never getting attached to a target, but making sure that they mimicked the emotion well enough to avoid detection.

And-once the task was complete- she was to leave with her prize.

But then what happened? she wondered, We never killed anypony when we assumed their identity and we released them when it was done. But….what happened when they returned? We wiped their memories and just...left them near their homes.

She felt an invisible weight in her chest grow heavier.

How many lives have we destroyed? How many marriages were ruined? How many budding loves were crushed because of us? Was….was there a better way?

Chrysalis thought back to all the lectures given by her tutors on the ponies. They had all said that the ponies only seemed trusting and accepting of all races, but that it was all a smokescreen that hid centuries of bigotry.

The tutors-as well as the many history books- had all said that the ponies had hunted changelings down and killed them in the early days, before they had learned to shapeshift.

But what if they had all been wrong? What if I could have tried for diplomacy? Did I doom my subjects?

The thought sent a tidal wave of horror and sorrow through her heart. She fell to the ground fully, tears welling up in her eyes as harsh sobs escaped through her clenched fangs.

“Oh, sweet Maker...I’m so sorry, my poor little changelings.” she whimpered, “Please forgive me...please….”

The next few hours of her life was spent lying on the dusty floor, sobbing brokenly into the grime as the possibility that she had killed her subjects tormented her, tearing at her with unseen talons and jeering inside her head.

The torment lasted well into the night. The coldness of the concrete and the faint drumming of the rain on the roof were her only companions, ones that she thought appropriate for someone like her.

I deserve this. she thought, I deserve to be in the dark and the cold. I killed my poor subjects, I’ve left widows and orphans alone in Equestria to face the fury of the Royal Sisters, What have I done? What have I-

A scream brought her miserable thoughts to a sudden halt.

Chrysalis looked up and opened her tear-swollen eyes, feeling her blood go cold as she got to her hooves.

The scream had come from close by. Maybe in the next building over, which was an old, burned out husk which she surmised had once been a restaurant by the charred remains of its sign.

Another scream pierced the night, louder and more frantic, a scream of pain that was closer than it had been before.

No sooner had that realization hit then she heard a door somewhere in the theater burst open, followed by the sound of running feet.

Reacting on instinct, Chrysalis shifted back into a housefly and flew up to land on a nearby wall.

Barely a minute later, a woman ran into the lobby. She was young and fair-haired, with a small nose and thin lips which were trembling as tears leaked from her heavily-made up eyes, leaving tracks of mascara down her white cheeks.

The taste and smell of fear poured off her in waves, and it was no guess as to why.

The poor girl was bleeding from several deep gashes that marred her thin arms like tattoos, her palms had been flayed and the skin hung down in thin ribbons, and her thin, revealing clothing had been torn-as if by hand.

Someone must have attacked her. Thought Chrysalis, feeling a cold knot forming in her stomach. Someone violent, someone with a weapon.

As she watched, the girl sank to her knees, gazing at her palms with a look of detached horror and disgust.

She’s going into shock. Chrysalis realized as she watched the girl stare at her wounds.

Should I help her? I could fly to some dark corner and take on my human form, then I could help her, protect her, she looks so helpless...

Then the door burst open a second time and, even as Chrysalis had started to shift, a shadow fell upon the girl.

Chrysalis landed without a sound, her transformation from changeling to human halted and forgotten, as the shadow raised a long, wickedly-sharp blade and brought it down on the girl’s chest.

The blade split her chest, drawing forth a spray of blood. The girl barely had time to scream before the blade rose and fell a second time, widening her mouth from ear-to-ear.

Chrysalis stared in horror as the girl fell to the floor, gurgling her last breaths through her slashed mouth. Despite the fact that she was dead, the shadow, a man by Chrysalis’ guess, wasn't satisfied with his work until his knife had unmade the poor girl’s face.

Chrysalis tasted the bloodlust in the air, distinct from the actual blood and the smell of early death, and hoped that the man would be too distracted by his gruesome task to notice her as she snuck away.

But, even as she began to inch her way backwards, the man stopped hacking at the body and turned around, clearly intending to leave.

He stopped dead when he saw her.

Chrysalis’ face and torso were human, but her natural black chitin overtook the pale flesh of her lower abdomen and elbows, leaving her looking like some horrific living melding of human and insect.

The former-queen knew this, but she couldn't move, not when she saw the face that looked back at her.

The man was wearing a mask, that was, at least, what she hoped. The mask was made from dirty gray burlap that was pockmarked with fresh blood.

Quick breaths hissed out from two nose slits and saliva moistened the area around the crooked zipper that served as the mask’s mouth, the silver teeth of which gleamed like rows of tiny diamonds in the low light.

Two black button eyes stared unblinkingly back at her, rounding out the twisted visage.

The Button-Faced man cocked his head and advanced a step, his breaths slowing down somewhat as he passed the blade from his left hand to his right. Chrysalis noted that his hands were covered by chain-mail gloves.

Gloves to keep the blade’s hilt from slipping, he’s smart, whoever he is. She thought distantly as she backed away.

The Button-Faced Man had advanced a step farther before Chrysalis found her voice.

“St-stay away!” she hissed, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

The Button-Faced Man stopped, then reached up with his free hand and unzipped his mouth.

“What are you?” he asked, his soft voice betraying a faint trace of fear, as well as excitement.

“I said stay back, cur!” growled Chrysalis. powering up her magic and levitating a nearby plank of wood off the ground.

The Button-Faced Man cocked his head, then looked down to the dripping blade in his hand. He looked back at her, sniffed the air audibly, then turned and fled, leaving a trail of red behind him.

Chrysalis let out a shuddering sigh and let the plank drop.

She turned her gaze to the girl’s body, which was already beginning to attract flies. She forced herself to look upon the pulped mass of meat that had once been a face which had kissed and laughed and smiled and frowned.

Now Chrysalis couldn't distinguish her lips, nose or eyes. The Button-Faced Man had erased her identity with his knife.

As she watched, a bloated fly landed on a small island of intact skin and began to feast.

It was too much for her. She ran, discarding her human form in favor of her natural one. She took to the skies, letting the wind dry her tears and calm the roiling in her stomach.

This place isn’t for me. She thought as she flew, Maybe Midian will offer me sanctuary from all of...this.

She prayed for safe passage, and flew on with the image of that ruined face still burned into her mind.

Author's Note

Here's chapter 2, hope you like it!

The Other Equestrian.

The early sun had just begun to eat away at the cold darkness of night when Phillip Decker returned to his office.

He was exhausted, but he managed to get into the building without incurring the many questions his fellow colleagues would have posed at they laid eyes on his disheveled hair, his wrinkled coat and his sweat-moistened brow.

Decker was glad of their absence. He had built a respectable image, one as a cool, collected pillar of moral fortitude; A rock amidst a tempestuous sea.

But he was shaken, oh yes, he- for all his stoicism-was shaken. Shaken by what he’s seen in the theater two hours previously.

His night had started off as well as could be hoped: He had met a young woman at a dimly-lit dive bar, had selected her from amidst the usual assortment of greasy bikers with hollow heads and whores with fake shells to hide their hollow cores.

Her name had been Sheryl Anne and she was, as he had suspected, a trashy and exasperating waste of his efforts. She was one of those women who never shut up about “Mr. Right” and clung tightly to the memories of failed trysts past as though they could protect her from future heartbreak.

It took him no less than thirty minutes for him to convince her that he was “The One”.

After that it was only a matter of finding the right location to begin his work. Luckily for him, the neighborhood had the dual benefit of having both a wide array of abandoned and dark places, and a populace who had become desensitized to the sounds of screaming.

So, he had liquored her up, steered her into a dark alleyway behind an old theater, and had donned The Mask under the pretense of “ getting into shenanigans” with her.

And once the Mask was on, the whole world opened up.

He had always considered the face that he had been born with to be a mask, a facade to conceal what was truly beneath the surface. It had been a few years into his great work when he, after a particularly rewarding hunt, had first thought of designing the face that he knew to be truly his own.

And so he had. Spending hours sewing the headform from the old linen, and attaching the zipper and the buttons. He hadn’t even needed to draw it or visualize it, the design seemed to come to him like a vision.

And it that wasn’t some kind of sign, a sign that he should continue his work, then he didn’t know what was.

He had dedicated decades to eradicating the breeders, him and the Mask. Warriors whose goal was to eradicate the filthy, worthless bottom-feeders who fed off of society like dogs at their mother’s teats.

Fat ones, thin ones, gay ones, straight ones, blacks and whites and every other spectrum of skin color. They were all equally disgusting in his eyes, all equally worthy of extinction.

And he had carried out his work as normal, settling into a rote. But then he had seen the thing in the theater.

A creature with black legs that were riddled with bloodless holes, a torso that was bloated and twisted into a form much like the legs with no breasts or navel to speak of. It was atrocious, a freak unlike anything that he had ever seen before, not even in his texts on the rarest of birth deformities.

But the face….the face had been familiar to him. He had seen those unnaturally bright green eyes, the thin, hard lips that seemed more at home in a cold smirk, the small nose and the paper-white skin.

It was Chrissi.

No, not Chrissi. He thought, Chrysalis. That’s what she had called herself when she was first brought here. When she went on those long rants about being a...a “changeling”, a shapeshifter from some magical land called “Equestria”.

After checking her room and finding it empty, Decker made his way into his office, went to his desk and sat down heavily, his hand straying to the Mask, which rested in his pocket.

“Equestria...E-kwest-ryah...Ee-Quest-Reah.” he said, drawing the word out and running it through his teeth.

Had it been any other doctor who had been given Chrysalis’ case, they might have utterly dismissed her stories and would have, in fact, not allowed her ramblings to distract from their personal lives.

But Decker had heard the name before. Several years before, in fact, when he had first come to the facility.

He had heard of Equestria and its magic and the strange, equine inhabitants that peopled it before, from a man who had appeared from nowhere and who bore a similarly strange name, a name that had stuck with him ever since he had heard it from the man himself, refusing the usual title of John Doe to find a foothold.

The man couldn’t have have recounted his stories to Chrysalis, for he had appeared several years earlier and, after he had stabbed a nurse to death with a pencil, had been rotting away in a far-off section of the facility amidst the rest of the babbling, homicidal freaks who were deemed too dangerous for the standard living conditions.

And Chrysalis couldn’t have talked to him, even if she had bothered to explore her temporary home in her time there, she had been too closely watched to have gone within a few feet of the man.

No, there was something altogether different happening and, after having witnessed what he had, he knew that their tales were much more than just the construction of a deranged psyche and he was curious now, to see how far the rabbit hole went.

Decker stood up, opened a drawer on his desk and removed a large set of keys. Then, with a heart hammering with excitement, he made his way down into the depths of the facility, where the Man-Who-Was-Not-John-Doe waited.

Decker looked at the thin, wasted man sitting in the cell.

His long black hair hung like a curtain over his face and his skin was an unnatural shade of gray that most of the staff had chalked up as the result of some kind of nutrient deficiency, although the man had proven himself capable of incredible strength and speed when he wished, making most illnesses of that type unlikely.

Most of Decker’s associates told him that it was this strength that kept them away, but Decker knew that they were lying. They were afraid of his teeth and the callously violent actions that he was capable of performing and the strange things that he said or mentioned in passing-

And his eyes… Decker hadn’t ever seen another human with eyes like those of the man’s. Eyes which were venomous green and dark purple. Eyes with slitted pupils, like the eyes of a reptile.

Eyes that, even now, probed Decker from under the long, greasy hair.

“What do you want, human?” asked the Man-Who-Was-Not-John-Doe.

Decker noted that the man’s voice was as deep and rich as it had been. The years had not rendered the voice tired and rusty as they did most other inmates, nor had it muted the undercurrent of menace that slithered behind his words.

Decker inhaled through his nose and readies his tongue before saying, “Hello, Sombra.”

Sombra regarded Decker with an air of regal boredom, one which seemed to enhance his gauntness, making him look hungry on top of everything.

“And you are-?”

“Phillip Decker, I’m a psychiatrist at this facility.”

“I see.” said Sombra, half-closing his eyes and adopting a bored expression, “Then I suppose that you’re here to...analyze me, correct?”

“No,” said Decker with a shake of his head, “I’m here because I met someone who shares your….belief in Equestria.”

Sombra was silent for a moment, then he said, “Continue.”

Decker’s eye twitched slightly in annoyance at the command, but he continued regardless.

“This individual spoke of many of the same things that you did before you were transferred to this place-”

“Ah yes, that obnoxious little mule who kept sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong; It was a genuine pleasure to see her bleed.” interrupted Sombra, smiling to show off the sharp points of his gleaming teeth.

Decker felt his mouth curl upwards in a smile, it had been quite a pleasurable sight. Sombra seemed to notice the smile, for he frowned quickly, before a far more open sneer slithered across his thin lips.

“I take it you were there to see my handiwork?” he asked slyly.

Decker allowed himself a short chuckle before replying, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. It takes a certain type of mind to figure out how to spill the most blood, cause the most pain and prolong both for as long as possible. I applaud your expertise.”

He gave a mock-bow and Sombra chuckled deep in his throat, “I thought I smelled blood on you, Doctor Decker. Am I to assume that you’re of a similar mindset to myself?”

“It depends…”

“Depends on what?”

Decker smiled, “It depends on whether or not I’m feeling particularly disgusted with the world around me.”

Sombra lifted his head and Decker could see the unnatural eyes glinting from behind the hair like silver coins.

“This world is full of human refuse, walking cancer, Breeders, as I like to call them. They rip and they tear and they take from this world. They’re rapists of culture and of status, and they whine and moan and give excuses about poor health or poor upbringing. They all need-”

“A guiding hand?” suggested Sombra.

“Yes.” said Decker, then, making a connection, asked, “Aren’t you a king?”

Sombra’s already dark features darkened more as he replied, “Yes, or rather, I was a king. I ruled the Crystal Empire with an iron hoof, buck it! And then those two princesses came and ended my reign!”

Decker, seeing a potential opening, asked, “Were these princesses named Celestia and Luna, by chance?”

Sombra nodded, “Aye, they were alicorn sisters who controlled the sun and moon. They ruled over their subjects fairly….maybe a bit too fairly. They waged war on me under the pretense of ‘saving their little ponies’. They even had the utter gall to call me a tyrant!”

Decker nodded, “I see. So, if you’re from Equestria, then how did you end up here?”

Sombra laughed bitterly, “The Crystal Heart was far more….cruel than the Elements of Harmony. Every single object that has been made by those two or any of their supporters tend to take actions that are not lethal. They turn livings beings into stone, or banish them to parts unknown….I suppose the Crystal Heart saw fit to send me here or all places, where the people are as smart as I, but where magic is a myth.”

He ran a thin hand through his hair and sighed, “All the things which you humans have produced-” he motioned to a pile of mouldering books at the edge of his cot, “-bombs, guns, toxic gas, grenades. New ways to make war, ways that would leave those pathetic ponies at my mercy...and I cannot even bring any back because there’s no bucking magic!”

His voice rose to a roar and Decker’s eyes widened as he watched Sombra’s eyes begin to glow from within.

“I could tear their cities to pieces and leave them wallowing in their own fear as I took their thrones. I would slaughter those wretched Bearers and torture their friends- No! Even better, I would make their leader, Twilight Sparkle, watch as I skinned and ate the little reptile who dared to use that blasted heart on me!”

Sombra rose to his feet, his eyes trailing faint wisps of smoke as he continued.

“I was the Lord of Fear, the King of an empire, the master of dark magic and those little brats overthrew me and placed one of their princesses’ vile spawn upon my throne!”

The cell that Sombra was in began to tremble, flecks of dust and plaster began to fall from the ceiling as the madman vented his wrath.

“I AM King Sombra, the first and the only! I WILL return to Equestria if it takes me a lifetime and, when I do, the streets of every city and every town shall run red with blood! I will eat their children and drink from their skulls! I will-”

Sombra opened his eyes, which were now glowing like twin suns, and looked at the still-shaking room with wonderment and almost childlike excitement.

“Of course!” He crowed, “That’s what controls my magic here! My anger, of course it would be my anger, hahaha!”

Sombra turned and began to advance towards the cell door. Decker backed away as the door handle was surrounded by a glowing purple light that flickered and sparked. As he watched, the handle dissolved like wax under a flame.

The door opened and Sombra stepped out, his mouth sneering and his eyes burning.

“Now-” said Sombra, taking several slow steps towards Decker, who was rooted to the spot, “What was it you wanted of me?”

Decker, his mind buzzing with a thousand questions and teetering dangerously on the brink of a total psychotic break, asked in a trembling voice, “Wh-what? You...you mean you won’t kill me?”

Sombra smiled toothily at the man, “No, I think you might be of use to me. You and I are very much alike. But I know that you didn’t come down here to have a little chat. So what did you want, hm?”

Decker swallowed once, twice, then said, “D-did you know a woman named Chrysalis?”

Sombra narrowed his eyes, the unholy light within flaring up, “Where did you hear that name?”

Decker hastily explained to him about Chrysalis and the things which she had talked about, as well as what he had seen in the theater.

Sombra was quiet throughout, never once interrupting, never once making a sound. When Decker had finished, he sighed and said, “I know Chrysalis, she committed a grave offence towards me long ago.”

“I see.” said Decker, his composure slowly returning, “Can you find her? Is there any place that she might have gone?”

Sombra shook his head, “As much as it pains me to say it, but I haven’t a clue. If she’s here alone, as you said, then that means that her hive has fallen apart in her absence, and a changeling ruler who allows her hive to descend into chaos as she has done will seek death as recompense for their actions, as is their law.”

He looked at Decker and his gaze was cold, “You said that she was plagued by strange dreams a few weeks before she fled. What were they about? Did she tell you?”

Decker nodded, “Yes, she told me. Her dreams were of a place called Midian. A place where her sins could be forgiven.”

Sombra raised his brows, “I see. Then, if she believes this...’Midian’ to be real, then maybe there is a way to find her. Do you have anything that belonged to her? A brush, a piece of jewelry? Old clothes?”

Decker thought a moment, then he nodded, “She left most of her things behind when she ran away. Most of it looks like she found it in the trash, so most of it has been thrown away, but some of her clothes and a hairbrush were kept on the off chance that someone brings her back.”

Sombra nodded, “Take me to these things of hers and I’ll see what can be done.”

Decker turned and began his trek to the other side of the building, where he had kept Chrysalis’ things. As they walked, Decker imagined all of the sights that Sombra would show him, all the carnage and the death.

Sombra might just be the associate that I need if I am to continue the Hunt. He thought.With his help I can do far more than just chip away at their numbers, I can drag every filthy Breeder in this world, kicking and screaming, to the slaughter.

Decker smiled and knew that the Mask was smiling with him.

Necropolis.

Chrysalis flew on currents of cold night air, basking in the smell of the wilderness below as she did.

She knew that this was a brief reprieve from the inevitable nightmares that were to come. She had seen far too much carnage for there not to be any nightmares. But, for now, she was free, able to push the images of that woman’s tattered, screaming face from her mind and concentrate on Midian.

She was just beginning to leave Shere Neck, the last stop before the fabled haven, behind. Its’ small, suburban sprawl thinning out into stretches of desolate highway and forests.

So close….so very, very close….

Chrysalis closed her eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. Soon she would be able to rest, to organize her life if that was even possible, and to mourn her children.

It was true that she had considered suicide, but after Narcisse’s self-mutilation and the atrocities committed by the Button-Faced Man, she didn’t think that she could go through with it; She had seen enough death for now.

The wind began to pick up and grow colder. A new scent joined the many which pervaded the air, one which was different from the scent of pine and rainwater.

Old earth, wet stone and, faint and far-off, ancient bones.

The shadowed shape of the place began to come into view.

Chrysalis felt her chest tighten. She slowed her pace and began to descend, wrapping her wings around her midsection as the waving tips of the reeds came within hoof’s reach.

She moved the instant her hooves made contact with the soil. She galloped forwards, kicking up dust and dirt with each movement, feeling elation and hope mingle with her heartache as the reeds began to thin.

And then, appearing out of the twilit gloom, were the gates of Midian.

Tall and wrought from iron which was as black as obsidian where Time hadn’t touched it. Set at the center of a towering wall of ancient stone which cast a sprawling shadow. The only decoration on the gate was a large, ornate capital “M” which bridged the doors.

Chrysalis let out a shuddering sob of joy. Midian was real. Narcisse hadn’t lied.

With trembling legs and a pounding heart, the former queen approached the gates, her movements sending ripples through a thin blanket of mist which had appeared from nowhere.

The gates were chained, but, in a flash of green light, Chrysalis had circumvented it in tor form of an eel.

The changes were immediately obvious the second the first faint breath of cool air caressed her face.

She was surrounded on all sides by tombs, crypts, gravestones and mausoleums. Each one unique. Each one odd and different. A towering pillar covered by hieroglyphs sitting next to a statue of a snarling, jackal-headed beast. A set of monolith tombs carved from white stone and wreathed in lilies. A small tombstone watched over by an old teddy bear.

It struck Chrysalis as interesting, how many things she and her race held in common with both ponies and humans. Changelings buried their dead in a similar fashion, and, like them, they often left mementos and carved their grief and love out upon their loved one’s markers.

But no changeling graveyard had ever been so massive, so wondrous and grotesque as Midian.

And the smells which reached her nostrils were the same ones from her dreams: old earth and spices, smoke and meat and animal dander, dust and decay.

Chrysalis moved inward. The grass was soft and springy, like a mattress, it soothed her aching hooves and sent chills up her spine.

She took a deep lungful of cool night air, briefly allowing herself to bask in it’s chill. She continued moving on after that, looking at the wilderness of carven stone around her.

She knew that she had to find a way to contact the inhabitants-if there were any at all (No! Don’t think like that!), so she searched as best she could, scrutinizing every surface her gaze fell upon.

But, as the night began to wear on, the full scope of the necropolis became apparent to her. Midian held more crooked roads and branching pathways than most Equestrian towns. There were-fittingly- dead ends. There were small forests of gnarled trees.There were cul-de-sacs and massive sepulchers which crowded together to form small cities and townships.

Chrysalis had never seen anything so grand or grotesque.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. She thought as she passed a towering statue of a strange, insectoid thing with its golden wings splayed out. The ponies, in their happy, pastel, sugar-coated wonderland could never appreciate this. They’d call it “creepy” and “scary”.

“Pah, fools.” she said aloud, resuming her natural form as her spirits lifted somewhat at the mockery.

And yet they doomed my children to death. There’s no way Celestia would let them live if she found them. Changelings are just boogeymen to them, mindless monsters for the heroes to defeat. And they call me a monst-

Something moved in the corner of her eye.

Chrysalis spun around in time to catch sight of a dark shape slip between two headstones and disappear.

“Wait!” called Chrysalis, feeling her heart begin to pound. She galloped after the shape, hurtling through the same space that the shadow had occupied and bounding down a steep incline which has-thankfully- devoid of markers.

When the ground leveled out Chrysalis found herself surrounded on all sides by towering pillars. The slopes which had led her there were consistently the same height all around, meaning that she was in a sort of natural basin.

“Hello?” she called, not caring about stealth, “Is anyone there? I-I’m not here to hurt you, I just… I’m just here to be with you. I heard that this place offered sanctuary for things like myself and that….and that your crimes could be forgiven.”

There was silence for a moment, and then, from the shadows, a deep voice said, “And what would you need to be forgiven for, little bug?”

A figure stepped into the moonlight and Chrysalis felt her chest tighten.

The creature was tall and powerfully built. With lean muscles bunching under blood-red skin as he slunk towards her like a manticore about to pounce. The moon’s light reflected off of his icy blue eyes, making them shine like those of a dog.

“I-it’s true….” she said, unable to finish her sentence.

The creature smirked and advanced another few steps. He was now close enough for her to see the tendrils which hung off his head like organic dreadlocks and the tail which whipped around behind him, kicking up small puffs of stone dust.

“Everything’s true,” said the creature, his smirk widening into a sharp-toothed smile, “Neverland is in your head, Oz is over the rainbow and Midian is where the monsters live, and you-”

He paused and gave her an assessing look, “-and I think you’ll fit right in here.”

Chrysalis felt as if some tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she smiled, baring her fangs as she did, and let out a shuddering laugh that became a sob as it ended.

“Who’s the new meat, Peloquin?” asked a new voice.

Peloquin smiled, “Come and see for yourself.”

Chrysalis heard the sounds of bare feet slapping against stone. She turned and saw a woman emerge from the shadows. She was stunning, as tall and lean as Peloquin. But her body was covered by gossamer white fur which did little to hide her nakedness...or the long, sharp quills which protruded from her arms, shoulders and torso.

“Well, well, well,” she said, stepping closer and letting her piercing eyes roam the changeling’s body, “you’re new. I don’t think I’ve ever smelled something like you before. But you look like you belong here.”

Chrysalis blushed at her words and her gaze, “Th-thank you.”

The woman smiled, knelt down and held out a hand, “There’s no need to be afraid. My name’s Shuna Sassi, what’s yours?”

“Chrysalis.” said the changeling, transforming her hoof into a taloned hand to shake Shuna’s.

Shuna laughed, “That’s impressive. I think you and the others will have a lot to talk about.” She leaned in and stage-whispered, “ Maybe you can give Peloquin some pointers, his shapeshifting isn’t nearly as fast as yours and I can’t keep myself... occupied forever waiting for him.”

Chrysalis snorted and Peloquin leveled a mock-stare at his companion, “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.” said Shuna, standing and wiggling her hips.

Peloquin laughed, then beckoned to Chrysalis, “Follow me. We’ll take you below, see what Lylesberg has to say, though I’m sure he’ll embrace you with open arms.”

He turned and began walking away with Shuna Sassi close behind. Chrysalis followed their lead, feeling tears begin to work their way down her cheeks.

Maybe...maybe I can finally rest. She thought hopefully. As they went deeper into Midian she spared one last look at the sky. The moon was full and bright, bathing the landscape in its pale glow like a brighter, colder sun.

The wind began to pick up, and Chrysalis smiled as the scent of night invaded her nostrils.

I think I could grow to love this place. She thought, turning back and following the two into the shadows, hoping against hope that she would be accepted.

The Tribes of the Moon.

If the Midian above was the calm, then the Midian below was the storm.

There were so many sights to see. Midian made up for the quiet death of its necropolis mantel with the lively bazaar of games and fighting and sex and bloodshed which lay beneath.

All of the elements from Chrysalis’ dreams where there. Every scent and sound. But now there were sights to go with them and what sights they were.

Peloquin and Shuna led her down a lengthy passageway: past a room of shadowed, dancing figures, past a chamber where a great, misshapen mass breathed and pulsed and was washed by bird-headed women, past a dark room where a single shadowed figure sat and examined tarot cards with gleaming red eyes.

From there the passage opened, suddenly, into the city itself.

Bowl-shaped, big enough to engulf the whole of the graveyard above as well as much of the surrounding area; filled with houses, burrows, crypts and bungalows; and lit by the amber light of torches, Chrysalis could see the Nightbreed in all of their myriad forms.

She saw a fat humanoid with his head protruding from where his navel should have been arguing with a woman covered in chocolate-colored scales. Above them a semi-transparent stingray-thing flew through the air, dodging between bridges and swooping under archways.

Across the way a winged woman with red hair spoke in low tones with a tall creature which looked to be caught somewhere between reptile and avian with his purple skin, yellow beak and lengthy talons. Chrysalis felt their eyes turn towards her when she stepped onto the nearest bridge.

The two came to her, meeting her and her aides halfway.

“And who is this?” asked the winged woman, crouching down and staring at her curiously; Chrysalis saw that her eyes were emerald green and bore slitted pupils much like her own.

“This is Chrysalis.” said Shuna, “She’s looking to join us.”

“Well she sure as hell fits the bill, man.” said the reptile creature, his voice surprisingly youthful for such a tall and twisted body, "I've never seen one like you before."

“Don’t be so rude!” scolded the woman, earning a sneer from her companion.

Ignoring the bared teeth, the woman gestured to him, “I’m Aello, he’s Mulciber, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Chrysalis.”

She extended a wing and Chrysalis shook it with one of her own. Baring her fangs in a smile which she hoped would put off Mulciber. She could taste the dislike and cruelty on his breath and she didn’t need an enemy here.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Aello.” she replied.

“Where’s Lylesburg?” asked Shuna.

“Hell if we know.” said Mulciber, shrugging, “We’ve been….preoccupied.”

He waggled his brow ridges suggestively, earning him a playful slap from Aello.

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to look for him.” said Shuna, shrugging. She brushed past Chrysalis, her quills scraping the chitin of the changeling’s side.

Peloquin looked at Chrysalis, “You can stay here if you like, or you can explore while we do all the hard work and look for the old man.”

Chrysalis chuckled, “I think I’d like to do some exploring, I haven’t drunk my fill of this place yet.”

Peloquin smirked, then turned and headed after his lover.

Chrysalis turned back to Aello and asked, “So this...Lylesburg is your leader?”

Aello nodded, “Yep. He’s the one closest to Baphomet, so he’s the one who calls the shots.”

“Baphomet?”, Chrysalis asked, rolling the name around on her tongue.

“He’s the head honcho ‘round here.” said Mulciber, “The god who made this place as a haven for all us monsters.”

“A god?” asked Chrysalis, shocked at how casually he had used the term.

Aello nodded solemnly, “Yes, a god maimed by the cruelty of humans long, long ago when the ‘Breed walked up above with the Naturals and mingled with them. It’s strange that you haven’t heard of him. Have you dreamed of him?”

Chrysalis shook her head, “No, I’ve dreamed of this place, but not of anyone in it.”

Aello and Mulciber stared at her a moment before the latter asked, “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

Chrysalis shook her head, “No, I’m from a place called Equestria. A world far different from yours.”

Mulciber scoffed, “Another world? Are you shittin’ us? There’s no way you’re serious!”

“I don’t know.” said Aello, thoughtfully, “You’ve only been here a few years, but I’ve been here for a few decades and I’ve heard the eldest of our tribe speak of-”

“Aw, don’t tell me you actually listen to that horseshit, babe.” sneered Mulciber.

“Let me finish, bird-brain!” snapped the winged woman, “The older ‘Breed were there when we first came under attack, they were there before then, too, and they told me that there are other worlds, all connected. I just can’t remember the name...Squiddy...Scorney….Tweedleedee?”

"Ah, I'm not sure what the name is. Anyway, this place is said to be every world, every single possible place, all in once unfathomably massive continent, Baphomet came from this place, maybe he could find a way to send you back!"

Chrysalis’s eyes lit up at the prospect. The spark of hope, which had been waning ever since she had first seen the new world, rekindled.

“That…” she forced the lump in her throat down-she had cried long enough- and tried again, “That would be wonderful.”

“Yeah, wonderful.” said Mulciber with a roll of his eyes, “If Baphomet says you can stay.”

Chrysalis gritted her teeth and opened her mouth to curse the creature, but a sudden weight on her back made her stop.

“Your fur is so soft.” said a voice which hovered somewhere between young and ancient.

Chrysalis turned and saw a small, scrawny human girl petting her.

No-not quite human. thought Chrysalis, looking at the girl’s facial features more closely.

Beneath a head of rust red curls lay a heavy, protruding brow. Beneath that lay two green eyes surrounded by darkened flesh. The cheeks protruded, along with the brow ridge, to meet at the nose, giving a slightly inhuman bend to a face which would’ve otherwise been a normal human girl.

“I’m Babette,” said the girl, “who’re you?”

Chrysalis gave her name, feeling no threat from the child.

“That’s a pretty name.” said the girl, “But, then again, we all have pretty names….except you, Mulciber..your name’s kinda weird.”

Mulciber raised a middle finger and Babette giggled.

“Babette, your mom’s looking for you!” called a voice from the shadows. A man stepped into view, looking sternly at her.

“I was just visiting Chrysalis. She’s new here.” said Babette, patiently.

“Chrysalis?”

The man, tall and slender, garbed in a long trenchcoat and a wide-brimmed hat which obscured his features, moved in closer. Chrysalis thought something about the way he moved was familiar.

“You sound like you know me, who are you?” asked the changeling.

The man laughed and reached up to take his hat off.

“Y’mean you don’t recognize this pretty face?”

Chrysalis’ jaw dropped.

Narcisse stared back at her, his toothy smile and raised brows contrasting hideously to the red, raw meat where his pate had been. His blades had done their work, but his face showed no sign of pain, in fact, Chrysalis thought that he looked more content than he had when she’d met him.

“Like the new ‘do?” he asked, running his fingers along the flayed flesh, “It’s way better than it looks. I won’t get lice, I don’t need to spend hours fretting over my luxurious mane...which for me meant deciding if salad dressing was an appropriate shampoo, and I can better appreciate those cold October gales.”

“How are you alive?” asked Chrysalis, finally finding her words.

Narcisse smirked, “I guess I’m just very lucky. I mean, people in the Old West survived getting scalped….I think. I know I read that somewhere...Ah, whatever. But, in all seriousness, I don’t really know. I guess I just….belong here. It’s a nice feeling, belonging.”

Chrysalis felt a smile tug at her lips at that remark, “It really is.”

Narcisse beamed at her and said,“I can even wear a hat now that my hair isn’t a problem.” he leaned in and said, in a stage whisper, “Between you and me, this gives me the perfect excuse to wear a badass cowboy hat for as long as I want.”

The sheer absurdity of what the man was saying broke through to her and Chrysalis let out a guffaw.

Narcisse laughed alongside her and patted her back, “I always knew there was something..unnatural about you.” he said, and his tone reassured her that it was a high compliment.

“Same here.” said Chrysalis, realizing that she meant it.

Narcisse smiled, then asked,“So….how’ve things been for you?”

Chrysalis started to answer, but a sudden rush of dizziness made her falter.

The adrenaline’s wearing off. she realized, feeling a dull ache beginning to pound in her back and hooves. She looked around, “Is there a place where I can rest? I’ll tell you everything, but I’ve had a loooong few days and my wings feel like they’re about to fall off.”

Narcisse nodded, “The tombs are pretty quiet, and, as an added bonus, the acoustics rock. Al long as y’mind having a captive audience.”

Chrysalis smiled and said, “Lead the way, my fine faceless friend.”

The man bowed and turned on his heel.

After they had vanished into the depths of Midian, Aello turned to Mulciber and said, “Well she seems nice.”

Her companion merely snorted.

Baphomet the Baptizer.

Baphomet the Baptizer.

“-and so I just sort of….flew here after that. Your directions were spot-on. Thank you for that.”

Chrysalis leaned back, sinking into the mound of silk cushions that had been heaped against a far wall and taking in the scents of those who had rested there before her.

She had closed her eyes, delving into the memories and finding herself honestly surprised by how much the events had blended together, leaving only a few choice images to stand out like stones in a river.

The grimy-tasting air of the slums that she’d entered, the cobweb-covered concessions booth in the old movie theater, the look of sheer, animal terror on the woman’s face as her killer entered the theater; the gleaming button eyes on said killer’s mask.

Now she opened her eyes and saw that she had an audience besides Narcisse.

Sitting on Narcisse’s left was a fat man with paper-white skin, dark gray circles under his eyes and yellowed teeth; his clothing was opulent and covered with jewels and bits of bone, and Chrysalis caught a quick movement of something under his shirt, something slimy and black.

To Narcisse’s right sat a lean man with blue skin, eyes which her nearly the same shade as her own, sharp teeth and two curling horns which protruded from a smooth, hairless brow. This man was sitting cross-legged, tapping curved talons on the stone floor as he watched her with interest.

Chrysalis sat up and looked at each of them, her eyes narrowed, “Who are you?”

The pale, fat man blinked owlishly, “Huh?”

The blue, horned man elbowed him sharply, “Are you serious?!”

“Sorry, I was caught off guard.” said the pale man, raising his hands defensively, “I was listening and then...I kinda slipped away.” He turned to Chrysalis, “ What did you ask?”

“She asked you your name, dumbass.” said the blue man.

“Oh, my name is Leroy Gomm.” said the man, smiling at Chrysalis.

“And I’m-” the blue man started.

“Oh, and he’s Lude.” said Leroy, cutting him off.

Lude growled and slapped at Leroy’s shoulder as the former guffawed.

“You keep doing that! Why?!” He snarled.

“Because you always react the same way!” laughed Leroy.

“How long have you been listening?” asked Chrysalis.

“Since a few minutes after you started,” said Lude, “Me and Leroy, we can enter and leave a place as silently as we wish. One of the perks of being us, I suppose.”

“Well that’s certainly an interesting story.” said Narcisse, looking intently at a nearby statue, “Can you describe anything else about the masked man?”

Chrysalis shook her head, “I told you all I saw. He was a tall man in a suit and he wore a white mask with button eyes.”

Narcisse narrowed his eyes and clenched his hand into a fist before turning around and saying, “I need a minute.”

He turned on the heels of his cowboy boots and left brusquely.

Leroy and Lude both shrugged and turned back to Chrysalis, their intent to ask further questions evident. But the sickly-sweet smell of worry drifted to her and she got up, leaving them before they could ask anything more.

She caught up to Narcisse fairly quickly.

“Alright,” she said, “what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” said Narcisse, shaking his head.

“No it’s not.” said Chrysalis.

“Listen-” began the former-human, turning around to face her, but one look at her stern glare made him stop short.

He fidgeted under her gaze for a few minutes, worrying his lip as a hand went to his flayed scalp.

Finally, he sighed and sagged against a pillar.

“That man you were talking about, the one with the mask, I’ve met him before.”

“What?”

“After I….modified myself, as I lay dying, ready to join my true family, someone came into my room. He had such a calm voice and I wondered how he could be so nonchalant when looking at a man who's just cut his face off.”

Narcisse swallowed thickly.

“I couldn’t see him. I was a bit preoccupied anyway. I felt myself fading fast and then...and then I felt a needle in my arm. He injected me with something and then...and then….”

Chrysalis felt his emotions rise: anger, horror, humiliation.

“It felt like every organ in my body had restarted. He told me that he had injected me with epinephrine, the stuff that forces your adrenaline to start going into overtime. He said that it would give him time to see a few questions answered.”

Narcisse released a shuddering sigh and slumped against a wall.

“The last thing that I saw was that fucking face of his and his voice never once rose, even when I was screaming. He just sounded so...so damned calm!”

He drew a hand across his eyes and looked away.

“Did you see his face, his real face?” asked Chrysalis.

Narcisse shook his head, “No. I only saw that mask, but that voice sounded so familiar.”

She was about to question him further, but a sudden, unnatural cold behind her made her turn.

The shadows behind her disgorged a tall, bearded man with steel-gray hair, pink skin, red eyes and two sets of wet slits, three on each cheek.

“You are Chrysalis?” he asked, his voice raspy, but commanding.

She nodded, “I am she.”

“My name is Dirk Lylesberg. I am the second-in-command in Midian, I speak for Baphomet when he cannot and I personally deal with any issues which arise down here.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lylesberg.” said Chrysalis, inclining her head slightly.

He nodded and gestured to the wall behind him, where the shadows widened and opened like a flower in bloom.

“Baphomet wishes to speak with you.”

The chamber which Chrysalis found herself in was massive and utterly beautiful.

The outer rim of the massive cavern dropped off into nothingness, with raised lips of stone keeping the deep waters that surrounded the center floor from falling away.

Above her a thousand gems glowed in the vaulted ceiling, their light shimmering on the still waters.

Before her, surrounded by members of the ‘Breed robed in gold silk, was Baphomet itself.

Chrysalis felt her heart skip a beat.

Despite the massive wounds that tore through his heavily-muscled torso.

Despite the fact that his legs and one of his arms were hanging by a few scant threads of meat.

Despite the luminous, ragged clusters of white viscera that showed through the rents in his skin.

Despite the robed ‘Breed collecting his dripping blood in bowls and feeding to him to keep him alive.

Despite all of this, Baphomet the Baptizer emanated a power that matched that of Celestia and Luna combined.

His eyes, pupil-less, green and blue and as bright as the stars, gazed at her curiously.

His lips parted and he spoke, and his voice echoed and boomed like a storm.

“Welcome to Midian, Queen Chrysalis.”

Author's Note

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah , Super Awesome Kwanzaa everyone!