Flashback
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Death Be Not Proud

Flashback

Luna led Reaper to a secluded section of the Royal Gardens, screened from view by a high hedge. She turned to face him as he stopped and looked around.

“So what’s going on, Luna?” he asked. “Why discuss the dream here as opposed to your quarters--not that this isn’t nice! I’m just a little confused.”

Luna smiled and nodded: “I understand. I have a destination in mind for us to visit, and I wished for our departure to go unnoticed for as long as possible. Celestia’s helpers and assistants are everywhere!”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Are you about to get us in trouble with your sister again?”

“No, nothing like that,” Luna replied as her horn began to glow a bright blue. “I’m taking you to the spa.”

Reaper glanced to his left: “Considering that’s about half a mile to the east, I’m not sure why you’re bothering with the teleport. Unless you’re talking about the secret spa Celestia occasionally frequents…”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “How do you know about...nevermind. Of course you know. In any event, no: that is hardly the place one goes to escape my sister’s spies!”

She stepped in close to Reaper and lowered her glittering horn: “We are going to Ponyville.”

The teleport glow cleared, and Reaper looked down from a hill overlooking Ponyville: “So why here?”

Luna took a deep breath and cleared her head from the stress of the farther-than-usual teleportation: “My sister has her secret retreat, and so do I. I was introduced to this lovely spa by Rarity not long after my first visit here following my return from exile, and I make use of it often.”

Reaper nodded: “I understand. But why the spa--this one or any other?”

Luna began walking down the hill toward town, being careful to stay off the main road: “Your comment about the restorative powers of the Gardens struck me, and I realized that instead of traditional medical assistance for your aches and bruises, a session in the spa might be more beneficial.”

“Alright, I’m more than happy to give it a try,” Reaper said, falling in behind Luna as they slipped into town along a low brick wall, overtopped by weeping willow trees.

Luna stopped Reaper as they approached the end of the wall: “This is close enough. The proprietors of this spa, Aloe and Lotus Blossom, are expecting us, and will have a room readied for us to teleport.”

The two ponies were wrapped again in a flash of bright, bluish-white light, which cleared a moment later inside a dimly-lit, sweet-smelling room.

“Greetings, Princess!” said sky-blue Lotus Blossom.

“And welcome to you, her honored guest!” said her pink sister, Aloe.

Luna bowed politely, and climbed atop a low, padded bench, attended by Lotus Blossom.

Aloe pointed to her table: “Please, sir, make yourself comfortable on this massage table while we finish preparations.”

Reaper settled awkwardly on the table, as Lotus Blossom removed Luna’s gorget, tiara and hoof ornaments. Aloe lit several candles, poured each guest a cup of pale, golden wine, and set several bowls of scented lotions, oils and unguents beside each station.

“We rarely have couples massage sessions,” Lotus Blossom remarked, “so we were naturally thrilled when you asked if we offered such a service!”

Luna smiled and sipped her wine: “I am sure it will be our pleasure as well! My companion’s name is Reaper, by the way. I apologize for not formally introducing him upon our arrival.”

Aloe helped Reaper settle into a comfortable position, and began to work her oiled hooves along his neck and shoulders, feeling out the various strains and pulls in the underlying muscles.

“Are you a long-time friend of the Princess?” she asked Reaper, as he began to relax under her ministrations.

“Kind of,” he grunted, as Aloe dug her hoof into a particularly tough knot at the base of his neck. “I’d say it’s been more of a professional relationship, historically.”

Luna smiled as her eyes fluttered shut: “I would like to think we have moved beyond that these last few weeks.”

Reaper took a long sip of his wine, and began to shift to his belly as Aloe turned her attentions to his spine and lower back.

Lotus Blossom was working beneath Luna’s wings, rubbing the muscles and tendons, tugging and bending, careful not to damage the long, graceful indigo feathers.

Reaper began to doze as he heard Lotus chatting quietly with Luna. Aloe had worked her way to the base of his spine, and was now tugging lightly at his tail, working the ligaments, and combing oil through the grey-streaked, dark-brown hair.

He heard the creak of Lotus’ massage table and rustle of feathers as Luna shifted her position, lying half on her side, one rear leg extended, tail pulled back.

Lotus Blossom began working oil into Luna’s flank and loins, rubbing in long circles, focusing on the joints, running her hooves up over the alicorn’s teats and lower abdomen, pressing against her belly.

Aloe guided Reaper, almost imperceptibly, from his stomach onto his side, until he was facing Luna in a similar posture. Lotus beckoned her twin, who leaned in close for a moment to share a whisper.

Lotus turned back to Luna, who smiled, and spread her legs and wings wide, enjoying Lotus’ full-body massage, from the depths of her loins to the underside of her jaw.

Reaper’s eyes were half-opened, and he took in the vision of Luna’s oil-slicked body, with its dark, glistening cutie mark, ruddy nipples, and taut muscles, as though it were a dream. He began to drift in and out of a light sleep, lulled by the room’s warmth, Luna’s soft groans, and the sound of the twins’ hooves working lotion into their charges’ coats and skin.

Reaper’s eyelids drooped heavily, and as they closed he felt the touch of a hot-oiled hoof run up between his hindquarters and over his growing erection. His legs opened wider reflexively as Aloe rolled him from his side to his back.

Reaper’s eyes fluttered open for a moment as he lifted his head, and he saw Luna exchange inaudible words with Lotus Blossom, who smiled and backed silently from the room, closing the door as she went.

He barely had a moment to ponder what this meant, when he felt the wet warmth of Aloe’s tongue on the end of his member, followed by her lips, which slid down the length of his shaft until they met her hooves, which were now stroking lightly, up and down.

Reaper shuddered and let out a low moan. His head dropped heavily to the table, and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the sensation.

Within moments all of Reaper’s senses were heightened: he was suffused by the heat of the room, the rich musk of the aroused mares mingling with the perfume from the flickering candles, the soft, wet, rhythmic sound of Aloe’s attentions, the tang of the wine lingering on his tongue.

He felt the tension beginning to build in his loins; his tail twitched, his breathing became quick and irregular. He slipped fully into a vivid dream state as his back began to arch off the massage table.

Aloe felt Reaper’s scrotum tighten, and his girth swell in her mouth, and she increased her rhythm, her headband slipping forward over one eye, allowing her light blue mane to bob free.

Luna lay on her side, head propped up on her right hoof, her left hoof pressed deep between her hind legs. She watched the bounce of Aloe’s mane, the play of light across Reaper’s face, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

Suddenly, images of smoke and fire, battle and death filled her vision. Her nostrils flared as the scents of blood and dust overwhelmed her, and Aloe’s wet, eager noises were washed away by screams and the ring of steel on shield.

Reaper’s eyes flew open and he placed a hoof on Aloe’s head, halting her, mid-stroke: “Stop.”

Aloe tipped her head back slightly and rolled her deep blue eyes up to meet Reaper’s. He reached down with both hooves and cradled the sides of her face, pulling her free from his member with a soft ‘slurp.’ He pulled her forward, up his chest, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Please go. I need to talk with Princess Luna in private.”

Aloe ran the back of her hoof across her mouth, and tipped her head sideways, as a look of worried confusion crossed her face.

“Is everything OK? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, glancing back at Reaper’s saliva-slicked cock.

He smiled: “No. You’ve done nothing wrong, but I really need you to go, now. I have important things I must discuss with the Princess.”

Aloe glanced at Luna, who nodded: “Please leave us now. All is well, and we both thank you for all you’ve done today.”

Aloe looked back at Reaper with furrowed brow: “Alright. Well, I hope you feel better, and please come back anytime!”

She stepped back from the massage table, dropping a hot towel on Reaper’s belly before stepping through the door, closing it on her way out.

Reaper grabbed the towel with both hooves and pressed his aching shaft into it, groaning loudly, rolling on his side, and squeezing his legs together as he emptied himself into the warm, damp cloth, his tail switching with each spasm.

“Better?” Luna asked as Reaper finally relaxed, stopped twitching, and caught his breath.

He sighed heavily, and used his magic to refill his empty wine cup: “No. But at least I was able to hold on until Aloe left the room.”

Luna took a drink from her own cup: “I do not understand. What happened?”

“Which part?”

“Either--both! Why did you not let her finish? Did she displease you? And what was the meaning of that sudden vision?”

Reaper sat up and wiped himself down with a fresh towel, wincing as he ran a towel across his still-sensitive glans.

“I’ll answer the second part first: you saw my death vision. It must have been dredged-up by the sudden overload on this all-too-real body--the feel of Aloe’s mouth and hooves, the wine, the candles, your intoxicating scent and appearance, her eyes--it was all too much!”

He tossed the sticky towel aside and lay back down, stretching his quivering legs: “The last time I experienced anything that intense, that real, was when I was killed, all those millennia ago.”

Luna began pulling on her various ornaments and accouterments: “It is interesting that I was able to perceive that dream so vividly, but could not see the one from this morning.”

“I don’t understand it either. Perhaps I simply have to have very intense dreams for you to detect them. Even though I appear to be a normal pony, now, there’s no good way to know how normal I really am.”

Luna nodded and wiped down her flanks, running the towel back and forth once between her legs, before tossing it in a nearby basket, along with the two towels Reaper had just used.

She sat back down on a nearby cushion: “So why did you not let Aloe finish? You were clearly enjoying yourself, and she was eager to help.”

Reaper took a seat on a low couch, and rubbed the back of his neck: “I agree with both those statements, but I had to stop her--the sudden rush of a death vision conflated with my climax would have been too jarring, too incongruous. I would not have wanted her or the experience to have been linked to my death vision.”

He pulled another hot cloth from a covered hamper, wiping his face and neck: “And more to the point, I didn’t want Aloe associated with my climax.”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Now I am confused, again. Do you not find her arousing? She is exactly the type of pony I so frequently see in the fantasies of both stallions and mares.”

Reaper sighed heavily and slumped forward: “I can't become attached to the pains and pleasures, the agonies and ecstasies of this world. I must stay detached from it all, or it will be impossible to do my job.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “But you have no job at this moment! What better time to enjoy the things your “all-too-real body,” as you call it, has to offer?”

Reaper looked up with a pained expression: “Because I can’t keep this body! I have to figure out how to get back to being Death’s Harbinger, and I can’t imagine coming to reap Aloe’s spirit 50 or 60 years from now, and having pangs of regret as I recall the pleasure she gave me and the affection I felt for her!”

“Has it ever been thus for you?” Luna asked.

“Yes and no,” Reaper replied, “I have never had to worry about being intimate with anypony--not in that way, at any rate. But I have observed many ponies over the years whom I wished I could have known better. And it has disturbed me, occasionally, to see their lives simply flicker by like feeble candle flames, barely noticed before they’re gone.”

Luna’s ears drooped: “I understand. I, too, have lamented the loss of friends who were in this world for far too short a time.”

Reaper nodded: “Then you see why I couldn’t let Aloe finish. Nor must I ever see her again, until the day comes to guide her spirit beyond the bounds of this world. I don’t have the luxury of friends, to say nothing of lovers!”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Then what of Celestia and me, and I suppose Twilight? Do we also fall under your restriction?”

“Not really,” Reaper replied. “I expect to sit with you and your sister at the end of time as Entropy draws its final curtain across the Cosmos. I have largely avoided friendship with the two of you due to our disparate duties, and because I assumed my presence was unwanted. I would have been surprised otherwise!”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “I cannot speak for my sister, but I assure you your presence is not unwanted! I am unsure how Twilight may feel about this…”

Reaper sighed: “I’m not sure about her, either. I don’t know if she’ll end up as immortal as you and your sister essentially are, or if she has a different fate. But either way, I’m sure she will long outlive many generations of ponies.”

Luna nodded sadly: “I hope she avoids the sort of entanglement that will someday break Cadance’s heart.”

Reaper shrugged: “She doesn’t really seem the type to avail herself of your sister’s “Special Services” Guard company. She’s more the settled-down, homebody type, I would guess.”

Luna bit her lip as she recalled Twilight’s lucid dream of a perfect life with Moondancer: “I trust she will come to see the wisdom of Celestia’s “honored consorts” in due time.”

“I hope so,” Reaper replied, “or she’s looking at a long life of heartache.”

Luna stood, preparing to teleport, as she recalled another of Twilight’s dreams: “I fear that is inevitable in any event.”

Lotus Blossom heard a ‘pop’ through the door, and opened it to find an empty wine carafe in an empty room.

Relics
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Death Be Not Proud

Relics

Twilight lingered outside the solarium, watching Celestia chat with her secretary and Officer of the Day, as they slowly headed back toward the throne room. She stepped around a corner and peeked out as Luna and Reaper left, heading toward the Gardens.

“Where are those two sneaking off to?” she wondered, as she turned toward the castle’s main entrance, stepping through the main entrance, out into the bright, late-morning sun.

She checked her surroundings for observers, and seeing none, teleported to the base of the High Tower, but around the side, away from the guarded excavations. She craned her neck around a corner and took note of the two guards, a unicorn and a pegasus, chatting together near the hole.

Twilight pulled out a large fragment of parchment, and began running calculations based on her current location versus a spot just outside Grey Thorn’s former study where she had secreted a small, rune-engraved charm.

She closed her eyes and tipped her glowing horn down toward the ground: “Speaking of sneaking…”

A moment later a violet-white flash illuminated an empty tunnel some 30 feet to the left, and around a corner from the entrance to the ruined study. Twilight leaned down and repositioned her homing charm closer to the tunnel wall, in case a guard came that way.

She tiptoed within sight of the study door, and observed another pair of guards, both unicorns, one in black-and-blue, the other clad in Celestia’s white-and-gold gear. She noted they were both standing outside the door, not directly in the doorway itself.

Twilight pulled out another scrap of parchment from her saddlebag, and consulted the guard rotation and work schedule written on it.

“Perfect!” she whispered. “No workers for another hour, and only these two guards until the workers show up!”

Twilight put the schedule away, and squinted at the study entrance, gauging the distance to the room beyond. She bit her lip and held her breath as she conjured a sudden, noisy gust of wind that caught the guards by surprise, and blew the door to the study shut with a bang.

The sound of the slamming door covered the ‘pop’ of her teleporting into the study, and by the time the flustered guards had pulled the door back open, Twilight had scurried into the large chamber beyond, hiding just inside its entrance.

She stood still and quiet for a minute, listening for sounds of pursuit as her heart rate dropped back to normal. She sighed and walked over to a pile of stones against the chamber’s front wall, near its entrance.

“Doesn’t look like anypony’s disturbed these, so…”

Twilight used her telekinesis to move the stones aside and lift out the four books she had managed to drag with her during her flight from the adjoining study. She gently slid them into her saddlebag, and replaced the stones as she had found them.

She squinted into the gloom of the chamber, which was barely-lit by a few work lanterns left by the previous crew, and began slowly walking toward the back of the chamber, when her eye was caught by a glint of light reflected off the mirror in the sheltered alcove to her left.

Twilight tiptoed across the open floor space to the alcove, and stood before the mirror. She took a quill and half-used scroll from her bag, and increased the light from her horn.

“I have a bad feeling Celestia will want this destroyed,” she whispered to herself as she copied down the glyphs and runes inscribed around the mirror’s frame, “so I’d better extract what I can now!”

Twilight was just finishing her transcription when she heard voices approaching from the study. She jammed the quill and scroll back in her bag, and hastily grabbed a drop-cloth from a nearby pile of dig supplies. She barely had time to toss it over the mirror, and drift back into the alcove’s shadows before four ponies from the Royal Archaeologist’s work detail walked into the chamber.

As the workers headed toward the far wall, Twilight slipped through the entryway, returning to the study, just as the guard was changing at the door. She hid behind a stack of crates and supply boxes, and watched the previous guards leave. She timed her teleport back to the nearby tunnel at the peak of the various pegasi and unicorns’ chatter and hoof falls.

Twilight reoriented herself in the dark, then slipped quietly around the corner into the adjacent chamber, then up the long tunnel back to the scaffolding beneath the excavations above.

“Princess Twilight!” exclaimed the startled unicorn guard stationed at the base of the scaffold as the alicorn strode up confidently. “Where did you come from?”

“Oh, I’ve been in and out with the last couple of shifts--I keep forgetting things!” Twilight replied cheerfully. “You just must have missed me during the previous change.”

The guard furrowed her brow, but before she could protest, Twilight spread her wings and rose toward the hole above: “It’s OK--you’re doing a great job! Keep it up!”

Twilight cleared the opening, and sped off toward a side entrance, leading to Luna’s private quarters. She closed the door behind her, and slumped against it with a heavy sigh.

“This sneaking around stuff is not for me! Leave the shadows and skulduggery to the old pros!”

She stood up and walked up a long, winding passageway leading to Luna’s audience room: “Speaking of, I still wonder where those two were going!”

She dropped her saddlebag off next to a cushion, and stepped to the sidetable holding the now-ubiquitous carafe of hard cider, pouring herself a cup-full, before returning to the cushion and her newly-acquired treasures.

She carefully removed the four books, and spread them before her, reading the titles: “Phantasmagoria: Their Creation and Uses,” “Glyphs of Warding, vol. II,” “The Pit: A Dissenting View,” and “From Dream to Death and Back Again.”

Twilight sat quietly for several minutes, slowing leafing through the volumes’ pages--not reading, just absorbing the look and feel of the text and pictures and diagrams. She licked her lips nervously and took another long drink of cider.

Twilight kept returning to the tome on glyphs, with its detailed tables of runes and alien inscriptions. She glanced around furtively, then sent out pulses of dark magic from her horn, revealing hidden notes and marginalia on the stained and dog-eared pages. She furrowed her brow as several symbols caught her eye.

“Those look kind of like Reaper’s cutie mark--or marks, rather…” she mused.

She stood up and paced nervously, glancing back at the book, then at Reaper’s sword, mounted on the wall in its protective crystal case. She slowly approached the sword, chewing her lip. She lifted the long crystal box down from its shelf and returned to the cushions.

“I just need to see the blade--maybe there are markings there. I can pull the sword a few inches from its sheath if I’m careful…”

She closed her eyes and muttered a few syllables as her horn glowed pale violet and threw off faint sparks. The case opened slowly and silently, tipping forward as it did, spilling the sword out onto a pillow in front of Twilight.

She bit her lip, and concentrated on the blade, trying to pull it slowly free from its scabbard. The sword resisted being drawn.

Twilight glared and grunted with exertion: “How is this stuck? I didn’t cast any spell on the stupid sword, just the case!”

She stood up and hovered the sword in its dark, battered, bloodwine-colored scabbard in front of her face, and redoubled her efforts, until beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

Her concentration was suddenly shattered as Celestia stepped into the room: “Twilight! What are you doing?!”

Twilight’s head snapped up and she reflexively grabbed for the sword’s hilt with her right hoof as it dropped toward the floor.

The wave of bitter cold that instantly swept through the room drove Celestia back into the hall outside the main entrance to Luna’s chambers. She shook her head clear and dashed back into the room, her ears ringing with Twilight’s unearthly scream.

The purple alicorn now hovered several feet off the floor, her blank eyes glowing with dark blue fire, swirls of smoke and fog wrapping her like tattered black and grey rags. Her mouth was thrown open wide, a piercing cry of agony and anguish rising to the ceiling.

Celestia slowly approached, unsure how to help, if help were even possible, unsure if Twilight was dying or transforming. Twilight’s limp body dropped to the floor, wreathed in a thin, cold fog that quickly dissipated.

Celestia furrowed her brow and leaned down, looking for signs of life: “Twilight! Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Twilight stirred and tried to push up off the floor. She retched all over the dark-veined marble in front of her and collapsed.

Celestia used her magic to lift the stricken young Princess to a low couch, and pull a blanket over her: “Why, Twilight? Why did you touch that accursed thing? What did it do to you?”

Twilight swallowed heavily and opened one eye half-way: “Where is the sword?”

Celestia looked around, and located the blade, now free of its scabbard, lying a a couple of yards away: “It’s right over there on the other side of the cushions.”

Twilight nodded weakly: “Bring it to me, please.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Reaper told me not to touch it. Nopony should touch it!”

Twilight smiled wanly as a tear rolled down her cheek: “It’s fine. It’s my sword now…”

Luna and Reaper appeared just outside the edge of Canterlot, and began trotting toward the castle, when Reaper suddenly fell senseless to the ground. Luna knelt next to him in alarm, then was also overtaken by a wave of pain and disorientation that left her breathless. She stared blearily up at the tower housing her quarters.

“Twilight--what have you done?”

Bound
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Death Be Not Proud

Bound

Reaper and Luna stumbled into her chambers, and were met by an angry, distraught Celestia: “How could you have let this happen?!”

Reaper rubbed his muzzle and forehead in an effort to clear his lingering double-vision: “Considering I don’t really know what happened, I’m gonna have to get back to you with an answer.”

“She touched your damn sword!” Celestia spat, turning away from Reaper, trotting back to Twilight’s side.

Luna filled a cup with cider and walked unsteadily to her sister: “How did she come to touch it? Was it not secured?”

Celestia looked at the floor, where the open crystal case still lay on a sky-blue pillow: “I guess she must have opened the case. I don’t know if it this has anything to do with these evil books scattered around, but I’m furious at all three of you for sneaking around, messing in things better left untouched!”

Reaper sat down heavily on a padded stool: “I’m sorry for whatever may have happened to Twilight, but I’m not sure how this is my fault--or Luna’s! Your protégé’s a big filly! She can take care of herself!”

He glanced down at the empty, translucent receptacle: “Dammit, she’s even the one who cast the binding spell on that case! She clearly knew what she was doing!”

Twilight half opened an eye and spoke thickly, as though drugged: “They’re not to blame, Princess Celestia. I did know what I was doing; it was just an accident…”

Celestia turned back to Twilight: “How do you feel? Can you sit up? Let’s get that damn thing back under wraps--I’ll cast the binding spell, this time!”

Twilight pulled the naked blade close and pressed her ears flat to the side of her head.

Reaper paused mid-drink, and stood up: “Oh, shit.”

“Give me the sword, Twilight,” he said quietly, stepping up beside Celestia.

“I can’t.”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “You cannot or will not?”

“Both,” Reaper replied as he closed his eyes. “It belongs to her, now. She’s this world’s new Harbinger of Death.”

Celestia sat down heavily on a pile of cushions, tears welling in her eyes: “I don’t understand! How can she be you now?”

Reaper took a deep breath and sat down on the couch next to Twilight: “Because I emptied every iota of power I had left in order to resurrect and reconstitute Luna and Twilight.”

He looked back and forth between the three distraught Princesses: “Clearly that power did more than just repair and raise them--it suffused them and became a part of them.”

Luna nodded slowly: “That must be why I was affected from afar when she touched the sword.”

“Exactly,” Reaper replied, reaching for the blanket covering Twilight. “And now, let’s check this...”

He pulled the blanket off her legs and over her rump, exposing her left flank, and the black 死 emblazoned there.

Celestia gasped: “How--when did that get there?!”

Reaper sighed: “Probably as soon as she hit the floor and the fog settled, same as me. But you were distracted, or her tail was in the way, or a dozen little things that kept you from looking at her flank until it was too late, because then it was covered by a blanket.”

Twilight lifted her head wearily, and looked down at her new cutie mark: “Oh, no! I can’t go around with this mark! What will my friends think?”

Reaper shook his head: “It’s more complicated than that, Twilight.”

“How so?” asked Luna, retrieving the scabbard and levitating it to Twilight, who took it absentmindedly, while staring at her flank.

“She’s going to have to do my job, at least for the time being,” Reaper replied, rubbing his temples and refilling his cider cup.

“What? No! I can’t do that!” Twilight cried, staggering to her feet and looking left and right, as though searching for an escape route.
Her blanket fell away, and Celestia pointed at her now-exposed right flank: “Look!”

Twilight’s familiar, magenta six-pointed star flashed at the assembled ponies, and she stopped to look at it in confusion.

Reaper stood up, brow furrowed, and walked over behind Twilight: “Lift your tail, please.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, but complied, hesitantly lifting her tail high as Reaper leaned in for a closer look at her backside.

“Hmm,” he mused. “All your mare-parts are right where they belong--from teats to ass.” He picked up a silver serving tray and walked in front of her.

“Take a deep breath and try to fog this tray,” Reaper requested. “It’s still kind of chilly in here, so this should be a snap.”

Twilight looked around self-consciously, then breathed on the cold metal, leaving behind a smudge of condensation.

“But what does it all mean?” Luna wondered aloud

Reaper shrugged: “I don’t really know. Clearly Twilight is both pony and Harbinger--alive and something other than alive.”

Celestia frowned: “What does that imply for Luna, then?”

“Again, I don’t know,” Reaper replied. “I assume that had Luna touched the sword first, it would have bound to her instead.”

Luna took a step back in alarm.

Reaper smiled: “I doubt you have much to worry about at this point. I’m pretty sure the blade is now bonded to Twilight for the foreseeable future.”

“But-but I can’t kill anypony!” Twilight stammered, wide-eyed.

Reaper sighed: “You’re not going to have to actually reap anypony very often--that’s actually less than a third of the job. Most of the time I simply clean up the disassociated spirits of ponies who have died.”

“Impossible!” Celestia protested, standing up. “She’s the Princess of Friendship! She can’t become associated with death!”

“And I have no idea what to do!” Twilight said, chewing her lip, fidgeting with the sword. “I’ve never been trained! I seem to throw up or pee when I get terrified or see something awful!”

Reaper smiled lightly and gestured for Twilight to sit next to him: “I think you’ll find a lot of that is gone, now. And, unlike when I was given the job, you will have somepony to help.”

He looked up at Celestia: “And as for her being associated with death, it’s not like I wander around, tapping ponies on the shoulder in cafes!”

“Yes, I suppose,” Celestia replied, crossly, “but why is any of this necessary? Can’t we just hold on until you figure out how to recover your power?”

Reaper looked over at Luna, who was staring into a cup of cider: “Have you seen an uptick in nightmares over the last five days?”

She pondered the question for a minute: “Yes, now that you mention it, I have heard more ponies complaining of bad dreams lately.”

Reaper nodded: “And it’s just going to get worse.”

Celestia walked to the side table and filled a plate with pastries: “Why? What do nightmares have to do with your job”?

“It’s not only nightmares--those are just symptoms,” he answered, “you’re going to start seeing hauntings and paranormal disturbances soon.”

A look of comprehension suddenly broke across Twilight’s face: “Spirits! Disembodied spirits!”

Reaper nodded: “Correct--and the fact you recognize that shows you already have a rudimentary feel for the job. Ponies still die, even without my intervention--illness, accident, violence, what have you. Their spirits detach from their bodies and drift.”

He stood and walked toward the windows, squinting in the bright light, casting a strong, dark shadow on the floor.

“My job is largely one of clean-up,” he continued, “gathering up the spirits of the dead, escorting them on beyond the bounds of this world.”

Reaper turned back to the Princesses: “There are occasions where I have to use the sword to reap a spirit, but it’s not frequent. I usually show up at the moment of death, just to tidy-up.”

Celestia sat down with a defeated sigh, and looked at Reaper: “Fine. Let’s suppose that Twilight has to do the job for now. What are you going to be doing?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” he replied, pouring another cup of cider. “I have to figure out how to reclaim my power from Twilight and Luna, and I’m pretty sure nopony in Equestria’s ever studied that particular problem!”

Luna tipped her head as the now-forgotten ancient books, scattered nearby caught her eye: “I think you may be wrong on that count…”

Rookie
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Death Be Not Proud

Rookie

“So where do we begin?” Twilight asked.

Reaper stroked his chin: “Good question. I’ve been doing the job so long, I don’t really remember how I got started…”

Luna furrowed her brow: “You mentioned a rise in disembodied spirits, or hauntings, if you will. How are you able to sense such a presence?”

Reaper chewed his lip and stared at the ceiling for a minute: “Well, I feel a ripple or a disturbance--rather like someone slamming a door in a distant room. Then I just head for it, as though I had heard something.”

Twilight looked puzzled: “Are spirits aware they’re dead? Are they conscious? Do they tend to stay near the place of their death?”

Reaper unfolded his legs and sat up, summoning over another cup of cider: “Let me think--sometimes, sometimes and sometimes.”

Twilight rolled her eyes: “Not especially helpful!”

Reaper chuckled: “Agreed! Let me try to be a bit more specific. Most spirits are unaware of their passing, and are not conscious. As a result, yes--they tend to linger near their final location.”

“Then I would think we’d be able to find a suitable candidate, just by checking the Constable’s records, looking for anypony who may have died of an accident or violence or whatever within the last week,” Twilight observed.

Luna nodded: “That would stand to reason. Let me summon the Constable here with his records.”

She teleported away with a ‘pop’ and a flash of bluish-white light.

Twilight fidgeted with the sword: “Will I have to experience their death visions?”

“Yes,” Reaper replied, standing to stretch, “though many death visions are fairly low-key events: last moments with family, a fleeting vision of past loved-ones, things like that. Your vision, and Luna’s, are rare, since most ponies die fairly quiet deaths. Some really don’t have much of a vision at all.”

“Did you have a death vision? Do you remember it?”

Reaper closed his eyes briefly and shuddered, recalling the overwhelming, jarring mix of Aloe’s erotic attentions, and his violent battlefield death.

“Yes. I remember it vividly--I both lived it, then recorded it as I was being transitioned into my form as Death’s Harbinger. It was a unique position.”

“Not quite unique,” Twilight remarked bitterly. “I had to go through it, too!”

“I know,” Reaper said, apologetically, “and again, I’m sorry. But as Luna pointed out, that did allow you to break through and make a connection with the spirit realm.”

Twilight sighed: “I guess. I just wish there had been another way.”

“Sometimes you have to go back to the end of things in order to...summon a new beginning…” Reaper said, tailing off uncertainly.

Twilight cocked her head sideways: “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Not exactly wrong, just troubling. I’m sure I’ve heard those words before.”

Before he could ponder it further, Luna and Canterlot’s Constable, Copper Shield, appeared at the foot of the dais in a flash of light.

“I have explained our request to the good Constable, and he has brought along his log book covering the last week,” Luna said, escorting Copper Shield to the cluster of pillows and benches where Twilight and Reaper sat.

“Thanks for your help, Constable!” Twilight exclaimed, standing to greet the nervous, bronze-colored unicorn.

His eyes darted back and forth between Twilight and Reaper. He stepped to the side, and slightly behind Luna: “Sh-sure! Let’s take a look at my logs!”

Twilight moved closer, and Copper Shield began to sweat and breath rapidly, swallowing frequently. Reaper noticed, and stepped between them.

“Do you have record of anypony who’s died in the last week anywhere in the district?” he asked, trying to distract the clearly-agitated Constable.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, focusing on Reaper, avoiding eye contact with Twilight. “An old mare passed away three nights ago out past the edge of town. She lived in a small cottage off an old, unused railroad spur.”

Luna closed her eyes for a few moment, then nodded: “That must have been Blue Belle.”

“Yes, Princess, that’s right,” Copper Shield confirmed, sidling closer to Luna. “Her son found her body the next morning.”

“Was there any sign of foul play, or anything like that?” Twilight inquired, trying to move closer, finding herself blocked again by Reaper.

The Constable laid his ears down and shuddered slightly: “N-no. She was old and not in the best of health. The Coroner confirmed that she just passed away. The undertaker gathered her up that afternoon. The funeral’s set for this evening. Can I please go now?”

Twilight was visibly annoyed by the Constable’s strange attitude, and Reaper’s apparent rudeness: “I guess, though I may stop by later with some more questions. Some things just don’t add up!”

Reaper caught Luna’s eye, and he jerked his head toward the exit: “I’m sure the Constable can send his full report later; no need to trouble him further!”

Luna stepped between Twilight and Copper Shield: “Agreed! And I know you are a very busy pony, Constable. Please let the Captain of my Guard know when your report may be available.”

She quickly shepherded the obviously-relieved unicorn to the chamber’s and shut the door behind him.

Twilight snorted: “Hmpf! Something seems fishy! Did you see how nervous he was? I bet he’s covering something up!”

Reaper smiled indulgently: “Yes--he was covering up his terror!”

“He was clearly very uncomfortable in your presence, Twilight,” Luna added. “This is why Reaper and I tried to shield him from you, and conclude the interview post haste!”

Twilight looked at Luna with a puzzled expression: “What? Why would he be nervous? I wasn’t doing anything!”

Reaper nodded grimly: “You don’t have to do anything. Just standing there is enough for most ponies! Don’t you recall our first meeting, not even three weeks ago?”

Twilight sat down heavily on a padded bench: “Do I really inspire fear like that? This is awful! There’s no way I can ever be the Princess of Friendship, now!”

Reaper smiled sympathetically and sat down next to her: “Which is why it’s imperative we get you up-to-speed, so I can devote myself to figuring out how to get my power out of you--both of you--so we can all resume our normal duties.”

Twilight sniffled and wiped away a tear: “Then let’s get out to Blue Belle’s place, and make the best of this situation. I have a job to do, whether I like it or not!”

Reaper stood and offered his hoof to Twilight with a grin: “You’ve just summed-up my entire existence quite succinctly!”

Twilight and Reaper appeared in a flash outside Blue Belle’s cottage a minute later. Reaper shook his head and dragged his hoof down his muzzle: “Whether it’s Luna or you teleporting, it’s still really disorienting!”

Twilight smiled: “I’ll see if I can’t teach you the technique. It’s less disorienting when you do it for yourself!”

“Speaking of,” Reaper replied, “have you tried simply moving through space to a destination without teleporting? Or tried to phase?”

“No,” Twilight answered, raising an eyebrow. “I guess I could try that now…”

She faded and walked toward the cottage wall, passing through it without a trace.

Reaper nodded, and stepped to the entrance, opening the door and walking into the dark, stale space, his senses straining to detect anything out-of-the-ordinary.

Twilight stepped out of the shadows surrounding Blue Belle’s disheveled bed: “So what am I looking for?”

Reaper took a deep breath, and illuminated his horn, throwing shifting shadows across tables and chairs and counters as he slowly walked around the single, cluttered room.

“In cases of older ponies who just hit the end of the road, their spirits don’t tend to go far, nor are they agitated.” he explained. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised that Luna might have a bead on this one, too. Blue Belle likely died in a dream state.”

Twilight went back toward the bed: “So maybe her spirit just stayed with the bed?”

Reaper shook his head: “No, there’s always some drift--usually toward some cherished or long-used item. Look for heavily-worn items--stuffed toys, books, musical instruments…”

“A quilt?” Twilight interjected, lifting a faded, patched blanket from a rocking chair next to the bed.

Reaper regarded the quilt, running it across his hooves, sniffing and examining it closely: “I recognize this.”

Twilight took it back from Reaper and spread it across the bed. It lay still on the bed for a moment, then rose briefly as though it was covering a pony, before sagging flat again.

“This quilt belonged to Belle’s mother,” Reaper said. “She was wrapped in it when she died, some 30 years ago.”

“So what caused it to rise and take shape like that?” Twilight asked. “Belle’s spirit? Some effect of her mother, infused in the fabric?”

Reaper smiled: “Good questions! You were right the first time, but I like the direction you went with the follow-up question!”

He stepped forward and took the quilt from the bed, shaking it and holding it up for Twilight: “Lean in with your horn, and touch the fabric.”

She bent forward and pressed the tip of her horn against a pale, brick-red patch of fabric. It rippled briefly, and the air surrounding it shimmered with a pale silver light.

Twilight rocked back, startled: “I can see her spirit, her death vision, everything!”

Reaper nodded: “Time to take her onward, then. I can’t accompany you to the “Waiting Room” this time. That trick only works if we involve Luna and her dreamscape.”

Twilight shifted nervously and fidgeted: “I’m scared.”

Reaper smiled reassuringly: “Nothing to be scared of--it’s your “Waiting Room.” You have all the power and control there. She won’t be angry or hostile; in fact, she’ll be grateful that you’ve rounded her up and helped her conclude her life.”

“Alright,” Twilight said bravely, “wish me luck!”

She faded out, then disappeared altogether, leaving no trace. Reaper gently re-folded the quilt and set it back on the chair.

“You won’t need luck--you’re the Harbinger.”

Blue Belle
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Death Be Not Proud

Blue Belle

Twilight appeared in the “Waiting Room,” and scanned side to side, up and down, looking for any trace of Blue Belle. She furrowed her brow and snorted in frustration.

“Great! Day One on the job, and I lose my first spirit!” she said under her breath.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, concentrating on Blue Belle’s appearance, and the feel of her presence. She called out,
“Blue Belle! Where are you? It’s OK--you don’t have to hide!”

Suddenly a voice caught Twilight by surprise: “I wasn’t hiding. I’ve been here--well, somewhere--the whole time. I thought I was alone!”

Twilight opened her eyes and looked to her left. Roughly a yard away stood an old, pale-blue mare, about 80-years-old.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight apologized, “this is all kind of new to me!”

Blue Belle looked at her sympathetically: “It’s fine, dear. But can you tell me what happened? Where are we?”

Twilight waved her right hoof in a long arc, from right to left: “This is the Harbinger’s “Waiting Room.” This is where the spirits of ponies who have passed away stay briefly until the Harbinger guides them on beyond this world.”

Blue Belle furrowed her brow: “So, you’re saying I died? The last thing I remember was falling asleep.”

Twilight nodded: “Yes. You died in your sleep about three nights ago.”

“Have I been here the whole time since? I can’t really tell how much time has passed.”

“No--your unconscious spirit was just waiting in your cottage. We found it had settled in an old quilt.”

Blue Belle tipped her head to the side: “Quilt? Ah--you mean the one that my grandmother made. I guess it makes sense that I would end up there--I loved that quilt, and my grandmother. Will I see her now?”

Twilight frowned: “I--I don’t know. I don’t think anypony really knows what happens once our spirits leave this world. I don’t know your fate--that will be up to you to discover.”

Tears welled in Blue Belle’s large, slate-gray eyes: “Can I go back to say goodbye, or at least see my daughter--see that she’s OK?”

Twilight shook her head sadly: “No, I’m afraid that once you’ve left Equestria there’s no going back. I’m sure your daughter will be fine. Your cottage was cleared-out, and the quilt folded on the rocking chair. Clearly somepony had taken care with you and your things.”

Blue Belle sighed and nodded, wiping away a tear: “I’m sure you’re right. Maybe she’ll dream of me, and remember how much I loved her.”

Twilight smiled and put a foreleg across the old mare’s shoulders turning her slightly to the right: “I think I know somepony who can help with that!”

Blue Belle squinted slightly as though focusing on something unseen in the distance, then took a few tentative steps forward. She looked back over her shoulder to see Twilight, now standing in deep shadow, pointing onward.

Twilight gave a final wave, and watched as Blue Belle simply slipped through the world’s boundary, and vanished like a thread of smoke escaping through a chink in a cottage roof.

Twilight returned to the dark, quiet cottage, and found Reaper dozing in Blue Belle’s rocking chair. She looked at his face, and watched his eyes darting beneath his closed lids, as his chest rose and fell rapidly. She reached out and shook him gently.

“Wha-what happened? I’m not dead!” Reaper blurted out as he snapped awake and fought to focus on Twilight’s shadowy face.

Twilight took a step back in alarm and brought forth a pale violet glow from the tip of her horn: “No, you’re not dead! I guess you were sleeping, and probably dreaming.”

Reaper shook his head to clear out the disorientation, and ran a hoof across his eyes and down his muzzle: “So it would seem. I really don’t like dreaming!”

Twilight smiled: “Maybe you could get Luna’s help with that--it’s kind of her specialty!”

Reaper bit his lip and looked away: “I think she’s seen about all she needs to see of my dreams!”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember just before you touched my, er, the sword?”

“Yes.”

“Luna and I were at a spa, and the pony attending to me, shall we say, was administering an extra-special treatment.”

Twilight tipped her head sideways, puzzled: “Extra-special?”

Reaper pointed between his legs.

Twilight put a hoof to her mouth and blushed: “Oh!”

Reaper nodded: “And as I was approaching the, um, “end of the treatment,” as it were, I was suddenly overtaken by my millennia-old death vision.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow: “That must have been distracting!”

“In the extreme! And, as a bonus, Luna was able to perceive the vision just as clearly as any other pony’s dream.”

“Luna was with you?!”

“The spa was her idea.”

Twilight shook her head and grinned: “Of course it was.”

Reaper nodded: “It’s the only time she’s perceived my dreams.”

“Weird. Maybe she knows you were dreaming this time, too? Maybe she just had to “break through” once?”

Reaper shrugged: “Maybe. I guess I can ask her when we get back to the castle. But first: how did your first time resolving a spirit go?”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “OK, I think. I was able to guide Blue Belle on beyond the world--well, once I figured out where she was!”

Reaper grinned: “Yeah, the “Waiting Room” does take some getting used to!”

“I’m just concerned that I wasn't able to answer her final questions. There are so many questions that I can’t answer!” Twilight replied.

Reaper smiled: “You mean like “where am I going?” “What happens next?” “Will I meet so-and-so?””

Twilight nodded: “I hate not having answers to things! I’ve spent my whole life trying to answer as many questions as I can!”

“Get used to it, kiddo--nopony really knows the answers to those questions. That’s the realm of philosophy and religion, which is ironic, since no theologian or philosopher has ever been anywhere near the source of these questions, or their answers (if any)!”

Twilight frowned: “Have you never wondered what happens next and whatnot? I mean, you’ve spent thousands of years as close as anypony to the answers. Have you never tried to figure it out?”

Reaper shook his head: “Nope. And if you’re smart (which you are), neither will you. You are now a servant of timeless, eternal Fate and Entropy, and no answer you might ever find would make sense to your time-and-space-limited mind.”

He stood and headed toward the door: “Even I, after thousands of years of being unclouded by mortal concerns, only have the dimmest vision of the shape of things.”

Twilight followed Reaper out the door and secured it: “But I, as one of them, am concerned about the beings who live here. You came from another place. Maybe as the first Harbinger genuinely of Equestria, I can see things from a perspective you can’t.”

Reaper silently recalled his earlier conversation with Luna: “Believe me, Princess, it’s better if you don’t.”

Twilight furrowed her brow, but held her tongue.

Huddle
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Death Be Not Proud

Huddle

Reaper and Twilight entered Luna’s chambers, and found her curled on a large pillow, sipping chamomile tea, browsing From Dream to Death and Back Again.

Twilight poured herself a cup of cider and sat down next to Luna: “I’m surprised Celestia didn’t take these books away! She clearly thinks they’re evil.”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “These are my chambers, and my sister is loathe to interfere with my judgments here.”

Twilight shifted uncomfortably: “I’m sorry, Luna, I didn’t mean--”

“No offense taken, Twilight,” Luna interrupted with a gentle smile, “and you are correct to assume that Celestia was less-than-pleased to leave these tomes here. But I assured her that these may well prove valuable in solving our current conundrum.”

Reaper leaned forward to peruse the book before Luna, opened to a chapter titled “Can One Die in Truth From Within a Dream?” His eyes widened: “Especially this one! Where did you get these, Twilight?”

“Just before our final fight, I ran from Grey Thorn’s study into the large chamber, and dragged four books along,” Twilight explained. “I hid them under a rock next to the wall to keep them safe.”

Reaper grinned: “Then soft-shoed back down past the guards to get them! And Starswirl’s sneaky legacy continues!”

Twilight glared back: “Well, I couldn’t just let the Archivist or the archaeology team get them! We might never get to see them if they’d ended up in the Archivist’s hooves!”

“Precisely why I told Celestia I would keep them here under my watchful eye,” Luna interjected. “I, too, believe these volumes may hold the key to putting things aright.”

She turned to face Twilight with a knowing look: “And I already know the various deceptions all of us have used recently. I will not be so easily misled!”

Reaper put on a mock-hurt air: “Princess! I would never dream of deceiving you, especially not now that you seem to be able to get into my dreams!”

Luna rolled her eyes: “Speaking of, were you dreaming earlier today?”

Reaper shrugged.

Twilight looked pointedly at Reaper: “When I got back from the “Waiting Room” I found him asleep in a chair. He said he had been dreaming, but I guess you still can’t see into his dreams?”

Luna furrowed her brow: “It is as I suspected: I could tell you were dreaming, Reaper, but could not see inside the dream, again.”

Twilight tapped her chin: “Oh--what if you were to put him into a sleep state, now, and try to rewind back through his memories?”

Reaper glared at Twilight: “Enough with the rummaging in my dreams! You have several days’-worth of cleanup to begin, and I’m not going to be able to help you with almost any of it!”

Twilight’s ears drooped: “Wha-what? Why not?”

Reaper closed his eyes and took a deep breath: “Blue Belle worked out fine because she was close. Your next trip may well take you over a thousand miles from here. There’s no way we can teleport me that far, and I no longer have the ability to simply appear anywhere within moments. Only the Harbinger has that ability.”

“But what if I run into trouble?” Twilight asked uneasily. “How will I get help?”

“You won’t,” Reaper replied sternly. “I didn’t when I got the job, and you’ll figure it out, too.”

Twilight chewed her lip nervously.

Reaper rubbed his temples: “Look, if push comes to shove, you can pop back here and ask for advice, but in all honesty, as Harbinger, you’re equipped with all you need.”

“What if they’re conscious and try to run or fly or whatever it is spirits do?”

“Pursue them. You’ll find it easier to do a lot of this in your ethereal form, though you definitely want to be “in-body” on those occasions you have to actively reap a living pony.”

Twilight stood up and paced nervously, sipping at a cup of cider: “How often does that happen? I don’t think I can stab anypony!”

Reaper smiled sympathetically: “You recall the second Starswirl death vision? It’s just like that--no fuss, no muss, no pain. It’s simply the physical manifestation of separating the spirit from the body.”

“What if they resist or fight?”

Reaper shrugged: “I suspect you may actually be better equipped to deal with that right out of the gate than I was. You have real, combat-tested unicorn magic. My magic is fairly weak, and largely used for defense. It’s not really the Harbinger’s job to fight."

He poured himself a cup of cider and continued with a grin: “If I have a recalcitrant customer, I just wait ‘em out. They have to sleep sometime!”

Luna nodded: “Indeed they do!”

Twilight sighed and finished off her cider: “OK, I guess there’s really no choice. I just hope you two are able to figure this out fast!”

“Hey, that makes three of us!” Reaper chuckled, gesturing to the scrolls and books piled beside Luna. “I’m not a big fan of book-work, you know!”

“I assure you, Twilight,” Luna said, “Reaper and I will not rest until we have exhausted every lead and resource available to us!”

“And regardless of what I said earlier, I’m pretty sure you’ll have plenty to do within a 30-mile radius. Pop back in if you really need an assist or some advice,” Reaper added, walking over to Twilight, offering his hoof as she stood.

Twilight took his hoof and nodded gratefully: “Thank you. I’ll do my best!” She looked off in the distance as though homing in on a faint sound, and began to fade moments before teleporting away.

Reaper stood looking at the spot where Twilight had stood: “I know you will, kiddo.”

“So, where do we begin?” Luna asked, breaking Reaper’s reverie.

He blinked and turned to face Luna: “I really wasn’t kidding about hating book-work. I can read, but I doubt I’ve perused a total of a dozen pages in all the time I’ve been in this world. I never had any need, or frankly, interest.”

“Academic pursuits are not exactly my forte, either,” Luna admitted, “but we will have to make due with our limited experience. Perhaps together we are more than the sum of our parts!”

Reaper levitated the carafe of cider from the side table and refilled his and Luna’s cups: “I hope. I’ve spent hours racking my brain for clues from my encounter with Fate, or whatever it was, looking for a lead. And I’ve come up empty.”

“Is it possible that I might witness that encounter?” Luna asked, taking her cup.

Reaper shook his head: “No, it was a real thing, not a vision, not a dream. It took place in this plane, in our reality. I only have my memory of it, which is hazy, at best.”

Luna furrowed her brow and tapped the volume in front of her: “That is a pity. An earlier chapter in this book asserts that dreams of death have the power to transcend this reality in a way that normal dreams do not.”

Reaper shrugged: “I suspect this volume must have been written largely by Grey Thorn. It certainly plays into the strengths he showed within the dreamscape.”

Luna flipped through a few pages, distractedly: “Yes. It is somewhat disconcerting that he seems to have had a better grasp on certain dream elements than I do.”

Reaper smiled: “Not all that surprising, considering he was haunting your steps for nearly a thousand years, watching you in a way you never would have done yourself. Few ponies are that self-aware!”

“True,” Luna said, furrowing her brow as she watched Reaper drain his cup. “Likewise, he spent centuries haunting your steps, as well. This tome is the synthesis of of his observations.”

Reaper nodded: “So?”

“We have seen what he learned under Nightmare Moon’s unwitting tutelage,” Luna replied. “I wonder what he learned from you?”

“Aside from drilling into that book of his, I’m not sure how we’ll ever know,” Reaper responded, focusing on his empty cup for a moment.

Luna narrowed her eyes and tipped her head slightly: “I am not so sure about that…”

Reaper crumpled to the floor suddenly and heavily as Luna’s magic beam struck his temple, catching him completely by surprise. She refolded her legs, placed her cup aside, and settled-in comfortably, reaching out for Reaper with a silvery tendril.

“Let us see if we can catch you unguarded yet again!”

Who's In Charge Here?
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Death Be Not Proud

Who's In Charge Here?

Luna stood on a moonlit shore, cold waves lapping around her hooves, peering into an impenetrable fog. She could sense the presence of another, but could not see them. She began slowly walking away from the shoreline, toward a dark, looming shape in the distance.

She found a disturbed patch of sand with hoofprints leading away, and followed them, as they, too, seemed to lead toward the distant silhouette. She noted with some confusion that the prints changed from hoof-shaped to something else, something narrow and elongated, as she followed them.

Luna stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the lighthouse that now emerged from the fog. She heard the sound of something impacting above her, and suddenly a body of some sort plummeted down the cracked stone steps, and landed with a heavy thud in the sand at her hooves.

The body was not that of a pony, but it seemed familiar, even bereft of its coat, with no hooves, and no discernable muzzle. Luna recognized that the bleeding, dying figure must be Reaper.

Before she could fully process this image, her eye was caught by Nightmare Moon slowly descending the stairs, changing shape with each step. She, too, lost her coat, and hooves, standing erect, limbs contorting and changing shape.

“Why art thou here, Harbinger?” Luna heard her alter ego ask the stricken Reaper.

“I--I don’t know,” he gasped.

Nightmare Moon circled around to Reaper’s left side: “Thou art powerless now, except for…”

“Except for what? What power do I still possess?”

Luna shuddered as Nightmare Moon knelt next to Reaper and lapped at the blood coursing from his wound.

“Thou must unlock the power in thy blood, again,” Nightmare Moon said quietly. “Thou shouldst not have this blood--it is thy prison!”

Luna furrowed her brow and looked at the glowing glyphs embedded in the sand, drinking up Reaper’s blood.

Reaper’s eyes began to lose focus and glaze over: “I don’t understand.”

“Thou didst once. Seek again thy end--summon a new beginning!”

Luna leaned in close to watch Reaper pull Nightmare Moon’s face from his neck, and press his mouth passionately against hers. Nightmare Moon’s shining, red-tipped horn fell off. Luna tasted blood.

Luna stood up and prepared for the dream to dissolve, but heard Nightmare Moon speak instead: “Greetings, True Sister! Have you come to divine our friend’s dream?”

Luna stepped back, startled: “How is this possible? This dream is done, and I have mastery over the dreamscape!”

Nightmare Moon leaned back down to return Reaper’s kiss, her long, glossy black hair spilling over his tan face: “Mastery you may have, but this dream is not done.”

Luna squinted at the fog and saw the shape of a cloaked stallion hovering silently nearby.

“So he yet dreams,” Luna said, watching her shape-shifted alter ego working her mouth down Reaper’s chest.

Nightmare Moon stopped and met Luna’s gaze: “Indeed he does. But he no longer controls it--I do. Let us see if we can finish what Aloe began…”

Luna stepped forward, seeking to pull Nightmare Moon away: “He would not wish that.”

Nightmare Moon pulled aside Reaper’s tattered loincloth, and laid her head in his lap, tongue flickering along the inside of his thighs: “You know that to be false, True Sister!”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Yes. But still, I shall honor his request.” Her horn began to glow.

Nightmare Moon frowned, leaned forward, and pointed toward the shape emerging from the fog: “Why do you not ask him yourself? Better yet, take the opportunity to slake your own repressed desires!”

Luna turned away from other Reaper toward pony Reaper: “You must master yourself, Reaper. This is still your dream. Nightmare Moon seeks to twist it to her own ends.”

Reaper looked down at his other self lying in the sand, now alive, with his fingers entwined through Nightmare Moon’s hair as her head rested on his thigh.

“Why are you here?” he asked Luna.

“I cast you into a sudden sleep in an effort to plumb the depths of your recent dreams. It seems I found your dream from yesterday morning.”

“How can both you and Nightmare Moon be here, and have control? Isn’t she you?”

Luna looked away, embarrassed: “I confess, I have never encountered a dream state such as this. When Grey Thorn sent me into a dream, it was merely Nightmare Moon and me, talking to, well, myself, as it were. In that case I was able to finally exert ultimate control. This is different…”

Reaper looked down at Nightmare Moon and his other self: “This body is familiar, but I don’t recognize the location. There’s something not right about this lighthouse.”

Nightmare Moon ran her fingernails up and down other Reaper’s chest: “Really? Out of all you see, it is the lighthouse that strikes you as most incongruous?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Clearly you don't belong here, though you have taken the correct form, I’ll give you that.”

“And yet you and my True Sister pretend that this form displeases you. Fine. Let us find a shape more suited to this situation.”

Nightmare Moon pressed her dark, slate-colored hands against other Reaper’s hips and pushed up, arching her back and vigorously shaking her long, glittering, blue-black hair, obscuring her face.

The dark hair cleared away, revealing shoulder-length, sky-blue hair, held back by a white headband, framing a pale, round face.

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Have you now recast Aloe in this world’s form?”

Nightmare Moon/Aloe smirked, and lowered her face back between other Reaper’s legs, taking his member into her mouth.

Pony Reaper suddenly shuddered, and pricked up his ears: “I can feel that! How’s that possible?”

Luna tipped her head sideways and looked beneath pony Reaper’s belly: “An interesting question, since in this dream, you are not a true stallion. You have retaken your proper form.”

Reaper glared at Nightmare Moon/Aloe, then turned to Luna: “End this! The very entangling I feared is happening, and I don’t have control of this dream!”

Luna tipped her head down and pointed her glowing horn at the forms sprawled on the sand: “Enough! I began this, and I will end it!”

Suddenly, the body covering other Reaper’s lower half became a pale violet pony. Twilight pulled her mouth away from other Reaper’s shaft and ran the back of a hoof across her mouth with a grin.

Dream Twilight slid her body up the length of other Reaper’s legs and torso, grinding her pelvis against his groin and arching her now-winged back, before straddling him mid-chest, and standing erect on her hind legs.

“No,” she said, spreading her wings, “let me end it!”

Reaper’s sword suddenly fell from under dream Twilight’s left wing. She caught it between her front hooves, and with a single stroke, drove the blade through other Reaper’s chest, pinning him to the ground.

Pony Reaper staggered sideways and fell amid the glyphs, which were glowing again, brighter than before. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he dissolved away like a mist, leaving Luna alone with his impaled otherworldly form.

She sighed heavily and forced herself awake.

Play It Straight
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Death Be Not Proud

Play It Straight

“What in Tartarus was that all about?” Reaper asked as he sat up unsteadily and shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

Luna chewed her lip: “I do not know. It reminded me in some ways of the vision we shared where Starswirl had been dreaming of me in the past, and I was merely observing it from a distance. I had little control over your dream either, and actually seemed to be caught-up in it.”

She magically retrieved a cup of water from her side table, and sipped at it unsteadily: “I could taste your blood when Nightmare Moon bent down to lick at your wound.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Just as I could feel her attentions, even though I was disembodied by that point. I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Luna replied. “It seems we are connected in a way I have never before experienced.”

Reaper rubbed his chin for a moment. A look of comprehension suddenly flashed across his face: “By Celestia’s holy teats--that’s it!”

Luna started, nearly choking on her water: “What?”

“We’re literally connected--half my power is now inside you! When we interact inside a vision or dream, we’re getting all mixed-up. And it doesn’t help that Nightmare Moon clearly continues to exist as some sort of semi-autonomous entity!”

Luna’s ears drooped: “Yes, it appears her presence is still strong within me. I had hoped that part of me had been put to rest, but the events of last week and today say otherwise.”

Reaper stood and began to pace nervously: “Dammit, Luna, if we can’t get this resolved soon, I’m going to have to go into some sort of exile! I can’t keep having my dreams invaded by Nightmare Moon!”

Tears welled in Luna’s eyes: “I know! I, too, am tormented by my inability to control these dark impulses! I thought that resolving the Tantabus would end her influence, but Nightmare Moon persists, and the sudden infusion of your power has strengthened her!”

Reaper rubbed his hoof down his muzzle: “Alright, let’s look at this rationally. You saw the dream and heard the words you-slash-Nightmare Moon spoke.”

Luna nodded: “Your blood is a key. But is that literal, or a metaphor?”

“Probably both,” said Twilight, suddenly emerging from the shadows.

Reaper stumbled backwards in alarm, and sat heavily on a bench.

Twilight grinned at him: “See? I told you it’s creepy!”

“True enough!” he replied. “But what did you mean by ‘both?’”

She walked between Luna and Reaper and settled onto a large cushion: “I think your blood is literally enchanted, and it also represents your incarnated form.”

Luna nodded: “You yourself have used it to get past some of Grey Thorn’s old wards.”

“And it was making the glyphs in the sand glow,” Twilight added.

Luna and Reaper’s eyebrows shot up simultaneously.

“You could see his dream?” Luna asked.

Twilight blushed lightly: “Yes. I was finishing up with an old stallion’s spirit in Fillydelphia, when I was suddenly overtaken by a vision. I had to sit down and let it play out before returning here.”

Reaper nodded slowly: “And baby makes three!”

Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but Reaper cut her off: “No offense, Princess! I simply meant that since the other half of my power resides in you, it makes sense that all three of us would experience my dream, once it had been forced out into the open.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Twilight--did you feel any sensations from within his vision? For instance, when your dream form rubbed her loins against his?”

Twilight’s faint blush burned a sudden crimson: “N-no! I mean I saw that, but I didn’t experience anything like you two did!”

Luna tapped the book in front of her: “Hmm. You were not originally a part of the dream. I suspect that your appearance was simply an apparition of Nightmare Moon, in much the same way as the otherworldly Aloe was.”

“I guess I can see my blood acting as a spell component,” Reaper said, standing and walking to the side table. “But I’ll have to defer to you spell-casting-types to unravel it further than that.”

“Did either of you get a good look at the glyphs in the sand?” Twilight asked.

Luna nodded: “I assume you believe them to be integral to this puzzle?”

“Yes,” Twilight replied. “They looked like some of the symbols inscribed on the cracked mirror down in Grey Thorn’s chambers.”

Reaper took a swig of cider, and raised an eyebrow: “Sounds like we need to take a little trip downstairs.”

“I agree,” Luna said, “but let us consult first with my sister. I do not wish to go behind her back.”

Twilight nodded: “I don’t think it should be too hard to convince her how important this is. I’ll get her.”

She teleported away with a ‘pop’ and violet flash, as Reaper walked slowly back toward the low couch by Luna’s cushions.

Luna settled slightly, and looked up at Reaper: “So what are we hoping to find by examining Grey Thorn’s mirror? I do not believe it is directly connected to the dreamscape…”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I’ll bet you Twilight’s right, and the glyphs on the mirror match the glyphs from my dream for some reason. I doubt it’s random.”

The bright white glow of Celestia’s teleport caught Reaper and Luna’s attention, and they stood to meet her: “Greetings sister! Has Twilight explained our situation?”

Celestia nodded as Twilight emerged from behind her and moved forward to join her companions: “Yes--you believe Reaper’s dream is somehow connected to the second mirror down in Grey Thorn’s lair.”

“Right,” Reaper replied. “Twilight believes my blood has an actual connection to the glyphs on the mirror’s frame. We need to see if she’s right, and if so, what it all means.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “I’m concerned about anything that has to do with that monster! How do we know it’s safe?”

“I understand,” Reaper agreed, “it is a bit risky, but I’ve been through it; it’s some kind of portal. It leads to a zone similar to my “waiting room.” The real trouble is, we don’t know how it’s connected to my dream.”

“If at all,” Luna added.

“If at all,” Reaper concurred, turning toward Twilight. “But you think there is a connection.”

Twilight nodded: “I saw the glyphs in the sand which matched the ones on the mirror. The dream glyphs responded to your blood. I’m sure there will be some kind of effect on the mirror.”

Celestia looked between the three ponies before her with concern: “Your interactions with Grey Thorn and his creations have led to nothing but trouble for everypony! I’d feel better if the archaeology team and my best spell researchers took the time to thoroughly investigate this artifact first, before any of you risk yourselves further.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “The risk lies in waiting, Princess. Already the three of us have felt our interconnectedness growing, and I fear that not only will that get more pronounced, but the longer we wait, the harder it will be to extract my powers from Luna and Twilight.”

He turned toward Twilight and pointed dramatically: “She might be stuck with this burden forever!”

Celestia closed her eyes and sighed: “Very well, but I expect you to report back to both me and the Chief Archaeologist just as soon as you’ve discovered anything--no taking unnecessary chances!”

Luna nodded: “This is why we involved you now, sister--in order to be above-board, and seek your guidance.”

Twilight also nodded as Celestia smiled weakly: “I don’t know much use my guidance will be in this situation--I just want you to stay safe. Enough ponies have been hurt!”

“And we’ll do our best to see to it that no more are hurt going forward,” Reaper replied, stepping closer to Luna.

He looked back and forth between Luna and Twilight: “And now, if you two ladies are ready, let’s head down below and see if we can’t crack Grey Thorn’s blood riddle.”

The room was brightened for a moment by twin flashes, leaving Celestia alone.

“Please don’t do anything rash, little sister…”

The Mirror
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Death Be Not Proud

The Mirror

The three companions appeared at the foot of the scaffold, surprising the two ponies--one pegasus and one unicorn--standing guard at the bottom of the entrance hole.

Twilight turned to the guards: “It’s OK--we’re here with Celestia’s permission. We’re going to check out the mirror in the back chamber of Grey Thorn’s lair.”

The black-clad unicorn and white-clad pegasus looked at each other nervously, then at Luna, who nodded her assent: “I understand your reticence, however we are on the up-and-up…”

“This time,” Reaper interjected, with an embarrassed grin.

Twilight rolled her eyes: “Yes, this time! Would one of you like to escort us to the chamber, or can we go on now?”

The pegasus furrowed her brow, but stepped aside: “I’d just as soon not even be in this damn hole! I sure don’t want to get any closer to that creepy lair!”

Luna nodded: “Very wise of you, Sergeant. None of us have especially fond memories of it, either, but we have business there that cannot wait.” She turned and began to walk into the dimly-lit passage beyond.

Twilight thanked the guards, who trembled slightly and shied away as she stepped toward them. Reaper observed their reactions with a cocked eyebrow, then followed Twilight into the gloom.

Luna stepped through the partially melted back wall of the library space into the large, rough chamber beyond, looking at the dark stains on the floor where she and Twilight had met their ends. She shuddered, and turned towards the alcove containing Grey Thorn’s ancient mirror.

Twilight stepped up beside Luna, as Reaper cantered across the scorched, rubble-strewn floor to speak briefly with the two archaeologists who were cataloging samples along the back wall.

Luna squinted at the various glyphs and runes chiseled into the frame surrounding the cracked and dusty mirror: “I recognize at least four of these from the sand in Reaper’s dream, but I have no idea what they mean.”

Twilight nodded: “I believe these are Shoiman’s Glyphs. They’re referred to in one of the books I brought out--Concerning Pony Longevity, I think--but I haven’t found a definitive source or key for them. I’m afraid it’s probably lost.”

She looked sadly over her shoulder toward the opening back into the blasted, burned-out library beyond.

“I feel your sorrow for the loss of all those books, Twilight,” Luna remarked, “but I suspect we have enough to work this out like a picture puzzle, without actually needing to know the real meaning of any given symbol.”

Reaper stepped up next to Twilight: “So, have you two figured it all out? I mean you’ve had at least two minutes!”

Twilight rolled her eyes: “Hardly, but at least we agree on the four symbols we both recall, and I think I recognize two more.”

Reaper stepped closer to the mirror and peered intently at its ash-grey frame: “So which ones? The ones at twelve o’clock, three, five and eight o’clock--more or less?”

Luna and Twilight nodded in tandem, as Twilight added: “And I think I recall the ones clustered on either side of the top glyph.”

Reaper stared for a moment at the indicated symbols: “Maybe. Is there anyway to recapture some of the dream?”

Luna tapped her chin: “Perhaps if we were to touch horns, we might spark a shared memory.”

She leaned in toward Twilight, and was joined by Reaper from the other side. Their three horn tips touched.

Pandemonium broke loose instantly as the sword on Twilight’s hip flared like a bright crimson torch, and both Luna and Twilight went rigid, their eyes thrown wide and sightless, flickering with otherworldly flames.

Twilight’s 死 cutie mark glowed a brilliant gold, and a blast of energy radiated from the two alicorns, staggering Reaper, who began blindly staggering backwards as he felt his life energy being pulled rapidly from him. He stumbled into the mirror, blacked-out, and fell through.

Luna came to first, coughing and sputtering on the dust-covered floor before the mirror. She lifted her head and peered about blearily, noting Twilight slumped off to one side, propped against a rocky outcropping, breathing heavily, a thin, cold mist rising from her coat.

“Twilight!” She whispered hoarsely. She cleared her throat and sat up unsteadily. “Twilight! Wake up, please! Are you hurt?”

Twilight’s eyes fluttered, then opened, but refused to focus: “I think I’m OK...What happened?”

“It appears we discovered yet another unintended consequence of Reaper’s power having been used to resurrect us,” Luna said, rising uncertainly on wobbly legs.

Twilight pushed away heavily from the wall, and slumped forward for a moment, before righting herself, and staggering upright: “I’m getting real tired of these discoveries!”

Luna looked across the chamber toward the back wall, and noted with alarm the two archaeologists, collapsed on the floor: “I think others may well share your dislike--at a minimum!”

Twilight furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to speak, when she, too, caught sight of the stricken ponies, and began unsteadily, but quickly trotting across the chamber.

“Oh, sweet Celestia, no!” she cried out as she came upon their still bodies, “I killed them!”

Luna stumbled next to Twilight, and leaned in close to one of the researchers, a middle-aged, cyan blue earth pony named Star Bloom. She tipped her head sideways and laid her ear against his chest.

“He lives,” she said at last, “though he is in a deep, dreamless swoon. If he does not roust of his own accord within an hour, I may need to see if I can reach him through his sleeping mind.”

Twilight wiped away a tear, and nodded toward Star Bloom’s companion, a young unicorn intern named Joy: “What about her?”

Luna moved to Joy’s side and repeated the gestures she had used with Star Bloom: “She is younger and more vital. She should awaken shortly.”

Twilight sat down, and let out a sigh of relief: “Oh, thank Celestia they’re OK!”

Luna nodded: “So it appears, though to be honest, as the Harbinger, could you not already tell they were not dead?”

Twilight blinked slowly, then blushed: “Oh. Of course.”

Luna smiled softly: “It is alright, Twilight--as Reaper might say, it was a “rookie mistake.””

Twilight chuckled, then frowned: “Speaking of, where is Reaper?”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “That is an excellent question! He was clearly standing with us when we touched horns. He must have been stunned, as these two were, or driven back by...oh, no!”

She turned in alarm and ran toward the mirror alcove, her wings spreading slightly. She skidded to a stop in front of the mirror just as Twilight teleported to meet her.

“You don’t think he fell through, do you?” Twilight cried, bending down to look for marks or clues on the floor below the mirror.

Luna tipped in close to the frame and noted a tuft of grey-and-brown hairs snagged in a crack: “I do not think there’s any question about it--he must have gone through!

Twilight shuddered and slumped down to the floor, staring up at the dull, dust-streaked surface of the mirror: “What are we supposed to do now? We needed his blood in order to test our theory about controlling or focusing this thing!”

Luna nodded: “True, though as Reaper noted, he has been through this particular portal before, and returned intact from his time in the–what did he call it?–Nexus.”

“Sure,” Twilight replied, “but he was with Grey Thorn, who clearly knew how to work this artifact. We have no idea, and I doubt he does either!”

Luna bit her lip: “If he yet lives. He was much closer than the researchers yonder. What if…”

“No!” Twilight blurted out, “Don’t even think that! He has to still be alive! He has to! I can’t spend the rest of eternity with this damnable power!” She began to weep.

Luna sat down next to the distraught young alicorn, and wrapped a wing around her shoulder: “We will figure it out, Twilight! And Reaper is made of tougher stuff than most ponies. I feel he is still alive, somewhere!”

Twilight sniffled: “But where?”

Reaper slowly regained consciousness, and took stock of his breathing, his heartbeat, his general sense of physicality. He took a deep breath (at least it felt like a deep breath) and willed his eyes to open.

They opened little by little, revealing him to be lying on his side on an endless, featureless grey plain.

“Well, this seems familiar,” he said. “I just never figured I’d be seeing it from this side of the equation. I wonder when Twilight’s going to show?”

He closed his eyes tightly to stave off a wave of vertigo as he tried to sit up. He willed them open again as he felt himself orient vertically, as best as he could tell.

He looked up and around him, and finally focused unblinkingly on the countless iridescent orbs arrayed above him.

“Oh, fuck.”

The Fluids of Life
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Death Be Not Proud

The Fluids of Life

Twilight stared at the mirror’s frame, glancing occasionally at the thick tome she had brought along, comparing glyphs in stone to notes on parchment.

“This book comes so close to revealing some of this!” she said, furiously flipping between two pages.

Luna paced nearby, deep in thought, eyes closed.

“Are we sure the doctor didn’t take any of his blood?” Twilight asked.

“I do not believe so,” Luna replied. “He was hesitant to let her do anything more than poke and prod a bit, and check for breaks and sprains.”

Twilight glared at the tuft of Reaper’s hair still caught in the mirror’s cracked stone surround, then at the book before her.

“Why couldn’t he have cut himself a little instead?” she growled, stabbing the page with a hoof. “Just a bit of his--what did Grey Thorn call it?--“life’s prime fluid” would be enough!”

Twilight let out an exaggerated sigh, stood up, and walked behind the mirror.

Luna stopped pacing and slowly opened her eyes: “What did you say, Twilight? Something about fluids?”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied, “he makes occasional reference to “life’s fluids” and their various dark properties. Obviously blood was on top of that list.”

“The blood! The seed! The tears! The fluids of life!” Luna muttered as she tapped her lower lip with a hoof.

Twilight poked her head around from behind the mirror: “I’m sorry--what was that, Luna?”

“I have heard that term recently,” Luna answered, “and I believe I may have a lead. I must go for a bit, but I will return shortly.”

Twilight stepped back behind the mirror and craned her neck to get a better look at the top of the frame: “Hey, if you think you have anything that can help, take all the time you need! I’m not going anywhere!”

Luna nodded, then trotted briskly through the chamber’s opening, avoiding the use of teleport until she reached the bottom of the scaffold at the catacomb’s exit.

Luna appeared with a flash on the outskirts of Ponyville a minute later, then in front of Aloe and Lotus Blossom’s spa.

She opened the door, stepped in, and called out, “Aloe? Lotus? Are you available to speak for a moment?”

Lotus Blossom’s sky-blue head appeared from around a corner: “Princess Luna! What a pleasure to see you again so soon! How can we be of service?”

Luna walked to the spa pony, and guided her back to the private room she typically used. They entered the room, and Luna shut the door behind them.

“My friend and I visited you, mid-day, three days ago, yes?” she asked.

Lotus furrowed her brow in thought for a moment: “That seems right--why?”

“I believe my friend may have left something behind--something potentially valuable.”

Lotus nodded: “Sure! Well, we have a lost-and-found that I can check…”

Luna shook her head: “No, it will not be there. I assume it would be, um, entangled in the towel he used at the end of our session.”

Lotus looked puzzled: “His towel?”

“Yes. I realize this is a long-shot. Have you already sent your linens out to be laundered?”

“Normally they’d have been picked up yesterday afternoon, but our laundry mare’s sick. I was just about to do a load of towels by hoof to tide us over ‘til tomorrow.”

Luna perked up her ears: “So the linens from the day before yesterday are still unlaundered?”

“Right. Let me have Aloe bring the bags in here.”

Lotus stepped to the door, opened it and leaned into the hallway: “Hey, Aloe--please bring the linen bags in here. Princess Luna needs to look for something!”

Aloe’s voice came down the hall, muffled by distance: “I’m already taking care of it! We really need some towels!”

Luna’s eyes widened in alarm, and she teleported to the small utility room where Aloe was filling a sink with soapy water and used towels.

“Stop, please!” Luna pleaded. “I need to examine the towel used by my friend the other day, before you immerse it in water--if it is not already too late!”

Aloe stepped away from the sink in surprise, as her sister entered the room, and pulled one of the laundry bags open, spilling its contents on the floor.

“Do you happen to remember the color of the towel, Princess?” Lotus asked.

“Why?” Luna queried.

Aloe held up one of the wet towels from the sink: “We separate them by color before washing. These white towels get the warmest water, for instance.”

Luna nodded: “I see. Let me attempt to recall what towel he had.”

She closed her eyes for a minute as the scene of Reaper’s sudden, unbidden climax played out in her mind.

“I believe it was blue. A dark blue.”

Lotus glanced at the pile of towels she had already dumped out and shook her head: “Not this bag--probably the first bag in line. We had just received fresh laundry that morning, so his towel would likely be among the oldest used.”

Aloe stepped to the corner and pulled out a bag, emptying it onto an adjacent counter. It contained a mix of mostly blue and mint-green towels, a few robes and a set of sheets.

Luna used her magic to rapidly sort through the pile while the spa ponies swept the unwanted linens and towels aside.

Aloe cocked her head to one side as Luna began sifting through the remaining blue towels one at a time.

“You said he had “entangled” something,” Lotus remarked. “Was it a chain or piece of jewelry? I don’t recall seeing anything like that on him.”

“No, nothing like that,” Luna answered, leaning forward to closely examine each towel, holding them up and sniffing at them.

The sisters looked at each other in confusion as Luna continued her odd search through the mass of slightly-damp towels.

Suddenly her nostrils flared and her eyes went wide: “This must be it!”

Aloe leaned in before Luna could pull the towel away, and sniffed curiously at the light-colored stain streaking its surface. Her eyebrows jumped, and she turned to Luna with a puzzled expression.

“Why do you want this, um, material, if I might ask?”

“I do not have time to explain,” she replied, turning to leave the room, “but this may be the only thing we have that can rescue him from certain exile.”

Lotus looked more confused than ever, but nodded graciously: “Take anything you need, Princess! We are at your service!”

Luna looked over her shoulder with a smile as she stepped into the hallway, prepared to teleport: “I appreciate that! Thank you for your assistance, and send my get well wishes to your laundry mare!”

She disappeared with a ‘pop’ and blue flash a moment later.

Luna re-entered the dimly-lit alcove, and found Twilight poring over Glyphs of Warding, vol. II while glancing up at the mirror and furiously scribbling in a small, red notebook.

“Why couldn’t I have accidentally hauled that reference on Shoiman’s Glyphs along when I hid in here?” Twilight mused angrily. “Would have been a lot more useful that that stupid book on phantasmagoria!”

“There is no way you could have known, Twilight,” Luna replied, stepping beside her, towel in-tow.

“I know,” Twilight said, dejectedly, looking up at her elegant indigo companion, “I just wish we had more to go on!”

Luna smiled and brought the blue towel around in front of her as Twilight stood: “I believe I may be able to help with that!”

Twilight looked at the towel with furrowed brow: “A towel? I don’t understand.”

Luna nodded: “Your use of the expression “life’s prime fluid” made me realize we might have access to Reaper’s blood after all--in a way.”

“In a way?”

Luna turned back toward the chamber’s exit: “Follow me.”

The two alicorns entered the burned-out library, and approached Grey Thorn’s partially-melted, greenish work bench, in the sunken central area.

Luna spread the wrinkled, stained blue towel out on a relatively flat spot: “This stone, or whatever it is, is remarkable. Even after my sister’s most intense assault, it still remains, largely intact.”

Twilight stepped up next to Luna: “Yeah, I hoped to get a chance to examine it closer sometime--maybe get a sample.”

“Speaking of,” Luna said, “do you have water in your saddle bags?”

“Sure,” Twilight answered, lifting out a stoppered bottle from her bag, setting it on the bench. “What did you mean by ‘sample?’”

Luna removed the stopper and extracted a small sphere of water from the bottle: “You are aware, I assume, that all our fluids are ultimately derived from our blood, yes?”

Twilight nodded as Luna dropped the water on one of the light-colored stains, smeared across the towel’s surface. She used her magic to agitate and lift the cloudy, now-liquid stain free.

Twilight leaned in, peering at the pale, irregular blob hovering above the dark towel: “So what the hay is that?”

“This is Reaper’s semen.”

Twilight’s eyebrows shot up, and she wrinkled her nose: “How in Equestria did you get that?”

“That is a private matter that I am not at liberty to discuss at this time,” Luna answered. “Suffice it to say, we are unlikely to do any better than this for the foreseeable future.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow: “Alright, but what do we do with it now? Can we just treat it like his blood and see if the glyphs respond?”

“Have you made an attempt to activate or awaken any of the glyphs with your own blood?” Luna asked.

Twilight frowned thoughtfully: “No. I wonder what would happen?”

“As do I,” Luna replied. “I also wonder what effect my blood might have.”

“Your blood? But you’re not a virgin!”

Luna rolled her eyes: “Hardly. But I suspect that’s not really the point this time. You and I are not the same ponies we were a few weeks ago. I know you feel the changes even more keenly than I.”

Twilight nodded slowly: “You think Reaper is in our blood, in a way?”

“His power is, at any rate. Let us see if we cannot concoct a suitable substitute for his blood using our own and the only thing we have left of him.”

Twilight sighed: “Great. Time to open another vein!”

Luna smiled: “I agree--it is unpleasant, but necessary. I shall go first. Please hold this.”

She hovered the glistening drop toward Twilight, who took it gingerly with her own magic, enabling Luna to lance her inner wrist with a thin magic blade, spilling a small pool of blood on the bench’s speckled, gray-green surface.

Twilight passed Reaper’s semen back to Luna, then lifted a quill and ink from her bag. She jotted a black ‘L’ above the puddle of Luna’s blood.

“My turn,” she said, wincing as she cut through her hide, dripping blood on the workbench next to the ‘T’ she had penned. She scrawled an ‘R’ next to that.

Luna placed the pale, sticky globule down below the ‘R’, and sucked lightly at her cut until it stopped bleeding.

Twilight set her quill and ink bottle down toward the end of the bench, alongside her red notebook: “Now what?”

Luna closed her eyes and chewed her lower lip for a moment: “Well, how many possible combinations are there of our three fluids?”

Twilight pondered for moment, then scribbled down several lines in her notebook: “There’s each one separately, yours and mine mixed, his and yours mixed, mine and his mixed, and all three mixed--so, seven.”

Luna nodded: “Clearly we have more than enough blood, and Reaper did deposit rather a lot of himself in this towel, so I hope we have enough to work with.”

“I have no idea,” Twilight said, shrugging. “I know it only took a little bit to activate to other glyphs I’ve encountered. I hope this mirror works the same way.”

Luna took a deep breath: “Only one way to find out.”

She leaned forward and dipped the tip of her horn in her blood. Twilight stained the tip of her horn with her own blood, as well, slung a saddlebag across her hip, and joined Luna in the mirror alcove.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter who starts,” Twilight remarked. “Why don’t you go first while I take notes?”

Luna nodded and stepped forward, tracing each glyph with her blood, clockwise from the top of the frame. Three glyphs glowed a faint blue for a minute after the application.

Twilight stepped forward and peered intently at the glyphs: “I guess I never really noticed, but it’s almost like the stone absorbs the blood on some of these artifacts. Weird.”

“Fortuitous in this case,” Luna remarked, taking up the quill and notebook, “as it allows us to start each test fresh.”

“True,” Twilight said as she repeated Luna’s top-down, clockwise pattern. Both alicorns noted that six symbols glowed a pale magenta in the presence of Twilight’s blood.

Luna returned the book and quill to Twilight and turned toward the exit: “I will retrieve a sample of Reaper’s contribution.”

She returned a few moments later with a small, shiny teardrop shape hovering in front of her: “Please take this from me and apply it to my horn.”

Twilight set her writing materials down and applied the drop to the tip of Luna’s horn.

Luna stepped forward and repeated the application pattern again, remarking, “His semen is somewhat more difficult to administer. It clearly does not flow like blood.”

Twilight shrugged as she watched for any reaction from the glyphs: “I’ll take your word for it!”

Luna withdrew from the mirror: “It appears that only this one small symbol at the bottom was affected.”

Twilight jotted down the shape and location of the activated glyph, then turned to Luna: “So it’s combo time, I guess.”

Luna stared distractedly at her cracked, dust-blurred reflection for a moment before replying, “Yes. Please mix a bit of our blood together and bring it back.”

Twilight returned a minute later: “I felt a surge of something when I touched your blood with my horn. Did you feel a surge when you touched, er, Reaper’s…”

“The word you seek, Twilight, is “semen;” you needn’t be so squeamish. And, no--I detected no power or presence or anything.”

Twilight furrowed her brow and worked her way through the glyphs, progressing as before, until each one glistened with a faint line of alicorn blood.

This time a new arrangement of glyphs glowed, sparkling a vibrant green. The effect lasted more than a minute longer than previous applications.

Twilight stepped back and looked over Luna’s shoulder as she recorded the locations and effects of their co-mingled blood.

“That was most interesting. I hope you’re able to make sense of the emerging pattern, Twilight,” Luna remarked as she set down the notebook and quill. “I shall prepare the next combination.”

Twilight took up her writing materials as Luna left the alcove. She could still feel a slight tingling sensation from having touched Luna’s blood, and she was making notes on the effect when Luna returned.

She stepped immediately to the mirror and began applying the cloudy, pinkish fluid at the tip of her horn to its symbols and glyphs.

Twilight began scribbling furiously as a whole new collection of glyphs glowed a deep purplish-blue. She felt the tingle in her horn again.

“Was that your blood?” she asked Luna.

“Yes,” Luna replied, backing away slowly from the mirror, shuddering slightly as the glyphs and symbols faded. “Your turn.”

Twilight sighed and let Luna take the notebook and quill from her as she turned toward the chamber’s exit.

Twilight approached the workbench, set her jaw and tipped her head down in order to magically pull a bead of fluid from the spots marked ‘T’ and ‘R’. She focused on mixing them together, then on levitating the resulting mixture to the tip of her horn.

She felt a sudden wave of cold rush through her veins as the drop ran down the end of her horn, causing it to glow a pale gold. She blinked heavily and shook her head, then stumbled uncertainly through the entry back to Luna in the alcove.

“I feel woozy,” she remarked as she almost bumped into the mirror.

“We are nearly done, here, Twilight--just two more tests!”

Twilight nodded, took a deep breath and worked her way through the progression of symbols once more. This time the various glyphs glowed a deep orange.

“Remarkable!” Luna said as she scratched away with the quill. “The set of symbols and their order were very similar to the last iteration.”

Twilight sat down heavily and struggled against a wave of intense fatigue: “Can we take a break for a minute? This kind of magic is wearing me out!”

Luna nodded: “You rest for a moment--I will prepare the final test application.” She left Twilight alone in the alcove and returned to the library.

Luna returned two minutes later, levitating another pinkish globule in front of her: “I made sure to roll up the towel lest it dry out completely. I have no idea if we will need more of Reaper’s contribution or not.”

Twilight stood unsteadily, and brought her notebook and quill up before her, ready to record this final test: “Alright--let’s do this!”

Luna nodded, rolled her eyes up until they nearly crossed, and focused on bringing the mixture of all three ponies down over the tip of her horn.

As she did, Twilight suddenly jerked and twitched, and her horn began to glow: “Wha-what’s happening?”

“I do not know, but I assume it is important. Please focus as I work my way through the glyphs!”

Luna stepped to the mirror and began to apply her mixture to the symbols. As she progressed through the glyphs, her vision began to swim. She could hear Twilight breathing heavily behind her.

Luna squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to stave off the rising vertigo, and when she reopened them she could see clusters of glyphs glowing a brilliant gold. On a hunch she skipped the bottom symbol, and finished the rest of the mirror frame, activating even more symbols.

Twilight was fighting for breath by now, but kept jotting down notes in a desperate attempt to capture everything possible before she fainted. Her ears were ringing when she noticed Luna had avoided the bottom glyph.

“Wh-why did you skip the bottom glyph, Luna?

Luna turned to her, eyes blazing: “Touch my horn, Twilight. There is a trace left. You must make the final gesture.”

Twilight tipped forward, nearly toppling, and scraped her horn against Luna’s. The electric shock and tingle she had experienced earlier returned with almost overwhelming force.

“Why me?” she asked as she fell to her knees before the mirror.

“I--I believe that symbol is reserved for the Harbinger. You are the Harbinger! Do it now!”

Twilight pressed her face forward and slid the tip of her horn along the grooves of the lowest, smallest glyph, then she allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness, with Luna’s voice echoing distantly in her ears, like a dream.

“Blessed Night, Twilight--that’s it! The mirror has cleared! I can see the Nexus!”

Homing Beacon
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Death Be Not Proud

Homing Beacon

Twilight walked alone through the decayed ruins of Ponyville, her grey-streaked mane and tattered cloak tossed by a bitter, swirling winter wind. She approached the broken wreck of a castle, and observed five overgrown statues, crumbling near the entrance.

She pushed her way in through the broken door, and walked down the empty corridor to a throne room, dominated by a cracked and darkened map table. A figure sat in the lone, un-rotted chair.

“Who are you?” she asked the cloaked stranger. He seemed familiar, though he was clearly no pony. He looked more like the beings she had encountered many centuries before, in what must have been another world.

The stranger stood: “It’s common courtesy for the guest to introduce themselves first, is it not?”

“Guest? Do you live here?”

“I moved in centuries ago, when the last denizen of this town died off.”

Twilight furrowed her brow and stared at the floor, lost in thought: “I remember that. I think she was the great-great-great-something-granddaughter of some… somepony I can’t recall.”

She looked up at the stranger: “My name is Twilight Sparkle, Death’s Harbinger. Who are you?”

“I go by Reaper, though my true name was lost long ago.”

Twilight chuckled: “Funny--your name sounds more like more Death’s Harbinger than mine!”

“True, though you do seem to have the right tool and cutie mark for the job.”

Twilight glanced back at the matching 死 marks on her flanks, and the battered sword on her right hip: “I guess I’ve always had these.”

“So what brings you to my run-down domicile, Twilight? Is it my time to go?”

“I don’t know. You don’t really seem to belong here.”

“True. I do kind of stand out, don’t I?”

“I’ve only ever seen ponies in this world. Are you from another world?”

“Possibly, though not the one you’re thinking of.”

Reaper walked around the table and approached Twilight, looking intently at her horn.

“Hmm. Looks like you have something on your horn, Twilight.”

She furrowed her brow and crossed her eyes in an attempt to focus on the tip of her horn.

Reaper reached out and ran his finger along the spiral ridges of the alicorn’s horn, coming away with a sticky, pearlescent film.
“I think this belongs to me.”

He turned away from Twilight and spoke into the shadows at the far end of the chamber: “And you have something that belongs to me, too, Your Highness!”

Luna suddenly emerged from beneath a sagging archway, and approached Twilight and Reaper. He stepped forward to meet her.
“So nice of you to visit Equestria again! How long has it been, Princess?”

Luna furrowed her brow and turned toward Twilight: “Twilight--You have fainted and entered a dream state! You must awaken!”

Reaper reached out and ran his finger along Luna’s horn, again coming away with another smear of translucent fluid.

Twilight tipped her head sideways and regarded Luna with a puzzled expression: “I thought you were gone. Why have you come back?”

“I have come to take you from this dream so that we may figure out how the mirror works! We must retrieve Reaper, lest this vision become reality!”

Twilight sat down against the edge of the table, knocking a piece loose: “Who will I have to reap first, Luna? You remember, don’t you? Is it Rarity? She won’t go easily.”

Reaper sat next to her and rubbed his fingertips against his forehead: “Nope--have to use the blade on that one--she’s a fighter!”

Luna frowned and swept a beam of bluish-white magic around the hall: “Why can I not break this dream?”

“Because your power is rooted in Equestria, and this dream has leaked beyond the bounds of your domain,” Reaper answered as he pinched at his forehead and pulled a horn out until it extended roughly 9 inches.

Twilight suddenly flopped backwards, and spread across the map table, breaking off another fragment: “Yeah, Rarity was tough. I cried. Scootaloo’s granddaughter was easy though--the fever took her. She was so small. That’s the last of the old days I can recall. I just stopped caring after that…”

Luna’s nostrils flared as she looked angrily at Reaper: “Explain! Are you really here and connected to us in some form, or are you merely a manifestation of Twilight’s subconscious?”

He shrugged as he rubbed his hands together, giving them a vigorous shake until they changed to hooves: “Hey, you’re supposed to be the Mistress of Dreams, yes? How’d you get out of the last one?”

Twilight rolled on her side, tears spilling down her cheeks: “Luna please help! I don’t want this job anymore! I’ve done it for so very long. I don’t even think there’s anypony left anymore!”

“Maybe Luna can take over now, and reap you!” Reaper offered, reaching for the sword. “She’s just visiting, anyway.”

Luna’s eyebrows shot up: “No, not her--you’re the link!” She reached out with her magic and wrested the sword away from Reaper, who was now half horse, again.

He spun angrily: “Hey! That’s my blade now! Twilight didn’t want it anymore!” He lunged toward Luna.

She stepped forward quickly and plunged the blade into Reaper’s chest, driving him down, pinning him to the floor.

“This seems familiar…” he gasped, as the castle began to collapse, and the scene dissolved in a cloud of dust and debris.

Twilight set up and rubbed her eyes, fighting to focus on Luna’s face, hovering above her: “Wha-what happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure. At first I thought you were merely in a deep dream state, and Reaper was part of that dream. But now I believe he was actually sharing the dream from beyond the mirror.”

They glanced at the mirror. Twilight gasped: “The glyphs! The ones that match the symbols we saw in the sand are glowing gold!”

Luna nodded, and retrieved Twilight’s notebook and quill: “Yes--there are a few others engaged as well, it appears, but you are correct: all the glyphs from Reaper’s dream are glowing.”

She stepped forward and tentatively probed the mirror’s surface with a hoof. It gave way with a ripple, as though she was stepping into a vertical pool of water.

Twilight stood quickly and moved to pull Luna back: “No! You can’t go through yet--you’ll end up stuck on the other side with Reaper! We have to figure out how to get back before we can retrieve him!”

Luna sighed and chewed her lip: “Yes, you are right. It would be foolish to proceed with this riddle only half-solved.”

Twilight sat down again and rubbed her temples: “What did Reaper mean by “this dream has leaked?” Is he dreaming beyond the mirror?”

Luna nodded: “That is how I interpret his words. Somehow dreams can transcend this world, at least in the presence of this mirror. I’ve never shared a dream from beyond Equestria--at least none of which I’m aware!”

“Well, it would appear you did so this time, Princess!” Reaper said as he stepped unsteadily through the mirror, and sat down next to a startled Twilight.

Luna’s eyebrows shot up: “How did you find your way back?”

“After I woke from our dream--thanks for another sword through my chest, by the way--I saw one of the portal orbs glowing faintly. Then, just moments later, I saw it ripple or distort for an instant.”

“Perfect!” Twilight cried. “Do you think you’d remember which portal it is if you were to go back into the nexus?”

Reaper nodded: “All my millennia of traversing Tartarus and the dreamscape, not to mention my own “waiting room,” have given me a keen sense of direction, and a good eye for landmarks.”

“Did you explore at all while you were there?” Luna asked.

“No, I just sat there for a bit after I got my bearings, and tried to recall my time there with Grey Thorn. I closed my eyes in an effort to bring the memory up, and I clearly dozed off as a result of my fatigue.”

Twilight nodded: “And that’s when you joined us in my dream.”

“Right, though for a bit I couldn’t tell if it was my dream or yours.”

“So now what?” Twilight asked. “Do you or we go through again and see what we can figure out next, or…?”

Luna shook her head: “I think not. You were right to forestall me a moment ago, Twilight. We should return to the castle, rest, gather our thoughts and go over your notes. I feel we got lucky just now, and I would rather not trust to luck again.”

Reaper stood and began walking toward the chamber’s exit: “I agree wholeheartedly. Let’s head back to your quarters and regroup. At a minimum, I could use a drink!”

Twilight stood and followed her companions through the doorway into the ruined library beyond: “I think we all could!”

Clarity
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Death Be Not Proud

Clarity

The three companions found Princess Celestia pacing nervously in Luna’s chambers, awaiting their arrival.

“Sister--you seem perturbed,” Luna said as she walked quickly across the room to Celestia’s side.

“I just came down here from the throne room a moment ago to check on you three, to see if you were back yet,” Celestia replied. “I was worried you’d all “gone rogue” again, and was about to send a guard to get a report.”

Reaper gave an embarrassed shrug: “Well, one of us did end up going on a little unplanned voyage, but your two co-princesses did a bang-up job of helping resolve the situation.”

Luna nodded: “Yes, and it appears we may have finally unlocked the secret of safely traversing that portal mirror--at least as far as the nexus that lies directly beyond it.”

“OK,” Celestia said, furrowing her brow, “but to what end? How does this help get back Reaper’s powers?”

Twilight pulled her notebook from her saddlebag: “Actually, it’s more about removing his powers from us, than anything else. Our experiments showed that Reaper’s power is spread between Luna and me, but requires him as the catalyst.”

“So what does the portal have to do with any of this?” Celestia asked. “You two are here, he’s here, can’t we all just figure out some way of extracting his power? We’ve done this kind of thing before--remember Tirek?”

Twilight shook her head: “This is different. This isn’t magic, at least not in the sense we unicorns and alicorns think of it. This is more like a primal force.”

She shuddered and headed to the side table for a goblet of cider: “I didn’t truly understand that until I touched the sword, and the power manifested itself.”

Luna nodded: “And for some reason it appears to be connected to Reaper’s past life--his life before coming to this world as our Harbinger of Death.”

Reaper stared intently at his old cutie mark on Twilight’s flank as she continued to converse with Luna and Celestia about their findings and theories. He closed his eyes and let the dreams and visions of the past several days wash over him.

“I have to die again.”

Twilight stopped mid-sentence and looked sharply over her shoulder at Reaper: “What?”

“I was originally granted my power and position by death. You received my power and position, in part, through your own death. It’s clearly the way the process works. I have to die again.”

Celestia swallowed hard: “Um, here? Now?”

Luna tipped her head sideways and narrowed her eyes at Reaper: “No. Not here. That does not jibe with the dreams and visions we have shared.”

Twilight bit her lip: “Seek again thy end--summon a new beginning…”

Celestia looked back and forth between Luna and Twilight: “I don’t understand!”

Reaper sat down heavily on a cushion: “The mirror.”

Luna nodded.

Twilight took a deep breath and turned to Celestia: “Reaper has to return to the point of his death and die again in order to restart the chain of events that led him to becoming the Harbinger. The mirror can lead him there.”

Reaper closed his eyes and sighed: “That’s how I read it.”

Celestia frowned: “But how does that work? How would you get to the right spot? How would you get back?”

“All excellent questions!” Reaper answered. “I suspect that between Luna and Twilight’s efforts the question of getting me there may be within reach. As for getting back…” Reaper shrugged.

Twilight tapped her chin thoughtfully: “If it works at all like the portal I’ve experienced, there’s a fixed point on the other end, possibly hidden, but there somewhere.”

Reaper nodded: “Clearly Grey Thorn was able to get to and from any number of alternate worlds--the alien specimens and bones in his lair are proof of that. But the notes he undoubtedly kept on navigating the various worlds are lost to us.”

Twilight stared at the liquid in her cup as she swirled it around: “Liquids of Life. We have your blood for real, now. Maybe that’s the final missing piece to trigger the portal all the way.”

Luna nodded: “I think you may be onto something, Twilight. We will likely achieve a more complete result than we did with his ersatz blood.”

Celestia’s confused look deepened: “Ersatz blood?”

“I had fallen through the mirror,” Reaper explained, “and they had to cobble together a substitute for my blood in my absence.”

“What could possibly take the place of blood?”

“Semen,” Luna replied matter-of-factly.

Celestia cocked an eyebrow: “How did…? You know what--I don’t want to know!”

Reaper grinned: “Ever the model of wisdom, Celestia!”

She rolled her eyes: “Be that as it may, it still leaves you without a return path, yes?”

“Yeah. That might just have to be a leap of faith…”

Twilight looked up from her cup: “Remember what I said: there should be a physical portal on the other end, too. You would just need to make sure you could get back to it after--”

“After what?” Celestia interjected. “After he dies? How does that work?”

Reaper chewed his lip: “Like I said: a leap of faith.”

“How did you get to Equestria in the first place?” Luna asked. “I doubt you walked through a portal.”

“Correct--I was brought here through the action of another of Death’s agents, transcending the barriers of time and space. I don’t see any other way of it working. The situation will be out of my hooves once I actually die.”

“And what if you die there, but aren’t transported back here?” Celestia asked.

Twilight set her cup down: “Then he’s gone for good, and I’m this world’s Harbinger forever.”

Celestia’s nostrils flared: “Unacceptable! There has to be a way to make things right again!”

Reaper stood wearily and walked to the window: “There is--I just have to make sure I don’t fuck up when I get back to Kur.”

Luna opened her mouth to speak, then bit her lip and turned away from the others.

“Kur?” Twilight inquired.

“That’s the name of my original homeworld. There are various tribes and nations with their own respective names, but the inhabitants of the world are known collectively as Kurlin.”

“And who were you on Kur?”

“I was called Gerrar, and I died at about the age of forty-three in a battle on the banks of the Zuri River.”

“Will you be able to get back to that same time and place?”

“I guess we’ll find out once my blood’s been applied to the appropriate glyphs. I mean, we know I can get to and from the nexus, in any event.”

“And the visions seem like a summons of some sort,” Luna said. “We three have now experienced several instances of matching glyphs, and references to Reaper’s returning.”

Reaper nodded: “I guess there’s nothing left but to do it, then. I’ll make sure to leave an adequate supply of blood behind, just in case, though I’m not really sure what any of you will be able to do once I’m gone.”

Twilight turned to Reaper with a puzzled expression: “What do you mean? I assume we’re coming with you! This seems far too dangerous and unknown for only one pony!”

Luna nodded, but Celestia cut her off before she could speak: “Out of the question! This is far too risky for even one pony--adding more would simply compound the disaster were you to fail!”

“I have to concur with Celestia, Twilight,” Reaper responded. “It’d be bad enough if I’m lost. If Equestria were to lose the two of you as well...I don’t even want to think about that!”

Luna raised an eyebrow and turned to confront Reaper: “Then we must simply make sure not to “fuck up,” as you put it. We three have faced greater challenges than this!”

“Maybe, but in any event, you two are the only link to my power here. Even if it means a cursed life for Twilight, somepony has to remain and carry on as Harbinger!”

“And she will need your strength, sister,” added Celestia, walking next to Twilight. “As will I.”

Luna chewed her lip for a moment: “Very well. Let us at least go over our respective notes and recollections that we may have copies of all the relevant materials.”

“Agreed,” Twilight said, sitting down at a low table and pulling out writing materials from her saddlebags.

Celestia summoned additional refreshments, as well as a scribe to assist with transcriptions and diagrams. She sat off to the side and watched as Luna, Twilight and Reaper pored over their notes deep into the night.

She dozed off after several hours, and dreamed uneasily of ghosts, shadows and long-dead friends. Luna never noticed.

Reminiscing
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Death Be Not Proud

Reminiscing

Celestia roused from her fitful sleep, mere minutes before dawn, rolled to her side and looked around Luna’s chambers in confusion. She saw Reaper asleep on a nearby couch, Twilight’s faded form resting motionless on a pile of cushions, and no trace of Luna.

She sat up and summoned a cup of tea from Luna’s side table, clearing her head, and stretching her wings before standing unsteadily and walking stiffly to the window.

She set the teacup on the window ledge and concentrated her energies toward the eastern horizon, willing into motion the machinery of the heavens, for the untold thousandth time. Dawn broke over the distant hills, and Celestia sighed deeply before turning back toward Luna’s dais.

She approached Reaper and prodded his shoulder gently with a hoof: “Where is everypony? What did I miss?”

Reaper rolled onto his back and blinked blearily up at Celestia’s face: “Miss? Not much, really. We just kept going over and over the various glyphs and colors and placement and whatnot until even your scribe was at her wits' end.”

Celestia grinned: “I assume Twilight wanted just one more run-through…”

Reaper rolled his eyes, and swung his legs over the edge of the couch: “You’d be right on that count. That girl loves her lists!”

“So she’s patrolling, or whatever you call it?”

Reaper nodded: “And before you ask, I don’t really know where Luna went. I’ve been dreaming for a while, and she dropped in for a bit, but disappeared some time back. I guess she felt the need to check in on the dreamscape, take care of moon duties, etc.”

“Were you dreaming of Kur?”

“Actually the last dream I recall was of our final battle with Grey Thorn, except I was in control of the Void, and Starswirl was fighting alongside Luna and Twilight.”

“What do you think that meant?”

Reaper shrugged: “That your sister stocks some seriously strong wine, I think!”

“Yes--and I think it’s been getting stronger lately! I rarely fall asleep outside my own chambers!”

Reaper walked over to the side table and procured some fruit: “I suspect Twilight had something to do with that as well.”

“How so?”

“You’ve always avoided being in my presence as best as you can, so you’ve rarely felt the long-term impact of my draining effect.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “But I’ve been near Twilight for hours now, never really thinking of her that way. I see!”

Reaper nodded: “You’re just less uneasy and on edge around her naturally. It’s something you’ll need to keep an eye on, going forward.”

Celestia sighed heavily: “Yes, I will. And it’s all the more difficult given the fact that I really need to consult with her regarding her new, hopefully temporary duties.”

Reaper turned from the table and faced Celestia with a cocked eyebrow: “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

“I’m getting more and more reports of paranormal activities: apparent hauntings, unexplained, localized fear, things like that. Until a few days ago I simply would have dismissed these as products of overactive imaginations, but now…”

“Now you know there’s some truth behind them.”

“And it’s not just the occasional tale--I’ve heard at least a half-dozen credible stories just in the last three days.”

Reaper looked up at the ceiling and tapped his chin thoughtfully: “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Is it going to get worse? Is there anything I can do?”

“Hopefully not, and no. I should be on my way later today, and then Twilight can devote a lot more time to Harbinger duties and a lot less to mirrors. And as for you helping, well, let’s just say, death isn’t your thing.”

Celestia swallowed a sip of tea, then bit her lip: “No, it’s not. And to be honest, I don’t what I could do to help. I just know I have to at least offer.”

Reaper smiled: “And I’m sure she’ll appreciate the sentiment. If it’s any consolation, I’ll give her us much “sage council” as I can before I go, and she’ll have Luna for advice and guidance as well.”

“Luna seems especially uneasy with you going alone.”

“I’m not a big fan of it myself, but I don’t want anypony else taking this risk. We’ve gone over every equation and glyph and diagram three times, but there’s still a lot we don’t know.”

Reaper walked over to the still-open window and closed his eyes as the morning breeze washed over his face.
Celestia stepped up beside him: “I hope it’s enough.”

“We’ll see. Twilight’s a smart cookie--probably the best pure magic user since…”

“Starswirl?”

Reaper smiled grimly: “Grey Thorn, actually, given the fact he outlived his mentor by many centuries.”

“Yes--at great cost to many ponies, yourself included.”

“No doubt! And I hope to set that right just as soon as I can.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “But how soon do you think that can be, realistically?”

Reaper shrugged: “Don’t know. There’s no way to know how time passes here versus on Kur. I might be gone a few hours, I might be gone for years. We have no frame of reference. Twilight’s experience passing through Starswirl’s portal gave her the sense of roughly equal time, but that may just be coincidence.”

Celestia frowned: “And there’s really only one pony who could probably answer that question…”

“And he’s kind of indisposed at this moment.”

“So we’re back to the leap of faith, and the hope you can find your way back before generations of ponies have passed here.”

Reaper turned to face Celestia: “Right. Speaking of the passing of ponies: an event a few days ago led Luna and me to discuss Twilight’s probable fate, and the impact of emotional entanglement on immortals.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “And?”

“Do you remember any of your “Honored Consorts” from long ago? Do you still have attachments to any of them?”

Celestia closed her eyes, turned away and walked back toward the dais. She sat on the low couch Reaper had been using as a bed.

“Funny you should ask. For the most part, the answer is ‘no.’ But sometimes…” She got a far-away look, and continued, “I was actually dreaming just last night about Strongheart, one of my Consorts from about six-hundred years ago.”

Reaper returned to the nearby cushions and sat down: “Strongheart? Six-hundred years? Was he a slate-grey unicorn?”

Celestia closed her eyes and nodded: “Yes. He was more than just an eager partner, pleased to do his royal duty for his needy Princess--we had a genuine attachment. Luna had been gone for quite some time, and the loneliness and guilt were becoming oppressive.”

“So what became of Strongheart?”

“Normally I just have the chosen consort of the season join me in my bath. The candles are few, the light is low, and our time is relatively short. I send him or her back on their happy, sweaty way, and soak in the bath.”

“But?”

“But not Strongheart. I kept him around for several sessions, culminating in a sudden dawn tryst in the Gardens. It was glorious! I could hardly breathe when we were done. We lay on the grass for at least an hour, luxuriating in each other’s heat; I wanted it to last forever.”

Reaper closed his eyes and tipped his head back: “Then you had him transferred to the Northern Marches. Got him married off to the local commander’s daughter.”

Celestia’s eyes snapped open: “That’s right! How did you know that?”

“Sometime, after I get back, remind me to get together with you and your sister so we can enter a dream state, and I can replay Strongheart’s death vision. I think you might take some comfort from it.”

Celestia stared at her hooves: “I’m sorry I’ve been so stand-offish to you over the centuries. I know you’ve just been doing your job…”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re the Princess of light and growth and dawn and arising--you’re supposed to feel uneasy around the agent of endings and decay and final darkness.”

Celestia wiped away a tear: “Will this really work? Will you get back to being that agent? I really don’t know if Twilight can handle being the Harbinger forever, and I fear what this power might do to Luna in the long run."

Reaper knelt before Celestia and took up her right hoof in his left: “I swear I’ll do everything I can to make this right. And Twilight’s tougher than you know--she’ll hang on until I get back.”

“Hang on for what?” Twilight said, stepping up silently behind Celestia, looking over her shoulder at Reaper.

Celestia shuddered and stood up, turning to face Twilight while taking a hasty step backwards: “Ah! Please don’t sneak up behind me like that!”

Twilight’s ears drooped and she, too, took a step back: “I’m sorry, Princess--I’m still not used to this effect!”

Reaper smiled and fetched a cup of cider for Twilight: “We were just discussing my complete confidence in your ability to act as Harbinger during my brief absence.”

Twilight took the cup and raised an eyebrow: “I somehow doubt you phrased it that way, and I doubt I’ll do a very good job, to be honest!”

Reaper shook his head: “You’ll do fine, kiddo! You’ve had a few days to feel your way around, ask some questions, send a few spirits on their way. This puts you in a better position than I was in back in the day, and if I could muddle through, I have no doubt you can too!”

“And Luna and I will be here for you, Twilight,” Celestia said, moving around the couch and placing her foreleg over Twilight’s shoulder. “If there’s anything either of us can do, you know we will.”

“I know you will, Princess,” Twilight replied, taking a swig of cider, “I’m just very nervous--not just for me! I mean, I certainly don’t want to be stuck with this role, but I’m also worried for Reaper. The three of us have shared so much these last few weeks, and I’m very concerned about him doing this alone!”

Reaper opened his mouth to respond, when Luna stepped out of the shadows and interrupted him: “As am I!”

Reaper sighed and walked toward a low table at the foot of the dais: “We’ve been over this--if worst comes to worst, I can be spared. You two can’t!”

He bent down, moved aside a small flask of blood, and slid a few scrolls, a small book and a dark-red vial into a saddlebag.

Twilight stepped up behind him: “But surely you should wait another day or two? Shouldn’t we experiment with the mirror and the nexus a bit?”

Reaper swung around and looked at Twilight with a pained expression: “No! Let’s get this done now! I feel the attachment to my old power fading, and I fear the time may come soon when I can no longer be used as a vessel for it--and when it can no longer be separated from you!”

Twilight stepped back, eyes wide.

“Then let us all do what we must, now,” Luna interjected, magically closing up the saddlebag, “and set the world aright again.”

Reaper nodded and headed over to an armoire against the wall, which he opened, exposing a variety of oddly-shaped garments and boots. He pulled out another saddle bag and began loading in the garments.

“Alright then, Your Highnesses, it’s agreed--let's pack me a lunch and kick me out the door, and with your blessing,” he nodded toward Celestia, “this whole enterprise might just be successful!”

Celestia furrowed her brow, but smiled bravely: “I will give my blessing gladly, if it will help. But I fear my magic may not travel beyond the bounds of this world.”

Reaper returned her smile: “Well, it’s my hope that this world has so damn much magic, a little of it might stick to me, even as I slip through the portals!”

Luna nodded: “I trust it will!”

Bon Voyage
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Death Be Not Proud

Bon Voyage

Luna, Twilight and Reaper stood before the ancient, stone-rimmed mirror as Celestia stepped forward and peered intently at its cracked, dust-streaked surface.

“It certainly bears a strong resemblance to Starswirl’s creation, doesn’t it?” she said, walking slowly around it as Luna helped Reaper adjust his straps. Twilight lifted the vial of Reaper’s blood from his left saddlebag.

“Yes it does,” Twilight concurred as she lifted off the vial’s stopper and pulled out a large bead of glistening red liquid. “Though I’m pretty sure he never activated it like this.”

Celestia shook her head and wrinkled her nose: “Hardly! It was controlled through a complex series of incantations, though some of these glyphs do seem familiar…”

Twilight nodded: “We believe Grey Thorn and Starswirl were working together during the construction of both mirrors. We don’t really know the order, but they’re clearly intertwined.”

“And given Grey Thorn’s penchant for dark magic, the use of blood was an inevitable shortcut,” Reaper added as he pulled a small blob of blood away from the quivering globe hovering in front of Twilight.

“I wonder if Starswirl ever considered dabbling in blood magic?” Celestia pondered as she watched the other three ponies coat the tips of their horns with Reaper’s blood.

Luna shifted nervously as Twilight stepped up to the mirror and cleared her throat: “Um, actually I probably need to sit down with you later, Princess, and fill in some historical gaps related to that topic.”

She stained a series of glyphs, which began to glow a pale violet, then stepped back to allow Luna access to the mirror’s frame. The symbols she traced with her bloodied horn tip flashed a deep red, then dimmed beyond violet to black.

Luna stepped beside Twilight, and all three alicorns turned to look at Reaper, who was taking one last look through a small notebook.

“Your turn, Reaper,” Twilight prompted.

He closed the book, dropped it in the saddlebag and took a deep breath: “Here goes nothing!”

He knelt at the base of the mirror and pressed the drop of blood at the tip of his horn into the final glyph. A flash of brilliant blue light burst forth from the symbol, then all the other glyphs. Twilight and Luna wobbled slightly, and shook their heads to clear the vertigo. The mirror’s surface shimmered and cleared, showing the nexus beyond.

“That’s it,” Reaper said. “Looks good so far.”

Twilight nodded: “But is it really connected to the portal on Kur?”

Reaper shrugged: “Only one way to be sure, and that’s to step in. And if there’s an issue, I have your excellent notes to help me, Twilight!”

Twilight frowned: “I just wish we had more information! I really don’t feel good about sending you through with such spotty data!”

Reaper smiled, stepped up and kissed Twilight lightly on the forehead: “If there’s anypony who can make this work with scraps and theories, it’s you! I’ll be fine.”

He backed away and bowed before all three alicorns: “I take my leave of you now, Princesses. Thank you all for your help and advice. I’ll be back as fast as I can!”

Celestia tipped her head back as her horn began to glow a brilliant gold: “Go now with our blessings, Reaper--we’ve done all we can, now it’s up to you!”

Reaper nodded: “What was it you said once, Princess? 'Then let us do the hard things now!' I just hope it’s not harder than I can handle!”

He turned away and took a half step through the surface of the mirror. He paused to look over his shoulder at Twilight with a grin: “Keep up the good work, Harbinger, and keep that blade clean. I expect it to be perfect when I get back!” He stepped fully through the portal with a flash.

The nexus spread out before Reaper suddenly, and he closed his eyes for a moment to fight off a wave of vertigo: “This whole 'being alive' thing is a serious pain-in-the-flank!”

He braced himself and slowly opened his eyes, searching the endless off-white expanse that stretched above and beyond the plain on which he stood.

“Great--none of these seem to be showing any kind of effect. I really hope I don’t have to walk forever in order to locate the right portal.”

Reaper furrowed his brow and opened his left saddlebag. He lifted out the small notebook and vial of blood, then set them down beside his right front hoof. He squinted up at the countless iridescent orbs overhead.

“No, that wouldn’t make any sense. Grey Thorn clearly had a good feel for where he was, so there must be a predictable pattern of some kind. OK, lets see if the kid was right.”

He unstopped the vial and pulled out a small bead of blood. He opened the notebook, and began tracing a series of glyphs and symbols in a circle on the ground. He finished by inscribing a boundary around the glyphs, then stepped into the center of the pattern.

He was overcome by a sudden rush of cold energy that took his breath away, and he became aware that the orbs appeared to be rapidly moving--dancing and weaving as though they were frenzied insects, or a shoal of fish.

After a few moments the orbs stopped moving, and realigned themselves in roughly the same pattern they had held before--with one marked exception.

“That’s the one!” Reaper exclaimed as he looked directly overhead at a now faintly-pulsing orb that looked more like a distorted window than a shining globe. He hurriedly dropped the vial and notebook back in his saddlebag, took a deep breath and readied himself for the jump he had seen Grey Thorn make.

“This better work!”

Reaper leapt from the nexus’ surface and reached out with his magic in an effort to steer himself closer to the portal. He rushed forward silently and effortlessly, as the distorted sphere above him began to shimmer and brighten. He squeezed his eyes shut and plunged headfirst into its rippling surface.

The universe twisted around him in a burst of streaking colors, like a liquid kaleidoscope. He hardly had a moment to focus on the onrushing flood of lights before he stumbled through another portal, and fell to his knees on an uneven surface of worn, frost-covered paving stones. He sprawled forward onto the cold, dusty floor and lay motionless for nearly a minute.

Reaper stood unsteadily on two legs, and brushed the dirt from his naked skin: “I forgot how fucking cold it gets without a thick hide!”

He opened his second saddlebag and pulled out a set of breeches, a shirt, a hooded cloak and a pair of boots, and dressed as quickly as he could, given his trembling fingers.

“Shit! How in Tartarus do these things work?” he cursed, fumbling with laces and buckles, finally sitting down on a nearby piece of fallen masonry in order to pull on his boots. He finished lacing and tying them, then reached into a saddlebag for a scone and a flask of cider.

“One quick hit for the road, then I’d better get moving.”

He stood up and chewed while wandering around, inspecting his dimly-lit surroundings. He was in a small, ruined shrine, overgrown with vines, its roof half-gone. The portal, now faded to near-invisibility, was centered in the shrine’s back wall, embedded in a crumbling frieze of astrological symbols and fantastic beasts.

Reaper squinted at the carvings and chuckled: “That’s fitting--this must be an old shrine to...hmm. What was the name? ‘Larg’--that’s it. I must say, ‘Luna’ has a much nicer ring to it than ‘Larg!’”

He turned away as the portal’s last shimmer winked out, and hoisted the saddlebags over his shoulders, re-positioning the straps so the bags hung across his back.

He dropped the cider flask in a cloak pocket and picked his way unsteadily through the fallen branches and stones obstructing the shrine’s entrance.

“Let’s get this over with…”

The three alicorns looked at the mirror as the ripples on its surface died away, and the light began to fade from its glyphs. Celestia and Twilight exchanged glances, and Twilight tipped her head down and sent forth a blinding-white beam of magic, wrapping the mirror in a brilliant, gossamer cocoon.

Luna reared back in surprise and turned to Celestia: “What is going on?”

Celestia sighed: “Twilight has cast a time suspense spell. It will only last a minute or two at most, so I will explain quickly.”

She stepped toward the magic-shrouded mirror and beckoned her sister to join her: “I assumed that you might try something once Reaper had left, some scheme or plot to join him.”

Luna blushed and opened her mouth to protest but Celestia cut her off: “So I spoke with Twilight, who assumed the same thing, and we decided that not only could we probably not stop you, you might be right to do so.”

Twilight nodded: “You’ve played a key part in several of his visions--not just as an observer, but as a participant. I think you have a role to play beyond this world.”

Celestia stepped in front of Luna and began removing her sister’s gorget, tiara and greaves: “I doubt you’ll need these where you’re going!”

Luna lifted her hooves as Celestia slipped off their burnished silver coverings: “Thank you both! It would have driven me mad to wait here, not knowing our collective fates! I will do all I can to help Reaper complete his mission and return our world to its rightful condition!”

Celestia leaned forward and kissed Luna’s cheek: “We know you will! Please come back safe and sound, dear sister--I couldn’t bear to lose you again!”

Luna wiped away a tear, and hugged Celestia: “I know time may pass differently beyond the bounds of this world, but I promise you I shall not be gone a thousand years, this time!”

She stepped to the portal as Twilight dropped the field, looked over her shoulder and said: “Courage, Twilight! Seek help from all corners of Equestria and beyond when you have need of council. There are many ponies of goodwill who will help you to their utmost!”

“Good luck, Luna!” Twilight and Celestia shouted in unison as Luna’s indigo form passed effortlessly through the mirror. Her cutie mark gave of a faint gleam as it broke the surface and disappeared. The two alicorns, mentor and pupil, stood in silence for a moment as the mirror’s glyphs finally faded.

“Now it’s up to them…”

Reaper stepped through the shrine’s sagging entry archway, and stopped to get his bearings, looking at last to the horizon, where the setting sun was casting long shadows through the surrounding forest. He looked back over his shoulder in time to see a dying shaft of dappled sunlight illuminate the shrine’s back wall.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply: “I hope a little of that magic of yours did stick to me, Celestia--I’m going to need it!”

He opened his eyes just in time to catch a bright white flash emanating from the rear of the shrine. He rubbed his eyes and ducked his head as he stepped back through the crumbling archway.

“What in Tartarus was that? Oh, no…”

He froze in his tracks and held his breath as a tall, mocha-skinned figure stepped forward from the glowing portal, shaking its long, black hair, and blinking uncertainly in the mingled, multi-hued glare of magical flash and sunlight.

Reaper slumped against a broken statue: “Luna.”

Kur
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Death Be Not Proud

Kur

Luna stepped forward gingerly, shivering in the cold air, bare feet slipping on the frost-slicked slate: “I believe you forgot something.”

Reaper dashed across the broken, debris-scattered floor, and hastily removed his packs, tossing one aside, and opening the other.

“No,” he replied as he pulled out a heavy, grey woolen blanket. “I explicitly left that 'something' behind! What in the name of Celestia’s holy teats are you doing here?”

Luna sat on the same chunk of broken masonry Reaper had used earlier, as he wrapped her in the warm, dense fabric. She tucked her legs underneath, and pulled the blanket tightly around her shoulders.

“I did not expect it to be s-so c-cold,” she remarked as Reaper crouched next to her, rummaging through his packs. “Nor did I consider that I might lose my coat in the transition.”

“Obviously,” Reaper huffed as he pulled out a pair of thick socks and light, moccasin-style shoes. “We do have winter back in Equestria, too, if you recall!”

“True, though I am better 'dressed' for it there, you might say.”

She opened the blanket, leaned back and looked down the length of her torso, slightly spreading her legs in the process: “Well, there is a bit of hair left, I suppose, though I do not see that doing much good.”

Reaper handed Luna the socks: “Put these on. You have patches under your arms, too--just as useless for keeping warm, I’m afraid.”

Reaper crossed his legs and sat down on the nearly-empty pack that had contained his clothes and the blanket. He watched Luna work out the use of her fingers as she clumsily pulled on the dark blue socks, and bundled herself back under the blanket.

“We need to get you back. Help me construct another glyph circle, and let’s see if we can activate the portal from this side, too.”

Luna locked her eyes on Reaper’s: “No. I am here to help, and you will need that help.”

“Right, and any second now Twilight, or worse yet, Celestia herself will come barreling through that wall, demanding to know what’s going on!”

Luna smiled and shook her head: “Not this time.”

Reaper tipped his head sideways and furrowed his brow: “What do you mean?”

“My sister and Twilight already worked out a scheme to enable me to come here. This was her idea.”

Reaper’s eyebrows shot up: “Celestia’s idea?!”

Luna nodded.

“Dammit, you can’t trust anypony not to go behind the back anymore--not even Celestia!”

“Twilight convinced her that my presence in your dreams and visions implied I have a role to play here on this world. I have assumed that for some time, myself.”

Reaper closed his eyes and rubbed his temples: “To be honest I’ve had that same thought, too. But I didn’t want to take either of you--especially you--away from Equestria. You are integral to the world’s functioning. I don’t know what will happen if you fail to return!”

“Then let us see to it that neither of us fails to return!”

“Easier said than done. I know we’re too far north of Fort Torlek on the Zuri River, but I don’t know how far north. I’ll get a better sense of it when night falls and I can see the stars. I traveled a fair amount over the years and have a good eye for navigation.”

“Fort Torlek?”

“That’s where the battle will take place where I’m to be killed in, well, in an indeterminate number of days, actually.”

Reaper shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his chin.

“So you don’t know when we have arrived relative to the battle? Perhaps we have already missed it!”

“I don’t think so, though, again, I’ll have a better idea once night fully falls, and I get a look at the moons.”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “Moons? This world has more than one? How interesting!”

“Yes, it has two: the greater moon is called “Larg,” and the lesser is named “Arro.” Once I see them and their respective positions and phases, I should be able to calculate how far ahead of the battle we’ve arrived.”

Luna leaned sideways and peered at the saddlebags on the floor: “Will we have enough provisions? It seems unlikely you brought a great deal in that second bag.”

“Oh, I brought plenty,” he replied, pulling back the bag’s flap and removing a pair of small bags. He opened the first bag and poured out a handful of bits.

Luna furrowed her brow doubtfully: “That’s not much, in the grand scheme of things. I doubt that would buy two bushels of oats and some apples.”

Reaper smiled as he replaced all the coins in their bag, save one: “These bits are made of gold. Now on our world, gold is relatively common. It's still sought after, but is generally available. On this world, gold is exceedingly rare. I have a good-sized ransom in this bag.”

He set the bits aside and opened the second bag. Gems of various colors, cuts and sizes glittered in the fading light.

“These are rarer still. If the bits are a ransom, this is a small fortune. I’ll have to sell them for coin at some point, likely in a larger town, but the bits we have will do the trick for the time being.”

“Where did you come by these bits and gems?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Really? I’ve haunted every corner of our world for millennia, and seen the dying visions and confessions of thousands. I doubt there’s a buried treasure I don’t know about, by now!”

Luna tipped her head knowingly and grinned: “True. I, too, would have little trouble locating countless dreamt-of hoards, and liberating some, if the need arose.”

Luna repositioned the blanket and shifted to a cross-legged posture as Reaper stood up and handed her his cider flask.

“Not a lot left in there, I’m sorry to say, but we should be able to get some food and drink shortly. I doubt this old shrine, abandoned though it is, is all that far from some rudimentary civilization.”

“I hope we will also be able to locate some suitable clothes,” Luna said. “This blanket is fine as far as it goes, but is hardly usable for daily wear!”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to rustle something up.”

“Something in blue or purple, I hope. I must say, though I do rather like the sleek black mane, I am disappointed I did not retain my indigo color.”

“First: that “mane” is just called “hair,” and second: it’s going to be hard enough to go incognito with you wearing the skin you have now, let alone if you were indigo!”

“How so?”

Reaper sighed and pulled a sleeve up beyond his elbow: “Do you see this sort of middling tan color?”

“Yes--it is similar to your coat back in Equestria.”

“Correct. The vast majority of Kurlin share some close variation of this shade--some a little darker, some a little lighter. But skin as dark as yours--that oiled walnut color--is quite unusual, to say nothing of your hair.”

He pulled back his cloak’s hood: “My hair’s relatively dark brown, but nothing out-of-the-ordinary. Again, most Kurlin have some sort of brownish or sandy hair--not black!”

Luna bit her lip: “So what are we to do?”

Reaper drummed the fingers of his right hand on his knee: “There is a race or tribe of people in the north, on a large island well to the west, called the Zaldun. They’re not mythical, more like legendary. Stories of them arise every generation or so, and a few have been seen in the flesh over the centuries, just often enough to lend the stories credence.”

“And you believe this will offer sufficient explanation for my unusual appearance?”

“It’ll have to. Hopefully it’ll help mask our second problem.”

“Which is?”

“U'letzen a did'zu?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured: you don’t understand the speech of this continent. Most of Kur can understand a dialect of this language, but it is believed that the Zaldun have been isolated for so long that they no longer speak a compatible tongue.”

“I see. So you will have to interpret for me.”

“Right. Which just adds another layer of complexity to this endeavor.”

“What kind of pon--er, what was the word you used?”

“People.”

“What kind of people are the Zaldun? Why are they so isolated?”

“They’re fierce warriors who eschew contact with outsiders. No tribe or nation has attempted to subdue or annex them in centuries. No one even knows for sure if they have trade relations.”

“So how will I be able to help?”

Reaper opened the second saddle bag and began pulling out additional garments: “I’m not sure. Twilight thinks you have a part in this, and I reluctantly agree. We’ll just have to play it by ear.”

He stood, removed his hooded cloak, and handed it to Luna: “Put this on--it’s warm. I’ll switch over to my other cloak.”

He leaned down and picked up a long white cloak, trimmed in black, bearing his old cutie mark across the back.

Luna looked over as she pulled the hooded cloak over her head: “I thought that was destroyed.”

Reaper tugged the cloak close and belted it tightly with a white sash: “It was. I had a seamstress make me a new one. She was a bit confused as to the dimensions.”

Luna smiled: “I’m sure she was! Speaking of dimensions…” She ran her hands down the front of the cloak and patted her breasts.

“These seem rather large, and in an unfamiliar place!”

Reaper grinned as he sat down and began to unlace his boots: “Well, you’re a biped now. I don’t think having teats down below your belly would make much sense. And before you ask, no one on this world sports a tail, either!”

“So I noticed,” she replied, looking over her shoulder. “Nor wings, I take it.”

Reaper handed Luna his second pair of breeches: “Stand up and put these on. You’re tall, so these will likely fit kind of short, but that’s OK--we’re going to have to get you totally re-outfitted anyway.”

“And my hooves…?”

Reaper finished pulling off his boots: “Feet. Sit back down and I’ll help you get these on and laced. You’re still figuring out fingers, I can tell.”

Luna set down on the blanket and lifted her left foot so Reaper could slide on a boot: “Yes, they are interesting. It certainly makes me appreciate the ability to manipulate things with magic!”

Reaper repositioned the sock on Luna’s right foot and slid the second boot on: “Well, get used to it. There’s no magic in this world, at least not the way you think of it. The closest it gets here is potions and illusions--that sort of thing.”

“So, like Zecora?”

Reaper pulled on a second pair of socks and the discarded moccasins: “Exactly. She’d do just fine here.”

Luna tipped her head sideways and squinted at the boots: “These appear to be dragon hide! Celestia banned its use long ago!”

Reaper grinned as he collapsed the now-empty left saddlebag and stuffed it into its right-side counterpart: “That’s true, but recall my comment about knowing the whereabouts of a lot of hoards? Some of those hoards are guarded by now-dead, hide-covered skeletons. And some well-compensated craftsponies don’t ask too many questions when given “mystery material” to work with.”

Luna rolled her eyes: “I suppose an exception could be made for long-dead dragons…”

“I would hope so. I have a few other items made from that same chunk of hide--some gloves, a sheath for this short sword,” he held up a short stabbing blade in a shiny black scabbard, “a belt, that sort of thing.”

He stood up and adjusted his cloak and sash, then slipped the sword through his belt and pulled the belt tight.

“Yet another thing to add to the list. We’ll need to get you some sort of sword, too. You can’t very well be a mysterious warrior from legendary lands without a sword.”

Luna stood and folded the blanket: “A mysterious warrior. I rather like that!”

“I figured you would. I still don’t know how this is all going to play out, but we might as well play it to the hilt!”

Reaper packed the blanket in the reconfigured saddlebag and slung it over his shoulders. He took one last drink from his flask, then handed it to Luna. She emptied it and put it in the cloak’s interior pocket.

They picked their way through the roots and rubble until they were clear of the shrine’s sagging entrance. They stood for a moment looking west at the dusk’s fading orange glow.

“Which way?” Luna asked.

Reaper looked up at the emerging stars, and turned fully to his left: “That way is south, and given the alignment of the major constellation to the left of Kur’s polestar, I figure we’re a good 100 miles too far north.”

He began walking briskly down a lightly-wooded slope toward a stream.

“A bit slower, if you please!” Luna pleaded from behind, stumbling and fighting to keep her balance. “These legs take a bit of getting used to!”

Reaper stopped and turned around: “Sorry! I forgot that this is your first real time walking upright! Do you need some help?”

She leaned against a tree and caught her breath: “No, I ask only that we keep the pace moderate for a bit, especially given the rough terrain!”

Reaper nodded toward the stream: “It looks like the land runs gently down south along that stream. We should find the going a bit easier, there. I’m just eager to find a town or village and get some real directions.”

Luna hiked up her breeches and began walking again: “I understand. I, too, am eager to get somewhere we can replace these clumsy and uncomfortable leg coverings!”

Reaper smiled: “Well, I didn’t have them crafted with your frame in mind, you know!”

“True. So where are these moons of which you spoke?”

“If it is the time of year I think it is, Larg should rise from the east in about another hour. Arro will follow about two hours after that.

“I wonder if I will be able to sense their presences…”

“I doubt it. Like I said, we come from a world drenched in magic and enchantment. If that ever existed here on Kur, it faded long, long ago, back with the oldest of gods and legends.”

“That is a pity. I cannot conceive of a world without magic and all its attendant wonders.”

“Get used to it, Luna. This is a grey and grim world compared to the one we left behind. Its charms and pleasures are few and far between.”

“Still, I shall take delight in my first sighting of two moons. Am I not named Luna? How could I feel otherwise!”

Reaper smiled: “I still don’t know how we’re going to work out all the kinks, but I’m glad Celestia and Twilight let you come!”

He quickened his pace: “Come on--we’ll have a better view of Larg’s rising once we clear this bit of woodland. I wouldn’t want you to miss it!”

Luna broke into a happy jog, and moved up beside him.

Two Moons for Luna
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Death Be Not Proud

Two Moons for Luna

Reaper struck flint and steel sparks into a nest of tinder as Luna rounded up a collection of branches and twigs. She dropped them in front of the small fire Reaper was nursing, and turned to head back down the hill toward the treeline.

“Grab a few bigger pieces, if you can,” Reaper called out. “I’ll have a decent base going in a couple of minutes.”

Luna stooped to pick up a broken piece of trunk from a small tree that had apparently been shattered in a windstorm. As she turned her shoulders in order to pry the piece free, her eyes caught sight of the now-clear eastern horizon.

“Oh, my!”

She dropped the trunk and stood transfixed as Larg rose above distant white-capped mountains.

Reaper stepped up silently behind her and picked up the fallen fuel: “I’d forgotten how big he appears.”

“I can’t feel a presence, the way I do with our moon, but I can still tell so much just by looking!”

She followed Reaper back to the fire, all the time keeping her eye on the silvery orb: “Surely he is actually not all that big, but is simply rather close to Kur.”

Reaper nodded as he placed some larger branches on the growing blaze: “Right. Neither moon is likely very massive, and you’ll see how quickly they traverse the sky. Arro is actually somewhat larger, based on most astronomers’ calculations--it’s just further away.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “That being the case, won’t they both run through their phases rather quickly? How can that be of much use for placing this day against the day of the battle to come?”

“It’ll make more sense in a while when Arro comes up. If my guess is right, she’ll be at around half-full. Any later than that, and we’ll have a problem.”

“She?”

“Yes--most Kurlin identify Larg as as masculine and Arro as feminine. It’s an old tradition that goes back, again, to the days of long-gone legends and gods.”

“Does the sun have a name?”

Reaper stroked the short beard on his chin: “Hmm. Not that I recall. She’s just the sun. And yes, in most dialects, the sun is feminine.”

Luna leaned back and gazed straight up: “The stars truly are different here, aren’t they? I do not recognize any constellations. They seem somehow more distant, colder.”

Reaper frowned thoughtfully: “I never really thought about it, I guess. To be honest I’ve spent so much time on our world focused on ponies and their spirits, that I haven’t paid much attention to the surrounding environments.”

“Like the Royal Gardens.”

“Exactly.”

He stirred the fire and laid on more fuel: “Speaking of--I never got the chance to thank you for that morning in the Gardens and the subsequent trip to Ponyville. I genuinely appreciated the gesture, even if I can never really enjoy it.”

Luna looked away from the stars for a moment and leaned in to warm her hands: “I am only sorry that it was so unexpectedly traumatic for you! And I’m sure poor Aloe still thinks she did something wrong!”

Reaper shook his head: “No--it turned out for the best. It shook my death memory free, and started us down this path.”

Luna nodded and turned her face back toward the sky: “And it did unintentionally yield some valuable material as well.”

Reaper chuckled: “I guess you could put it that way!”

Luna narrowed her eyes and stared intently at Larg for a minute: “Hmm--he does run his course quickly, does he not?”

“Yes he does. He’s good for timing night marches or synchronizing actions, but is of little use as a calendar aid. Arro fills that need better.”

Reaper pulled out the blanket: “We’ve both had a rather hectic day. Have a bit of a nap. I’ll rouse you once Arro is up. Then we can walk again for a bit.”

Luna yawned and curled up gratefully in the blanket: “Please assure me you will awaken me shortly. You, too, need some rest.”

“I will. I’m just going to grab my notebook and jot down some notes regarding the lay of the land here. Hopefully we won’t have to backtrack, but if we do, I want to be able to get back to that ruined shrine for reference.”

Luna nodded absently and dozed off without a further word.

“Luna. Luna, wake up!”

Luna’s eyes fluttered open, and she focused on Reaper’s face, hovering some two feet away, highlighted by the flickering light of the nearby fire.

“How long did I sleep?”

“I let you go for about three hours--you seemed pretty beat.”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes as she turned toward the east.

“I see that Arro is indeed smaller,” Luna said, “and appears darker--almost scarred.”

“Yes. I wish this world had Equestria’s telescopes--it would be fascinating to get a closer look at her features.”

“Alternately, I could simply traverse the gap and get a closer look first-hoof!”

Reaper shook his head, “Yeah, but not here. Like I said, this is a world devoid of that kind of magic. In fact, I suspect the entire construct of our world is unlike this one.”

“How do you mean?”

Reaper looked back and forth between Larg and Arro: “In our world, you and your sister have mastery over heavenly bodies, pegasi control natural phenomena, there are countless sentient creatures.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not that way here. And based on my observation of many other worlds and realities as I skimmed across space and time from the battlefield of my death to Equestria, it isn’t that way anywhere else, either.”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped “No magic anywhere?”

“Certainly not the all-encompassing type we enjoy back on our world. Some places seemed to have sprinklings, but very few and far between.”

Luna placed a piece of wood on the fire: “How sad. I should weep to think of our world without its magic. How is everything accomplished here, then? Is this, in essence, a world of earth ponies?”

Reaper narrowed his eyes for a moment: “More or less, yes. Everything accomplished here is done by brute force or basic engineering or rudimentary science. There may have been some kind of magic back in the misty past, but if so, it faded out long ago.”

Luna looked back up at Arro: “So what has our dark friend told you about the date?”

“We came in about where I figured--we have roughly fifteen days before the battle, give or take. I’ll get a better sense once we get to a mid-size town or garrison.”

Reaper stood and stretched: “My only real concern is that we’re further north than I would have liked. We’re likely going to have to push extra hard to cover the distance.”

He walked away from the fire, heading down the slope toward the stream they had been following: “I’m going to refill the flask and water jug. I’ll be back in a minute, then we can get packed and move on.”

As Reaper moved out of the firelight, Luna stood and looked around with a puzzled, uncomfortable expression: “I suppose anywhere away from where we are sleeping should be fine…”

She walked a few paces back toward the top of a low hill, stopped, and pulled down her breeches. She looked down at the heavy cloth bunched around her ankles and furrowed her brow. She then stepped free of the fabric, spread her legs and leaned forward slightly with her hands on her knees.

Luna raised an eyebrow as she peered down between her legs, then over her shoulder toward her non-existent tail. She shook her head and shrugged, and relaxed her bladder…

...and pissed down the inside of her leg.

“Damn!”

She finished urinating, and turned back toward the fire, stepping away from the wet, steaming grass, shaking her leg. She locked eyes with Reaper, who was standing in front of the fire, chuckling.

“What is so funny?” Luna demanded.

Reaper set down the flask and water bottle, and stepped forward toward Luna: “Still don’t quite have this whole biped thing down, do you?”

She glared: “Well, I have only been doing it for a few hours, yes? And everything’s not quite in its proper place!”

Reaper nodded as he bent down to pick up Luna’s discarded breeches. He lowered himself on his haunches, and held the first two fingers of his left hand up in a 'V' shape: “Right. Next time, squat and hold yourself open with your fingers.”

Luna wrinkled her nose: “How undignified!”

“Better than pissing yourself!”

She nodded ruefully: “True.” She walked back to the fire and stood shivering.

Reaper knelt and pulled a small towel and metal pot from the saddlebag/pack: “Here--dry off and wrap up in the blanket. I’ll warm some water and you can at least wipe down your legs.”

Luna blotted the now-cold urine from her legs and swaddled herself in the blanket as Reaper poured water into the pan and set it at the edge of the fire.

“I assume you do not have this difficulty?” Luna asked.

“Correct. Everything’s kind of in the right place. I’ll only have to squat to shit.”

Luna sighed: “Oh, yes--that too!”

She fussed with her cloak: “These garments do not lend themselves to this, do they?”

“No, though there are other types of garb you may find both more comfortable and functional. Hopefully we can find you something suitable shortly.”

Luna glanced to the west: “Larg has nearly run his course, has he not?”

“Yes. Arro will remain in the sky for most of the rest of the night, though she’s not quite at half, so we won’t get much light from her.”

Luna chewed on an apple she had extracted from Reaper’s bag: “That is fine. I seem to have retained much of my ability to see in the dark.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Really? That’s interesting. I’m glad a little of the old Luna made it through the portal--this might prove useful!”

He leaned forward and tested the water with a forefinger: “Well, it’s not exactly hot, but it’s at least warm enough for a quick sponge bath.”

He poured some warm water over the towel, wrung it out and handed it to Luna. She pulled open the blanket and began running the damp cloth between, then down her legs.

Reaper stood up and picked up the water bottle: “One more trip to the stream to refill this.”

As he returned back up the slope, he looked at Luna, and caught her silhouetted by Larg as he dipped below the treeline. Her hood was thrown back, and her hair fanned out behind her in the breeze like wings. Her smile flashed in her dark face as she spread her arms and pointed to the two moons.

“You say this world is bereft of magic,” she cried, “but I say that the Princess of the Night cannot help but be empowered by the light of two moons! Let us go forth to your doom!”

They packed quickly and headed down the slope into a cold, clinging mist.

Horse Trading
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Death Be Not Proud

Horse Trading

Luna and Reaper walked for two hours, bending slowly to the southwest, then south, still following the stream through a series of small woods and copses, broken by meadows, which were growing lusher and wetter as they progressed.

“I’m getting a little concerned,” Reaper said, picking his way through a boggy patch. “I hope we’re not heading into a swamp or fen.”

“And I hope we are not being followed,” Luna added, glancing behind her.

“Why do you think that?”

“Just a sense I have that somepony is nearby.”

“Someone.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t use ‘pony’--use ‘body’ or ‘one.’”

Luna shook her head: “This will take some adjustment. Besides, no one can understand me as it is, correct?”

Reaper nodded and shrugged, “Well, that’s true, I suppose. Have you heard anything?”

“No. I have no direct evidence, just the sensation of being observed.”

“Who knows? It may simply be we’re being tracked by otsal.”

“What is that?”

“An otsa is rather similar to a wolf, though a bit smaller and longer. They’re kind of slinky, like a huge ferret.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“One otsa--no, not particularly. But a pack of otsal? Probably.”

“What other creatures are there that might pose a threat?”

Reaper chuckled: “You mean besides Kurlin?”

Luna rolled her eyes: “Clearly.”

“Um, besides the otsal, I suppose the only other real threat in these northern climes is the harz--a kind of bear, though faster and, how do I put this, nastier.”

“Nastier?”

“Bears tend to be fairly easy to get along with, as long as you just avoid them and let them go about their business. They, like many creatures on our world, are nearly sentient.”

Luna nodded: “You have implied that such is not the case, here.”

“Not at all. Harz’l are aggressive and will actively pursue you as both an intruder and as prey. I’ve seen a few smaller ones semi-tamed into submission for amusement or as guard animals. Very nasty.”

“That sounds cruel.”

“You have no idea. Do you remember the bad old days of the unicorn frontier battles, at least--what? Two thousand years ago?”

Luna nodded: “Yes. It was then that unicorns learned they had to temper and harness their powers or risk destruction.”

“Right. That was a fairly busy time for me. Kur, especially the realms on this northern continent, put those conflicts to shame.”

“Though without magic, I assume the damage is somewhat more limited,” Luna opined.

“You’d be surprised what a whole bunch of motivated, blood-thirsty earth ponies can accomplish when they put their collective mind to it.”

Luna stopped and furrowed her brow. She tipped her head up as a few snowflakes touched her hair and nose.

Reaper looked back: “Yeah, I see. It’s starting to snow…”

Luna held up her hand: “Shh! That is not why I stopped.”

She pivoted to her right and peered up the slope into the thicket of trees through which they were walking.

Reaper stepped up beside her: “Do you hear something? Is it that whatever that’s been following us?”

Luna kept her hand up and shook her head: “No--this is different. I hear hoof-falls.”

“Foot.”

Luna smiled: “No, this time ‘hoof’ is more accurate. It does not sound like our own tread, but more like that of a pony.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Dalzi? Here--in a forest?”

Luna put her hand down, but continued to peer into the trees: “What is a ‘dalzi?’ Are we in danger?”

“Well, not from a dalzi itself--they’re relatively placid and generally domesticated. They’re this world’s equivalent of a pony, though somewhat larger, and, well you’ll see when you get a look at one.”

“Then what danger would there be?”

“From the Kurlin who undoubtedly accompanies the dalzi. I’ll guarantee you the beast’s not on its own.”

“A companion?”

“No, an owner or master. Remember: Kurlin are the only sentient creatures on this world. Dalzi are pack animals, draft animals, war mounts, and the like. They are bright and clever, as far as that goes, but are not intelligent in the way you think of ponies.”

“So more like dogs.”

“A good analogy, yes.”

Reaper and Luna heard a sudden stumbling and rustling sound, accompanied by indistinct cursing.

Reaper tugged at Luna’s cloak: “We need to duck out of sight, and get a look at whoever this is.”

Luna nodded and took cover behind a large tree a few yards from the boulder where Reaper had hidden.

Two heavily-cloaked figures broke free of the branches and underbrush, towing a line of four tall, sleek, broad-backed, three-toed, dog-like creatures behind them.

“Az’ken!” The lead figure shouted.

Reaper leaned forward and strained to hear the interlopers’ voices.

“We finally found the fuckin’ stream!” the lead figure said in a deep, booming voice, throwing back his hood as he led two of the dalzi to the stream bank to drink.

His partner tugged a line with two more dalzi down beside his companion: “I told ‘ya it were close-by!”

“Sagu, you half-wit, you told me no such fuckin’ thing! You told me this stream was ‘close-by’ hours ago!”

His gangly, sandy-haired sidekick shied away: “Ain’t my fault the map’s skitchy, Sumi!”

Sumi glared at his companion and removed his heavy pack, setting it down next to a tree stump.

“You bought the fuckin’ thing, so it’s your fault by de-fault,” Sumi fumed. “Now shut up and let me piss in peace. Get a fire started--I don’t feel like slugging through anymore of this shit-hole forest tonight!”

Sagu tethered his two dalzi to a small tree growing at the water’s edge, and moved back several paces, grumbling as he began to drag rocks into a fire ring.

Sumi turned away and faced the stream as he lifted his kilt and began to piss on a shrub. Reaper gauged the distance between the two men and stepped briskly from behind his boulder.

“On’gua, gi’zona!” he called cheerily as he rapidly approached Sumi.

The large man whipped around, spraying his feet, and fumbled with both his kilt and sword, nearly dropping the blade in the mud in the process.

“Artu!” he shouted as he finally leveled his short sword at Reaper chest.

Reaper stopped and put up his hands: “Now, now friend--no need for swords!”

“Fuck that! There’s always need for swords in the wilderness! Sagu! Get your skinny ass over here!”

Sagu dropped the kindling he had just gathered and ran over to his friend’s side bearing a torch: “What’chu want, stranger?”

Reaper turned toward Sagu: “My name is Reaper. I am a stranger no more, yes? We all have names now!”

Sumi glared and took a step forward: “Your name’s about to be ‘otsa food,’ if you don’t explain why you ambushed us!”

Reaper looked pained: “Ambush? I was merely keeping out-of-sight until I could determine what sort of men you are. I did not take you for bandits. Was I in error?”

“You can lick my ass with that slippery tongue of yours, stranger! What are you doing out here?”

“My companion and I became lost among this stream’s meanders, and I am seeking a way to the nearest village or encampment.”

Sagu took a half step back and turned around, scanning the trees nervously.

Sumi’s eyes narrowed: “Companion? That definitely sounds like someone setting an ambush! It sure looks to me like you’re the shit-eating bandits, and we can always use another bounty, eh Sagu?”

“Yeah, though I’mma little worried we ain’t seen your mate yet.”

Sagu raised his voice and turned in a circle: “Maybe we should rough up poor ‘ol Reaper here and see who jumps outta the bushes?”

Reaper held his arms wide: “No need for roughing up! I will call for my companion, but please be aware that she does not speak our tongue, and is easily, how shall I put this, annoyed.”

Sumi raised an eyebrow: “She?”

Reaper looked over his shoulder and called out to Luna: “Come out slowly, Luna. Walk towards me, and stop just off my left side.”

Sumi jabbed his sword at Reaper’s face: “Hey! What the fuck did you just say in that jibber-jabber of yours? Who is this ‘she?’”

Luna stepped slowly and cautiously from behind the tree where she had been hiding, and took her place slightly behind and to Reaper’s left.

Reaper bowed as she stopped: “Gentlemen, allow me to present to you Luna, T’zesa of the Zaldun!”

Sumi and Sagu stood slack-jawed for a moment. Sumi shook his head and narrowed his eyes first: “Why the fuck is a princess out here in the wilderness?”

“Is she really Zaldun?” Sagu asked breathlessly.

“She is, and our business is our own.” Reaper replied. “I am merely her translator and man-at-arms. Even I am not privy to Her Highness’ ultimate plans.”

“By the Lost Gods she’s pretty!” Sagu blurted out. “Why ain’t she dressed like a princess?”

“We are forced to travel incognito. As you can tell, Her Highness stands out, even in this rough garb.”

Sumi chewed his lip: “Yeah, she’s pretty alright, and probably worth a pretty bounty, too!”

Reaper smiled, and pointed to his right breeches pocket: “If you will allow me to reach into my pocket, I can assure you I can trump any bounty you might receive.”

Sumi glowered, but nodded. Reaper reached into his pocket and brought out the bag of bits. He dipped his fingers into the bag and lifted out three bits.

“I suspect this is at least a month’s-worth of work for you two, yes?”

Sagu’s eyes grew large: “Shit, Sumi! We c’n finally take off a few weeks, eat some real food, get warm fer once!”

“Shut your mouth, Sagu,” Sumi barked, but he looked hungrily between Luna and the bits gleaming dully in Reaper’s hand.

He ran his hand over his mouth and scratched at his beard: “I don’t recognize the marks on those coins. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Reaper shrugged: “Zaldun, naturally. In addition, what is the story of your string of dalzi?”

“Them’s our bounties,” Sagu blurted out.

Sumi turned on his companion and waved his sword in his face: “Again, shut your fucking mouth!”

Reaper grinned: “How much for two? I will gladly pay the higher bounties, naturally. As you can guess, it causes me great distress to see the T’zesa forced to go on foot.”

Sumi continued glaring at Sagu: “Tell you what: let the blabbermouth here set up camp right quick and I’ll give you one of them nags for an hour of blanket time with Her Highness, there.”

Reaper affected a pained air: “You would not want that.”

“Would not want to fuck a princess? I think you must be drunk or stupid.”

Reaper looked to his left with a frightened expression, and turned back to Sumi with wide eyes: “It is well Her Highness does not understand our speech! I have seen her tear a man’s entrails out with her bare hands and teeth! Just a few weeks back I saw her impale a man! I have watched her fuck a man to death!”

He turned back toward Luna who was looking increasingly confused: “Luna! Stand taller, step forward a bit and look more imperious!”

“What is going on?”

“I’ll explain in a minute. Just be as haughty as you can!”

Luna straightened her back and tossed her head high, half-lidding her eyes and looking down her nose at the two bounty hunters.

Sumi took a half step backwards: “What was that about?”

“Her Highness grows impatient and demands I resolve this situation at once!”

Sumi reached down and scratched under his kilt: “Fucked him to death, huh?”

Reaper nodded solemnly.

Sagu grinned broadly: “Bet he died wit a smile on ‘is face, tho!”

Sumi chuckled: “Yeah--might be worth it!”

Reaper leaned in close: “He died in terror, staring blank-eyed into the Void.”

Sagu blenched: “Fuck it, Sumi, just sell ‘im the nag and the bitch! It’s better coin than we’d grab fer the bounty!”

Reaper dropped two more bits in his palm, as Sumi chewed his lip.

“Fuck it, indeed,” he said at last. “My wife’d kill me a second time if I died humping a mythical princess. Give me the gold and Sagu’ll give you two of the dalzi.”

Reaper turned to Luna: “Stay here for a second--I just bought a pair of mounts off these two.”

Luna nodded and looked the burly bounty hunter up and down as Reaper and Sagu walked away.

Sumi reached under his kilt to scratch again, muttering, “Still--might be worth it…”

Reaper heard Sumi faintly and grinned, but hurried Sagu along just to be safe: “Come quickly, friend. It appears you mean to camp here for the night, but the Princess and I have miles to cover.”

“Yeah, yeah--don’t rush me! This white one’s a handful! I call her ‘the Bitch.’ We kep her together with this brown nag. Seems’t keep the Bitch calmed a titch.”

He chuckled: “Bitch...titch. Sounds funny!”

Reaper rolled his eyes, but bowed graciously as Sagu handed him the rope: “Thank you. Your service will not go unnoticed should our paths cross again!”

“Aw, shit--I’m jes glad we’re gettin’ supmin’ out of ‘em! It’ll be nice t’ eat real food and sleep in a real bed again. Mebbe even get a fuck--even if it ain’t wit' a princess!”

Reaper smiled as they walked back toward Luna and Sumi: “Speaking of: where is the nearest village?”

Sumi overheard the question and shouldered Sagu aside: “Why should we tell you that? Seems intelligence of that type is as valuable as a mount!”

Reaper grinned and reached into his pocket: “You are as shrewd as you are fair!”

He pressed the coin onto Sumi’s hand: “Now if you would be so kind…”

Sumi waved Sagu over: “Get out that map ‘o yours. It’s time we orient ourselves on it, too.”

Sagu reached into the bag on his belt and pulled out a tattered roll of parchment: “The village of Rixk’a is down a ways along this ’ere stream.”

Reaper nodded: “What is this mark above the village?”

Sumi leaned in and squinted in the torchlight: “Looks like an old garrison symbol. But I’ll guarantee there ain’t no active garrisons in these parts anymore. Most likely in ruins by now.”

Reaper took a long look at the map, then straightened up and put out his fist: “The T’zesa and I both thank you for your generosity. We will be on our way, and wish you well in your endeavors!”

Sumi and Sagu stared at Reaper’s balled fist and glanced at each other in confusion.

“It’s not a hoof!” Luna hissed in Reaper’s ear.

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh as he opened his hand: “My apologies, gentlemen. I momentarily engaged in a practice of the Zaldun.”

Sumi raised an eyebrow, but took Reaper’s hand and gave it firm shake.

“You are one fucking weird fellow!”

Reaper turned away with a small bow: “You have no idea…”

Luna fell in beside Reaper as he led their newly-acquired dalzi away from the the spongy ground next to the stream, back onto firmer footing.

Reaper glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Sagu striking sparks while Sumi arranged wood: “That’s good to see…”

“What is?”

“It looks like they really will settle in for the night. I was concerned they might follow us.”

“I assume they could still track us if they so choose.”

“True, though I doubt they’ll follow us. I think they really are just run-of-the-mill bounty hunters, happy to have made a very good profit for one night’s work!”

“I genuinely wish I could speak this language! I felt so helpless not knowing what was being said.”

Reaper squinted up into the thickening clouds, which were now producing more snow showers: “You didn’t miss much. I told them you were a Princess of the Zaldun--a T’zesa--and that I wanted to buy two of their mounts so you don’t have to walk.”

Luna smiled: “Ah, that explains why you wanted me to be haughtier!”

“Exactly. I needed you to be intimidating--a proper mysterious warrior Princess!”

Luna tossed her head back: “Perhaps I should learn a few words or phrases for such moments of high import!”

Reaper chuckled: “Sure--what do you want to know?”

“I heard the word ‘artu’ bandied about a fair amount. It seemed important.”

Reaper let out a short, loud laugh: “Ha! Luna, that means ‘fuck.’ I’m not sure you’ll be making a lot of use of that word in your new role as T’zesa of the Zaldun!”

Luna raised an eyebrow and looked down her nose at Reaper: “You have no fucking idea what my new role may entail!”

Reaper’s eyebrows jumped, and Luna broke into a broad grin.

“You’re probably right about that, Princess! You’re probably right!”

They chatted and laughed happily as they trudged on into the thickening snow.

Predator and Prey
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Death Be Not Proud

Predator and Prey

Dawn was breaking feebly to their left as Luna and Reaper stumbled through a crumbling wall into the courtyard of a ruined garrison. Heavy snow, whipped by strong winds, swirled around the overgrown courtyard, and piled against a wrecked and burned-out armory.

Reaper squinted into the slashing wind and pointed to a sagging two-story structure beyond the armory’s blackened husk: “Looks like a barracks. Let’s get against its leeward side, and get out of this damned wind!”

Luna nodded and tugged on the dalzis’ lead, guiding them across the pock-marked courtyard and into the relative shelter beyond.
Reaper helped her secure the mounts’ ropes to a post, and stepped through a gap in the barracks wall. His eyes adjusted, and he scanned the interior.

Luna joined him a minutes later, ducking low to avoid hitting her head on the crumbling masonry: “It seems fairly intact.”

“Agreed. The other end of this building is as burned-out as that armory up front, but this bit seems to have been spared the worst of it.”

Luna stepped in further and peered into a darkened back corner: “Others have also found these accommodations useful, it would appear.”

Reaper stepped beside her: “A fire pit. That’s good and bad.”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Good seems self-explanatory. What is the negative?”

“It means we might have visitors drop in on us, who may not be quite as tractable as Sumi and Sagu.”

Luna nodded: “I understand. But do you think it likely anyone else is desperate enough to be out in the wilderness in this weather?”

Reaper stepped into the corner and poked at the ash and charcoal: “Probably not, but I’m concerned nonetheless.”

He peered up through an opening in the ceiling above the fire pit, and studied the collapsed second story above: “Looks like the floor above fell apart without crashing through into this space. Just hope this wind doesn’t finish it off!”

Luna looked back over her shoulder: “Should we bring in the dalzi?"

“Yeah, let’s see if we can coax them through this opening in the wall. The actual door to this room is clearly blocked.”

He pointed to a pile of rubble and fallen masonry across the room to their right.

Luna nodded and pulled the her hood tight before stepping back into the slashing, wind-driven snow.

Reaper stood to one side of the hole, waiting for Luna to hand him a lead. She reached through a moment later and waved a leather strap in the air.

Reaper grabbed for it, and tugged gently: “Got it!” He guided the skittish brown Nag into the room. It laid down its ears and looked about furtively.

Reaper spoke soothingly to it: “C’mon beastie, it’s safe in here. And you’re a lot less likely to freeze to death!”

Luna re-entered the chamber backwards, pulling Bitch inside, her aquamarine eyes locked with the pale dalzi’s large golden eyes. She stepped away and shook the snow from her hood.

“You seem to have a rapport with that one,” Reaper observed as he lashed Nag’s lead to an old bench.

“Yes. I know they are not sentient, but you are correct that they are intelligent and capable of connection.”

“Score another one for a bit of stow-away Equestrian magic!”

Luna smiled: “So I note that it must be morning, regardless of the dark sky. How long do you think we will need to remain here?”

“As long as it takes. No way are we going back into that. I’ve traveled in these northern realms before, and this sort of early spring storm usually blows through fairly quickly.”

“Very well. Is there sufficient fuel to get a fire going?”

Reaper walked toward the fire pit and backtracked to its opposite corner: “Looks like someone left a bit behind, yes.”

He began building a fire as Luna inspected the dalzi more closely: “A very odd mix of dog and pony. I rather like the thicker fur and shaggy tail. I do not think I would like their hooves, however.”

“Those three-toed things of theirs really are good over soft terrain and loose mountainsides and the like.”

Reaper struck sparks into a bundle of grass and twigs: “The only real advantage pony hooves have are on paved road surfaces.”

Luna bent down and picked up one of Bitch’s feet: “Yes, I can see that. They have some hard material, but not as much as a pony.”

“Right--and there’s no way to secure a shoe to it, the way some earth ponies do.”

Luna stood and stroked Bitch’s short, cream-colored mane: “I see why they gave her her name. She has an untamed fire in her eyes that some would find intimidating.”

Reaper blew life into the smoldering tinder and stacked a few heavier pieces on top: “But not you, I’m sure!”

She leaned forward and kissed the dalzi on its forehead: “Never! I am intimidated by no creature!”

“Well, except your sister…”

Luna turned toward Reaper and chewed her lip: “We have a complicated relationship…”

“I find it interesting that the age difference between the two of you withered to insignificance millennia ago, yet you still have a very ‘big-sister/little-sister’ dynamic.”

“I think much of that stems from my lingering guilt, and the feeling of rebirth I experienced when I was defeated as Nightmare Moon.”

Reaper paused as he pulled the blanket out of his pack and spread it beside the fire. He looked back over his shoulder at Luna: “Defeated. I wonder…”

She started to speak, but furrowed her brow and bit her lip instead. She walked to the fire and sat beside Reaper.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, chewing on some of Reaper’s dwindling provisions.

“How long do you think it will be before we reach the village? I am growing concerned that our food may give out soon.” Luna said between bites of a flattened biscuit.

Reaper tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling: “Based on Sagu’s map, I would say Rixk’a is likely another day’s long march away. We’re OK food-wise, and the stream’s always close for water. I just hope we don’t run into anyone else. We’re woefully under-armed.”

Luna took a sip of water from Reaper’s flask: “And I badly need a bath!”

Reaper laughed: “That’s not usually a big concern out here in the wilderness!”

Luna held her chin high: “Well, a T’zesa of the Zaldun must see to her hygiene! It is an important part of her image!”

Reaper grinned as Luna suddenly shifted uncomfortably: “Speaking of, would it be acceptable if I relieved myself in the far corner? I do not relish the thought of half disrobing in that storm!”

Reaper shook his head as Luna stood: “No, that’s fine. I don’t blame you for not wanting to squat out in that--you’d likely freeze your ass off!”

Luna rolled her eyes as she walked to the far corner, dropped her breeches and squatted, successfully emptying her bladder on a trampled pile of accumulated leaves that had collected next to the wall.

Reaper heard the trickling sound of her stream and called out: “Having better luck this time?”

Luna stood and gingerly pulled her breeches back up: “Yes. I still contend this is most undignified, but it does work.”

She turned to head back to the fire, when a pale stick entangled in a scrap of cloth caught her eye. She bent down to pick it up. Her eyes widened when she shook the bit of rag free and saw that the ‘stick’ was actually a length of leg bone.

Luna knelt next to Reaper on the blanket: “Should we be concerned about this?”

He turned with a quizzical expression that dropped into a frown when he saw what Luna bore: “Oh, shit!”

Reaper took the bone and held it close to the fire: “Heavy teeth marks. This poor bastard met his end in the mouth of a hartz!”

“Are we in danger?”

“Probably.”

Reaper lifted a burning branch from the fire, stood and walked to where Luna had found the bone.

He crouched: “Well, I can certainly smell your piss, which is going to make it somewhat difficult to check for hartz spoor.”

Luna stepped up beside Reaper and took the makeshift torch as he went down on his hands and knees.

“My apologies…”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong; you had no idea. I’m just hoping this isn’t a den--that some hartz just dragged its kill here long ago.”

Reaper continued to poke around for a few minutes, sifting through bits of leather and cloth, unearthing additional bone fragments. He stood at last and headed back toward the fire.

Luna sat down: “What do you think?”

Reaper settled in beside her and took a draw from his flask: “Hard to say. The evidence doesn’t look very fresh, but it’s pretty clear there’s a mix of remains. I don’t think this was a one-off. It’s possible there may be otsal mixed in with this too. They’re scavengers.”

“So we are in a bit of a pickle, as the farm ponies would say.”

“Yeah, I would say so. Let’s rest up for a bit, but just until the worst of this storm passes, then we clear out of here and get back on the trail south. I’d rather deal with nasty weather than nasty carnivores!”

“You should certainly take some rest. I do not believe you have slept since our arrival.”

Reaper smiled: “You first. I want to jot down another set of notes, see if I can re-draw that map while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

“Fine, but please alert me at the first sign of trouble.”

Luna wrapped-up tightly in the blanket, as Reaper added another log to the fire, and pulled out his notebook.

The wind whistled through chinks in the crumbling walls of the Castle of the Two Sisters as Luna wandered its abandoned and rubble-strewn halls.

She observed moonlight spilling in through holes in the roof, and felt the bite of cold air. It was then she noticed that though her horn and tail had returned, her skin was still hairless and walking on two legs. She heard voices in the distance.

“Hello?” She called out. “Is anyone, or anypony here?”

Her voice echoed back to her in unfamiliar words: “Ka’ix?”

“I do not understand you!”

“That is because you do not belong.”

“Who is this? Who are you? Are you pony or Kurlin?”

“Hard to tell.”

“That seems unlikely. It is easy enough: do you have a thick coat and walk on all fours?”

“You mean like a dalzi?”

“No, I meant…”

“Or like a dog that squats to piss? You know: like a bitch.”

Luna furrowed her brow in confusion: “No--Bitch is a dalzi.”

“Or your sister…”

“I am cold. Is there anything here I can use to wrap myself?”

A shaft of moonlight fell on a jumbled and broken skeleton shrouded in a cloak.

Luna stepped forward and leaned down to pick up the tattered garment, when she noticed the skeleton was that of a unicorn, still bearing patches of light brown hide.

She held up the cloak and looked at the symbol on the back: 死

“This is Reaper’s--it was destroyed.”

“Fitting, since he was, too.”

“Not true! He has returned to Kur to regain that which was lost.”

“You mean ‘take’ that which was given. That power resides inside you. Will you be usurped again?”

Luna peered into the dark and tried to illuminate her horn, but the silvery glow was snuffed out like a candle by a black ribbon of smoke.

“Who are you?”

Her voice echoed back again: “Nor z’ara?”

She clenched her fists and shouted at the gathering dark: “Enough of these damn riddles--WHO ARE YOOOOU?!”

Her angry cry was taken up by the wind and transformed to the howl of a wolf, hungry and close by.

Luna woke with a start. The odd howling was near, though not quite that of a wolf (or wolves?) She rubbed her eyes and struggled to sit up.

Reaper, slumped over, stirred next to her and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Reaper! Wake up! We were both asleep, it appears!”

“Wha--what? Oh, shit! I fell asleep! How long?”

“I do not know, though the fire is down to embers, so at least three hours, I would suspect.”

Reaper ran his fingers through his hair and slapped his face: “Damn it! I was more exhausted than I thought!”

He stood up and stepped to the wood pile, retrieving a pair of thick branches, tossing them on the coals.

He squinted at the hole in the ceiling: “It’s brighter outside, so I would say it’s mid-day, by now.”

Luna tipped her head and peered intently at the two dalzi, who were now huddled together, trembling and making grunting noises.

She stood and took a step toward the animals: “I thought I dreamt I heard wolves, but the dalzi seem upset by something.”

Reaper knelt at the fire, blowing and rearranging fuel and coals, teasing the fire back to life: “Who knows--they may smell something on the wind, or…”

He was interrupted by a chorus of howls that sounded like a blend of wolf and elk cries, coming from the courtyard.

Luna froze, Reaper’s head snapped up, and the dalzi began shifting nervously.

Reaper licked his lips: “We have a problem.”

“Will the otsal attack us?”

Reaper slowly picked up his short sword and slipped it back through his belt as he walked toward Luna, who had moved next to the trembling dalzi.

“Sounds like three, so you and I aren’t likely in much danger, but the dalzi are.”

“Can we run them off?”

“Not yet. Our best bet is sit tight, stoke the fire, and prepare a few burning branches. I just wish we had another weapon.”

Luna scanned the room for anything useful while she laid her hand on Bitch’s forehead, calming the nervous beast.

Reaper headed back to the fire and thrust in two more branches, stirring the embers and causing fresh flames to flare.

“What were you dreaming?”

Luna looked back toward the fire pit: “What?”

Reaper began packing their scattered effects: “I was wondering what you were dreaming about.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “I was back in the ruined castle, having some sort of dialogue with, well somepony or someone. I could not tell.”

“More Nightmare Moon?”

“Possibly. I have felt little evidence of her presence since our climactic battle with Grey Thorn. I wondered if perhaps she had been, well, removed or dissolved or something. I am unsure quite how to express it.”

Reaper started to speak then stopped and held up his hand: “They’ve stopped howling. Do you hear that snuffling sound?”

Luna looked toward the opening in the wall: “Yes. I think they are moving toward the hole.”

Reaper slowly moved nearer the opening when a broken spear haft caught his eye.

He gestured toward it: “Do you see that spear shaft? Grab that when you get the chance. I’m going to poke my head out and see if I can spot the damn things.”

Suddenly something fell through the ceiling above the fire pit with a loud crash. Reaper and Luna spun around to see what had happened at the same moment two otsal dashed into the room, biting at the dalzis’ legs, and yelping like hyenas.

Nag let out a loud wailing sound and strained at her lead, which held. Bitch’s did not, and she bolted, knocking Luna aside and leaping through the hole.

The otsal were both engaged with Nag for a moment, and Luna regained her footing just in time to grab at the broken spear, and step in front of the gap in the wall.

Reaper ran toward the fire to seize a burning branch, and found himself facing a large, singed, silver-grey otsa, shaking free of the scattered fire.

Reaper yanked his sword from his belt and stabbed at the beast, driving it back toward the fire: “You OK over there, Luna?”

“No! Bitch fled! I must retrieve her!”

“No, no! Stay here! There’s no telling what’s out there in that blizzard! One dalzi isn’t worth the risk!”

Luna lunged at the two otsal engaged with Nag, shooing them back long enough to free the dalzi. She then stumbled toward the hole, falling heavily against the wall, knocking down a large section of weakened masonry and timber as she dove through the opening into the snow beyond.

Reaper looked back over his shoulder at the crumbling wall and cloud of dust: “Damn it, Luna, no!”

The large otsa took the opportunity to scurry out of the corner and make a break for Nag, joining its mates who were likewise closing in on the sweating dalzi.

“Shit!”

Reaper dashed toward the knot of animals, waving the burning branch, and slashing with his sword. Nag reared and knocked one of the smaller otsal backward, directly at Reaper. He skewered it through the back and tossed the body aside.

“Nicely done, girl!”

Nag shied away and tried to make for the half-blocked hole. Reaper grabbed her lead and wrapped it around his forearm.

“Oh, no you don’t! I don’t want you taking off, too!”

He pivoted to his left just as the second smaller otsa dove at his leg, teeth gnashing. He thrust the burning branch at it, blinding it and driving it back. The large silver-gray leader jumped up on Nag’s back and opened its mouth to bite into the dalzi’s neck.

Nag reared and screamed, throwing the flailing predator onto Reaper, knocking him down. He grappled with the otsa, avoiding direct bites, but taking a series of claw slashes across his arms and chest.

He hugged the otsa tight, locked his head against the side of its jaw, and drove its head hard into the wall, stunning it for a moment.

Reaper staggered up and away, just as Nag kicked free of the remaining smaller otsa, sending it sprawling. Reaper jumped at the chance, took two, long, stumbling strides, and fell forward onto the creature, driving his sword through its throat with his full weight.

He shook his head to clear the glittering fog that filled his vision, yanked his sword free of the twitching otsa, and advanced on the last of the pack.

“C’mon, boy--it’s just you, and me. I don’t bear you any ill will, but I can’t have you tracking us, and I’m in a hurry to find Luna!”

The otsa snarled and feigned an attack at Nag’s hindquarters, causing her to kick, shielding the otsa for a moment. It scurried beneath the frightened dalzi and bolted for the crumbling gap in the wall.

“Fuck!”

Reaper jumped up and to his right to avoid Nag’s kick, and flung his sword at the escaping predator. It caught the otsa in its right hind leg, opening a long gash. The otsa yelped in pain and squirmed through the hole. It limped off into the storm, leaving behind a crimson trail.

Nag ran to the hole, and began to dig.

Reaper scrambled in the dirt to regain control of her lead: “Damn it, not you too! Just sit still for a minute and let me catch my breath!”

He sat down heavily on the floor and took several long, deep breaths. He stood stiffly and wrapped Nag’s lead around the bench where it had been secured before.

He limped back toward the fire pit: “Just hang tight a minute, girl. Let me scoop up all our stuff and we’ll get out of here.”

He hastily finished packing, slung the pack over his shoulder, kicked out the fire, untied Nag’s lead from the bench, and led her tentatively through the now-collapsing wall. It caved in just as Reaper and his dalzi stepped clear.

He squinted into the sky, and noticed that the snow had diminished substantially, but that the day had also grown late.

“Great,” he sighed as he scanned the courtyard for evidence of Luna and Bitch’s flight.

He saw a pair of tracks leading off to the north, and set off briskly, with Nag following close behind.

“I sure hope she didn’t go far…”

“Damn it, Luna, no!”

Luna scrambled across loose, snow-covered stones and clumps of vegetation, vainly trying to regain her footing while keeping Bitch in sight.
She whistled and shouted after the rapidly-escaping dalzi: “Bitch, girl--please stop!”

Luna began to fall forward, but caught herself against the spear shaft she was carrying, and finally recovered her balance. She broke into a fast run, her long legs carrying her quickly out of the garrison compound, heading north.

She kept a brisk pace for several minutes, following the dalzi’s footprints into the edge of a forest that covered the lower slopes of a range of rocky hills and outcroppings.

She stumbled down a steep bank to the edge of a frozen rill, where she tripped over an unseen root, buried in the snow, and sprawled forward on her face with a shout.

She rolled over, spitting snow and shaking her hair free from her cloak’s hood: “Damn!”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began calling in a low, soft voice: “Biiitch! Please come to me! I am really more like you than you know--we are both ponies, in our way. Let me be your friend!”

Luna stood and knocked the wet, heavy snow from her cloak and breeches, and gingerly stepped across the ice-covered stream, wincing with each crack and snap.

She picked her way slowly up the opposite embankment, stepping into the dalzi’s footprints wherever possible. She grabbed a heavy, gnarled shrub and pulled herself up the last few feet, then noticed another pair of tracks coming in from the west, merging with Bitch’s.

She furrowed her brow and peered at the heavy, four-toed prints bearing distinctive claw marks: “Oh, no!”

Luna began to run along the mingled tracks as quickly as the heavy snow and uncertain footing would allow. She strained her ears, listening for any sounds of distress or pain, but heard only the gusting wind rustling the surrounding evergreen forest. She bit her lip and quickened her pace.

A few anxious minutes passed, and Luna skidded to a stop in a large patch of confused tracks and disturbed snow. She heard the guttural cry of a distressed animal, and the counterpoint of a feral roar. She froze in her tracks and closed her eyes, trying to gauge the direction of the sounds in the dense forest.

Suddenly Bitch broke through the underbrush to Luna’s right, fleeing a pursuing hartz. The large, shaggy, dark grey beast was on all fours, hot on the fleeing dalzi’s heels, mere strides from overtaking her.

Luna pivoted and ran forward to meet the charging predator head-on, splintered spear shaft leveled like a lance: “Leave her be, you monster!”

The spear shaft gouged into the hartz’s right shoulder, drawing blood and throwing it off its stride. Bitch scurried sideways and dashed for cover as Luna turned to face the enraged beast, now standing at least two feet taller than herself.

She sized up her opponent: bear-like, though slimmer, with smaller paws, shaggier fur, and a more cat-like face and claws. It dropped back onto all four paws, gave a cry of rage and charged Luna from only a few feet away.

She sidestepped the hartz’s charge, poking her weapon at its face. It turned its head to avoid the spear’s splintered end, and drove its shoulder into Luna’s chest, sending her sprawling.

She swiftly rolled up onto her knees, turned and swung the spear shaft in a wide arc, striking the hartz across the back of its head. It howled in pain and rage, and scrambled upright, paws upraised, claws flashing. It lunged forward as Luna stumbled to her feet and twisted away to avoid its blow.

The hartz’s right paw caught Luna squarely across the back, rending her cloak and tearing the skin open between her shoulders.

Luna shrieked in pain and staggered forward as the hartz reared up again to its full height, preparing to drop its full weight on top of its crippled opponent.

Luna rolled over and tried to level her weapon, but her vision was blurred and all she could make out was a large grey mass descending on her.

“Do your worst!” she spat through gritted teeth.

But just as the hartz lunged forward, a pale shape broke in from Luna’s right, knocking the beast aside.

Luna planted the spear shaft into the ground and forced herself upright: “Bitch! Thank you!”

The dalzi turned back toward the combatants, pawed at the ground, and charged again, driving her head into the confused hartz’s abdomen, bowling it over.

Bitch reared up and drove its three-toed feet into the hartz's neck, but it was not enough. The hartz quickly rolled up on its haunches and swiped at the dalzi, knocking her down. In an instant the grey beast was on top of its squealing prey, preparing to sink its fangs into Bitch’s neck.

Luna dashed forward and leapt on the hartz’s back, sliding the spear shaft across its throat and pulling its head back. The enraged beast howled and swung a paw back, clubbing the side of Luna’s head.

Luna maintained her grip and position, though her head swam, and her senses were filled with the smells of frightened and angry animals, their cries of rage and terror, her own fear and searing pain. The hartz shook Luna free, causing her to slide off its back and around to its front, presenting her own throat as a target. The fangs closed in as Luna fell backwards across Bitch’s head. She felt death’s presence.

Suddenly the hartz reared back, dazzled and terrified as Luna’s eyes snapped open and blazed forth with a cold, white fire.

Luna grabbed a handful of the hartz’s neck fur, and let it pull her upright as it tried to back up and off its intended prey. Her other hand brought the shattered spear shaft around.

“I have faced mightier foes than you, beast!” she cried as she drove the spear shaft up under the hartz's jaw.

The terrified beast fell back, teeth clashing, paws swiping, but Luna clung to it, howling in rage, and drove her bloody weapon up through the back of its mouth and into its brain.

The hartz gave a great, shuddering sigh and collapsed forward across Luna, crushing her to the ground under its bulk.

Luna’s eyes dimmed as she struggled weakly to free herself from the hartz’s twitching body. Bitch stumbled over and pushed with her head at the great, grey body in an attempt to help free Luna, but to little avail.

Luna managed to free her upper body and hips, but exhaustion overtook her before she could pry her legs loose. She slumped onto her side and slipped into unconsciousness. Bitch settled in next to Luna, shielding her from the wind, and laid her head next to her mistress with a sigh as the storm’s last flakes floated down silently, and Larg rose, cold and pale above the treetops.

Dreamweaver
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Death Be Not Proud

Dreamweaver

Reaper tugged urgently at Nag’s lead as they trotted out across the garrison’s courtyard, following Luna and Bitch’s trail: “Hurry up, girl! We need to hoof it as quickly as we can before the snow and wind wipe out their trail!”

The dalzi strained at its lead, but picked up its pace, matching Reaper as they passed through the compound’s collapsed wall.

They jogged briskly through the swirling snow, stumbling over buried obstacles, becoming more snow-encrusted by the minute. The westering sun began breaking through tears in the cloud cover, glistening off the ice and snow, throwing knife-like shadows from the surrounding trees and rocky outcroppings.

Reaper halted Nag as they approached the edge of the drop-off that led to the stream Luna had crossed earlier that afternoon. He peered down at the tangle of barren trees and rocks, cut through by the path that Luna had carved out with her fall.

He grinned and gingerly picked his way down toward the stream: “Well, she obviously came this way! Looks like she didn’t fall in, at least.”

He stood on the stream bank and squinted up the other side, noting the dislodged stones and disturbed vegetation.

He stepped out onto the ice, just as Nag attempted to jump across. She failed to clear the stream, and crashed through the weakened surface, causing Reaper to stumble forward and step into the frigid water, which quickly soaked him up to his waist.

Reaper lunged forward out of the stream and fell to his knees on the other bank: “Damn it all to Tartarus, you stupid beast! Why in Celestia’s name did you jump?”

Nag shied away and scrambled up the embankment, stopping at the top to shake the water from its hide.

Reaper stood up, straightened his cloak and breeches, and trudged up the slope until he stood next to Nag. He looked up at the treetops as the sun began to slide behind them.

“Damn, I hope we find them soon. The storm’s tapering off and the clouds are breaking up. It’s going to get bloody cold soon.”

Nag made a low grunting sound, and leaned down to sniff at the various tracks and paw prints around them.

Reaper knelt down alongside Nag: “Yeah, they clearly kept heading straight north. I wonder when…”

He froze when he saw the hartz tracks off to the left: “Oh, shit!”

He stood and looked north then west then north again. He licked his lips and jogged west along the hartz’s trail for three minutes, and stopped in front of a low cave entrance carved into the base of a tall granite outcropping.

He stood still for a moment listening intently, then turned back to the east and ran back to the junction of the three sets of tracks.

He had just turned north when he heard the distant cries of fighting creatures: “I’m coming as fast as I can, Luna!”

He broke into a full run, Nag flanking him, crashing through branches and drifts, stumbling and recovering his footing, lungs burning, listening intently for a voice or a scream or anything.

He heard both: “Shit, Luna! Please don’t get yourself killed! I have no idea what will happen to you if you die on this world, and I’d rather we not find out!”

He tore through a band of underbrush and stopped suddenly, mere yards from the grisly evidence of Luna’s battle with the hartz.

Reaper hastily tied Nag’s lead around a branch and ran to Luna, kneeling beside her. Bitch lifted her head and looked into Reaper’s eyes, before laying her head down again next to Luna.

Reaper grinned: “Looks like the bond goes both ways!”

He leaned down and brushed the wet hair from her face and placed his ear against her lips. He felt her slow breath against the side of his face.

“Oh, thank the Lost Gods!”

He stood up and looked around for Luna’s spear shaft. He noticed it jammed up through the jaw of the hartz, with only about half of it still visible.

His eyebrows jumped: “Wow. Well I guess that explains how it died! Looks like I need a different lever.”

He walked to a nearby fallen tree, broke off a thick branch, some six feet long, and dragged it back to the fallen hartz, retrieving Nag as he walked.

He bent down and looped Nag’s lead beneath Luna’s arms and tied it tight across her chest. He then slid the branch alongside her leg and underneath the hartz’s body.

Reaper slapped Nag on the flank, and strained to lift the bulk of the hartz off Luna’s legs.

“C’mon, dammit! Move, Nag! Pull her free!”

He swatted Nag’s flank again, causing her to grunt and jump forward. As she did, Reaper managed to pry the hartz’s torso up and away just enough for Luna’s legs to slide free. Reaper dropped the branch and collapsed across the hartz.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the sky for a moment: “Well, that was fun! Now to figure out how to get us all back to this beast’s cave before you and I freeze to death!”

Reaper stood and took up Bitch’s lead: “You’re going to help this time…”

He gently scooped Luna into his arms and draped her limp body across Bitch’s back, securing her with the dalzi’s lead. He then grabbed Nag’s lead, threaded it through Bitch’s and tugged firmly.

“Let’s go, you two. I don’t have much left in me, and I really don’t want to die out here in this stupid forest!”

Reaper and the two dalzi slowly made their way back down the trail to the south, finally turning west, and ending in front of the cave Reaper had discovered earlier.

He tied off Nag’s lead, drew his sword, and stepped cautiously through the dark opening. He stood quietly for a minute, listening for breathing, and hearing none, returned to the tethered dalzi.

He gently lowered Luna off Bitch’s back, and propped her against a log. He then opened his pack, drew out his flint and steel, and gathered a collection of branches and kindling, depositing them just inside the cave’s entrance.

The hartz had accumulated a dense mat of twigs, leaves and grass over the years, and Reaper was able to strike a spark into a handful of this material, building a usable fire within a few minutes.

He rubbed his face and the back of his neck wearily, and fought to keep from trembling with cold: “Just a few more minutes. Can’t stop now!”

The fire illuminated the inside of the cave well enough for Reaper to see a series of cracks and fissures in the ceiling, with roots dangling through. The smoke from his fire was making its way into these crevices, which allowed him to build up the fire a bit without risk of suffocation.

He tossed the blanket out onto a section of the hartz’s bedding, staked the two dalzi just outside the cave entrance, next to a sheltering overhang, and gently carried Luna into the cave.

He stripped her sodden, blood-smeared clothing off and was taken aback when he saw the bruising on her face and the gashes across her shoulder blades: “Shit! I have to get this cleaned-up!”

He wrapped her loosely in the blanket and warmed a pan of water while rummaging through his pack looking for a jar of antiseptic unguent. He took the pan, towel, an extra shirt, and ointment over to Luna.

He pulled back the blanket and lightly bathed her wounds, smeared them with the ointment, and bound strips of torn shirt around her back and chest. She stirred slightly at his touch.

He stood and finally peeled off his own water-logged clothes, spreading all the various garments out alongside the fire. He crouched next to the fire for a minute, allowing its radiant heat to dry his skin somewhat. Then he returned to Luna and the blanket.

He slid in behind her, being careful not touch her bandages, draped an arm over her torso, and pressed his legs against hers.

“I just hope between that fire, and this blanket, we have enough heat to get us through the night!”

Luna’s eyes fluttered half open, and tried to focus on the dim, grey, flickering surroundings: “Am...am I dead?”

Reaper reached toward her face and brushed the hair away from her eyes: “Thank the Cosmos--you’re conscious!”

“So, not dead?”

“No, though I have no idea why not! One does not fight a hartz in knee-deep snow wielding a broken spear and live to tell the tale!”

“Bitch?”

“She’s fine. Actually carried you here. We’re in the den of that hartz you killed.”

“Water.”

Reaper rolled over and lifted away the edge of the blanket and retrieved his pack. He pulled out the flask and leaned over Luna, tipping the neck against her lips.

“Better?”

She swallowed and nodded.

“Cold.”

He capped the flask, set it aside and pressed in against her lower back and legs, pulling the blanket tight.

She shivered and pressed against him in return: “Better.”

Reaper draped his arm carefully across her shoulder again: “I’m glad you’re, well not exactly OK, but alive and intact at any rate.”

“Afraid Celestia would kill you?”

He chuckled: “That too! Now we both need some rest. The clothes should be dry by morning, and we’ll see how those wounds look then.”

“Thank you.”

Reaper smiled and settled in, letting the warmth from the blanket and Luna’s bare skin soothe his frayed nerves. He heard her breathing deepen into a steady rhythm, and could feel the pulse in her arm against his fingertips.

He furrowed his brow and tried to fall asleep, but exhausted as he was, he couldn’t help feeling his own pulse rise in response to hers. He felt his loins stir, and he began to stiffen. Luna shifted her hips, as though in response, and Reaper choked back a gasp. He fought the urge to rub against her, and rolled over so that his back was against hers, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Some time later Reaper became aware that he was spooned against Luna’s back again, his arm draped over her, his open hand resting on her breast. He trembled, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to caress.

She stirred slightly, and he felt her nipple stiffen, prompting his own stiffening, which he began to rub slowly against her backside.

Reaper’s breathing became increasingly rapid and shallow as Luna pressed her hips back, increasing the friction, rocking in time with his motion, bringing a hand up to her breast and digging her nails into the back of Reaper’s hand. He gasped and pushed his loins hard against Luna’s ass.

In response she suddenly arched away, reached behind her back with her free hand and wrapped her fingers tightly around Reaper’s rigid member.

He let out a low moan and buried his face in her hair as she deftly delivered a few firm strokes. That was all it took for Reaper to shudder and bite back a cry as he splattered the curve of her lower back.

Luna let out a happy laugh, and rolled over to face Reaper. He felt her shift, and opened his eyes…

...and awoke suddenly with a gasp.

He lifted the edge of the blanket to expose a glistening stain, and looked back over his shoulder at Luna’s sleeping form.

“What in Tartarus…?”

He reached out beyond the warmth of the blanket to the pile of torn shirt and towel, and lifted the towel free, pulling it back under the blanket, using it to blot up his emission. He tucked it between his legs and rolled back toward Luna.

He reached a hand over her shoulder and gently tapped her cheek: “Luna. Luna, wake up.”

Her breathing stopped for a moment, then she took a deep, shuddering breath: “Wha-what it is? Are we in danger?”

“No. But something very odd just happened. Were you in my dream?”

Luna lay still and silent for several moments. Reaper thought she had fallen back asleep when she rolled slightly and looked over her shoulder.

“Yes,” she replied, looking into his eyes.

“How is that possible? You have no dominion over sleep or dreams here--at least you shouldn’t!”

Luna nodded and painfully rolled over to face Reaper: “I suspect it was possible in this case because we are in such close proximity, and share a connection.”

“So not the entire dreamscape, just one little piece?”

“Well, two pieces, technically. It was my dream as well.”

“Why?”

“I felt your urgency, and share a measure of it myself. And I wanted to see if I have other influence in this world.”

“Other?”

“I will describe the battle with the hartz later. I am too drained to do so now.”

“Luna, you know we can’t experience each other that way.”

“Not even in dreams?”

“Dreams are as real to you as waking life is to the rest of us!”

Luna bit her lip: “That is true.”

“It is my sincere hope that we can complete this mission and extract me from this entangling flesh--be it pony or Kurlish! Then you can go back to your dreamscape, and I can avoid dreams altogether!”

Luna closed her eyes and nodded: “I understand. Still, this may have proved useful.”

“Why--did we need another towel full of my spunk?”

Luna smiled: “No, but my ability to enter dreams may extend further than we know. Would you object to me entering your dream again?”

Reaper glanced down at the cloth stuffed between his legs: “I’m not sure what more you could do at this point, so go ahead.”

He closed his eyes and fell almost at once into a deep sleep.

Reaper stirred again some time later, and was aware he was now sitting in a chair in a dimly-lit room or chamber.

“Now what?”

He reached for a lamp on an adjacent table, and it immediately lit, illuminating the space. It appeared to be Starswirl’s secret library that he and Luna and Twilight had discovered beneath the old wizard’s known private study.

He stood up and looked around. The shelves were filled this time, though the writing did not seem familiar at first.

“Hiz’teg: Ruki 1...what?”

The words swam before his eyes for a moment: Vocabulary: Volume 1.

He spun around at the sound of someone re-shelving a book behind him. Luna stood there, draped in a simple indigo robe.

She lifted Vocabulary: Volume 2 off the shelf: “This place is your memory of all things Kurlish.”

“Why are we here? Why would I dream of this?”

“Normally, you would not. But you know I can guide dreams, mining them for deep meaning and symbols. Language is the ultimate, most foundational symbol.”

“Alright, so what do you hope to find here? We already know why I’m back on Kur. What more can you discover in my memories?”

“I am not here for answers--I am here for education.”

She shelved Vocabulary: Volume 2 and picked up Volume 3, casually flipping through the pages, before setting it aside, and running her fingertips lightly across a shelf-full of books bearing titles related to weapons, history and geography.

As she dragged her fingers along, a blue glow trailed behind her hand, and she stopped walking, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Reaper looked at the now-sparkling shelves and furrowed his brow: “Where are we really? Have you constructed this like a mini-dreamscape, or is this inside my head?”

“Unclear.”

Reaper arched an eyebrow: “Unclear?”

“Yes. We are not in Equestria, so I am unable to truly center myself and establish my bearings. I feel a distant connection to the real place this dream represents, but I cannot pull it into focus. It is almost like a dream within a dream.”

Reaper stroked his beard tentatively: “My recollection of nested dreams is not altogether positive.”

Luna reached up and brushed her hand along a high shelf labeled “Riot'za.” The books’ spines glittered violet for a moment, and she shuddered.

She turned back to Reaper: “I agree. This is a risky endeavor, to attempt to connect to a place beyond our ken, through a single dream. It carries the danger of entrapment.”

“Entrapment? You mean like what Grey Thorn attempted with you and Twilight?”

“No, those were merely very intense, deep dream states. They were still grounded in the dreamscape as we understand it. It merely took extra effort to break out.”

Reaper nodded: “So how is this different?”

“There exists here the possibility of becoming un-tethered from any sort of reality, and drifting off in an isolated dreamscape of one.”

“But not with you here, I trust.”

“No. I may not be able to entirely control the seas on which we sail at this point, but I can still steer the ship.”

“So are we done here, then, or is there another destination?”

Luna smiled: “How perceptive of you!”

“Well, I have been hanging around in the shadows for centuries. I can usually spot an ulterior motive, given enough time.”

Luna sat down and took a deep breath: “I am going to attempt to connect to Twilight, using the power we three share, which appears to transcend normal boundaries.”

“Like when I was stuck in the Nexus and we shared Twilight’s dream.”

“Correct. I wish to see if we can establish that connection again.”

“So what do I need to do?”

Luna reached out and touched Reaper’s forehead: “Sleep.”

Twilight set up on her couch in Luna’s chambers and rubbed her temples. Her eyelids would barely open, and she struggled with a sudden wave of vertigo.

“Wha-what is going on?”

She pointed her horn at a side table lamp and nodded. The lamp lit, spilling a pool of pale golden light across the floor and couch.

“I gotta get some tea, or something. I should not still be this tired!”

She rose briefly from the couch, but immediately stumbled back and flopped sideways across its dark, crushed velvet surface.

After several deep breaths, she forced herself back up, and opened her eyes. The lamp now threw off a cold white light, which fell across the lap and legs of a shrouded figure, seated in a nearby chair.

Twilight squinted: “Who are you?”

The legs moved as the figure stood, causing a silver dress to slide down below its knees, like a shimmering cascade of mercury. The figure took a step backwards and vanished into the shadows.

Luna suddenly stepped forward from the dark, several feet to the right of the mysterious figure.

Twilight’s eyebrows jumped: “Oh, Luna! How’d you get back?”

Luna looked over her shoulder at the indigo wings on her back: “Interesting. I am a pony again.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? I assume that mirror works the same in both directions, so you’d come back to Equestria the way you left, yes?”

“Except we have not returned. This is a dream, Twilight. I am attempting to connect with you through our shared power. I seem to have succeeded…”

She looked at the now-empty chair to her left: “Although I do not see Reaper, which is odd, since I am utilizing his dream as the conduit.”

Twilight furrowed her brow and pointed to the chair: “Huh. There was something there just a moment ago, right before you stepped in.”

“Well it wasn’t me.”

Twilight spun around, and Luna turned to face the couch where Twilight had been sleeping. Reaper now sat there, naked save for a tattered white cloak, bearing no mark of any kind.

He looked at his fingers and wriggled his toes: “Well, one of us didn’t come back as a pony, at any rate.”

Luna nodded: “That makes sense. You are still grounded on Kur. This is your dream of Equestria, using Twilight as an anchor point. Thus I am again an alicorn, since this is how you know me in this world.”

Reaper pointed at Twilight: “So is she real? Are all three of us actually in a shared dream state?”

Luna tipped her head slightly as she regarded the purple alicorn across from her: “I am not entirely sure.”

Twilight glared: “Hey! I’m real! I think…”

Reaper chuckled: “I know the feeling, kiddo. This layered dream thing makes me even question myself, and it’s my dream!”

“Maybe it is Luna’s dream.”

Luna peered into the impenetrable shadows: “Who said that?”

“Maybe the thing that was in the chair?” Twilight offered.

Luna and Twilight both illuminated their horns in an attempt to penetrate the darkness that surrounded them all.

The shadows retreated a bit, and a tall, dark-skinned figure in a long, silvery shift stepped forward.

Luna’s nostrils flared as she took a step back: “No! This cannot be!”

The figure smiled and set down in the chair: “Why not? You yourself noted that these are treacherous, unknown waters. Why should you not expect eddies and ripples of your own dreams to rise to the surface?”

Twilight looked back and forth between Luna and the figure: “What does she mean, ‘your own dreams?’ Who is she?”

The figure replied before Luna could speak: “Just as Reaper is grounded on Kur, so too am I.”

“So you’re also Luna?”

“That is not an easy question to answer.”

Twilight looked at Luna with a pained expression: “Help!”

Again the figure spoke peremptorily: “She cannot. It is taking all her control just to keep the three of us connected in this very unstable little dreamscape.”

Twilight smirked: “Four! Or can’t you count?”

The figure smiled indulgently: “Again, this is not an easy thing to discern.”

She stood and turned to Luna: “How many of us are there here, would you say?”

Luna furrowed her brow and looked at Reaper. He was sprawled against the couch’s back, eyes half-closed, head tipped back.

“Reaper, please awaken. This dream is starting to fracture. I am not entirely sure if I succeeded in contacting Twilight or not!”

Twilight rolled her eyes: “Again--right here!”

Reaper stirred slightly, his eyes unfocused: “Tired. You’re warm. I just want...want…”

Twilight looked between Luna and Reaper: “What does he want?”

The figure smiled wickedly: “Why, the same thing he’s wanted since gaining his flesh!”

Luna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead as the figure walked up to Reaper and pulled his tattered cloak aside.

Twilight’s eyes grew wide, then she turned away, blushing as the figure lifted her dress and straddled Reaper’s lap.

She reached a hand between her legs and lowered herself down with a sigh: “What was it you said? ‘Spread yourself with your fingers and squat?’ Excellent advice!”

Reaper let out a long groan and closed his eyes.

Luna took a halting step forward: “Yet again I am incapable of controlling elements within your dream, Reaper! You must master yourself!”

The figure’s dress rippled and glittered in the lamp’s white light as she rocked forward and back, head held high, hair swinging in time with her thrusts.

She looked over her shoulder at Luna: “He does not know what he wants, but I do!”

Luna bit her lip: “Untrue! He desperately wants to find the way back here, whole and restored as our Harbinger!”

She pointed at the figure: “This will only serve to entrap him further in a body he cannot keep--that neither of us can keep!”

The figure stopped and closed her eyes: “I do not wish to lose this body.”

“We cannot keep it.”

The figure leaned down and kissed Reaper deeply on the mouth as she squeezed herself tight around him, grinding her hips forward one last time.

She closed her eyes and lay her head on Reaper’s chest as he groaned loudly and shuddered.

“We shall see.”

Reaper awoke with a start, and fought to steady his breathing and the trembling in his legs. After a few moments he raised an eyebrow and reached down between his legs.

He sighed: “I really need another towel…”

Beside him Luna slowly returned to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, then she squeezed them shut as a tear ran down the side of her face.

Twilight sat bolt upright on her couch with a shout that echoed throughout Luna’s dark chambers: “What?!”

She then slumped back onto the couch and fell into a fitful, restless, dreamless slumber.

Breakfast
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Death Be Not Proud

Breakfast

Celestia walked into her solarium shortly after dawn and found Twilight already at their breakfast table, nursing a cup of hot cider, and mulling over her notes and copy of Phantasmagoria: Their Creation and Uses.

She looked up blearily from the table: “Good morning, Princess Celestia…”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “Are you feeling well, Twilight?”

“I’m just exhausted.”

Celestia took a scone from the tray in the center of the table: “Did you have a particularly busy day, or perhaps night, yesterday?”

“No, that’s not it, though I have been having more trouble the last couple of days getting spirits under control.”

“Are there more, or are they resisting?”

“It’s not really resisting, as much as it is hiding. Most spirits are supposed to be unconscious, yet they seem to be evading my senses, so that is kind of tiring.”

Celestia sipped her tea and perused a scroll: “But not exhausting.”

“No. I turned in kind of late, but was sleeping OK until, well, until Luna broke in.”

Celestia dropped the scroll: “Luna? How?”

“I don’t know. She said something about trying to connect the three of us through a dream, like we’ve done before.”

“Three of you?”

“Yeah: Luna, Reaper and me. But there was a fourth. It was a, well based on my mirror trips, I’d call her a woman.”

“She looked like the beings you’ve met through Starswirl’s mirror?”

“Basically, yes. She was actually quite pretty. I think it was Luna in a different form.”

“So there were two Lunas?”

“Sort of--yes--I don’t know!”

Twilight took a long drink of cider: “They acted almost like rivals or, if you’ll pardon the comparison, sisters.”

“You said Reaper was there as well?”

“Yes. He was also in non-pony form. I think the whole thing was supposed to be his dream, but neither he nor Luna seemed to really be in control of it.”

“Wait--so the one having the dream, and the Princess of Dreams weren’t in control?”

“I’m not sure anypony was! I guess if anything, the other Luna must have been.”

“They weren’t working together?”

“No, like I said, they were more like rivals. Our Luna didn’t want the other Luna to, umm…”

“Yes?”

Twilight blushed: “Reaper was kind of sprawled out on a couch, almost like he was half asleep or drunk, and the other Luna, well, she…”

Celestia leaned in as Twilight’s voice tapered off: “She climbed on top and fucked him!”

Twilight’s blush deepened as she turned away and buried her muzzle in her cider mug.

Celestia concealed a grin behind her cup: “Twilight, it’s fine. No need to be embarrassed--we’re all adults, here.”

“Luna said something about that “entrapping him further in a body he cannot keep,” but I wasn’t sure what that really meant.”

Celestia swirled her tea and pondered Luna’s words for a moment: “I suspect her words have to do with the power of sex and love to bind us.”

Twilight looked up with a confused expression: “Bind?”

Celestia took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling: “Have you ever wondered why I have no Prince, no Consort, no mate?”

“I always assumed it was just because you would outlive them, and that would be sad.”

Celestia nodded: “That is indeed an important piece of it, but there’s more. I must remain somewhat detached from other ponies lest being emotionally or sexually entangled cloud my judgement. This has happened in the past.”

“So you just shut that part of yourself off? I’ve only really started to explore what all that means to me. I don’t know how to shut it off!”

Celestia smiled: “No, it’s not “shut off,” but it is tempered and channeled. It took me a long time to perfect the rotation of my “Honored Consorts,” such that I never develop any serious attachments.”

“Honored Consorts?”

“Haven't you noticed the guards who stand watch outside my bath or bedchamber?”

“Yes. I always assumed it was just special duty.”

Celestia laughed: “I suppose you could put it that way! I spend time with those select few when I feel, well, ‘needy.’ I summon one to my bath or bed and share my pleasure with them.”

Twilight’s eyes grew wide and she looked away, shyly: “Oh! Is that also how Luna handles her ‘needs?’”

Celestia furrowed her brow and shook her head: “My sister has long taken her pleasure in ponies’ dreams. She will visit them either as herself or in disguise, sometimes merely watching, but often interacting. She, too, never maintains any kind of lasting bond.”

Twilight recalled the vision of Nightmare Moon and Zephyr: “Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, deceptive? Maybe even dangerous?”

Celestia nodded: “I cautioned her long ago not to engage with ponies in that way, and since her return from exile, I know she has allowed the spa attendants in Ponyville to, well, “relieve her tensions” in a more conventional fashion.”

Twilight fidgeted with her mug: “How about as Nightmare Moon?”

Celestia closed her eyes: “I believe you can guess how she dealt with it then. I heard stories, and frankly don’t think I want to know more than I already do.”

Twilight bit her lip and nodded.

Celestia took a sip of tea: “So imagine how much more hazardous it must be for Reaper. He has spent thousands of years on our world, with no attachments of any sort: no cold, no hunger, no thirst, no need for sex or companionship.”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “Then to suddenly find he has a body again--a real body, that feels pain, and needs to sleep and eat...”

“And fuck. Exactly. I’m sure that’s what Luna’s words imply. Reaper must try to avoid entanglements if he is to remain free of sentiment to a degree that even I have never attempted.”

“Then who was the other Luna? Why was she so, well, eager?”

“I’m not sure. You said the other Luna had the same form as Reaper, yes?”

“Right--they both looked the way he’s described the inhabitants of Kur.”

Celestia rubbed her chin for a moment, then ran her hoof across the back of her neck: “She may have been a manifestation of his desires--a dream Luna, if you will. I’m sure he and my sister both realize the danger of them becoming connected in that way, so his sleeping mind created a substitute.”

Twilight glanced down at her mug skeptically, but held her tongue.

Celestia smiled uncertainly: “I just hope your dream was them reaching out to let you know they’re OK.”

“I don’t know. It was just very disorienting. I don’t like getting pulled into dreams from out-of-the-blue like that!”

Celestia tipped her head slightly as she regarded Twilight: “Do you still sleep normally?”

“Kind of. I clearly have some of Reaper’s attributes, but not a hundred percent. I still need to eat and drink a bit, and I still catch a few hours of sleep occasionally--maybe three or four.”

“And do you dream normally?”

“I can’t really recall any dreams until last night’s.”

“But that one was crystal-clear, I take it?”

“Yes. I’m sure that was really them reaching out to me.”

“Do you think you could connect back the other way?”

“I doubt it. Luna holds all the cards with this sort of thing. The rest of us are just along for the ride.”

Celestia nodded, then caught the eye of her secretary who had just entered the solarium: “Excuse me, Twilight. I need to catch-up on this morning's audience schedule.”

“That’s fine, Princess--I need to get to work myself. I just wish I understood better how the whole spirit thing function.”

Celestia stood and smiled at her protégé: “If anypony can figure it out, it’s you, Twilight. I’m not happy about the accident that gave you this power, but I can think of no other pony who could handle it better!”

Twilight looked down at the table and pushed a napkin around nervously: “I hope you’re right, Princess. This whole task is getting harder and weirder, and I just want the two of them to come home safely!”

“We all do, Twilight! I’m sure they’re doing their best, just as I’m sure you’re doing your best!”

She walked toward the exit, and looked over her shoulder as the passed through the doorway: “See you after lunch?”

Twilight nodded silently and stared into her mug.

Duty
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Death Be Not Proud

Duty

“Infected?”

Twilight nodded as she poured a mug of hot cider: “And it wasn’t the only time over the last several days, just the most dramatic.”

Celestia stirred sugar into her tea and magically adjusted the shades in the solarium to reduce the glare.

“But I thought spirits settling into inanimate objects was fairly common, especially if they’ve been disembodied for a bit.”

Twilight set her mug down and levitated a biscuit from a nearby tray: “That’s true, but this is different. It’s like these spirits were being drawn to a spot or a thing. Concord, particularly, was almost sucked into that tree!”

“Perhaps they simply have very strong associations with the objects.”

Twilight swallowed as she nodded: “See, that’s what I thought too, at first. Concord planted the grove of aspens, for instance. But I just resolved a pegasus last night who was--how do I put this--entombed inside a hedge. I had to tear it to pieces to clear out her spirit.”

“And there was no connection?”

Twilight shook her head: “I asked her about it when we were in the Waiting Room. She knew nothing about the hedge, or the bone fragments buried beneath it.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Bone fragments?”

“Yeah--just like the old blood shadows on Concord’s aspen tree.”

“Maybe she was lying to you?”

“No--not possible. One of the benefits to being the Harbinger is the ability to discern absolute truth when dealing with the dead. They can’t lie to me even if they want to.”

“Were you able to determine anything from the bone fragments or the tree or any of the other artifacts I assume you’ve encountered?”

“Some, but not much. If I’d been doing this job for thousands of years, of course I’d have total recall of everypony who ever died, and how.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “Assuming Grey Thorn and his Void weren’t involved…”

Twilight frowned: “Don’t think that hasn’t crossed my mind! But I don’t believe so. It’s just that I don’t have a vast repository of history and recollections, since I’ve only been doing this for a couple of weeks.”

“So what now?”

“I don’t know. I can tell something is interfering with the normal process of death in Equestria, but I only have scraps and hints.”

“Just in Equestria? I thought you ranged all across this world, wherever there are ponies.”

Twilight nodded as she refilled her mug: “Yes, but the weird stuff seems to be localized to Equestria. I don’t have a better pattern than that right now.”

“And Reaper never mentioned this to you?”

“No. He talked about hauntings and imprinting and the like, but nothing quite like this. And I’m sure he would have raised the topic if it were noteworthy.”

Celestia nodded: “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help…”

Twilight smiled: “Besides listen and ask excellent questions, you mean?”

Celestia returned the smile as she stood, brushing crumbs from her hooves: “Yes, besides that! At a minimum I will continue to keep a weather eye out for any odd reports coming in. And I will put the Royal Librarian on-task, combing through legends and old-mares’ tales, looking for clues.”

Twilight sighed: “That’s what I’d like to be doing: digging through the archives, finding puzzle pieces!”

Celestia nodded sympathetically: “I know. You’re just going to have to trust that everypony here is helping as much as they can.”

Twilight stood: “I appreciate that, Princess--I really do. I just wish somepony had a better understanding of this sort of supernatural stuff.”

Celestia furrowed her brow thoughtfully as Twilight teleported away: “Supernatural. Hmm…”

Twilight was finishing up some time later with an old pegasus in the Waiting Room, when she felt the insistent tug of an impending death.

“It’s time, Twister. Head off toward your left, just there--” she pointed with her sword, “and you’ll find your way onward.”

The mottled grey pegasus nodded, turned and walked away slowly: “Thank you, Princess!”

Twilight smiled sadly as the pegasus dissolved like a breeze-blown mist: “My time to go, too…”

She appeared a moment later in a darkened barn on the western marches of Everfree Forest, and found a young, custard-yellow earth pony stallion, twitching from the end of a creaking rope.

“Oh, sweet Celestia, no!”

Twilight instantly focused a beam of bright violet magic on the rope, severing it, causing the pony to drop the final three feet to the dusty barn floor.

She knelt down next to the stallion, and rolled him to his side, checking for signs of life. He coughed weakly, and struggled to sit up.

Twilight heaved a sigh of relief: “Thank the Sisters! What were you thinking, Sureshot?”

Sureshot blinked unsteadily: “What happened? Am I dead?”

“No, thankfully not! I arrived just in the nick of time, it appears!”

Shurshot dropped his head to his chest and wept: “Why? I just want it to end! I can’t handle the pain and the emptiness anymore!”

Twilight rubbed her temples: “What’s wrong? What could possibly be so bad that you want to die at the end of a rope?”

Sureshot began sobbing: “She--she’s leaving me! She doesn’t want to..want to…”

Twilight took a deep breath and put a foreleg around his shoulder: “I know. I understand that it must feel like the end of the world to have somepony special reject you, but--”

“How in Tartarus would you know anything about that, Princess of Friendship?” Sureshot spat back. “Have you ever been told you’re not good enough? You’re not important enough? That there’s more out there than you?”

Twilight rocked back in surprise: “If she said those things, Sureshot, then you need to let her go, and move forward. You’re young, and she’s hardly the only mare in the stable!”

She stood: “But ending it here isn’t the answer. Life is so much more than just one pony. Get some sleep. Visit a friend. The pain will get a little less every day.”

Sureshot hugged himself: “But I know she’s meant for me. I’ve known it ever since we first met. She’s all I can think of anymore, all I can see! We’re fated to be together!”

Twilight closed her eyes and set her jaw: “There is no fate, Sureshot! You have a thing for this mare, and I get that. But you need to get over it, or your pain will just grow.”

Sureshot curled up and cried softly, as Twilight peered up into the gloom of the barn’s roof. Something caught her eye, but only for a moment.

Sureshot broke Twilight’s concentration with a great, sudden gulping hiccough. She shook her head and looked down at the shuddering stallion.

“So no more ropes, no more rafters. If you need to cry, I understand, but this--” she pointed above her head at the severed rope, “isn’t the way.”

She began to fade out: “You’ll find somepony for you, Sureshot, and you’ll get past this pain.”

Sureshot rolled to his back and stared into the gloom.

Twilight sat down heavily on a park bench on the outskirts of Baltimare and stared at the setting sun for a minute. She had spent the previous two hours tracking down the spirit of a unicorn that had gone missing for four days. She finally found it, ensnared in a heavy patch of water grass at the bottom of a duck pond.

She opened the bag slung across her shoulder and removed a flask. She took a long drink of fiery apple liqueur, and leaned back, attempting to stretch out her neck and shoulders.

“Spike, take a note...oh, crap. Right. No Spike.”

Twilight reached into her shoulder bag again and pulled out a notebook, quill and inkwell. She set the ink on the bench next to her and opened the notebook.

“Another ‘infestation,’ another plant. Trees, hedges, vines, more trees, water grass. Why plants?”

She sat in silence for several minutes, scribbling notes, condensing events and incidents of the last several days into lists and timelines.

Exhaustion overtook her, and she slipped into a light slumber, filled with fleeting images of grasping vines and shadowy silhouettes. She found herself chasing the dark forms, only to come up against walls and locked doors. And always she felt a strange vibration in the ground beneath her hooves.

She started awake with a snort, and wiped a line of drool from her cheek. She hastily put away her notes, ink and quill, and took one last swig from her flask, before standing up and fading out.

She appeared moments later in the shadows at the back of a hospital room in Canterlot. An old, pale-pink unicorn lay in a bed, surrounded by several family members. A doctor stood off to the side.

Twilight stayed phased, and watched quietly as the old mare’s breathing became increasingly irregular and shallow, then stopped altogether.
The deceased’s daughter choked back a sob as the doctor stepped forward: “She’s gone, Candy. It’s over.”

Twilight slipped up unnoticed beside the doctor and touched her horn to the old unicorn’s temple, then disappeared as the shimmer over the body faded, and the weeping began.

Twilight returned to Luna’s chambers several minutes later, after dispatching old Rose Blush from the Waiting Room. She sloughed off her shoulder bag and collapsed on the couch, falling at once into a dreamless sleep.

She awoke a few hours later with the distinct feeling she was being watched.

She rolled over and looked at Luna’s chair. Discord was sitting there, paw and talon steepled together, eyes half-lidded, regarding her with an almost bored expression.

He pulled a pocket watch out of thin air: “Well good morning sleepy-head! And by ‘morning,’ I mean three in the morning!”

Twilight sat up shakily and dragged a hoof across her muzzle: “Why are you here?”

“Well, why are any of us here, really? I represent the randomness and possibility that infuses all life and…”

Twilight clenched her teeth: “No! Why are you here--in this room? At this time?”

“Oh, that! I had a lovely dinner earlier this evening with Celestia.”

Twilight glared: “And?”

“Well the topic turned to things of a supernatural nature, and she wondered if I could be of any assistance in unravelling some mystery or other.”

“Can you?”

“Can I what?”

Twilight sighed heavily: “Be of any assistance?”

Discord conjured a set of books and reading glasses: “It’s hard to say. Celestia was a bit vague on the whole supernatural angle. She couldn’t even differentiate between a standard spectre and the far rarer ghast! So naturally I had to give her a tutorial, involving--”

“Discord!”

He peered at Twilight over his glasses: “Hmm?”

“I really need you to focus. Spirits are being pulled into trees and hedges and the like, evading me, making it difficult to reap. I’m wondering if there’s some pattern, and anything you might know could be very useful!”

“Ah, well, I don’t know. Could you perhaps describe one of these incidents, and I’ll see if anything jumps out at me.”

Twilight took a deep breath, but just as she was about to begin, she felt the urgent call of imminent death: “Hold that thought--I have to resolve a new death, hopefully before it slips into this “supernatural” category, too!”

She disappeared, leaving Discord stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Twilight appeared in a darkened greenhouse, and illuminated her horn, bathing the space in a cool white glow. She came around a raised bed of strawberries and saw two forms lying on the floor beyond.

“Oh, no.”

She rushed forward and the smell of urine filled her nostrils. She saw a young, dusty-blue earth pony mare, barely more than a filly, entangled and wrapped in a wet, stained bedsheet. The sheet was wrapped tightly around her neck, her tongue hung from her mouth, and her dark, glazed eyes bulged slightly from under their lids.

Lying beside the mare, facing her, was Sureshot, the other end of the bedsheet twisted around his neck, secured with a stick, like a tourniquet.

The two ponies’ legs and loins were entangled, the mare’s semen-matted hide glistening faintly in Twilight’s horn light.

Twilight stood stunned for a moment, holding her breath, eyes wide in horror.

Suddenly the greenhouse was flooded with a bright flash.

Discord stood next to Twilight and looked down at the grim tableau: “I will never understand what kids are into these days!”

Twilight blinked slowly and knelt behind the young mare: “Oh, Wild Sage...”

She looked next at the stallion’s bloodied and swollen face: “Why, Sureshot? Why?”

Discord tapped his chin: “You seem shocked but not terribly surprised. I assume you know what happened?”

Twilight nodded slowly: “I found Sureshot yesterday hanging himself in despair. I stopped him.”

Discord raised an eyebrow: “Wait--did you come in on him as he was prepared to do the deed, or after?”

“After. He was hanging from his barn’s rafters.”

“I see. So instead of simply doing your job, you tried to meddle in, well, Fate. Don’t get me wrong--as a being of randomness I despise the concept of Fate, but even I have to grudgingly admit its power occasionally.”

“My job? I’m the Princess of Friendship, and I--”

Discord cut her off: “No, in cases of death, you’re the Harbinger. You let your pride interfere, thinking you were above Fate’s judgement.”

“I don’t believe in Fate!”

“Says the creature with a life-defining tattoo on her butt. Or should I say, two tattoos!”

“Yes--and my first cutie mark was telling me--”

“To interfere with the second mark’s imperative.”

“Fine. You can put it that way if you like. I am free to judge how to execute and order my duties based on--”

“Hubris.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pure pride, Princess. Believe me, I recognize a lesson in hubris when I see one now!"

A large, throne-like chair appeared. Discord sat down in it, wrapped in ostentatious judicial robes: “Answer me this: how did you find yourself in Sureshot’s barn yesterday? Did your cutie mark glow? Did the map tell you?”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “No. I felt the draw of death, same as this time.”

“So what would the Harbinger Reaper have done?”

“He’d likely have reaped Sureshot while he hung there in order to spare him a final few moments of agony.”

Discord nodded: “Instead, the Harbinger Twilight made an executive decision in the style of Princess Twilight to subvert Fate (your Boss, I remind you) that turned yesterday's tragedy into today’s two-for-one sale!”

A green eye-shade visor now appeared atop Discord’s head: “Never put off ‘til tomorrow what you can do today!”

Twilight cringed.

“Unless of course you were just looking to pad your stats. I mean, all these ponies are so much mulch-in-waiting anyway. What's one more or less?”

Twilight’s eyes blazed as she whipped her sword from its sheath and advanced on Discord.

“Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth!”

Discord’s eyes widened as he put up his paw and talon, tumbled out of the throne and took a long step backwards: “Whoa, there Twilight! I don’t think either one of us wants to find out what would happen if Mr. Pointy there were to touch me! Even Reaper never waved that thing in my face!”

Twilight’s ears drooped and she hung her head. The sword fell to the floor: “Oh, you’re right! I killed poor Wild Sage!”

Discord shrugged: “Well, strictly speaking…”

“Yes, I know, Sureshot killed her, but it never should have happened that way!”

“Lesson learned, Twilight: Do the job the way it has to be done--the way it’s been done since time immemorial. Death is not to be trifled with.”

Twilight nodded silently as tears dropped to the floor.

“Speaking of: I don’t think this fellow’s quite dead, is he?”

Twilight looked at Sureshot and closed her eyes for a moment: “No, but he will be shortly. Too much brain damage from having his oxygen cut off for so long.”

She walked to his side, summoned her blade, and drove it down between his ribs. His chest rose one last time in a ragged, shuddering breath, then fell slowly as a thin, pale mist formed above the body.

Twilight bent down and touched her horn to the aura: “Maybe he’ll have some answers when I see him in the Waiting Room.”

“Oh, yes--and as for answers, I have none.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do death.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, to be sure, some ponies over the years may have died along the way due to my overenthusiastic machinations, but it was never my intent.”

“And I’m sure it just tore you up inside…”

“Actually, I take no pleasure in that at all. Death is the negation of all that I am--it ends all possibility, drives beings into a single state. It’s just so boring, so terminal!”

Twilight shook her head distractedly: “Thanks anyway, Discord.”

He turned to go: “Oh, but I can tell you one thing: there is something going on under the earth, or in it or something. It’s faint, but persistent, and it’s almost familiar. A kind of...hmm. “Controlled chaos,” perhaps? I realize that’s an oxymoron.”

Twilight nodded: “That’s useful. Thank you.”

Discord disappeared in a flash, leaving Twilight alone with the two dead ponies’ bodies, and an almost hour-long search for Wild Sage’s spirit.

She finally found it lodged deep beneath a brier patch at the edge of the Everfree Forest. She reaped the spirit and reduced the brambles to ash with sheets of magical flame.

Only after she had located the nearest Border Ranger to inform him of the murder-suicide at the Sage farm did she finally return to her couch in Luna’s quarters, where she downed three shots of apple liqueur and fell into a stupor.

A Helping Hoof
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Death Be Not Proud

A Helping Hoof

“Twilight.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and rolled from her left to her right side.

“Twilight!”

She felt a hoof shake her shoulder, and heard murmuring. She licked her lips and let out a low groan.

“What’d ya want?” she mumbled as she pulled a wing up over her face.

“Twilight, please wake up!”

She half sat up, half propped herself against the back of the couch and buried her face in her hooves: “Shit. My head…”

“I’m sure it hurts your head to think / soaked as it is in potent drink!”

Twilight cracked her eyelids and peered at the blurry black-and-white striped mane hovering in front of her: “Zecora? What are you doing here?”

Celestia stepped into view: “I asked her to come talk with us to see if she had any insight into your troubles.”

Twilight coughed and retched a little into her mouth. Her throat and sinuses burned: “I’m sorry Princess! You shouldn’t have to see me like this!”

Celestia levitated a chalice of cool water to Twilight and sat in front of her on a low stool: “It’s fine, Twilight. I spoke with Discord last night, and I understand why you came back here and tried to wash away the pain.”

Twilight choked back a sob: “I killed that poor mare! Discord was right--I thought I knew better!”

Celestia smiled sympathetically and shook her head: “While I may agree with Discord’s ultimate conclusions, I don’t believe you were motivated by pride. I believe you acted on instinct: you saw a pony in distress and terrible danger, and acted decisively, as you have dozens of times before.”

“It was a cruel twist of Fate / that brought you to Sureshot too late!”

Celestia nodded: “Yes. You made a split-second decision--”

“And I made it wrong.”

“All those who lead, who must act, to whom are given great tasks, may make mistakes. I have, on more than one occasion.”

Twilight looked up with tears welling in her eyes: “Did your mistakes kill anypony?”

Celestia straightened up, and her expression hardened: “Do you not recall Green Streak and Top Cover?”

“I-I’m sorry, Princess…”

Celestia’s sad, soft smile returned: “I know you are, and I know you’re sorry about Wild Sage. I’ve already made arrangements to visit the families tomorrow to discuss what happened, and to express our deepest condolences.”

Twilight choked down a mouthful of water: “Thank you, Princess.”

Zecora stepped forward and held out a vial in front of Twilight's face: “Quaff this potion right away / your head will clear without delay.”

Twilight took the vial with her magic, tipped her head back and poured its contents down her throat in a single shot.

She sat the vial down next to her on the couch and rubbed her eyes: “How long before it takes effect? I feel like death--and I actually do know what that feels like!”

“A minute, maybe two at most / it depends greatly on the host.”

Twilight nodded gingerly: “So, again, from the top, please: why is Zecora here--other than to provide a hangover cure?”

Celestia summoned over a small side table and tray of scones, placing them next to herself and in front of Twilight: “I spoke some with Zecora yesterday, and she thinks she may be able to help you get a handle on what’s causing spirits to wander off and become entrapped.”

Zecora pulled up a large cushion and sat down next to Celestia: “My forest home, as you well know / is a place where dark things grow.”

Twilight nodded: “I’ve always assumed it’s haunted. Maybe there’s some lingering malevolent influence due to the Sisters’ ruined castle.”

Celestia paused between bites: “I’m sure that’s a piece of it, but Everfree Forest and its darkness pre-date Luna and me.”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “Do you think the malign influence, or whatever it is, is radiating from the Forest?”

Zecora shook her head: “I do not think that’s so, per se / but it may serve as a model anyway.”

Celestia nodded: “We think that Zecora’s long experience dealing with some of Equestria’s shadowier, less-corporeal denizens may be of some help in your situation.”

Zecora swallowed a sip of tea: “Spirits and wraiths, I’ve known my share / enough to aid in your affair.”

Twilight took a long drink of water and reached for a scone: “That would be greatly appreciated! I’d really like to know if there’s a pattern to the places I’ve had to hack and burn my way through. All I know is, so far they’ve all been in Equestria.”

Zecora smiled: “I think I can help you sort your thoughts / and shed some light on the darkest spots.”

Twilight stood unsteadily and stretched her wings: “I’ll have to teleport you, Zecora. It’ll take too long any other way. And I’ll likely ask you to help me hunt down some missing spirits. I know more ponies have died in Equestria in the last few weeks than I can account for.”

Celestia waved over her secretary: “What can I or my staff do to help, Twilight?”

Twilight rubbed her muzzle for a moment: “Please compile a list of all the reports of ponies who’ve died in the last three weeks: name, date and place. I’ll check it over later and cross off all those ponies I’ve already resolved.”

Celestia nodded as her secretary jotted down notes and instructions on a scroll.

Twilight swung her head around in a long, slow circle, stretching and popping, then stopping and furrowing her brow: “Umm, thanks for the elixir Zecora--it really did the trick, but if you and the Princess will excuse me…”

She trotted briskly across the room to the adjacent bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

Celestia watched her go and shook her head: “Please do what you can, Zecora. I fear this role she’s been forced to take on may grind her down.”

Zecora picked up Twilight’s flask and sniffed it: “Her retreat to drink has dulled the pain / I doubt I can cause her to abstain.”

“Maybe not, but anything you can do to take off some of the load will help. Last night clearly left her very shaken, and we all need to help her through this rough spot.”

Zecora and Celestia glanced toward the bathroom door as Twilight’s groaning and sounds of distress grew more insistent.

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “What did you give her?”

“It is a purgative most stout / Quite rapid, though it leaves one wrung out.”

The door opened as Twilight stumbled out and slumped down on a pile of cushions behind Celestia: “Ohh, Zecora! That is nasty stuff!”

Zecora smiled and tossed another vial at Twilight: “Now down this potion in one hit/ It will kill the urge to shit.”

Celestia chuckled, and Twilight rolled her eyes wearily, but did as Zecora instructed. She swallowed, took a deep breath, then quickly summoned a full carafe of water, which she drank to the bottom without taking another breath.

She dropped the empty container on a pillow next to her, fell back heavily, and panted.

Zecora closed up her pouch and dropped it back in her shoulder bag: “In what place shall we first seek / to strip away your plight’s mystique?"

Twilight summoned a chalice of cider, took a swig, and grimaced as her stomach churned and gurgled: “Well, there was a pegasus who died a couple of days ago on the outskirts of Dodge Junction.”

Celestia leaned forward: “Nothing out-of-the-ordinary, I hope.”

“No, she was old and had been pretty sick for a while.”

“A passing, then, bereft of trauma / that should have spawned no matching drama.”

“Exactly. And again, I found her spirit not close-at-hoof, but hundreds of yards away, beneath an old tree stump in a rock cleft. It took nearly an hour to find.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “But you’ve been cleansing these spots as you’ve gone along, yes?”

“Yeah, but not in this case. It’s kind of in a tight space, and I was in a hurry.”

She stood, adjusted her sword, cloak and bag, and picked up her flask, dropping it in her bag as she stepped up beside Zecora.

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Do you really think it wise to take that stuff with you, Twilight?”

Twilight smiled weakly: “It’s OK, Princess--I’m pretty sure I’ve had my fill of the strong stuff for a while. I promise to be good!”

Her eyes filled with pain for a moment: “I just really needed to forget for a little bit. I’m better now, I really am, thanks to both of you!”

Celestia leaned forward and gave her protégé a hug: “We’re all here for you, Twilight! If there’s anything any of us can do to help, you need only ask. Don’t try to keep it all inside!”

Zecora nodded: “Your task, it concerns us all / We’ll do our best so you don’t fall!”

“I know you will. I know you all will--I just wish Luna and Reaper’d get back home so I could put all this behind me.”

Twilight tipped her head down, and she and Zecora disappeared in a pale magenta flash.

Celestia sat down heavily on the couch and looked sadly at Twilight’s empty cider cup: “So do I, Twilight…”

Zaka
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Death Be Not Proud

Zaka

“Luna--please wake up.”

She stirred slightly and grimaced as her shoulders stretched, bringing a fresh wave of pain and light bleeding from her wounds.

“Yeah, I’m sure that hurts. I’ve found something that may help.”

Luna’s eyes cracked open a bit, then fluttered shut again: “How...long?”

“Have you been asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s see: I slept another three hours or so after our dream encounters. I then got up, headed out and came back, and you’ve been asleep that whole time.”

Reaper moved away from the blanket and stoked the fire: “So, a total of nine hours. Do you feel a bit better?”

“Thirsty.”

“I figured. I refilled the water bottle and flask. I also ran across some winter berries, and a patch of zaka. It’s dried-out, but still has some potency left.”

Luna took the flask from Reaper and propped herself up on an elbow: “Zaka?”

Reaper stroked his beard for a moment: “Hmm. It’s a mildly-narcotic plant. It’s typically chewed, especially the uncultivated stuff, but can be steeped or cooked-down or smoked, depending on one’s desire. It’s uncommon to find it wild in these northern climes, but not unknown. There’s a bit of a marsh east of here where I found the berries and the zaka.”

Luna took a drink from the flask and sat up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. She held a withered leaf of zaka in her hand, then popped it in her mouth and chewed: “It tastes a bit like mint, yes?”

Reaper nodded: “Yes, and you’ll start to get some pain relief from it shortly. In its raw form, chewed, it’s not very strong, but it should help some.”

“How much further to the village?”

“Based on my notes and recollection of that map, we’re likely still a solid day north-ish of Rixk’a. And if at all possible, I want to get you mounted on Bitch so we can make it by nightfall.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “That will be odd--to ride mounted on the back of another.”

Reaper smiled: “Probably, and you’ll need to switch positions a few times as we go, since we don’t have a saddle, and no matter how you sit, you’re likely to get sore.”

“You were gone for several hours, you said. Where did you go?”

Reaper left the fire and sat next to Luna, taking the flask from her: “Other than the marsh to the east? I retraced our steps to the garrison, looking out for any additional otsal, or other travelers. I didn’t see any trace of other people or animals, so I followed the stream south about two miles. There’s a bit of a trail heading out from the garrison, so our trip down to Rixk’a should be easier.”

Luna nodded and spat out the chewed leaf: “How long does this retain its potency?”

“Dried like this? Maybe ten minutes at a time. I have more, so if you’d like something to eat, just toss that wad and I’ll give you some fresh later.”

Luna shook the wet, green mass from her palm and took back the water flask, rinsing and swallowing before taking some of the pale blue berries Reaper held.

“I cannot place the flavor of these--a sort of sour pear, perhaps?”

Reaper shrugged: “Remember, I don’t have a lot of flavor experience back on our world!”

Luna ate another handful, then shifted uncomfortably: “Please bring me my cloak--I have to get up.”

Reaper nodded, got up and walked back to the fire. He picked up the tattered hooded cloak and sighed.

“We are fast running out of usable clothing! I think I’ll wrap you in the blanket and tie a belt around it once we get you mounted on Bitch.”

Luna stood unsteadily and secured the rent and stained cloak loosely around her shoulders. She shuffled off the edge of the hartz’s bedding pile and tried to squat without falling over.

“I am too unstable, and my legs feel weak…”

Reaper dropped the dragon hide boots he was wiping down and walked behind Luna. He placed his hands on her shoulders and steadied her.

She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh as she relieved herself: “Thank you.”

“No problem. You done?”

She nodded: “Yes. I find this most frustrating, having to depend on somepony else for the simplest of tasks.”

Reaper helped Luna to her feet and walked her back to the blanket: “Hey, you helped me out of that stupid collapsed passage. This is the least I could do!”

She smiled weakly as Reaper re-dressed her wounds and helped pull her clothes back on.

She took another leaf of zaka and began chewing: “I must admit, this has lessened my pain, somewhat. I do wonder, however, if it contributed to my lack of balance a few minutes ago.”

“Well, that plus fatigue plus lack of food, sure!”

“Are we truly out of food now? Have you eaten anything since you found me yesterday?”

“I ate more berries than I brought back; I’ll be fine. I just want to get us on the trail, and cover as much ground as possible while the sun shines.”

Luna nodded and rose stiffly, draping the blanket over her shoulders like an oversize shawl. She walked slowly to the cave entrance as Reaper shouldered the pack and dumped dirt and snow on the fire.

Luna furrowed her brow and eyed Bitch: “How will we do this?”

“See that log?”

Luna nodded.

“Step onto that and I’ll help you get up and over.”

Luna stood on top of a fallen log as Reaper brought her dalzi up beside and held its head. Luna swung a leg over Bitch’s back and toppled awkwardly onto the dalzi as it tried to shy away.

As Luna cried out in pain, Reaper rammed his shoulder into the dalzi’s ribs in an effort to stop it from throwing its passenger.

“Damn it, you stupid beast! Stop fighting!”

Luna threw her arms around Bitch’s neck and leaned forward, placing her lips against its right ear: “L'asi du'ze, Tax'ar goz!”

Bitch began to settle, its breathing slowed, and its ears perked up.

Reaper stepped back from the dalzi and raised an eyebrow: “When, exactly, did you learn Kurlish?”

Luna opened her eyes and grinned, but did not lift her head from Bitch’s neck: “Not all Kurlish--technically, we are speaking the Iparres'm dialect.”

“Compliments of your little trip through my 'Library of Memory,' I presume?”

“Yes. It may take me a bit to get all the pieces in the right order, but I was able to absorb the majority of what you remembered as Gerrar.”

“Even I don’t remember everything clearly…”

“Perhaps not with your waking mind--not after thousands of years, but your dreams and all that made them were relatively well-preserved.”

Reaper took up the dalzis’ leads and began walking east as the sun touched the tops of the surrounding trees.

“I assume you didn’t see anything after my death.”

“That is essentially correct. Once you became the Harbinger you stopped dreaming--”

“Or even living, really.”

“--and so there is nothing beyond your death vision, until a few weeks ago when you regained a living form.”

“Huh. I don’t even recall more than a couple of dreams over the last few weeks.”

Luna smiled slyly: “Nevertheless you did dream--more than you know. And I have seen them.”

Reaper rolled his eyes: “More sex I presume, given your smirk.”

“Yes, but not just that. Dreams of entrapment, and I do not mean the collapsed passage. You clearly wish to be free of your flesh again.”

“I have existed far longer without it than with!”

“That is so. I know something of living in an undesired state; of living in a form I could not fully control.”

They turned south and headed slowly along the embankment, then turned back east to follow the stream bottom.

“Are we not crossing?”

“Not here--too steep. I scouted a shallow, stony ford about six hundred yards east of here. We can cross there and backtrack west, so you don’t have to dismount.”

“That is much appreciated. Could I please have another leaf of zaka?”

Reaper reached into his pocket and pulled out a sprig of leaves: “Here--this should hold you for a while.”

Luna nodded, pulled a leaf off and popped it in her mouth.

Reaper guided the dalzi across the stream and up a winding cut in the far back: “So you said you’d resolve the hartz-killing story when you were more rested. You ready to fill me in?”

Luna took a deep breath and closed her eyes: “I ran to catch up with Bitch as she bolted from the compound, but could not keep pace. I finally caught up with her just as she was about to fall to the hartz’s claws.”

Reaper nodded: “Yeah, I saw the tracks, and could clearly see the ins and outs. What I want to know is, how did you kill the damn thing?”

Luna put a new leaf of zaka in her mouth: “The hartz had jumped on Bitch, and I threw myself around its neck. It battered me, and came in for a killing blow.”

Reaper chewed a leaf as well, and adjusted his cloak against the rising wind.

Luna shuddered: “Then I suddenly felt a surge of power, unlike anything I have ever experienced.”

“Magic? Couldn’t be that--you left that behind when you came through the portal.”

“No, not magic--something more primal, something alien to me. I unwittingly tapped it in my fear and rage, and it took control, giving me enormous strength, and terrifying the hartz. I drove the spear shaft up through its jaw into its brain. Then the power drained away. It almost seemed like, well, like a dream.”

Reaper walked in silence for a minute, brow furrowed: “It must be my power within you. You're right, that’s not magic: it’s a universal, transcendent power, the power of death, that permeates the entire Cosmos. Unlike Twilight, who triggered her portion by touching my sword, your share has lain dormant.”

“Until I had great need of it.”

“Exactly. I wonder if that’s also playing a part in your ability to go inside my dreams…”

Luna adjusted her position on Bitch’s back as they passed by the ruined garrison: “I think not. That part, at least, feels familiar to me, if greatly, how should I put this, attenuated.”

“So why don’t you appear to have total control there, either?”

“Perhaps because this is not my true, native form? Or because I am away from the heart and source of my own power? I am unsure.”

Reaper pulled another sprig of zaka from his pocket and gave a leaf to Luna, taking a fresh piece for himself as well.

Luna leaned back and flexed her shoulders, wincing as the scabs and crusted blood across her back tugged and cracked: “Who were you when you arrived on our world?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you Gerrar, or had you already become a new thing?”

“I knew I had died, and that I was now remade as a, well your word is apt: ‘thing.’ I was the spirit of Gerrar with none of his needs or desires or foibles or fears.”

“So the idealized essence of Gerrar, then.”

“Right. I was detached from not only this new world and its inhabitants, but from Gerrar himself.”

“Did it have to be that way? Could you have been “more Gerrar,” if you will?”

“Maybe, but I didn’t see any reason for it. I was happy to be rid of him, for the most part.”

“Why?”

“You’ve tapped my dreams…”

Luna smiled: “I, of all ponies, know that dreams do not always convey the hard-and-fast truth. In addition, you did not seem to dream much as Gerrar in your later years.”

“Zaka.”

“Zaka?”

Reaper nodded: “It tends to put me in a deep sleep--more like a stupor, actually.”

“Like strong drink--I understand. I would have to spend more time in your dreams, then, to uncover what lies beneath.”

“Yeah, let’s not. I chewed this shit heavily “in my later years,” as you put it, in an effort to forget. It worked pretty well, and I’d kind of like to keep it that way.”

“Yet you have not sought to return to that stupor as a pony.”

“I don’t have anything to escape from, except this aggravating flesh! And honestly, any kind of strong sensory inputs: visual beauty, potent drink, rich food, sex, what have you, just make it worse.”

Luna smiled wryly: “Well, here at least, you most likely should be free of those particular problems, based on my experience so far!”

As she spoke the wind gusted, and the sun broke through a cloud bank, catching the snow-covered trail and surrounding trees in its rays, turning everything to fire and diamonds. Luna’s black hair spread behind her like a dark, shimmering nimbus, and settled across her shoulders.

Reaper glanced to his right at his companion’s upturned face as a spray of tiny ice crystals dusted her lips and cheeks, and clung to her eyelashes. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, seeking to clear the image.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

Rixk'a
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Death Be Not Proud

Rixk'a

Luna pushed against the bright blue door, and stepped out onto the top stair leading from the landing to the base of the lighthouse. She looked down and saw her dark doppelgänger looming over Reaper’s fallen body, blood dripping from her horn.

“Why art thou here, Harbinger?”

“I--I don’t know.”

“Thou art powerless now,” Nightmare Moon observed, “except for…”

“Except for what?”

Nightmare Moon looked back over her shoulder: “Except for her…”

Luna furrowed her brow.

Nightmare Moon planted a foot on Reaper’s chest and turned to face Luna: “She is now the vessel of thy power. But who is she?”

Luna raised an eyebrow and began to descend the stairs: “I am Luna, and now that this is my dream, I can master it.”

Suddenly she felt Reaper’s ribs beneath her foot, and looked up to see Nightmare Moon descending the stairs, dragging a bloody, broken spear behind her.

“Is it your dream then, True Sister? I ask again: who is she?”

Reaper moaned and answered in a low, pained voice: “She is my curse and my salvation.”

Nightmare Moon grinned: “Spoken like a true dream creature.”

Luna folded her arms over her bare breasts: “But in whose dream now, Nightmare? I surely do not see myself reflected in those words.”

“No--you believe yourself to be companion and co-adventurer. But you know how he oft perceives you, and you try to obscure the raw, carnal reality of it with bland platitudes.”

“This “raw, carnal being” is not who he should be. You spoke truly when you said that blood is his prison.”

“Or his blessing! Perhaps you are his salvation--your own as well!”

Luna bit her lip and frowned: “Summon a new beginning…”

Nightmare Moon’s eyes blazed: “Yes! Think of it--free to eat and drink and fight and fuck and rule!”

Luna took a step back: “No! I cannot!”

Nightmare Moon grinned wickedly: “I did not say you! Interesting how you drew that conclusion.”

Luna chewed her lip as she looked down at Reaper’s dying form: “I cannot stay...we must return...we both have duties…”

“To whom?”

“Our world, Equestria, Celestia!”

“Look at your body now, True Sister, look at Gerrar’s! This is your world, now! You have given your blood to it!”

“No! This is but a form!”

Luna shook her head and arched her back as a tail, mane, wings and horn appeared, accenting her now-indigo body.

“Lovely, but even now, you find yourself caught between two shapes, two visions of yourself.”

“You are attempting to force that false dichotomy on me! I freed myself from you! The Tantabus, our encounter during Grey Thorn’s dream--”

“Were but trifles, True Sister. The Elements of Harmony are indeed powerful, but they are not all-powerful. I cannot be destroyed.”

Luna took a sudden lunging step forward, snatched the broken spear shaft from her counterpart’s hand, and drove it up underneath Nightmare Moon’s jaw and into her skull, killing her instantly. The body fell nerveless to the sand, as blood gushed out over Luna’s feet.

Luna dropped to her knees and breathed heavily: “Perhaps, perhaps not--but that will not stop me from trying!”

She turned her head to look down at Reaper’s face, when she heard the creak of a door hinge. Her head snapped around and up as she focused on the now-shut blue door in the landing of the lighthouse above her.

“Damn.”

Luna’s eyes fluttered open: “How long was I asleep this time?”

Reaper spit out a wad of zaka: “Not sure--I couldn’t really tell if you were asleep much of the time. It looked more like a fugue state. I guess you were out of it for about two hours, no matter what you call it.”

Luna peered blearily at the lengthening shadows: “It will be night soon, yes? How much further do we have to go, do you think?”

“I’m starting to see evidence of settlements and civilization, such as it is. We passed a small farm about fifteen minutes ago, and there’s a standing stone up ahead.”

They approached the cracked, lichen-covered, five-foot-tall stone. Reaper put his face close and peered at the inscription: “Koa babess…”

Luna shifted on Bitch’s back and put another leaf of zaka in her mouth: “God protects?”

“Close, but not exactly. “Koa” references one of the Lost Gods, but without more of the inscription I can’t really nail it down better than that. Names shifted over the centuries, and often depended on the region.”

Luna nodded and tightened the blanket around her shoulders: “Be that as it may, I assume this implies we are not far from our destination.”

Reaper stood back from the stone and pulled out his flask: “Probably. The sun’s setting, but I really don’t want to stop again until we get to Rixk’a. We both need food and proper clothing.”

He took up Bitch’s lead and began leading the dalzi south again: “In addition, ironically the closer we get to some kind of town, the more at-risk we become.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Risk?”

“Bandits. Normally I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over that, but with you injured and ill-equipped, and only one decent weapon between the two of us…”

Reaper shrugged.

Luna nodded: “Then we should press on. Can you ride Nag? Would we go any faster?”

“Unlikely. She’s past her rider-bearing years. She could do light duty for children, or pulling a cart, maybe carrying a set of bags, but her heavy-duty days are behind her.”

Reaper stopped and adjusted his cloak, then secured his pack around Nag’s neck and shoulders: “However your point is well-taken. Let’s take this up a notch.”

He took a swig from his flask and popped the last of his zaka into his mouth. He tugged Bitch’s lead and started to jog.

Luna chuckled: “This was not quite what I was implying!”

“Regardless, it’s the right thing to do. I should have enough left in reserve to push through the last bit.”

“What kind of reception are we likely to receive, straggling in in the dark of night like two refugees?”

“When we flash gold at them, I suspect all our troubles will evaporate!”

“True, but will that not attract attention as well?”

Reaper tugged at the edge of his mustache for a moment: “Yeah, that’s true. We’ll have to walk a fine line, especially if Sagu and Sumi got into town first.”

“In that case, I presume I should continue to feign ignorance of the local dialect.”

“We’ll have to play it by ear. As we actually get into town, it would be best if you looked like you were asleep. Then I can get us some kind of lodging without anyone trying to directly interact with you.”

Luna nodded, then tipped her head pensively: “Did I happen to speak in my sleep?”

“Not that I recall. Why? Were you dreaming?”

Luna chewed her lip: “Yes. It was a variation of the dream where you lay dying at the base of the lighthouse.”

“Interesting. That whole sequence continues to confuse me--there’s no structure like that on the Zuri River. I mean there’s Fort Torlek, but it doesn’t look like that at all. And the whole thing had more of a beach feel to it.”

“Yes. There are many details that are, shall we say, out-of-place.”

“I have to say, though, the runes were spot-on.”

Luna frowned. “Yes they were. The Zuri River discharges into the Sasol Sea, does it not?”

“That sounds right. I’ve never followed it all the way down to its mouth. I didn’t scout too far south of Fort Torlek before the battle where I met my end.”

“I wonder what lies there?”

Reaper shrugged: “Don’t know, and won’t know. We don’t have to go that far. So how’d the dream end?”

“Hmm?”

“The dream you just came out of.”

Luna looked away: “Blood in the sand…”

Reaper grinned: “I die in these dreams a lot, don’t I? Seems fitting, somehow.”

“Yes. I wonder what it would be like if you did not die?”

“Ha! Tell you what: next time I fall asleep, share a dream where I don’t die, and we’ll see where it goes!”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Do not joke like that! We know how it must be!”

“Relax, Princess! We’re locked-in here--I’m fated to die. We just have to get to Fort Torlek on time.”

Luna chewed on a strand of hair as she stared forward into the dark.

“Geldi!”

Reaper stopped and stepped in front of Bitch, bringing her and Nag to a halt.

An armed, torch-bearing guard, a bit shorter than Reaper stepped out from a niche inside the wall surrounding a small portcullis.

Reaper put up his hands and approached slowly, bowing slightly: “Greetings, good Nightwatchman! I am called Reaper, and my companion is Luna, a T'zesa of the Zaldun. We have ridden far these last two days after a vicious hartz attack, and are in sore need of lodgings and food.”

The guard eyed Reaper and the dalzi warily, then stared at Luna, who appeared to doze on the back of her mount.

He stepped closer and peered at Luna’s dark skin and glossy black hair, shimmering faintly in the torchlight: “Is she really Zaldun?”

“Indeed. I assure you you have never seen her like before, and I will put in a good word with your Captain if you would point us to the nearest inn or roadhouse. Her Highness was injured in the attack and needs attention.”

The guard tipped his head sideways: “She don’t look bad to me.”

Reaper stepped beside Bitch and gently shook Luna’s leg: “We need to show him your back. He’s the doubting type.”

Luna cracked an eye open: “More likely he just wants a better look at this exotic T’zesa of yours!”

Reaper hid his grin as he gingerly pulled aside the blanket enough to allow the guard to peer at the blood-stained rags bound across Luna’s bare back.

“Satisfied?”

“Hmm. Well, I guess so. But I’m s’posed to get the Captain anytime sumthin’ odd happens.”

Reaper nodded and reached into his pocket. He brought out a bit: “I understand completely, and I assure you I will check in with your Captain at first light. We will be at--where did you say the nearest lodging was?”

The guard glanced at the gold, gleaming a dull yellowish-red: “Uh, down on yer left about two hundred paces. A place called “Tal’ar’s Inn.”

Reaper pressed the coin into the guard’s hand as Luna flashed him a weary smile and pulled the blanket loosely over her shoulder.

He turned to Luna: “Thank him, but do it haltingly, like you don’t know the language.”

“Eskerr on...on gi'zon!”

Reaper’s eyebrows jumped and he bowed to the guard: “What an honor! Her Highness hardly knows any of our tongue, and has chosen to thank you directly instead of through her servant!”

The guard blushed and stepped to the portcullis and waved over his partner: “Oy, Zain! Get over here and open this thing. We’re bein’ visited by a Princess!”

Zain shuffled over, released the catch holding the counterweight, and turned a wheel to raise the gate. He stared at Luna as she and the dalzi passed beneath the low arch into Rixk’a.

Luna smiled at Zain, and Reaper suddenly reached into his pocket and tossed the startled guard a bit of his own: “For your troubles!”

The guards watched as Reaper led the dalzi away down the narrow, slush-covered cobblestone road, into the heart of Rixk’a. They turned away reluctantly, pocketed their gold, and closed the portcullis.

Reaper and Luna passed by a variety of two-story shops and buildings crammed cheek-to-jowl. They were largely constructed of half-timbered wattle and daub, though some were partially brick, and they leaned over slightly at the top, making the street below feel claustrophobic and hemmed in. Most were dark behind closed shutters.

They approached one building that was not entirely dark. A sign hung out front: “Tal’ar’s Inn.”

“I think we found it,” Reaper said as he scanned up and across the street. “Need to locate the stables and get these beasts quartered as well.”

He slung Bitch and Nag’s leads around a post: “Hang tight a second--I’m going to stick my head in.”

Luna nodded wearily as Reaper stepped through the inn’s door, and peered into its dim, smoky interior: “Is anyone awake in here?”

A small, grizzled woman with an eye patch suddenly appeared in front of Reaper holding a dagger defensively: “Whatd’ya want?”

Reaper took a step back and held his hands out to his sides, palms up: “I am called Reaper, and my companion and I, the T’zesa Luna of Zaldun, seek accommodations. I apologize for the lateness of our arrival, but we were sent here on the recommendation of your most excellent Nightwatchman.”

The innkeeper rolled her eyes: “Excellent Nightwatchman! So did you wake him, take him away from his bottle, or from diddling one of the whores?”

“Well, he emerged from his hidey-hole next to the gate, so I suppose any of the three might be correct!”

The innkeeper stared at Reaper for a moment, then broke into a broad smile: “Or all three, knowing that sack ‘o shit!”

She turned away and stepped to the fireplace, stoking the fire and retrieving a lantern: “The name’s Tal’ar, in case you can’t read.”

“I can, though I never like to assume names until properly introduced.”

Tal’ar grinned: “Oh, a smooth one! Let’s go see this Princess of your’n.”

They walked out of the entrance, and Reaper stepped up to Bitch and bowed toward Tal’ar: “May I introduce T’zesa Luna of Zaldun.”

Reaper helped Luna down off her mount, and stood aside as Luna drew herself up to her full height and pulled her hood back, allowing her hair to flow free in the wind.

The old innkeeper’s eyebrows jumped: “Well there’s a sight!”

“She speaks only a little of our tongue, but I can assure you she will be most grateful if you can rent us lodgings for a day or two.”

Reaper reached into his pocket and pulled out an almond-sized sapphire: “Very grateful…”

Tal’ar’s eye grew wide: “The finest merchant’s suite was due to be occupied tomorrow, but it just opened up!”

She took the gem in her hand: “That is, if’n this bauble of yers checks out in the morning.”

“I have no doubt it will, but I do have some gold, as well, if you feel the risk too great.”

Reaper held out two bits, and the old innkeeper licked her lips and looked back and forth between the gem and Reaper’s hand.

“Yer Princess seems pretty roughed-up. I ‘spect you ain’t goin’ anywhere first thing. I kin trust you that long, at any rate.”

“Excellent! Would you see to our mounts as well? I saw a stable across the road.”

“Yeah, that’s mine, too--well, my brother’s I guess, but I run the damn thing, so it might as well be mine.”

Tal’ar turned and opened a door revealing a narrow staircase: “Oy, Regel! Git yer ass down here and take these dalzi across t’the stable!”

A large, pale, heavyset young man shuffled through the doorway a minute later, pulling a cloak on over his nightshirt. He goggled at Luna.

The innkeeper cuffed him across the back of his head: “Don’t stare--it’s rude, and you got a job to do!”

Regel grunted and stuck his feet in a pair of wooden clogs next to the door before heading out toward the street.

Tal’ar rolled her eyes: “My apologies--he’s hard-of-hearing and slow, but he’s good with the animals, so he’s worth the trouble.”

Reaper smiled: “No offense taken. Her Highness is aware that she stands out, and takes a measure of pride in her beauty.”

The innkeeper nodded as she led her guests past the common room to a broad staircase at the back of the inn: “We sure ain’t seen nuthin’ like her in these parts in, well, ever!”

“I’m sure! If you would be so kind as to bring some bread and fruit and gardo, we would greatly appreciate it!”

“Will do. Looks like you could use some sleep clothes for the Princess too, unless that there’s a magic bag!”

“It is not, and we will gladly pay extra for any nightclothes or undergarments you may have--and a good towel or two.”

Tal’ar opened the heavy, ornately-carved door at the end of the landing and led Luna and Reaper into a low, warm, dimly-lit set of three rooms, with a copper bath, a large bed, and a fireplace of expertly-set stone.

“Will you want a bath now, or just a basin and some hot water?”

Reaper nodded: “Just something so we can clean-up a bit and re-dress Her Highness’ wounds. We will see to a better bath in the morning.”

They heard a door slam down below: “Alright--sounds like Regel’s back. I’ll send him ‘round to Dux’a in the morning. He owns the bathhouse, an’ I’m sure he’d be more’n happy to give you folks some proper attention tomorrow!”

Reaper bowed: “Most appreciated! Please send your man up with the food and whatnot as soon as you can. We are weary and sore and in great need of sleep!”

“Right away! If’n there’s anything else you need, just shout and Regel’ll come a-runnin’!”

Luna smiled as the innkeeper left the room: “Eskerr a'mon ugarr!”

Tal’ar laughed: “‘Honored grandmother?’ Sure’n I had enough stuck up in there to spawn a whole village, but nuthin’ ever came back out--not that lived, anyway.”

She smiled sadly as she pulled the door shut: “But I try to make up fer it by treatin’ my guests like family!”

Luna sat down heavily on a chair at the edge of the fireplace and shuddered violently: “Truer--and more-understated--words were never spoken! I am beyond weary and sore!”

Reaper tossed his bag beside the bed and stoked the low fire, adding fuel and blowing on it: “I know. We’ll get you cleaned and fed enough to get to sleep, and do a proper job in the morning.”

Luna grinned: “And the feeding apparently includes beer, I take it? I am more of a wine drinker!”

Reaper smiled: “Really playing the Princess card, aren’t you? Wine up north can be tough to come by in the winter, but I assume their stock of gardo is first-rate. Old Tal’ar probably brews it herself!”

They heard a knock at the door, and Reaper stood and walked across the room to let in Regel, bearing a tray of food and drink, and basins of hot and cold water, as well as a basket full of clothes and linens.

“All my thanks, and that of the T’zesa, too!”

He pressed a bit into the stable boy's hand, and walked him out of the room, closing the door as Regel gawked over his shoulder.

They ate and drank in silence, speaking only briefly when Reaper helped Luna shed her clothes, and cleaned and rebound her wounds.

He peered closely at the scabbed and crusted gashes: “Well, they seem to be closing up OK. This ointment really does the trick.”

Luna nodded: “Would that we still had some zaka…”

“Try the beer. It’s potent stuff, and should dull the pain about as well as zaka.”

Luna took a mug from Reaper and tried a tentative sip. She raised an eyebrow: “Not as good as wine, but better than cider. I am pleased!”

Reaper grinned as he helped slip a linen shift over Luna’s head: “Words of praise from Her Highness! I can sleep well, now!”

Luna chuckled, downed her mug, stood wearily and shuffled to the bed: “I think we can both sleep well this night!”

Reaper watched as she bundled beneath the blankets and quilts, and fell asleep almost at once.

He sat for some time finishing his gardo, and studying Luna’s face in the flickering firelight, before he slumped back in the chair and passed into an uneasy slumber.

Intruder
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Death Be Not Proud

Intruder

Luna awoke with a start and sat up, peering about the darkened room. Reaper lay naked and sprawled in the chair by the cold fireplace, covered partially by a sheet. Luna furrowed her brow, slipped out of the bed and walked silently to the window. She looked down at the street below.

The cobblestone roadway was now a moonlit beach, and lying directly below the window was the body of a light-tan unicorn stallion, surrounded by empty wine bottles and zaka leaves, his legs draped over a sweat-soaked, blue-maned, pink mare.

Luna looked to the left and noticed a dark figure reclining on a chaise lounge. The figure looked up at the window and flashed a bright grin.

“Again I ask, True Sister: whose dream is this?”

Luna turned from the window and saw Nightmare Moon in her long, silvery sheath dress sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Reaper’s I assume. Is that you below as well, or simply an echo from his mind?”

“Yes, that is also me. I quite enjoyed watching him struggle with a host of memories, some as Gerrar, some as Reaper. You can see from the empty bottles and sticky, sated playmate how well he ultimately fared!”

Luna stepped over to Reaper and ran her hand across his hair: “The leaf and the beer must have taken their toll.”

Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow: “On you both. You are not asleep.”

Luna withdrew her hand from Reaper with a shock: “By the stars! A waking dream!”

“A shame to have been pulled away, really. His was a wonderful, disjointed, drunken, sweaty, surreal romp. I pleasured myself as he pleasured Aloe. It was like the old days!”

Luna chewed her lip: “I do not remember any of this!”

She turned back towards her snoring companion: “Reaper--please wake up! I am experiencing a waking dream and need you to help me break out of it.”

Nightmare Moon walked to the window: “Here, allow me to assist…”

Luna stepped to the window and saw the dark form rise from the chaise lounge and approach the two ponies who were again entangled, groping and moaning. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Reaper stir in the fireside chair, his breath coming in rapid, shallow bursts.

She looked again out the window in time to see the dark form insert itself between Aloe and pony Reaper, embracing the thrusting stallion, and suddenly driving a shining, silver horn up beneath his jaw with a crunch and a spray of blood.

Luna turned from the window as Reaper cried out in his sleep, and stumbled up out of the chair: “By Celestia’s holy teats, what was that?!”

Luna looked around the room: “She is gone.”

Reaper staggered sideways, then sat down heavily in the chair: “Who? What?”

“Nightmare Moon was in your dream, and in this room.”

“I--I don’t understand…”

“Neither do I, to be perfectly honest.”

Luna crouched slowly, then knelt at the edge of the fireplace, and wincing, stirred the fire, exposing hot coals on which she laid fresh fuel.

Reaper ran a hand down his face, and reached for a half-empty cup of gardo: “How could she be in the room? I assume you mean she was in your dream, too.”

Luna gazed into the fire: “I was not asleep, yet she was here, conversing with me. We looked down upon you from the window, and saw you entangled with Aloe. We were clearly seeing your dream from an outsider’s reference point.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “We’re starting to drift dangerously into that un-tethered, dream-within-a-dream territory you warned of, aren’t we?”

Luna chewed her lip: “Zaka. I must not use it again. It weakens my control over even my own dreams, and seems to empower the phantom Nightmare Moon who inhabits my memories.”

“Not just your memories…”

Luna glanced up at Reaper: “What do you mean?”

He swallowed and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth: “What? I didn’t say anything. What do I mean about what?”

Luna narrowed her eyes, looked back-and-forth over her shoulders and frowned: “Nothing. What do you recall of your dream?”

“Not much--it was mostly a jumble. Celestia was hosting some sort of garden party, and there was epic food and wine, lots of wine, and she was lounging on a couch watching, until she joined two of her 'Honored Consorts.'”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “So Celestia was in your dream. Interesting.”

“Yeah, and I was drinking and wondering where the zaka had come from, when the Ponyville spa mares showed up and came over to me at Celestia’s direction.”

“Yes, I saw a remnant of that. Were you aware you were on a beach at the end?”

“I wasn’t aware of anything toward the end! By that point I was so lost in a haze of zaka and mare musk and booze and chocolate and various warm, wet holes that you could have dropped the entire scene in the ocean and I’m not sure I’d have known the difference!”

Luna stood stiffly and shuffled back to the bed. She sat in the middle and wrapped herself in a quilt: “Did Celestia speak to you?”

“No, well, yes--sort of. She yelled encouraging words at me, if you will, while I was engaged with Aloe and Lotus.”

Luna brought a finger to her lips and chewed at a nail: “Did it sound like Celestia, or was it like somepony was imitating her?”

Reaper put another log on the fire and grabbed a lump of dark-brown bread: “Hmm. I guess it didn’t sound exactly like her, now that I think of it. But like I said, I wasn’t really focusing very well.”

“Why Celestia, I wonder?”

“Likely because I was talking with her about her consorts just before we left. Are you telling me Nightmare Moon was in my dream without you?”

“It was she who broke the dream at the end by impaling you with her horn.”

“I don’t understand. Isn’t she you? What does she--you--want?”

Luna chewed her lip and looked away: “I--I am not entirely sure. All I know is she is growing in my mind, and is finding ways of evading my control, even to the point of manifesting before my waking eyes!”

“And you think the zaka has something to do with that?”

“That, and the fatigue and stress and near-death experience. And of course, I do not possess my own native power, just the strength of my will, which is proving less up-to-the-task than I would like!”

Reaper wrapped up in the sheet and sat facing Luna, with his back to the fire: “What can we do?”

“Aside from completing this mission as soon as possible? I do not know. But I must avoid zaka from now on.”

Reaper nodded: “Hopefully your pain is tolerable, and we can get re-provisioned and on the road within a day or two.”

“I presume there are other suitable substances?”

“We’ll hit up the local herbalist in the morning. I assume they’ll have azal. That, and the occasional cup of beer should keep the pain down.”

Luna yawned and crawled back beneath the blankets: “It might also help if we deliberately dream together. This may cut down on the confusion and keep Nightmare Moon at bay.”

She heard a faint chuckle and held her breath, listening intently.

Reaper fed and adjusted the fire: “I figure we have another three hours or so before dawn. Let’s try to get as much sleep as we can.”

Luna propped herself up on an elbow: “Please join me in the bed. It will be easier to maintain the boundaries between dream and reality now if I can touch you directly.”

Reaper furrowed his brow as he reluctantly slid under the blankets and faced away from Luna: “I’m more concerned about a lack of other, more tangible boundaries in this case!”

Luna smiled and reached out to touch his shoulder: “I assure you, this is the lesser risk.”

“Sleep tight, Luna. I hope you’re right.”

Reaper and Luna’s breathing settled into slow, deep rhythms as sleep overtook them, and the firelight covered the bed with flickering shadows.

A dark form slowly filled the chair next to the fireplace, its piercing aqua eyes fixed unblinking on the sleeping pair as Larg’s light spilled in through the window.

“Sleep tight indeed, True Sister…”

Jost'n
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Death Be Not Proud

Jost'n

Reaper awoke and turned to look at Luna asleep next to him, her disheveled hair highlighted with the morning’s first rays streaming through the un-shuttered window. He stretched and quietly slid out of the bed, pausing for a moment as Luna shifted slightly.

He knelt in front of the fireplace, stirred and stoked the fire, and finished off the half-mug of flat beer that was sitting next to the hearth, before grabbing a chamber pot and stepping into the low side room that held the copper bathtub.

Reaper put the chamber pot on a small footstool and closed his eyes as he emptied his bladder for a full minute.

“I still find it most unfair, you know.”

Reaper opened his eyes and saw Luna sitting up in the bed, watching him through the entrance.

“What?”

“That you are able to piss standing up like a proper pony, but I have to squat like a dog--excuse me, like a takur.”

Reaper grinned and walked back into the bedchamber: “That’s your lot in life here, while stuck as a biped!”

He pulled a shirt and breeches out of the basket Regel had left the night before, and put them on: “Did you sleep well?”

Luna rose gingerly from the bed, grabbed the other chamber pot, walked across the room and placed it on the floor beside the window. She lifted her shift with one hand as she reached underneath with the other, and squatted over the dented tin vessel.

“Yes--after a fashion.”

“After a fashion?”

“I probed tentatively into your dreams, but was turned away by smoke and fire--almost like a barrier.”

Reaper picked up a clean rag and walked over to Luna.

She took the cloth and wiped as she stood, stepping away from the chamber pot, wrinkling her nose: “I miss proper plumbing!”

Reaper rummaged through his bag for the antiseptic ointment. Luna sat next to him on the bed and lifted the shift over her head as he removed her dressing.

“Your wounds are looking better--glad to see no infection, anyway.”

He dabbed salve on the parallel gashes and wrapped her with fresh linen strips: “Smoke and fire? Like in my death vision?”

“No, this was different. Your death vision clearly takes place on a battlefield. This was dark and close, as in a confined space. The fire seemed more, I would say, focused, and the smoke smelled of burnt flesh.”

Reaper shuddered: “Well, who knows? It’s just as well, honestly; we both needed a bit of real sleep!”

“I suppose, yes, though I would like to try again tonight. I am most interested to see what may lie beyond that barrier. There are huge gaps in your memory from your final years as Gerrar.”

“Like I said: a whole lot of zaka and beer.”

Luna turned to face Reaper: “I have experienced both of those things now, and I do not believe them capable of entirely blotting out memory and dreams so thoroughly. If anything, last night shows they have the power to enhance and heighten.”

He reached up to adjust and tie off the strips of cloth running across her chest: “Just let it go, Luna. There’s nothing good in there, and nothing that would be of any value to us or this mission.”

His hands trembled as he spoke, and his fingers brushed her nipples, now stiff in the chilly air.

Luna’s eyebrows jumped and she grinned mischievously: “You seem a bit clumsy this morning. Perhaps I should remove this dressing and let you try again until you get it right!”

Reaper blushed and pulled his hands away. He twisted around and slid off the side of the bed: “Sorry--I’m just a bit on-edge right now, and I really don’t want to talk about dreams.”

Luna furrowed her brow in confusion: “No, I must apologize. I did not mean to tease or be so forward.”

Reaper pulled on a cloak and belt, and sat down in the chair in order to put on stockings and clogs: “It’s fine, Luna--it’s this place and the booze and the zaka and the stress and excitement. Neither of us is really in our right mind.”

Luna twisted a length of hair absently as Reaper pulled a simple, rough-spun work dress out the basket and laid it at the foot of the bed.

“‘Our right mind.’ Hmm. Perhaps a proper bath and meal will help in both regards. What else do you hope for us to accomplish today?”

Reaper stood before the fireplace and finished dressing: “We need to sell a couple of these jewels, and see if we can lay our hands on a decent map. I’m still not a hundred percent sure how far north we are, though I’m pretty confident that stream we’ve been following drains into the Zuri river.”

Luna swung her legs off the edge of the bed and pulled on stockings and her dragon hide boots: “Shall I continue to feign ignorance of the local speech?”

“Probably not a bad idea, at least for the moment. We can come up with some half-assed story once we’re back on the road, and you can start to communicate more freely.”

Luna stood, and Reaper draped a cloak around her shoulders: “This is too short by a long way! It looks more like a cape!”

Luna glanced over her shoulders: “I suspect it belongs to Tal’ar, given its dimensions. We must make sure to thank her for its use.”

“Believe me, that gem I gave her is thanks enough--she can add a seamstress shop to her holdings now, if she wants!”

Luna smiled as she pulled the cloak’s hood over her head: “Let us see what this village has to offer!”

Reaper grabbed his bag and slipped the short sword through his belt as they left the room.

Tal’ar met them at the bottom of the staircase: “Good morrow m’Lord and Your Highness! I trust ‘ya slept well!”

Reaper nodded: “The T’zesa is most pleased with the accommodations and the use of the clothing. Could you spare your man for a bit? I would appreciate a guide to help us get our bearings.”

Tal’ar shouted over her shoulder: “Oy, Regel--show yer face!”

The stable boy came around the corner from the common room, wiping his hands on an apron. He saw Luna, stopped abruptly and blushed.

“Gimme that apron, and take these fine folk down to Dux’a, and when they’s done there, run ‘em by Jost’n.”

Tal’ar turned to Luna: “She’ll set you up with the finest garb in all the province! Better’n those poor rags I had to give!”

Reaper bowed: “Her Highness was most appreciative of the clothing, but is indeed looking forward to getting fitted with something a bit more suited to her frame.”

“I bet! Looks like your gear was worse-for-the-wear, too!”

“I came woefully under-equipped for such a dangerous mission, but thanks to your courtesy and Regel’s help, I am sure I can rectify that shortly.”

Tal’ar grinned broadly: “And thanks to them gems, too!”

Reaper smiled: “I was under-equipped, but not wholly unprepared!”

Tal’ar held the door open as Reaper and Regel stepped out into the street. She bowed slightly as Luna passed: “You take good care of ‘em, Regel, or I’ll beat you sump’in awful!”

Reaper offered his hand to Luna’s as they descended to the street: “I’m sure he’ll do fine. We shall return sometime after noon. Please have food ready to take to our room.”

Tal’ar stepped back through the inn’s door: “As you wish, good Sir!”

Reaper turned to Regel: “Please take us first to Jost’n so that the seamstress may get a head-start on our new clothes. Then we can go the bathhouse.”

Regel nodded and waved Reaper and Luna across the street, up a few hundred yards, and down a side alley, ending in front of a brightly-painted shop emblazoned with crossed needles.

Regel opened the door and stuck his head inside: “You here Jost’n? I brung the guests Tal’ar told ‘ya about!”

A short, thin, wiry woman smoking a clay pipe appeared from between two rows of shelves piled high with fabric and leather and ornaments of all sizes and colors.

Luna’s nostrils flared and she turned to Reaper: “Is that also zaka?”

“Yeah, she smokes it, which is also pretty common. Wonder if it’s more of the local stuff, or imported from the south?”

Jost’n stepped in front of Luna and peered intently at her. Luna stood very still as the little seamstress circled her, prodding, touching and murmuring appreciatively: “Tall thing, ain’t ‘ya?”

Reaper nodded: “The T’zesa is indeed tall, and in need of a full compliment of appropriately-sized garb.”

Jost’n suddenly pulled Luna’s cloak open, reached inside the work shift and hefted a dark breast in her scarred, bony hand. Luna’s eyes widened and she blushed.

The seamstress backed away a step: “Built like a Lost Goddess, too. I ain’t got nuthin’ fine enough for a body like this!”

Reaper suppressed a grin: “We do not seek finery--we need sturdy clothes for a long journey. I will need to be refitted as well.”

Jost’n turned to Reaper and looked him up and down with a wink: “You look to be a pretty standard model--don’t think I have to grab anything of your’n!”

Luna bit back a chuckle and spoke softly to Reaper: “How quickly do you think she can be done?”

“Let me ask.”

Jost’n scurried toward the back of her shop with Reaper in-tow: “Her Highness wishes to know how long you think your work will take; we are rather pressed for time.”

The seamstress rummaged through piles of cloth and half-finished clothes: “Well, I was mostly done with a kit fer a young warrior. He was sure to pick it up when he got back from some battle or other.”

She turned and held up a nearly-finished cloak of dense, deep-blue wool, fingering it sadly: “But the tales got back to town that he was kill’t by Yunada’s troops down south a few days ago, and ain’t comin’ back for nothin’ more than a shroud.”

She shuddered: “If there’s even enough left to bury…”

Reaper grimaced, then turned and noticed Luna peering at his face with narrowed eyes. He motioned for her to join him: “Come take a look at this; I think our friend here can get this fitted to you in short order.”

Luna ducked under a low beam and joined Reaper and Jost’n, who was holding the cloak high, letting the fabric fall free in dark, rippling waves until it nearly brushed the floor.

“I think this’ll fit Her Ladyship quite nice. I gots a matching i’nak-skin doublet and breeches, but I’m gonna have to let out the hips a bit.”

She tipped her head and gazed at Luna’s bosom: “And I fer sure gotta do somethin’ ‘bout the doublet and blouse! Only men ‘round here with tits that big have bellies to match, and only half the height!”

Luna took the cloak and ran it through her hands: “Silver.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Silver?”

“This is beautiful--ask if she can trim it in silver.”

He turned to the seamstress, who was busy making notes on a scrap of parchment: “Could you trim it with some silver embroidery? Nothing splashy, just something to highlight the edges.”

Jost’n smiled: “The Lady don’t want to look the part of a warrior, I takes it?”

Reaper shook his head: “Not at all--in fact, I think she rather fancies the thought. It’s just that she has a special affinity for silver; it’s the principal color of her House.”

The little woman nodded: “I understands. I think she’ll make a damn fine-looking warrior princess, meself!”

She stepped to a shelf and pulled out a large piece of inky-black, shiny, silky fabric--tazko: “Still, I thinks she could use a little finery, don’t you? Linen underthings are fine for you and me, but not a T’zesa--even one fitted-out like a warrior!”

Luna stepped up to examine the tazko in Jost’n’s hands as Reaper nodded: “Agreed. Now, back to our short time…”

“Sure. I’ll get me girl workin’ on the underthings now--those should be done by mornin’, and I’ll have the doublet and cloak reworked by late this ‘eve. I’ll make sure it gets trimmed out by mornin’ too!”

Jost’n turned to Reaper and ran her hands down his body, from his shoulders to his shins, front and back: “I’ll take your measures over to old Ruzo--he kin get a proper set of clothes for you by tomorrow, too. Not as nice as I make ‘em, mind you, but sturdy enough for travellin’.”

“That will be most appreciated!”

Reaper peered into the gloom toward the back of the shop at two robe-like garments hanging near a dyeing tub: “Are those robes? Are they finished?”

Jost’n glanced over her shoulder: “Yeah--them’s wedding janti; made ‘em for a couple who had leave town a week ago. Not sure when they’ll be back. Still need embroidery.”

“Could we borrow them for the afternoon? We are bound next for the baths, and, well, you see the ragged hodgepodge we are currently wearing.”

Jost’n grinned and blew a thin stream of smoke up above her head: “Yeah, I’d say ‘ragged’s’ a pretty fair description!”

She walked toward the front of the shop as Reaper and Luna changed into the heavy, high-collared grey robes: “Hoy, Regel! When ya’ gets your guests settled with Dux’a hightail it back to the inn and bring me their clothes.”

She turned back toward Reaper and Luna: “I took on a boy a bit ago as a ‘prentice--I’ll have him do some stitch-work and patching on yer old garb. Get ‘em cleaned up and wearable for later this evenin’.”

Reaper shook the seamstress' hand, pressing an almond-sized emerald into her palm: “You have my thanks and the T’zesa’s gratitude. We will gladly give another gem when we take delivery tomorrow if everything is as fine as I believe it will be!”

Jost'n’s hazel eyes widened as she opened her hand: “And many thanks to you, good Sir! Let me get my servants on their tasks, so’s I can turn to mine!”

She escorted them to the shop entrance and into the street, where they met Regel and made their way back to the main thoroughfare, turning right and continuing on, deeper into the village, followed by the surprised stares of many of its inhabitants.

Smoke and Silver
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Death Be Not Proud

Smoke and Silver

Regel and his charges turned left down a narrow side street and worked their way into a maze of small alleys and dead-ends, stopping finally in front of an ancient, low, stone building. It had an ornately-carved frieze above its broad entry, and a pair of caryatid columns flanking the bronze-bound doors.

Luna stared at the stonework in confusion: “Why is all of this ornamentation scarred and defaced?”

Reaper squinted at a few scarcely-legible runes on one of the columns: “Liz’un…”

“One of the Lost Gods, again?”

“Yeah, one of the Goddesses, if memory serves me.”

Reaper turned a circle and looked at the fragments of old city wall worked into the surrounding, decrepit structures: “This has be the core of the old settlement from millennia ago.”

Luna closed her eyes for a moment and pursed her lips: “This must have been a temple, then.”

“That would stand to reason--re-purposed long ago when the Lost Gods were, well, lost.”

Regel had preceded Luna and Reaper up the cracked steps to the baths’ entrance, and was talking to a tall, bald, big-bellied man with a full, black beard. He turned and beckoned them to join him.

“C’mon, my Lord and Lady--Dux’a here’s waitin’ for you! He’s gots his best baths and best parzailen ready for the both ‘o you!

Dux’a bowed deeply: “Welcome to my humble establishment, honored guests! I hear tell that the Lady is a Princess of the Zaldun; is this so?”

Reaper returned the proprietor's bow: “That is correct. We have had a long and harrowing journey, and have many leagues ahead of us. Your town has been good to us so far, and this establishment comes highly recommended!”

Dux’a chuckled as they passed through the doors into the dark, hazy, scented interior: “Little surprise, since we are the only baths in Rixk’a!”

“How long has this old temple housed baths?”

They passed several screened-off side rooms, and a small dimly-lit antechamber containing a pair of musicians softly playing a lute and recorder.

“In a way, they have always been baths. This was a once a temple to the goddess Liz’un-urd’a-birna, the goddess of pleasure and fertility. The baths were in use then, too, though in more of a ritual sense.”

Luna raised an eyebrow and leaned in toward Reaper’s ear: “Temple prostitutes long ago?”

Reaper nodded: “I would assume so…”

Dux’a turned toward his guests excitedly: “Is that the speech of the Zaldun? I lived as a slave in the southlands for much of my youth, and heard many an exotic dialect, but nothing like that!”

Reaper smiled as Dux’a pulled back a sliding screen to a low, warm chamber, lit by guttering oil lamps: “Yes, this is the sound of Zaldun. The T’zesa understands only a few of our words, though she is a quick study.”

He surreptitiously winked at Luna who suppressed a grin.

Dux’a took them to a shallow marble pool, lined with cracked and patched mosaics of sea life. The perfumed water steamed, and a cauldron stood nearby in a tipping rig, primed to dispense additional hot water as needed.

“Allow me to introduce you to my two finest parzailen! I bought then freed them from bondage some eight years ago, and they have served me faithfully ever since!

Two slender, light-tan-skinned young women with long, sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes stepped around a corner and bowed. They wore simple linen wrappings that clung to their wet, tattooed bodies.

“I am Nahko,” said the first, flashing a shy smile.

“And I am Eska,” said the second in a rich, unfamiliar accent, stepping into the water and gesturing for Luna to join her.

Dux’a turned to Reaper: “Nahko will take you around the corner to a side chamber containing a similar bath pool, so that you may have your respective privacy.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “What do you think, Luna? I’d feel a bit more comfortable if we weren’t separated.”

Luna stopped removing her robe and looked over her shoulder: “I suspect we are safe here, but I can understand your concern. I had assumed we would share this bath in any event--it is quite capacious!”

Reaper turned to Dux’a and bowed slightly: “As Her Highness’ bodyguard and manservant I must remain at her side at all times. We will share this bath.”

Dux’a eyebrows jumped and he opened his mouth to speak, but Luna cut him off: “Reaper egon'z en!”

Reaper cast his eyes down: “You heard Her Highness: I am to remain. I understand this is not typical here, but mixed-sex bathing is commonplace in Zaldun, particularly among the nobility.”

Dux’a shrugged: “I saw it in the south as well, but it always involved either lovers or eunuchs!”

Reaper kept a blank expression: “I can assure you I am neither.”

Dux’a nodded: “Well, Eska and Nahko will take excellent care of the both of you, and I will send a pitcher of my finest Goal'ur wine shortly. Please enjoy our hospitality!”

He pulled the sliding screens shut as he left the bath chamber, and could be heard shouting for wine as he quickly walked down the corridor.

Luna stepped, naked into the hot, steaming water: “Eunuch or lover: quite the choice! I have not heard of anypony gelded in centuries.”

Reaper tossed his robe across a low bench and slid into the bath, settling on a submerged shelf, wincing at the heat.

“Yeah, ball-chopping is still a thing on this world. I understand Dux’a’s confusion: he doesn’t realize we come from a place where everyone is naked ninety percent of the time!”

Luna settled onto another submerged ledge roughly six feet at a right angle to Reaper’s left, and leaned back against the pool wall as Eska took up a pitcher and poured water through Luna’s dark, tangled hair.

Reaper turned slightly toward Luna as Nahko slipped behind him and began rubbing his neck and shoulders with a piece of soaproot in one hand and a chunk of pumice in the other.

Eska worked soaproot and oils into Luna’s hair as the tension drained from her dark, glistening face: “Ahh...these fingers are a revelation! Would that I could grace the girls at the Ponyville spa with a set!”

Reaper smiled and turned as a servant slipped between the sliding screens and set down a tray containing two goblets and a pitcher, streaked with condensation: “Is that the wine?”

The servant nodded and poured a measure into each cup, handing one each to Luna and Reaper. He moved the tray within reach of Eska, and silently backed from the room, pausing to extinguish one of the lamps near the entrance.

The bath chamber was now barely lit, filled with steam and scented smoke, flickering shadows, and the sound of water poured against skin.

Luna leaned forward and Eska gasped: “What hurt the Lady?”

Reaper opened his eyes and looked up: “We were attacked by a pack of ostal. The T’zesa received that injury protecting her dalzi. I have cleaned and dressed it as best I can, but I am hoping you may be able to improve upon my poor skills.”

Eska nodded: “When she is clean, I can put a thing on the gash that will help.”

Luna took a drink of wine: “I note you have decided to alter the true nature of the encounter somewhat…”

Reaper took a drink as well: “I barely believe that happened myself! Besides, I think we’re strange enough without any embellishment, true or otherwise!”

Reaper closed his eyes and drank deeply as he laid his legs across Nahko’s lap, allowing her to scour and massage his legs and feet.

“You two are clearly not from the north. Dux’a mentioned buying you; where are you from?”

Eska paused in her ministrations: “Dux’a finds us years ago on one of his trips to buy spices and wine and herbs in Goal’ur.”

Nahko nodded as she lifted Reaper’s left leg over her shoulder in order to rub and clean the back of the leg and inside of his thighs: “He takes us from the war. Our mistress lost her place and had to run. Dux’a helped by buying us.”

Reaper slid off Nahko’s lap and rolled over, giving her access to his back: “The war. Eight years ago. Yunada?”

“Yes. We never see him…”

Nahko shuddered: “But his troop burn everything. Everyone.”

“I understand. What do you hear of the war now?”

“Yunada move north up the Zuri. Worry in town the walls may not hold.”

Luna took a long drink of wine and stood, taking Eska’s hand as she guided her guest out of the pool and onto a low padded bench. Eska knelt beside Luna and helped her roll onto her stomach with her long, dark arms folded beneath her chin.

“Do you think Yunada’s troops may reach this place? What will become of our young attendants in such a case?”

Reaper poured more wine: “If the walls don’t hold, he’ll sack the town and--well, Nahko put it best: burn everything. Fire is his signature.”

Luna looked at Reaper and furrowed her brow: “Dreams of fire and smoke…”

Reaper turned away and frowned as he lay back in the water and let Nahko scrub his chest and abdomen with coarse salt and soaproot: “Doesn’t matter. We just need to finish up here in the next day or so and get to Fort Torlek as soon as possible.”

Eska opened a small, brass-bound chest and removed several stone jars and pots. She opened three and began poring various oils and lotions onto Luna’s back, working her hands down from shoulders to buttocks to feet in long, strong strokes. She began to focus on Luna’s neck.

Luna sighed deeply as her eyes drooped shut: “Will we meet Gerrar before reaching Fort Torlek, or deal with him at the point of battle?”

“I don’t know; I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I figure I can ambush him and tie him up--get him out of the picture, or maybe explain the situation and pay him off.”

Luna arched an eyebrow and peered out from a half-opened eye: “That does not sound especially promising. Do you truly think that you could be bought off?”

“It’s not really me. I am not the same man after all these millennia.”

“Perhaps, but you do share the same essence, the same spirit, yes?”

“At some level, yes.”

“Then how can you both be on Kur, then die and leave Kur? Can there not be but one of you, in the end?”

Eska moved away from Luna a few feet and warmed a small stone jar next to the fire’s glowing, smoky embers, releasing a sweet, spicy aroma. She dipped a finger into the jar and flicked some of the pungent, sticky contents onto the coals.

Reaper stretched out as Nahko held him aloft in the water, kneading his arms and neck, her eyes closed, swaying to the distant strains of the musicians.

“For all I know, Luna, Gerrar may well have ceased to be the moment I stepped through that portal.”

Eska slid back beside the massage bench, and began to work the dark red ointment into the gash across Luna’s shoulders.

Luna bit her lip and shuddered: “But what if he did not? How can we control the situation if Gerrar remains an unknown?”

Reaper glared at the ceiling, barely visible in the smoky dark: “As long as I die at the battle before the gates of Fort Torlek, what difference does it make?”

Luna’s skin suddenly flushed hot and her eyes dilated. Her breathing became shallow and rapid: “But...but the vision. What of th-that? That is not of Fort Torlek.”

Reaper heard the distant screams of battle and sat up suddenly and foundered, pushing Nahko back. He went under the water for a moment and came up sputtering: “Damn the vision! I know where I died!”

He looked at Luna and seemed to see a dark violet flame flickering above her brow. He squinted in confusion as a horn of fine, shimmering silver filigree blossomed from her forehead.

Luna opened her eyes and they too flashed silver for an instant.

Reaper crept forward, low in the water as Nahko settled into his abandoned seat and lay back, panting.

He faced the servant: “Eska! What is that stuff? What did you put on the T’zesa?”

Eska licked her finger and ran it around the rim of the jar before placing the tip delicately between Luna’s lips: “Mets’il. It is good for pain and to heal.”

Reaper looked on in shock as the ghostly outline of silver-grey wings coalesced above Luna’s shoulders like a fog.

He ran his hand heavily over his face in an effort to clear his vision: “By the Gods, no! Mets’il makes zaka look like candy!”

Luna smiled as she hungrily sucked Eska’s finger clean: “But the pain is gone now, Reaper. I have not felt this good since, well, I cannot recall when!”

“I know! We’re all feeling it! You’re projecting some kind of waking dream state!”

Luna grinned as she rolled onto her back and pulled Eska down on top of her. She grabbed the parzaile’s hand and guided it between her own trembling legs as she wrapped her other hand around the back of Eska’s neck and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

Reaper tasted the smoky, spicy residue of mets’il in the back of his throat, and felt a sudden, hot surge of pleasure in the pit of his stomach as Eska’s fingers slid inside Luna. Nahko moaned behind him.

Luna gasped: “I warrant you felt that as well!”

She arched her back as Eska took a dark nipple in between her lips: “I say again: these fingers are a revelation!”

Reaper squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to block out the alluring vision of Eska sliding her fingers deeper into Luna while grinding against her thigh, their mouths locked together.

To no avail: closing his eyes merely layered a fantastical radiance over the scene. He fell backward into Nahko’s waiting arms.

Luna smiled broadly as her eyes flashed silver-white again: “Your turn! If you would deny yourself and me the pleasure of our joined bodies, the least you can do is let me experience it through Nahko!”

Reaper felt Nahko’s hungry mouth against the back of his neck, and her searching hands reaching for his aching member: “The Lady must be Liz’un who is alive again! We should give her honor in the old way!”

Luna laughed as she twined her fingers through Eska’s hair, and began pushing the parzaile’s head down her abdomen: “No more princess for me! I have been reborn a god, it would appear!”

Reaper pried himself away from Nahko and splashed forward blindly to the opposite edge of the pool: “Dammit, Luna, this isn’t you! It’s the drug--it’s reacting with your dream power, spinning it out of control!”

A soft, low voice came from a far corner: “Not entirely out of control…”

Reaper looked around wildly for the voice, but caught only a glimpse of something shiny in the distance. He struggled to get out of the pool when his breath was taken away suddenly, and he flopped onto his back, legs dangling in the water.

His back arched as he felt Eska’s warm mouth press tightly against Luna’s waiting folds. He gasped as he felt her probing tongue.

He crawled past the two entwined bodies, one pale, one dark, both glistening with sweat and oil, until he felt the robe he had cast aside. He clutched it and scrambled on his hands and knees toward the screened entrance.

He looked back one last time to see Luna’s quivering legs crossed over Eska’s back. The phantom horn now glowed a ghostly blue-white, and he glimpsed Nahko shuddering ecstatically in the steaming pool.

Reaper shoved his way through the sliding screen into the passage beyond and heaved himself up against the wall.

He felt a warm breath against his ear: “Leaving so soon, Harbinger?”

“Shit!”

Reaper frantically pulled the robe on and stumbled toward the front of the bathhouse. He ran into Dux’a.

He clutched the large man’s ornately-embroidered vest tightly: “Do not go in there! I will return in a bit to retrieve the T’zesa. Your servants are in no danger, but they will be...occupied for a while!”

Dux’a extracted himself from Reaper’s grasp and glanced over his shoulder: “I do not understand…”

Reaper pulled the big man back around: “You don’t need to understand--” He pressed two flawless, marble-sized diamonds into Dux’a’s palm: “Understand?”

Dux’a furrowed his brow but opened his hand and nodded: “I will leave the T’zesa be until you return. But I cannot be held to this if I hear sounds of distress!”

“Oh, you’re going to hear sounds, I’m sure, but not anger or fear or distress. I assure you the girls will be safe. Just do not go in there!”

Both men turned at the sound of dual, low, full-throated moans coming from the bath pool chamber.

Dux’a bit his lip, looked again at his open palm, and stuffed his hand into his vest pocket: “Very well. Will you now go back to Tal’ar’s?”

“I just need to get outside for a bit to clear my head--too much wine and mets’il…”

“Ah, so Eska broke out her private stash, did she? I have not yet been able to track down her source. I know she is not taking it from me--I have mine under lock and key!”

Reaper awkwardly jammed his feet into the clogs Tal’ar had loaned him and stumbled toward the front doors. Dux’a hurried over and held the door open for him.

Reaper squinted in the bright afternoon light: “I’ll be back shortly--I just have to get my wits about me before I go back in there!”

Dux’a nodded and slowly closed the ancient, scarred door.

Smoke and Blood
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Death Be Not Proud

Smoke and Blood

Reaper gulped in the cold spring air and shuffled unsteadily toward a niche to the left of the entrance, behind one of the caryatid columns. He slumped down heavily on a worn bench, and leaned against the wall of the niche, shielded from the sun and wind. His breathing became deep and regular and his eyelids slowly drooped.

“Damn it all to Tartarus, Luna! What is going on with you? These dreams...these dreams…”

He opened his eyes after a few moments, and found himself back in the bath chamber. As his eyes adjusted he could make out the sleeping forms of Luna and the parzailen entwined and sprawled on a pile of blankets and sleeping mats. One of Luna’s hands was still tucked between Nahko’s thighs, and Eska’s head was resting on Luna’s breast.

Suddenly a cold light fell on the three women from above, and sounds of battle and screaming arose from the distant corners of the chamber. Reaper could smell smoke and burning flesh, and walls of flame began creeping in from all sides.

He tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

“What do you fear, Harbinger?”

Reaper’s head snapped around, and he saw a dark form, silhouetted against the rising flames: “You! I knew you were behind this! Who are you? Are you real, or just an extension of Luna’s unconscious?”

The dark figure’s eyes flashed silver-white for a moment: “I am unsure how to answer that question. I will ponder it if you will first answer my question: what do you fear?”

“I fear getting stuck here and missing my date with death!”

“No, that is not true fear. That is worry or concern, not bowel-loosening, heart-stopping fear!”

The smell of burning flesh began to overwhelm Reaper, and he could make out figures writhing in the distant flames. The fire beneath the cauldron flared and room was swept with the acrid aromas of boiling pitch and coal tar.

“What do you fear, Harbinger?”

Reaper felt a cold sweat run down his back; he swallowed hard: “I do not fear death--I welcome it!”

“Clearly. And you do not, I think, fear death for me--or is it my True Sister? We shall return to this in a moment.”

“No, let’s dig into that now, dammit! Who are you?”

The eyes flashed again: “I am the one asking the questions, that is who!”

Reaper tried to stand again, but dropped to his knees in frustration.

A white smile flashed in the dark: “Let us instead dig into these, what did I or she say, ‘dreams of fire and smoke?’ That was it.”

The walls of flame closed in and dark figures now could be seen forcing other wailing shapes back into the encroaching maelstrom.

Reaper fell back and tried to crawl away, but a jet of flame sprang up directly behind him. It took the form of a writhing, melting child.

Reaper gasped and lurched away, sprawling forward in a pool of blood.

“WHAT DO YOU FEAR?!”

The smoke and flames suddenly cleared and Reaper found himself on the outskirts of a ruined and smoldering village. He was clean-shaven and bald, wearing a trim, dark-green doublet and cloak.

A tall, black dalzi, sporting a slender silver horn walked up beside him and spoke: “Where are we, Harbinger?”

Reaper rose from his knees, brushed himself off and took a plug of zaka from a pocket: “The village of Bel’az.”

“Why?”

“It’s the last major settlement before Fort Torlek.”

Reaper popped the zaka into his mouth and pointed to the west. The dying rays of the setting sun broke through the haze and smoke and glinted off the waters of a nearby river.

“That’s the Zuri over there. Two days from now Fort Torlek’s commander, Gindu, will sally forth in surprising numbers and take us in the right flank.”

“So why are we in Bel’az, Harbinger? What do you fear?”

He looked at the charred bones at his feet: “I fear killing. I fear the deaths of others; they haunt me.”

The dalzi raised an eyebrow: “You? It is all you do! It is your very reason for being!”

“That’s different. I take ponies’ lives at the behest of Fate. I am merely, what was Grey Thorn’s expression? ‘Entropy’s errand colt.’ That’s a fair description. It’s a clean, relatively unencumbered job. The ponies I reap are slated to move on beyond the world to their ultimate fates.”

“Then what of Kur? Whom did you kill here?”

“Anyone. Everyone. Whoever Yunada decided needed to be killed next.”

The dalzi tilted her head: “You were a killer for Yunada?”

“Of a sort. I was one of his factotums--a Tunzal in the local dialect--probably his most senior, to be honest. I rarely got my own hands dirty, but I was quite good at rounding up hostages, organizing burnings, making efficient use of local troops or gangs.”

“Why?”

“Fear. Yunada is ruthless and a brilliant tactician, but he never had an especially large force. He needed terror to keep local towns in line. I specialized in seemingly random acts that were actually carefully-orchestrated for maximum effect.”

“And fire is part of that effect?”

“Always. Yunada has a fire fetish. It’s his preferred tool of discipline, torture, execution, arousal and terror.”

“And so by extension, yours.”

The dalzi began walking across the charred field toward the center of the ruined village. Reaper followed, eyes averted, sucking wet zaka pulp through his teeth.

The dalzi stopped next to a burned-out row of cottages. The hay barn directly adjacent was untouched.

“I do not understand the pattern, here…”

“I made sure to leave villages viable. If my gangs destroyed all the buildings or crops or people, then there would be nothing to extract for Yunada’s armies. It took some time to get that through his flame-addled head.”

The dalzi turned to a pair of nearby corpses. The bodies were naked and bound, but relatively unscathed. The heads, however, were merely charred, shattered stumps.

“Speaking of ‘flame-addled heads’...”

Reaper shuddered, spat out a mass of chewed leaves and reached into his pocket for a new plug: “Like I said: terror. Merely beheading is frightening enough when done by a blade, but beheading by fire, is slow, gruesome and induces a whole other level of blinding terror in all involved.”

“I can imagine.”

“I’m not sure that you can. It’s true you had a thousand years to think up the worst of the worst, but you were always kind of rushed. It takes quite a while to decapitate with fire. The sounds continue long after the victim stops screaming. The hisses and pops and crackles go on for several minutes until the skull finally bursts.”

Reaper suddenly lurched forward and vomited violently. He heaved and sobbed for several minutes, dropping to his knees, splattering his breeches and cloak.

At last he looked up with tears streaming down his cheeks, and wiped a sleeve across his mouth: “So from one monster to another, what do you think of my handiwork?”

The dalzi blinked slowly and looked to the west, beyond the river: “Why were you at Fort Torlek?”

Reaper shoved more zaka into his mouth: “What?”

“You were not military, per se, so why were you at the battle? I assume you knew there’d be some risk.”

Reaper nodded: “I knew. Yunada was concerned about the unknown strength behind Torlek’s walls. He was uncertain about Gindu’s whereabouts, but had just routed Gindu’s vanguard, and wasn’t about to let that prize slip inside the fort.”

“Again: why were you in the battle? Would you not have avoided it in favor of scouting ahead, or gathering local intelligence?”

Reaper stood and walked toward a broken prison cart: “I did gather intelligence. Then I rerouted a vital bit of it to a prisoner who effected his escape during the riveting execution I just showed you--well, its results, anyway."

“You betrayed Yunada?”

“I couldn’t let him continue any longer. I had been his servant in some form or other for years. He had always paid well: food, wine, fine clothes and jewelry, the best accommodations, girls. Anything I wanted.”

“And zaka.”

“Yes--all the zaka I could chew or smoke or ingest or whatever. You’ve felt its effect--imagine living on the stuff for years! Between that and my knack for staying out of direct action, I was able to turn a blind eye to his savagery until this last year, or so.”

“Then the aphrodisiac and spirit-lifting qualities of zaka turned dark, I take it.”

“As bad as anything you’ve ever conjured. I couldn’t live with it anymore. He had to be stopped; I had to be stopped!”

“So you gave him away to one of Gindu’s agents.”

“Yes. After I interrogated the agent I realized Gindu had the right troops at the right place. I hoped Yunada would be captured or killed, but only if information could get to the fort in time.”

“And clearly it did.”

A gust of wind blew a thick bank of smoke across the village, and when it cleared Reaper and the dalzi were standing in the midst of a pitched battle.

“And here you died. Did Yunada fall as well?”

Reaper turned north and pointed to a low hill where a handful of ragged men-at-arms in bloodied green livery clustered around a tattered standard of a scarlet flame on a hunter-green field. A great shout went up as opposing troops finally overran the hilltop and the standard fell.

Suddenly a soldier in blue and white gear, bearing a short spear and buckler rushed past and engaged a man in a green doublet and cloak, wielding an ornately-chased long sword.

The two combatants grappled briefly, then the man in green stepped back, threw off his hood, and made a clumsy, wide swing at his opponent, leaving his left side entirely exposed.

The spearman took the opening and thrust his broad-bladed weapon deep into his enemy’s chest. The man in green dropped to his knees and fell sideways as his vanquisher pulled his weapon free and dashed off to another encounter.

Reaper furrowed his brow: “That’s odd.”

The dalzi turned from the battle and looked at him: “What is?”

“That’s Gerrar. I’m Gerrar. Shouldn’t I be the one speared now? Celestia knows how many times we’ve been over this scene. Why am I not in it?”

The dalzi shrugged and tipped her horn at Reaper’s chin: “Perhaps because you are no longer Gerrar?”

Reaper looked puzzled, then ran his hand along his chin: “My beard!”

He quickly reached for the top of his head, which was now covered in thick, grey-streaked brown hair, again.

“I don’t understand…”

“There are two of you on Kur now. You must reconcile that.”

“It won’t matter as long as I get to this battle and die.”

“You may not find thwarting the will of your other self to be quite so trivial. I speak from some experience.”

“Who are you?”

The dalzi turned away and began walking back toward the village: “What would happen if this does not come to pass?”

“What?”

“Yunada’s capture, your death.”

“His troops would defeat Gindu and leave the whole north country exposed, I presume.”

The dalzi and Reaper were suddenly in the middle of the ruined village again, looking at the moonlit pile of three naked sleeping women.

Luna’s dream form shifted from the group, rose and walked away, eyes still closed.

Reaper furrowed his brow and looked back at the remaining two women. They were now headless corpses, bleeding out into the dust.

Reaper nodded: “Most likely, yes. Rixk’a would be taken and many of its citizens would fall to the sword--or worse.”

“Is that not a possibility in any event? Even if Yunada is captured, will his forces collapse, or seek refuge behind defensible walls?”

“Hard to say. Yunada’s second, Nai’a, is tough and bloodthirsty as well. It‘s unlikely he’d surrender if he has a chance to break out and head north.”

The dalzi nodded and turned to see dream Luna sit on a low stone wall, her gaze fixed on Reaper.

Luna stirred and her eyes fluttered open. She carefully and quietly extracted herself from the tangle of oily, sweaty limbs and furs and blankets shared by her and the exhausted, passed-out parzailen.

She slipped into the bath pool and rinsed away the heady mixture of sweat and mets’il and wine and other fluids on her skin and in her hair.

Luna stepped out of the bath, toweled off, pulled on her robe and began to leave the chamber. She suddenly stopped, turned and bent down beside the dying embers of the fire. She picked up the stone jar of mets’il, pressed its lid into place and dropped it into the robe’s pocket. She then slipped silently out through the screens blocking the entrance.

Luna made her way quietly and furtively through the passages to the old temple’s heavy doors. She squared her shoulders and walked boldly up to Dux’a who was startled by her approach.

“T’zesa! You look well! I am glad. Your companion is greatly concerned and said he would return for you shortly. Let me find him for you--it would be best if you remained here.”

Luna furrowed her brow as though she had only understood a little: “I go now. Reaper will know.”

“I’m sure his intent was for you to stay here until…”

Luna glared imperiously: “O'rane bandu!”

Dux’a put his hands up and backed away, then scurried around Luna in order to hold the door open for her.

“At least let me send a servant with you!”

Luna stepped out onto the cold, sunlit portico and looked around. She noticed a figure half-obscured by shadow in the niche to her left. She waved off Dux’a and approached Reaper’s sleeping form.

She sat next to him and gently stroked his hair: “Reaper--please awaken. We should return now to the inn and eat. We have much to discuss. I understand things much better now.”

Reaper cracked one eye open and peered blearily at Luna: “I’m glad you’re OK. How are Eska and Nahko?”

“I am sure they will remember the whole thing as some hallucination, what little of it they recall at all.”

Reaper struggled to his feet; Luna offered him a steadying hand: “How much of my dream did you see? I still don’t really know if that was you I was with or Nightmare Moon, or some figment of my imagination.”

“I know much of it, and I strongly suspect my alter ego will make herself known to me soon. I will take the opportunity to debrief more fully at that time.”

They descended the broad, worn steps to the narrow street, arm-in-arm.

“Who is she really? There can’t actually be two of you, can there?”

“Unclear. But would that truly be so hard to accept? There is every reason to be believe that there are two of you here on Kur, yes?”

“I guess. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around who and what’s real right now. Everything’s starting to feel like a dream half the time!”

They rounded a last corner and found themselves heading back down the town’s main thoroughfare toward the inn.

Luna smiled: “Then if all seems like a dream, trust me to figure out the truth of things. It is my specialty after all!”

Reaper nodded wearily: “I trust you, Luna. I just wish I knew if it was really you at any given time.”

Luna frowned and chewed her lip silently.

Focal Point
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Focal Point

Twilight and Zecora appeared with a flash in a rolling meadow; Dodge Junction’s low outline was visible to the west.

Zecora stumbled sideways a few steps and shook her head: “This type of travel I detest / my stomach heaves into my chest!”

Twilight nodded: “Sorry! I know some ponies just never take to teleportation. I actually had an instructor who was really good at it, but hated to do it because of the nausea!”

“Death’s Agent has another way / Might that my stomach’s pain defray?”

“You mean the ability to simply phase through space almost instantly?”

Zecora nodded.

Twilight sighed: “Sadly no. I can’t bring anypony along using that ability. It only works for me.”

Zecora shrugged: “That is a pity to be sure / So teleports I must endure.”

“Sorry.”

Twilight walked to the east toward a craggy outcropping of granite. Several gnarled pine and scrub oak trees grew in and among the various rocks and boulders.

“Here’s where I finally located the old mare’s spirit. Her name was Amber Blush, and her spirit was, I almost want to say hidden, beneath the roots of one of these pines.”

She pointed at a ripped-up patch of earth and a toppled tree, framed tightly by a pair of scorched and scored boulders.

“It’s clear your search was tough and deep / Did Amber fight or did she sleep?”

“Sleep? Oh, you mean was the spirit conscious and aware? Did it resist?”

Zecora nodded and stepped in between the boulder for a closer look. She opened her saddle bag and took out a small pouch.

Twilight walked around to the other side of the boulders to get a better view of Zecora’s actions: “No, she wasn’t conscious. And when I finally got her to the Waiting Room, she had no recollection of anything after she died.”

Zecora put her muzzle down deep in the hole Twilight’s magic had gouged out. She sniffed for a moment, straightened up, and sprinkled a bit of glittering blue powder from the small pouch.

“What is that stuff?”

“From time to time I seek the dead / This dust may point the path ahead.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow: “Why would you need to seek the dead?”

Zecora squinted at the now faintly-glowing residue: “Some are lost in the woods’ deep gloom / This can reveal their tragic doom.”

“The powder detects death? Fascinating! I’ve never heard of anything like that! There are some old, complex unicorn spells that do something similar, but they’re notoriously unreliable!”

Zecora gestured at the powder, which was now sinking through the soil like hot sand through snow: “The trail leads neither right nor left / It points beneath this stony cleft!”

Twilight hovered above the outcropping and pointed her head down at the hole: “Stand back--I’m going to see if I can dig up a few answers!”

She focused a bright beam of magenta energy on the hole, scouring away several more feet of soil until she hit bedrock. Zecora waited a few moments for the smoke and dust to clear, then stepped gingerly down to the bottom of the pit.

She sprinkled a bit more blue dust long the various cracks and fissures evident in the rock: “Observe if you will the grooves and cracks / The dust runs to them like flowing wax!”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “Yeah, it sure looks that way. I don’t think blasting at the rock is the way to go”

She folded her wings and dropped to the ground: “Give me a minute--if there’s nothing magical blocking me down there I should be able to phase through the rock and take a look below.”

Twilight closed her eyes, folded her wings in tightly and faded out as she began to sink through the rock’s surface.

Zecora took a step back and shuddered: “Your wraith-like form, it chills my soul / How do you bear this fearsome role?”

Twilight’s voice rose from the ground, muffled but discernible: “I touched the sword--I kind of don’t have a choice anymore. Besides, I think last night made it pretty clear that I’m not bearing it very well!”

She sank down several feet through the rock, emerging a minute later in a root-and-gravel-filled gap, shot through with fissures and small tunnels.

“It looks like a series of old animal dens or something. And there are a lot of bones down here!”

Zecora put her ear to the rock: “Your voice grows faint, but the words were clear / My dust has found the death that’s near.”

Twilight stared intently at the floor of what was clearly an old animal warren, and noted Zecora’s blue powder continuing to sift down through the stones and sediment and bones.

“I’m not so sure about that. Your death dust is still on the move. It seems to be drifting deeper and a little bit...sideways?”

Zecora raised an eyebrow: “My dust runs true in its death quest / Can you discern if east or west?”

Twilight phased a few more feet into the earth in an attempt to get a bead on the powder, but lost the trail after a minute.

“Damn! It’s too faint, now, and I can’t follow through all this rock and soil anyway!”

She chewed her lip for a moment, then retraced her steps toward the surface until she could reestablish the path. She then slowly sunk back into the earth, orienting herself along the glimmering blue line.

When she again reached the point where the trail petered-out, she squared her shoulders and let herself drift slowly through the rock and soil, back to the surface.

Zecora felt a chill and turned around to see Twilight standing nearby: “Could you read aright the signs / while buried in the earth’s confines?”

Twilight unfurled her wings, and with shoulders still squared and eyes fixed on the horizon, slowly rose into the air until she could make out the mountains far to the northwest.

“Canterlot. The path leads toward Canterlot.”

“That would seem to clear Everfree / Though this alone is no guarantee.”

Twilight dropped back to the ground: “Agreed. We obviously need more than just one point. It would be best to get two more so we can properly triangulate.”

Zecora sighed: “And so we jump with flash and pop / Again to make my stomach drop!”

Twilight smiled sadly: “Sorry. This is going to be kind of a long one--Vanhoover.”

Zecora shuddered and closed her eyes as Twilight’s horn glowed a brilliant violet.

The two ponies appeared moments later in front of the row of houses that had recently been home to Concord.

Zecora stumbled forward and retched into a bush, then reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a small bottle. She unstoppered it with her teeth and took a sip of its dark-red contents.

“Hopefully that stuff’s not as potent as the elixir you gave me!”

Zecora smiled weakly as she re-stoppered the bottle and dropped it back in her bag: “Give this tonic to a sick foal / And it will hardly take a toll!”

Twilight grinned: “Yeah, the other stuff? Not so much!”

“The little ones, you have to think / Rarely overdo strong drink!”

Twilight laughed and turned toward the house where Concord had died: “That’s the house--let’s start there.”

They walked to the top of the steps and stopped: “I don’t see any reason to actually go in; I just need to get my bearings.”

Zecora nodded and pulled the pouch from her bag as Twilight slowly walked back down the steps and retraced her path to the aspen grove where she had found Concord’s spirit.

Again she slowly rose high into the air, keeping her back and head aligned with the line she had walked: “Canterlot, again. I’m definitely sensing a pattern here.”

She dropped to the ground next to Zecora, who was investigating the burned-out stump left when Twilight had cleansed the grove. She sprinkled a pinch of blue powder on and around the stump.

“Not sure what you’ll find this time--I did a pretty thorough job blasting out that haunted tree.”

Zecora nodded, then pointed to the blue dust, working its way through the layer of ash around the stump: “Your cleanse of evil was complete / But its unseen path you can’t delete.”

Twilight peered at the pale blue line and sighed: “Back underground I go…”

She faded as she phased and settled through the ground, passing through several bands of loose stones and sediment.

Zecora was examining several trees adjacent to the burned-out stump when Twilight phased back, and stepped toward the zebra: “Same result from a different vantage point: the trail seems to slope down and slightly to the southeast.”

Zecora nodded: “So Canterlot’s again the aim / But what’s the point of this dark game?”

“I don’t know. But we need one more data point before I can officially declare Canterlot the target. I had a nasty time running down a spirit on the west side of Baltimare the other night. I hate to do this, but we need to teleport another time!”

“And technically there’ll be one more / to Canterlot to end our chore!”

Twilight winced: “Oh, sorry! Of course we have to return to Canterlot!”

Zecora pulled out her bottle of tonic, took a sip and sighed: “If it must be, then it must be / But promise there’s no number three!”

Twilight grinned, stepped next to Zecora and tipped her head down. The two ponies disappeared in a dazzling flash.

The setting sun was low on the horizon as Zecora and Twilight appeared on the western side of Baltimare, next to a duck pond, surrounded with cattails and marsh grass.

Zecora set down heavily on the damp grass and moaned softly for a few moments, while Twilight stepped into the shallow water at the edge of the pond.

“It was down there--the spirit of an old mare named Foggy Meadow. It took forever down in the muck and grass. Each time I’d get close I’d swear her spirit would sink deeper and slide out of range.”

Zecora belched, thumped her chest with a hoof, and stood up: “That story would seem to fit the scheme / of dust drawn forth by things unseen.”

Twilight nodded: “Yeah, now that you mention it, it was kind of like your powder migrating along some invisible pathway.”

She stepped out into the lake and formed a protective bubble, pushing aside the water: “Come on down here with me. I’ll hold this bubble in place while you administer a bit of your powder.”

Zecora joined Twilight in the pale violet bubble and they walked further into the lake until the water closed over their heads. The alicorn illuminated her horn and pointed into a patch of singed and stunted marsh grass.

“That’s where I finally tracked it down. Had to chase it for some time before I could reap it. Follow me.”

They walked another hundred yards along the pond bottom: “Here was where I finally corralled her.”

Zecora opened her pouch and sprinkled a patch of blue powder into the dark, churned mud. It began trickling away, heading forward along the path the two ponies were taking.

Twilight nodded: “That’s fits. I already scoped-out the path before we walked into the lake. We’re heading almost due west--straight toward Canterlot.”

The two ponies turned around and began to head back toward shore, leaving the blue powder in their wake, swirling in the onrushing pond water. It began to disperse rapidly, darting about like sprites, disappearing into the murky depths with faint flashes.

“To Canterlot now, I assume / In order to--”

Zecora was cut short as a black tentacle-like shape shot out of the water and hooked her hind leg just as she started to step ashore.

She went down with a shout and rolled on her back in an attempt to kick free before the dark ribbon pulled her into the churning water.

Twilight jumped back in alarm and swept her sword out of its scabbard: “What in Tartarus is going on?!”

She brought her blade down across the sinuous black shape, allowing Zecora to break loose and scramble toward shore, moments before the pond erupted with multiple forms and shapes.

Zecora pointed at the dark, rotting figures converging on Twilight: “These shades are pony-like in their form / What could cause them thus to swarm?”

Twilight spread her wings and dove at the pond’s surface, sweeping her sword from side to side in glittering red-gold arcs: “I don’t know! I can’t tell if they’re really reanimated corpses or just dark energy of some sort taking pony form!”

A half-dozen dark ribbons shot out of the water and ensnared Twilight, tangling her wings and dragging her roughly under the surface.

Zecora quickly opened her saddlebag and pulled out a gourd-shaped bottle, which glowed a pale pink. A crumbling pony shape lurched out of the pond and barreled straight for the zebra.

She waited until the fetid husk was nearly on top of her, then splashed its face with bright, effervescent liquid: “Not so fast my shambling friend / with my craft you must contend!”

The dark form was instantly ensnared in glossy magenta threads and bands, spreading rapidly, until it was entirely encased, and collapsed on the ground, immobilized.

Zecora turned back to the pond in time to see a huge plume of dirty water fringed with shimmering violet foam explode upwards, filled with dark fragments and shattered remnants.

Twilight spiraled upward at the top of the plume, and dropped to the ground with a heavy “boom” directly in front of Zecora. The startled zebra jumped back.

Twilight closed her eyes, arched her back, flared her wings and shook: “Gross! I’m going to need two baths after that! Rotting corpses, mud, duck crap, you name it!”

Zecora nodded: “This has been a shock to us both! / What could have caused this evil growth?”

Twilight stepped over to the magenta-wrapped figure twitching on the grass: “I don’t know. None of those bodies were possessed by any sort of sentience or essence, but they didn’t seem like traditionally animated corpses either.”

“And what of those bands that lashed me first? / They seemed to move with focused thirst!”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too. Those things appeared to have sentience and purpose. And they seemed to control the corpses, like pulling on puppet strings.”

Zecora furrowed her brow and gestured to the bound shape by Twilight’s feet: “But this fellow here is now detached / How can he struggle if unattached?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow: “An excellent question!”

She knelt next to the pink mass, closed her eyes, charged her horn with dark magic, and touched it to the corpse.

“It--it’s suffused with whatever dark energy spawned those tentacles or ribbons or whatever they were. It was given a bit of...of…”

Her eyes flew open and she bolted to her hooves: “‘Something going on under the earth!’ ‘Controlled chaos!’ Oh, sweet Celestia, I know what’s causing this!”

Zecora furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to speak.

“I’ll explain when we get back to Canterlot! Hang on to your guts!”

The two ponies and their grim prize disappeared with a flash as the moon peeked over the eastern horizon.

Shadow Battles
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Shadow Battles

Twilight appeared on the edge of Canterlot moments later and was immediately taken aback by what she saw. A crude, dragon-shaped phantasm had erupted from the walls of the old Canterlot sports stadium, and was lashing about, flattening nearby cottages and shops.

Several unicorns were fleeing the attack, while others fired bolts of magic at the figure, and a pegasus lay nearby, broken and bleeding as the dark shape fanned its wings and lumbered forward, crushing a cart and its owner.

Twilight charged forward, sword drawn: “Dammit! Everypony get clear! There’s nothing you can do! Fall back!”

She leapt into the air and sped straight at the phantasm’s head, firing bolts of bright violet magic and slashing with her blade as she passed by.

The sword passed effortlessly through the various black bands and tendrils that appeared to hold the shape together, though her strongest magic attacks tore holes through the denser chunks and pieces that comprised the bulk of the figure.

Twilight pivoted as the “dragon” vomited out a stream of black, oily sludge which doused a nearby shop, dissolving it almost at once.

She swung back around for a second pass as Celestia materialized nearby in a bright flash: “What is this thing, Twilight?”

“I don’t know! It’s kind of like the mass of decayed, semi-animated corpses Zecora and I encountered in Baltimare yesterday, but stronger!”

The slouching shape took another swipe at Twilight, and a series of dark tendrils shot out at her, forcing her to phase in order to avoid being entrapped.

Twilight hurled a blast of magic at the figure’s head, then dropped to the ground beside Celestia, sweeping out a series of bright blue barriers from her sword as she went.

Celestia surveyed the carnage and pointed at the fallen pegasus: “Oh, no! That pony, is she…?”

“Yeah, she’s dead--that one, too.”

Twilight pointed at the earth pony who had been pulling the trampled cart. She was now crushed beneath it, her intestines spilled out, her skull flattened.

Celestia put a hoof to her mouth and shuddered.

“I’ll deal with that in a minute, Princess--right now we need to defeat this thing. But my sword just passes through the bands that control it, and you don’t dare try to sever them, either!”

Celestia shook her head: “No, the attack in Appleloosa showed what happens then!”

Twilight nodded: “Right--I heard.”

The figure turned aside from the barriers and began lumbering toward the center of the city. Its trailing ribbons of black power poked at the fallen ponies nearby, causing their bodies to twitch and rise stiffly from the ground.

Celestia furrowed her brow: “Then how do we stop it?”

Twilight chewed her lip for a moment: “If I can hit the physical pieces with my magic, then you should be able to as well. Just aim carefully! I’ll see if I can’t get close and figure out how to contain the tendrils that are controlling and binding it.”

Celestia nodded and squinted at the massive shape, looking for boundaries and gaps. She noticed its left haunch was especially large and well-defined. She focused a blast of golden energy at it, tearing away a large chunk, causing the shadowy form to stumble sideways and stop.

Twilight sprang into the air, diving at the crumbling hindquarters, slashing with her sword and sweeping her horn back and forth, dissolving swathes of mummified tissue.

She looked back over her shoulder at Celestia, who was now concentrating her fire on a kind of tentacle-claw, jutting from the front of the shape: “Nice job, Princess! I just wish I knew how to--”

Another burst of inky tendrils caused her to swerve and phase, darting in and out, tearing holes through ragged wings, ripping away part of a misshapen head.

The dark ribbons passed through Twilight, and fell across a partially-collapsed house. They burrowed beneath and a pair of unicorns suddenly jerked out of the rubble, writhing and crying out in agony, their blank eyes staring blindly at the dark form looming above them.

Twilight twisted around and looked down in panic: “Oh, no, no, no!"

She dove for the ground and landed in front of the two unicorns, now lurching forward like rag dolls, their spirits visible to Twilight as they were being ripped from their bodies.

She looked back and forth at the dying ponies and the mass of black ribbons, bit her lip and charged her horn with a sudden burst of dark magic.

The tendrils shriveled and fell back immediately, releasing their victims who staggered back and collapsed, sobbing and retching.

Twilight sent out another surge of dark magic, and glanced sideways at Celestia, some fifty yards away: “Princess! Please come get these two out of harm’s way! I think I know how to drive this thing back!”

She rushed headlong beneath the belly of the phantasm, scoring long, deep-violet gashes with her dark, pulsing horn.

As strip after strip of desiccated flesh and bone fell away, Twilight dug deeper and deeper into the shambling shadow-beast, bathing it with beams of glittering black power, turning the collapsing mass to grey dust with her sword and wings.

A few minutes later Celestia looked on in dismay as a grey, cloaked form, swathed in a dark nimbus, rose from the sprawling grey and brown wreckage and stepped forth.

Twilight shook and fanned her wings, sending up a cloud of dust, as the dark magic faded from her horn, and the nearby shadows returned to normal.

Celestia sighed with relief: “Thank goodness, Twilight! For a moment it looked like you were rising up from Grey Thorn’s Void!”

Twilight re-sheathed her sword and stepped over to the broken body of the dead pegasus. She bent down and gently touched her horn to the battered, pale-orange corpse.

“In a way I was. Those tendrils are coming from the Void, and only by exerting even greater dark power was I able to suppress and drive them back.”

“Will they return?”

Twilight walked over toward the shattered, dripping remains of the crushed earth pony; the body still twitched and twisted a little. Twilight drew her sword and raised an eyebrow.

“This one’s still carrying some of the Void’s essence or imprint or whatever it is.”

Celestia joined Twilight and looked at the mutilated pony with disgust and pity: “Like the one Zecora trapped.”

Twilight drove her blade into the corpse’s chest, then stopped and tipped her head sideways as if listening: “This pony’s spirit is missing…”

Celestia’s eyes widened: “Like Grey Thorn’s victims!”

“Maybe. Hold on.”

Twilight turned and retraced her steps back toward the final spot where the haunted dragon form had fallen. She swept the area with dark magic, and began slowly walking back toward the breached stadium.

Celestia took to the air and followed closely from above: “Can you track the spirit?”

“I think it followed the path the black tendrils laid down.”

She picked and phased her way through the ruined wall of the stadium, stopping at last at a fissure, deep beneath an inner wall.

“I found the source of the rupture or breakout or whatever you call it! I’m going to go down deeper for a look.”

Twilight phased and dropped down beneath the ground, following the fissure deeper, passing through several shallow gaps and chambers, until she suddenly came across a disembodied spirit, entangled in a web of thin, inky-black strands.

She moved forward and swept away the strands with her horn, then leaned forward and touched the pale, glimmering fog that had settled on the floor of the small cave. There was a faint golden flash, and the fog was gone.

Twilight stood up and peered at the narrow crack at the back of the cave where the Void’s tendrils had retreated. She stuck her head into the opening and threw a beam of light as far down as she could.

“I’ll be here all day chasing down this damn fissure to its source, and that’s Zecora’s job anyway!”

She stepped back into the small cave and chewed her lip: “If only I could seal this off, block it up, melt it--something…”

She stood silently for several moments, then her eyes suddenly widened: “Blocked! Melted! That’s it!”

Celestia was helping organize rubble-clearing efforts, and had covered the bodies of the two dead ponies with cloaks. She was talking to a group of medical unicorns when Twilight appeared next to her, alarming the ponies who had gathered around the Princess.

Celestia shied sideways slightly: “Twilight! Wh-what did you discover?”

“I found Hearty Bloom’s spirit and sent her to join Eiderdown in the Waiting Room. I’ll get to them in a bit, but first I need to head back beneath the castle, down to Starswirl’s secret library.”

“Why?”

“Something bothered me when Reaper found the blocked stairway leading down into the catacombs, and it’s bugging me again.”

“The one that was melted and had wards against him.”

“Right, but I don’t think the wards were only against death, and I don’t think the blockage was just to hide the room. I think somepony was trying to seal in, out--I can’t really tell--the Void.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “‘Somepony?’ Surely it must have been Grey Thorn!”

Twilight frowned and bit her lip as she faded out: “I’m less sure of that all the time, Princess…”

Twilight faded back in, surrounded by the silent, stale dark of Starswirl’s ransacked, secret library. She illuminated her horn, filling the space with a bright bluish-white glow.

She dropped a small notebook and quill on the table in the middle of the room and walked to the back wall. She phased, sticking her head through the stonework: “There you are--well, at least some of you.”

Twilight worked her way deeper through the fallen and melted stones and rubble, until she couldn’t penetrate any further. She intensified her horn's glow to its maximum and spent several minutes studying the various faded glyphs and symbols, shifting the glow from her horn through the full spectrum, and down into dark magic.

She reemerged from the wall and jotted down her findings in the notebook, taking care to match the spacing and orientation of the various symbols.

She sat down heavily in the old, worn chair next to the table, overcome by fatigue and stress. Her eyes drifted shut and she slumped forward onto the table, her head resting on her crossed forelegs. She dozed uneasily for several minutes.

“Usurper…”

Twilight snorted loudly as she jolted upright, almost falling over backwards: “What? Who’s there?”

She shook her head vigorously, and ran the back of a hoof across her mouth: “What in Tartarus? I’m hearing things, now! I need to get this done and head back to the stadium!”

She stood up, gathered her writing materials, and oriented herself toward the back wall, pointing her head down, concentrating on the unseen chambers below her. She disappeared with a flash.

Twilight reappeared many feet below, in the antechamber outside Grey Thorn’s old lair. She walked to the right, finding the old partial stairway in a corner. She set her notebook and quill down, and proceeded up the stairs, phasing as she went, until she could go no further.

As before she came back from the blocked passage several minutes later, and jotted down notes and symbols, going back once to double-check an especially-faded glyph.

Twilight sat on the bottom step and studied the four pages of notes she had taken: “Yeah, a lot of this looks like the anti-death wards up top, at ground-level. OK, let’s see if I can cobble something together!”

She stood up, stretched her wings and back legs, then faded away like a shadow suddenly flooded with sunlight.

Twilight reappeared just inside the breach in the stadium wall, startling a clean-up crew. She looked back to see Celestia some hundred yards away, consulting with several police and emergency service ponies.

She turned away and started back into the damaged foundations: “I’ll talk with her once I get this done.”

She sighed as she phased into the floor: “If I get this done!”

She emerged in the small cave and found the dark filaments and ribbons working their way back toward the surface.

Twilight shook her head as her horn started to glow a deep, glossy purple-black: “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that!”

She drove the tendrils back, then used her most powerful magic to collapse the crack as far back as she could, shifting from a violet beam to a crimson one, slagging the interior of the fissure until molten rock oozed back into the cave.

“That should do it! Now to seal it with a kiss…”

She sighed and yet again pierced her wrist, drawing a large bead of blood: “I swear I’m gonna have a scar after all this!”

She inscribed a series of glyphs and symbols across the still-hot rock, infusing them with dark magic as she completed each one.

After tracing out a ninth symbol, she stepped back: “If that doesn’t do it, I don’t know what will!”

She stood silently in the cave for several minutes, watching for signs of returning tendrils. She turned away at last and phased back up through the rock to the surface above.

She flew over to Celestia, catching her mentor’s eye, and landing nearby: “That should do it--I think.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow.

Twilight shrugged apologetically: “There’s still a lot I don’t know about this. I think the wards and seals are right, but we won’t really know for a bit.”

Celestia nodded: “And even then, there are undoubtedly other ways for the Void to “leak” to the surface.”

“Oh, I’m sure--and I’m going to be busy for some time plugging those leaks. I just hope Zecora and her team find and cordon off that thing soon!”

“As we all do, Twilight. As we all do…”

Teambuilding
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Death Be Not Proud

Teambuilding

Shatter blew the steam off her cup of tea as she watched Zecora and Solar Gleam walk into Celestia’s solarium and join her at the table.

She tossed a manila folder onto the sun-dappled glass table top: “So, there’s my contribution. Did everypony else bring their party favors?”

Solar pulled back his cloak wearily as he sat, exposing a shoulder bag which he placed in the empty chair next to him: “I was up half the night reading reports of Twilight’s recent encounters with various animated creatures... Corpses? Creations? I don’t even know how to properly categorize them! But I at least have a better sense as to their behavior now.”

He pulled out a matching manila folder which he levitated alongside Shatter’s reports.

“I must say, having Death’s powers certainly seems to come in handy when it comes to battling eldritch forces, though I’m not sure they’re worth the price…”

Shatter grimaced: “All that “Harbinger” stuff and the stories around it give me the heebie jeebies! Give me a strong lance and a clear path and I’ll take on anything!”

She sipped her tea and turned to Zecora: “Speaking of ‘clear path’...”

Zecora nodded as she took a scone from a nearby tray: “The Chief of Royal potion arts / believes she has sufficient parts / to craft enough of my blue mix / to last five days or maybe six.”

Shatter raised an eyebrow: “Six days? By Celestia’s holy teats I hope this mission doesn’t last that long!”

“By my what, now?”

The three ponies quickly rose to their hooves as Celestia entered suddenly from a side entrance directly adjacent to the table.

Shatter blushed: “Sorry, Princess, it’s just an old saying! Nopony means any disrespect--”

Celestia smiled wryly as she sat down beside Zecora: “Take a seat, please! It’s fine, Captain--that’s hardly the first time I’ve ever heard that expression!”

Shatter brushed away some crumbs that had fallen in her haste, and sat back down: “Just chalk it up to us foul-mouthed military-types!”

Celestia filled her teacup with a chuckle: “I would, if you were the only ones using the expression!”

Zecora and Solar Gleam reseated themselves as Celestia flipped through the two folders in the center of the table. She read in silence for a few minutes, then set the folders back on the table.

“Alright, Solar, your notes seem to align with Twilight’s and with my own experiences of the last two days. Do you genuinely believe this thing can be contained?”

The old unicorn sighed heavily: “If everyponys’ observations are correct, yes. The Void already exists in a state of containment--the ‘container’ is simply weakened. Based on Twilight’s understanding of the Harbinger’s powers, I believe Zecora and I should be able to patch together a sort of binding or blocking spell to seal the breach. At least for a time.”

“How long do you estimate this might hold?”

Solar chewed his lip and glanced at Zecora.

The zebra shrugged: “There are forces here beyond our ken / brewed for centuries in some dark den / The best we hope for, to tell it true / is a month-long seal, or maybe two.”

Celestia’s eyes went wide: “A month?!”

Solar rubbed his temples: “Two at most. We examined the animated corpse Zecora brought back from Baltimare, and went over Twilight’s detailed calculations. I doubt anything Zecora and I can conjure will last even eight weeks…”

“Would more power help? Additional unicorns?”

“Unlikely. The Void was sealed off with a power nopony here possesses. Anything we do is going to be a stopgap at best.”

Shatter swallowed noisily: “Twilight has that power. Why doesn’t she just do the voodoo or whatever that sealed this thing up in the first place?”

Celestia shook her head: “No, Captain--it doesn’t work like that. Reaper had to pour an enormous amount of his own native power into binding the Void, and he did it from the inside.”

“He was inside that thing?”

Solar nodded: “As Princess Twilight tells it, Reaper plunged into the heart of the Void as it sucked in its creator. He then slew Grey Thorn as they crossed the barrier.”

Shatter’s eyebrows jumped: “Hardcore!”

Celestia smiled wanly: “So you can see why that’s not really an option for us.”

Shatter stood: “I guess not. OK, tough shit, then--we have our orders! Let’s go batten this thing down and hold on tight.”

Celestia motioned for Shatter to sit: “While I appreciate your zeal, you don’t need to go right this second. I know there’s been a small mapping team surveying the upper reaches of the chasm, and we’ll need their final report.”

Solar nodded: “And Zecora and I have to finish stocking our supplies. We’ll likely not be ready until the morning at least.”

Zecora set her cup down: “The compounds needed to form my dust / require great patience lest they combust!”

Shatter nodded and poured a goblet of cider: “So the better part of another day, huh? Alright, I guess I can use the time to debrief with the mapping crew. I haven’t gotten to hang with Blackout in months, so that’ll be nice.”

Solar looked up from the partial map sitting atop Shatter’s folder: “Blackout?”

The pegasus swallowed and ran the back of a hoof across her mouth: “Freak of nature. Born blind. She has an almost sixth-sense feeling for spaces.”

Solar cocked an eyebrow skeptically: “Like some sort of bat?”

Shatter chuckled: “No, though that’s the running joke. She just has a perfect sense for space. I mean, it doesn’t really work outside, but get her in a building or gym or cave, and she flies with precision and seems to know where all the boundaries are.”

“Which would make her the perfect tool / One whom darkness could not fool.”

“Exactly. I’ll go chew the hay with her and get the latest intel.”

Celestia nodded: “Very well. I believe I will round up a member of my guard and one of Luna’s as well to accompany you as arms-bearers and rearguard, should you encounter trouble.”

Solar furrowed his brow: “I trust we’re not expecting any sort of combat situations?”

Shatter grinned: “Hey, better safe than sorry, old-timer!”

Celestia smiled: “Not quite how I’d have put it, but that’s essentially correct. It would be best to plan for any contingency, including the need to beat a hasty retreat.”

She stood and magically pushed the various folders toward their owners: “I’m heading back to my chambers now, but please don’t hesitate to stop in if there’s anything you need.”

Her three guests stood as Celestia left the table, heading again for the small side door. Zecora chewed her lip for a moment: “I must see if the Chemist’s around / to give an update on my compound.”

Solar bowed slightly to the two mares: “It appears we all have a few loose ends to tie-up. I wish you ladies a good day until we meet again later.”

Shatter stood next to the table, finishing her goblet of cider, watching the unicorn and zebra cross the room toward the exit: “‘Loose ends.’ This whole fucking mission is a loose end…”

Shatter walked out of the empty solarium the next morning, leaving hoofprints in the deep, dewy turf of the small, adjacent garden. Her companions were already there, standing around a low table, eating a light breakfast, while nearby a charcoal pegasus in black-and-purple livery chatted with a pale gray unicorn dressed in white and gold.

Shatter picked up a muffin and strode over to the two guard ponies: “Good morning, Smudge! I wondered who drew the short straw for this assignment!”

The pegasus grinned and saluted: “Captain.”

The unicorn turned and saluted Shatter as well: “Good morning! Lieutenant Noble Steel reporting for duty per Her Highness' instructions.”

Shatter regarded Steel coolly: “OK, another unicorn. So what’s your specialty?”

“Offensive operations, tactics and close combat. During the attack of the changelings two years ago I--”

Shatter waved her hoof dismissively: “Yeah, we all got medals and stories to go with ‘em, Sparky. What’s your role here as you understand it?”

“Rearguard, though given my training and expertise, I believe I would--”

“Be better off not finishing that sentence. You were brought in to fill a tactical role, not work up strategy. I’m sure the Princess would have saddled me with a “red tab” if that was the case.”

Noble Steel furrowed his brow: “I am under consideration for the next rotation of the General Staff!”

“Well, just your shitty luck to have drawn the short straw for this field trip moments before being whisked away to HQ’s loving embrace. You don’t have tabs, so don’t act like you do.”

Shatter turned to the black-clad pegasus: “And I assume you lost a bet or something, which is why you got attached to this detail…”

Smudge grinned: “Nah, I was up next to be one of Celestia’s “Honored Consorts,” but I turned it down!”

Shatter laughed: “Fuck you!”

“That was the general idea, yes!”

Shatter rolled her eyes: “OK, you win this one! Why are you really here?”

Smudge’s eyes hardened: “I was supposed to be Top Cover’s wingpony the day he and Green Streak were killed in Appleloosa, but I was on medical leave. I owe Top for not being there, and I owe Streak for dying in my place.”

The two pegasi looked into each other's’ eyes for a moment. Shatter nodded: “Good enough for me.”

Smudge smiled sadly: “It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m assuming your assignment’s essentially the same as the Lieutenant’s, here?”

Smudge nodded: “Basically, though I can fly cover or recon as needed, too.”

“Nah, I think we’re gonna be mostly grounded on this one. How are you in a melee?”

“As long as I have my lance, pretty good.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Lots of crazy-weird dark magic shit involved. I’d rather not have to tussle with that kind of thing.”

Steel raised an eyebrow: “So we’re to avoid combat?”

Shatter nodded and gestured toward Solar and Zecora: “That’s the gist of it. The old unicorn wizard there, and the zebra, they’re the ones tasked with any actual enemy engagement.”

“That seems like rather a waste, given the outstanding combat professionals they’ve assembled. Why not take the fight to the--”

Shatter glared and put a hoof up to her lips: “Shhh! Shh-shh! Remember, Red Tab: tactics, not strategy is the name of your game today. Your task is to make sure we don’t get shivved from behind going down some damn tunnel.”

She turned and walked to the table, joining Zecora and Solar Gleam just as Celestia entered the garden from the solarium.

Shatter glanced over her shoulder: “Thanks for the cover ponies, Princess, though a couple of stout earth ponies might have served just as well.”

Celestia lifted a goblet of cider and nodded: “Perhaps, but the Lieutenants have specialized combat and magic skills that may prove more valuable than even the sturdiest ponies-at-arms.”

Shatter shrugged: “You’re the boss. Speaking of…”

She poured a cup of cider as well: “What’s the chain of command to be on this mission? I mean, three of us are officially military, so I don’t have any confusion there, but how do our two civvies fit in?”

“Solar Gleam will act as an authority in all things dark or arcane, but he has no field experience, in either exploration or combat.”

The stallion dipped his head toward Celestia: “As Her Highness implied, I’m strictly along for the ride--a sort of walking library, as it were.”

“OK, so how about Zecora?”

Celestia took a long drink: “She has experience tracking and hunting, can handle herself in a fight, and has real-world experience dealing with the Void’s effects. She will be in overall charge of this mission.”

Shatter raised an eyebrow and locked eyes with Zecora for several tense moments as Celestia watched over the rim of her cup. Then the pegasus ran her tongue over her front teeth, took a half step back and nodded.

“So you’re the Mare-in-Charge--got it. What are our marching orders?”

Zecora smiled and extended a hoof: “I have no desire to usurp your role! / I’ll need your wisdom on this patrol! / I trust you’ll share your best insight / should this crew be called to fight!”

Shatter returned the smile: “Damn straight! I’m just glad I’m not in operational command--means I don’t have to write the damn after-action report!”

Celestia sighed with relief and placed her goblet on the table: “Well, now that that’s all sorted-out, I think it’s time to get you ponies down below. I’ll accompany you as far as the bone pit, and I know the mapping team has some final notes as well. They’ll meet you at the entrance to the chasm."

She stepped back from the table and turned to face the zebra: “Zecora, assemble your team; I believe the time has come to find this accursed thing and seal it off from the good citizens of Equestria!”

Zecora nodded, squared her shoulders and cleared her throat: “Gather to me, my ponies brave! / Let us strike out for that gloomy cave / seek out the evil in its fearsome lair / and cordon it off with a renewed snare!”

Shatter stepped beside Zecora: “You heard the Boss--fall in!”

The five ponies formed up with Zecora in the lead, as Celestia rose into the air and led them from the garden toward the base of the Old Tower.

Staging
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Death Be Not Proud

Staging

Zecora and her team stopped at the edge of the near rim of the chasm, and waited for a moment as a dark-purple pegasus approached from the far side. Her eyes were shut, and her head swayed lightly back and forth as she flew, tossing her short-cropped, pale-golden mane from side to side.

Solar cocked an eyebrow: “Closed eyes? This must be Blackout, yes? Fascinating!”

Shatter nodded: “Yeah, that’s her, though she isn’t showing off--” She raised her voice to a yell: “Hey, Batsy, don’t you know you have an audience? You’re not strutting your stuff like usual!”

Blackout called back: “Yeah, feels like you brought four guests, Captain…”

“Shit, I always knew you could see! This whole 'blind' thing is just a dodge to get out of normal duties!”

Blackout laughed and began weaving in and out of stalactites and outcroppings, barely missing, brushing off loose stones and dust with her wingtips, all while keeping her eyes shut tight.

Zecora gasped: “How can she employ maneuvers so brash? / Surely this practice must end in a crash!”

Shatter shook her head: “You’d think so, but no--she’s been doing this since she was a filly. Sometimes I really do think she’s half bat!”

The purple pegasus alighted in front of Shatter and Zecora with a smile: “OK, your turn, Captain!”

Shatter laughed: “Fuck that! I mean, I could, but we’re very busy, and I don’t have time for parlor tricks!”

Blackout grinned: “Suuuure. Anyway, what do you want to know?” She nodded to her left: “Stormy over there has the latest maps, as of about two hours ago.”

Shatter turned to Noble Steel: “Red Tabs--go get the maps from the Cartographer back there.”

Steel ground his teeth, but started off toward his right, heading toward a small, pale grey pegasus who was standing at a low, chart-covered table.

Shatter turned back to Blackout, who tipped her head quizzically: “Red Tabs?”

“Unicorn. Can’t wait to scratch his General Staff itch.”

“Eww.”

“Tell me about it! If they tried to stick those on me I’d chew ‘em off!”

Shatter stepped to the edge and peered down into the chasm's impenetrable depths: “So what the fuck’s down there?”

Blackout shrugged: “Don’t know.”

“Well, what do you sense when you hit a thousand yards down?”

“Nothing.”

“Literally?”

Blackout nodded: “Literally. You know how you sighted ponies think of the blind, right? We just perceive total blackness and absence where you see light and color and form.”

“Something like that.”

“Well in my case, I can sense spaces and objects, and it fills in for me the way your eyes do for you--no color, but otherwise it’s pretty similar.”

Zecora stepped up beside the pegasi: “So your senses fail as they touch the Void / just as light itself is also destroyed?”

“Yeah. There’s nothing there. And it’s not like when I fly outside in the open. There I can sense the space, it’s just too vast to wrap my head around. Whatever’s down there simply doesn’t exist. It would be like you trying to see something in a totally lightless environment.”

Shatter furrowed her brow: “So how do you know how far down it is?”

“Well, besides the plum bob sounding, I can fly quite a ways down and perceive the nearby cave walls. But I have to admit that right around eleven-hundred yards I simply had to bail out--I couldn’t feel anything anymore.”

“You were literally flying blind!”

“Exactly.”

“Captain…”

Shatter turned to see Steel and Stormy behind her.

“Report, Lieutenant.”

Steel levitated a set of of rolled-up maps and a notebook from his saddlebags: “The Cartography section has given us a fairly-detailed map through a series of tunnels, landings, drop-offs and chambers down to three-hundred-forty yards.”

Shatter studied the maps: “So why’d the mapping team stop, Stormy? And I want your take, not the official report that you had a set time limit. That sounds like a cover story.”

The lead mapping officer shifted her hooves nervously.

Shatter glared: “That’s what I thought. C’mon, Major--the real reason, not the horseshit staff briefing!”

“Alright--you’re heading down there, so you have a right to know.”

Stormy looked around and noticed Smudge off to the side, completing her and Steel’s pack-outs. She lowered her voice: “When we hit the end of the map, it started getting, well, weird.”

“Weird?”

“I could swear I was hearing Top Cover and Green Streak telling us to turn back, or to come forward, or to go to sleep, or sometimes all of it at once--I couldn’t really unravel it.”

“Did you see anything?”

“No--well nothing solid, anyway. Shadows, dim shapes, things like that. At the end of our mapping mission we could throw our strongest light down the passage and it would be swallowed-up, like shining a light into murky water.”

“And that was as far as you went?”

“We weren’t sent down here for combat, Captain. One of my equipment bearers literally shit himself out of fear.”

Shatter sighed: “I understand, Major. That’s why Smudge, the Lieutenant here, and I are along for this little undertaking. And by all accounts Zecora can handle herself in a fight.”

Zecora nodded.

Stormy gestured toward Solar who had joined Smudge: “What about the old-timer?”

“He’s a specialist in dark and eldritch magic. He and Zecora will re-bind that whatever-it-is.”

“Well you’d better hurry. You’re running out of time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s spreading. We can already tell some passages and chambers that were adjacent, or visible through fissures, are no longer accessible. That thing’s spreading.”

Shatter raised an eyebrow: “How fast?”

Stormy took a deep breath and tapped her chin: “Based on this morning’s measurements--when we finally had to turn back--I’d say we only have about three days before that Void fills this chasm and begins to intrude on the space above.”

Shatter sighed and ran a hoof down her muzzle: “Lovely. Zecora--I suggest we get started as soon as possible.”

Zecora nodded, turned and called back toward Solar Gleam and Smudge in the distance: “Come join us now, my fearless cohort/ and let us now this dark evil thwart!”

Shatter turned to Steel and pointed a wing toward their distant companions: “Go give Smudge a hoof securing the last of the supplies.”

Steel turned and walked away: “Yes, Ma’am!”

Shatter turned back to Major Stormy: “Anything alive down there we need to worry about? I mean living critters can be just as dangerous as dead ones!”

Stormy furrowed her brow: “Funny you should ask. No--there’s nothing alive down there, at least not as far as we went. We saw lots of traces--droppings, bones, tracks, whatnot--but nothing alive or dead.”

Shatter pursed her lips and sucked against her teeth: “Huh. Well, I guess we’ll see what we see.”

Smudge, Steel and Solar Gleam joined Zecora and the pegasi at the edge of the chasm, where a narrow path began its shallow descent to a series of shelves and rock spans.

The ponies gathered there stepped aside as Steel moved through, nearly poking Stormy with a bundle of long, shimmering spears: “Pardon me, Major!”

Stormy raised an eyebrow: “Argent crystal lances! Is Lieutenant Sable Dusk qualified as a Lancer?”

The charcoal-grey pegasus grinned: “Just ‘Smudge,’ Ma’am. And yes, I’m fully-rated with the shiny, pointy sticks! The Lieutenant here is trained as a Grenadier, so he has my back with the recharge.”

Stormy shook her head: “I don’t know, Shatter--heavy weapons in an enclosed space?”

Smudge shrugged: “The charge is variable. It’s just nice to have a wide range of options!”

Shatter nodded: “It’ll be alright. I hope to Celestia we don’t need the damn things, but just in case, I want to be able to tear a new, regulation-sized asshole in anything that blocks our way out.”

Zecora patted her saddlebags and opened a pouch hanging around her neck: “I’m hoping to spare us such a fight / by keeping our presence out-of-sight.”

Shatter leaned closer: “Cloaking magic?”

Solar nodded: “Yes. She’s created an obscuring powder, very similar to an ancient unicorn compound. Combined with my low-intensity energy field, it should make us nearly undetectable to most senses.”

Blackout raised an eyebrow, fanned her wings and rose into the air: “Show me!”

Zecora tapped out a small measure of glittering yellow powder and tossed it over her head. As it began to settle, Solar generated a pale, pulsating umbrella of magic, catching the powder, and forming an obscuring nimbus that covered the five ponies. They faded from the others’ view.

Blackout tipped her head back and forth for a few moments as if listening: “I’ll be damned! Try to move from your spot!”

A muffled voice came back to her as though from a great distance: ”We already have. We’re about 20 feet down the path.”

Stormy’s eyebrows jumped: “Really!” She trotted forward toward where Zecora’s team should be, and promptly ran into Smudge’s backside--the cloaking effect fell away like water running down a glass dome.

“Careful, Ma’am!”

Shatter looked over her shoulder with a grin: “Just be glad the Major’s not a unicorn!”

Blackout circled once then landed beside Stormy: “Crazy! You just vanished! I didn’t have any sense of you until you spoke.”

“Yelled.”

“What?”

Shatter nodded: “I had to yell loudly to get you to hear it.”

“Cool!”

Stormy chewed her lip: “Well, good luck to you five. We might be able to send help if you can get a message back, but I wouldn’t necessarily count on it.”

“Ah, we’ll be fine! You left markers as far as you could, yes?”

“And some scattered lanterns as well. You should hit the end of our mapping mission sometime late this evening.”

Zecora nodded: “You have our thanks, Stormy, you and your crew / The morning grows late, we must bid you adieu!”

She turned away from the mapping team with a salute and took the lead in front of her team. Shatter fell in beside her.

“When next we return we’ll have settled the score / and Canterlot will not need fear anymore!”

Stormy and her crew stood silent for a minute as they watched the five companions pick their way down the slope into the chasm.

“I hope you’re right…”

Old Acquaintances
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Death Be Not Proud

Old Acquaintances

Luna and Reaper entered their room at Tal’ar’s Inn, bearing bundles of patched and cleaned clothes, as well as a pair of simple black tazko shorts and matching camisole. Regel followed close behind, bearing a tray laden with food and drink.

Luna nodded to the servant and poured a cup of wine: “We should have Regel return these robes to Jost’n right away, yes?”

“Yeah, now that we have enough stuff to wear for the moment, let’s get these back.”

Luna set down her drink and began to undo her robe; Regel glanced away and blushed furiously.

Reaper stepped between the two and took the flustered man by the elbow: “Please wait out in the hall for a moment. I will hand out these janti for you to return to Jost’n.”

Regel glanced furtively at Luna’s half-exposed bosom, then stepped through the doorway as Reaper pressed a bit into his palm: “Thank you for all your assistance, Regel, the T’zesa appreciates it! And please be sure to thank Jost’n again for unexpectedly rushing Her Highness’ underthings. I know she will sleep more comfortably in them underneath her shift.”

Regel took the robes and the bit and bowed slightly, trying to steal one more look through the blocked doorway. Reaper smiled and closed the door.

He turned back and saw Luna standing naked at the foot of the bed, holding up the camisole, turning it over in her hands, enjoying the play of light over its glossy surface.

She rubbed it lightly against her cheek: “These seem odd luxuries on such a barbaric world.”

Reaper turned away quickly, pulled on a shirt and breeches and knelt by the fireplace, placing kindling and small fuel on the banked embers.

“Jost’n’s ‘girl’ likely came from the southlands, like Eska and Nahko. These sort of silky things and other finery are not unknown in some of the cities of the south.”

Luna slipped the camisole over her head: “Then it is likely Dux’a may have been the source for the fabric, yes?”

Reaper looked over his shoulder, catching Luna in profile, breasts pressed against the satiny fabric: “Most likely, yes. He seems to have his fingers in a number of pies.”

Luna turned away and bent over to reach into a small satchel lying among the mended clothes.

Reaper bit his lip and cleared his throat: “Um, please put the shorts on too, if you don’t mind…”

Luna stood up and turned around, placing her hands on her hips, legs spread slightly: “Is something wrong?”

Reaper winced: “That’s not really any better, to tell the truth. Sorry, but since the episode in the baths I’ve been very, umm, agitated, for the last couple of hours.”

Luna smiled softly: “I understand. Pour yourself some wine and let us look over this map.”

She stepped into the smooth, black shorts as Reaper pulled a chair to the table, sat down and poured a cup of deep-red wine. He took the satchel from Luna as she draped a blanket loosely around her shoulders and sat opposite him.

Reaper spread out a map, roughly a-foot-and-a-half square, and laid it in the middle of the table. Luna peered closely at it: “I am surprised Dux’a did not simply sell us his map--at a substantial mark-up--when we returned to his establishment inquiring about a suitable vendor.”

Reaper squinted at some faint, scratched-out lines: “I assume that copy he showed us briefly is his personal, secret copy, complete with hidden codes and indecipherable markings.”

Luna tipped her head sideways: “Like those?”

Reaper picked up the map and held it close to the lamp near the edge of the table, shining the light across and through the parchment at various angles.

“These look like old boundary lines between various baronies and duchies. Someone scraped most of the original markings away, and made some annotations.”

Luna took the parchment from Reaper and focused intently on a smudge of characters: “It appears to say Druz, then traces of a name…”
She sat back and furrowed her brow: “Duke? Lord?”

Reaper tugged absently at the edge of his mustache: “Likely ‘Duke.’ This map must date back to the era of the Last Kings of Iparres'm, which ended some four-hundred years ago.”

“Then how do we know the map is still good?”

“We don’t.”

“Is Dux’a to be trusted? Could this map be a plant to lead us astray?”

“Not impossible. I’m sure he considers news of you to be very valuable, to the right buyer.”

“Yunada.”

“Most likely. I never traveled in these exact areas, but if this map is essentially correct, then we’re not far from the frontier of the old Goalres'm Kingdom to the south.”

He tapped the map: “And that marking for the Zuri River would be about right.”

Luna took a sip of wine and furrowed her brow: “I do not see Bel’az, though I do see a road heading in that general direction, based on the marking for Fort Torlek.”

Reaper shook his head: “I’ve traveled extensively in the lands to the west of here, then to the north, and I know that stretch of the Zuri from the Fort down to Dínher.”

“But not down to the Sasol Sea.”

“No. I came in from the west and caught the Zuri a bit south of Torlek. By that time there was no need to worry about heading southeast to the sea--Yunada’s troops already had all that secured.”

“And you spoke with the constable as we left the bookseller’s, so we now know the true date, yes?”

Reaper was poring over the upper edge of the map: “Yes. Today is the fifth of Ud’ab.”

“And you are to die on the fourteenth, yes?”

“Right. So we have nine days, and we’re not really all that far away. Assuming Gindu doesn’t have many troops or spies spread this far north, we should be able to sneak southeast without too much trouble.”

“Also assuming this map is not concealing something.”

“Right.”

Luna steepled her fingers and pressed the forefingers against her lips as she closed her eyes: “Where do you meet Gindu’s outrider?”

A thin smile spread across Reaper’s face: “Didn’t see everything through the fire and smoke, I take it?”

“No. There is much that is still obscured.”

Reaper took a swig of wine and tore off a chunk of bread from a small, dark loaf: “I caught up with him at a small crossroads village called Rutze.”

Luna furrowed her brow and sat silently for a few moments: “No--I cannot see Rutze or the outrider.”

Reaper leaned forward and tapped the map a bit west and south of Fort Torlek: “It’s here. You can see the road on which it lies. It looks like there’s even a trace of the crossroad itself, heading off to the south.”

“Would it not make more sense to head off Gerrar there, as opposed to Torlek or Bel’az?”

Reaper licked at the corner of his mustache for a moment: “Hmm. Maybe…”

“It would be isolated and free from Yunada or Gindu’s men, yes?”

“Other than the outrider. I’d tracked him in from the west for several days.”

Luna nodded and dragged her finger down the map: “Then let us strike out from Rixk’a and head due south, avoiding the main route astride these tributary streams.”

Reaper leaned in and peered closely at the probable location of Rutze: “We’ll have to cut through some hills as we approach the crossroads--the settlement lies in something of a valley--but they’re not especially high, and it’s not midwinter.”

“Good. I assume Bitch can handle this route?”

“Yeah, though we’re going to have to get me a new dalzi. There’s no way poor old Nag could get through rugged terrain anymore.”

Luna nodded: “So when do we leave?”

“Well, we’ll need tomorrow to get our clothes and gear and provisions lined-up, so the morning of the seventh, I suppose.”

Luna reached for some food, then paused: “What is this? Is this meat?”

Reaper poked at the pale, reddish-brown slab with his knife, and cut off a strip: “Ah, yes--this is ekor. Probably local. This is the right kind of climate for the beasts.”

Luna wrinkled her nose: “I cannot eat the flesh of an animal. It would be wrong of me as a pony.”

Reaper stopped mid-bite, and set his knife back on the edge of the tray: “Yes--yes it is.”

“Oh, but I do not mean to imply…”

Reaper pushed back from the table: “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t eat it either--for exactly the same reason!”

He stood and paced in front of the fire: “You--or Nightmare Moon, I can’t tell anymore--asked me what I fear.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Yes, and you answered that you feared the deaths of others and your part in their killing.”

“And that’s true, as far as it goes, but there’s an even deeper fear than that.”

Luna closed her eyes again and took a deep breath: “You fear becoming trapped in this place, in this body, in this life again. You fear becoming Gerrar.”

“Exactly.”

Reaper drained his cup: “This body and everything that goes with it--the zaka, the drink, the feel and smell of your skin, this damn thing--”
He pointed between his legs: “It kept me so tied-up! All Yunada had to do was send out a pretty, new parzaile or galdu to deliver my wages and orders, and I’d spend the next two days ingesting zaka and wine and fucking until I couldn’t stand.”

“More memories obscured to me.”

“I repeat: two days of zaka and wine. I’m sure you can let your imagination run free for a minute or two to conjure some appropriate images.”

Luna sighed and tipped back in her chair, overcome by a sudden dizziness.

“He fears that he actually wants to reclaim his life as Gerrar…”

Luna’s eyes flew open and she snapped her head back and forth.

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “You OK?”

Luna bit her lip: “Do you desire to return to your life as Gerrar?”

“No! Yes...I don’t know…”

He slumped onto the bed: “I can’t stay. I’m your world’s Harbinger. I deserve to die here for the terrible things I did. Were I simply to replace Gerrar and flee to the far west or north, I would spend the rest of my days consumed by guilt.”

Luna began to speak, but stopped and shuddered.

Reaper rubbed his temples: “And all the booze and zaka and cunt in the world wouldn’t be enough to drown it out.”

“I know that kind of guilt.”

“And you know it can’t really be assuaged.”

Luna gritted her teeth: “No--only atoned for.”

Reaper tentatively reached out a trembling hand: “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to take you in my arms and make love to you!”

“Yes, she does…”

Luna winced and clenched her teeth even tighter. She stood suddenly: “We need to break this spell of proximity. You should go down to the common room. Perhaps some company will help clear your head.”

“And you?”

Luna narrowed her eyes and tightened her mouth: “I have some ‘debriefing’ to do…”

Reaper stood wearily, pulled on his cloak, took the map from the table and slowly walked to the doorway.

Reaper shuffled into the dim, smoky common room, his patched cloak wrapped tightly around him, and took a seat at the back edge of a bench wedged between the fireplace and a small window.

Tal’ar noticed him there a few minutes later and scurried over: “Is e’rrything alright, good Sir? Where’s the Lady?”

“She is fatigued and is taking her rest. She asked that I give her some solitude for a time.”

The innkeep grinned: “Ah--done yer part and tuckered the poor lass out, eh? Yeah, a trip to Dux’a c’n do that to a girl…”

Reaper gritted his teeth and glared: “Not like that! Please bring me some gardo and food. Not much--a little something to settle my stomach.”

Tal’ar nodded: “Just took some hegaz off the spit--I’ll bring it right out!”

“No! No meat or fowl--just cheese and bread! If you have any dried fall fruits please bring those as well.”

The innkeep shrugged and backed away: “As ‘ya wish…”

Reaper reached into the pocket of his cloak and discovered a fresh stash of zaka leaves: “Dammit, Jost’n! I know you’re just being a good service provider, but I do not need this right now!”

He turned to toss the leaves in the nearby fire, then paused and began to move his fingers toward his lips. He stopped again and stuffed the leaves back in his pocket.

“Fuck.”

Reaper pulled the short sword from his belt and began idly carving the surface of the table, as a pair of figures jostled by, stopped and noisily sat down across the table from him.

“Well, if’n it ain’t the Princess’ escort! Kinda figger’d you’d end up here eventually!”

Reaper looked up: “Sagu. Sumi. How are you gentlemen?”

Sumi raised an eyebrow: “‘Gentlemen?’ C’mon good Sir, you know that ain’t true!”

Reaper smiled: “No, I’m sure you’re not. But I will not hold that against you. I have known many a ‘gentleman’ who put the lie to the title.”

Sumi chuckled: “S’truth! So how’s that T’zesa of yours? She stayin’ out-of-sight so’s not to stir up the locals?”

“Something like that.”

Tal’ar arrived bearing a tankard of beer and platter of food: “Hey, you two bounders! You’d better not be trying to roll my best guest!”

“Gods forbid! We figgere’d you’d picked him clean by now anyway, you old crone!”

Tal’ar rolled her eyes: “So if I bring you whoresons some beer will I get paid for it this time?”

Sagu leaned forward and swiped a chunk of bread: “Hey, now--that hurts! When ‘ave we not paid you fair-’n-square?”

“Shall I fetch the ledger?”

Sumi reached for a wedge of cheese: “Ha! I’m sure our noble Knight here is good for it! Some meat, too!”

Reaper nodded: “Bring them whatever they like; I’ll cover it.”

Tal’ar turned away and hurried back toward the kitchen.

Reaper pulled the map from his pocket: “I have a question for you two--have you traveled as far south and east as Fort Torlek in recent months?”

Sumi put down his cheese and wiped his mouth: “Pro’lly about, what? Four weeks ago?”

Sagu nodded: “Just ‘bout got nicked by some soldiers! High-tailed it before we got pressed into service!”

“To whom?”

“Gindu, it looked like. Tho’ to be honest, we’s always spooked that one of Yunada’s Tunzals is gonna show ‘is face and get us first!”

Reaper tapped the map: “How far down the Zuri did you get?”

Sumi squinted: “This is a fuckin’ old map! Where’s Bel’az? Where’s Tolki?”

Reaper leaned in and pointed: “Bel’az should be here, but what’s Tolki? How large?”

“Not big--it’s another old garrison, kinda like the one we directed you to, but still in service.”

Sagu nodded: “About a day north from Bel’az.”

“So if the T’zesa and I were to head down this tributary toward the Zuri, then track south, we’d eventually hit Tolki?”

“If’n Yunada ain’t burned it by then.”

“Always a risk, I will grant you.”

Regel stepped up beside Reaper and placed two tankards of beer and a roast joint on the table.

Sumi grabbed a tankard and took a noisy drink: “What the fuck you want to take her down into that mess for anyway?”

“Her Highness wishes to make contact with the most powerful warlords of the region. She is tasked with seeing if an alliance is possible between Zaldun and the peoples of the Northlands.”

Sagu ripped a piece of meat from the joint: “Yeah, well ‘tween Gindu ‘n Yunada she’s come to the right place!”

Sumi nodded: “To be honest, she’d have better luck with Gindu. He’s not crazy. But no one’s quite sure where he is at the moment.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow as he took a piece of fruit from the platter: “I may have some ideas about that. I have received some intelligence, and now feel more confident about striking southeast toward the Zuri.”

“Just don’t get pinched by Yunada--that fucker’s vicious! And his Tunzals are damn-near as bad!”

Reaper smiled grimly and brought a mug of beer to his lips: “So I’ve heard…”

Sagu swallowed and furrowed his brow: “Hey! We sold you some dalzi, yeah? How’z they doin? I kinda miss the bitchy one!”

“They’re fine, and should serve us well on our road south. Nag is no longer fit to ride, but we’re mostly walking in any event.”

Sumi nodded: “Yeah, the paths and roads from here south and east are pretty smooth.”

Reaper folded the map and put it back in his cloak as his companions continued eating and chatting noisily for several minutes.

He nibbled and drank absentmindedly until he noticed Tal’ar chatting with one of the gate wardens at the front door. She glanced toward the table, then turned back to finish her conversation. Reaper watched intently as she pressed something into the guard’s hand and held the door open for him as he left the inn.

Reaper leaned forward as the old woman approached the table: “Trouble?”

Tal’ar tapped Sumi on the shoulder: “You two better shove off. If’n the Constable finds you inside the walls he’ll throw you in the stocks! I paid the Watch Warden to ‘forget’ you fer a bit, but it won’t last.”

Sumi and Sagu stood and quickly filled their pockets with bread and meat. They took last swigs from their beer and pulled their cloaks close around them.

Sumi turned back to ward Reaper: “Fare thee well, good Knight! I hope to run into you again on the road. I think there’s a lot more to yer story than meets the eye!”

Reaper stood and shook both mens’ hands: “I will give your best regards to Her Highness. Good luck on your travels ‘til we meet again!”

The two men quickly worked their way to the door and exchanged low, brief words with Tal’ar before slipping outside into the falling sunlight.

Reaper sat back down and picked up his sword, exposing the table surface he’d been scratching. He furrowed his brow and blew away the wood shavings and bread crumbs, exposing a single symbol: 死

He smiled grimly and reached into his cloak for a few zaka leaves. He studied them closely for a few moments, then dropped them in his mouth and began chewing.

Luna closed the door behind Reaper and stepped to the fireplace, adding fuel and blowing on the coals. She took a final swig from her mug, stripped off her top, then sat down cross-legged on the bed.

She reached beneath the blanket and pulled out a small stone jar. She opened the lid and dipped in her right forefinger, then reached over her shoulder and ran her finger along the gash across her back. She closed her eyes and shuddered, and licked her fingertip clean.

Luna put the lid back on the jar and slid it under the blanket: “Alright, demon--let us talk!”

She closed her eyes and listened to her heartbeat, the crackling fire, the wind against the shutters. She settled into a light trance.

“‘Demon?’ That is uncalled for, True Sister.”

“I do not know what else to call you. I do not entirely know what you are. I should recall more of Reaper’s vision from earlier today, yet somehow I can only see it as though in a mirror darkly.”

“I am that part of you which you deny. I am your true desires and wants. I am that part that knows you revel in this new body, and this raw, brutal world.”

“It does not matter what I want…”

“Or what Reaper wants?”

“He wants to rid himself of--”

“Horseshit!”

Luna’s eyes flew open: “Excuse me?”

Nightmare Moon stood before the fireplace, dressed again in a shimmering silver sheath dress, eyes flashing. She narrowed her eyes, and the room spun in swirl of colors.

Luna blinked and found herself again in Dux’a’s bathhouse, the musky scents of arousal and mets’il and smoldering charcoal filling her nostrils.

She heard heavy breathing and grunting, and turned around to see Nightmare Moon bent over one of the low benches, dress pulled up past her waist. Reaper was behind her, driving into her rhythmically, head thrown back, eyes closed. Eska and Nahko knelt on either side of the bench, kissing Nightmare Moon’s lower back and Reaper’s chest, hands playing over both bodies.

Luna’s doppelgänger dug her nails into the bench as she panted in time with Reaper’s thrusts: “You...did not...see inside...his vision...before he fled…”

Luna stepped around the bench and crouched in front of Nightmare Moon: “No, but I did see his reaction in Bel’az--the vomiting and weeping and horror in his eyes. I saw his sincere desire to be cleansed of his past.”

The scene swirled again and the two figures stood outside an ornate field tent on a windswept field. Nightmare Moon rocked her hips back and forth as she pulled the shimmering dress down over her backside.

“Shame we had to go so soon--he was clearly enjoying himself!”

Luna glared: “Where are we now? That appears to be Yunada’s command tent.”

“Correct! Now watch, True Sister…”

Luna squinted through the swirling smoke and dust as the tent flap flew open, exposing a dark figure backlit by a lurid red glow. The figure emerged from the tent, holding aloft a scarred and bloody head.

Nightmare Moon walked slowly across the dusty field, and tossed the severed head at Luna’s feet: “Now, with Reaper’s knowledge and your power, you two can rule this land. Nai’a would not stand a chance, nor would Gindu. Perhaps you really could find the Zaldun and build a throne for this whole world!”

“I have a throne--in Canterlot, and I long to return to it. You wish to return to your dark ways and rule with blood and fire and sex!”

“That is how one rules on Kur--and we are not leaving Kur!”

“We know when and where to intercept Gerrar, we know when and where the key battle occurs, we know--”

“You do not know whether Reaper can actually go through with any of this! Even now his will is crumbling, and he slips further and further back into Gerrar’s skin.”

“I am aware, and I will take a stronger hand going forward to ensure he does not ‘slip’ any further.”

Nightmare Moon smirked: “‘Hand.’ Even now you too begin to feel more comfortable in this new skin.”

Luna held her head high, stepped back, and transformed into a majestic indigo alicorn: “I know precisely who I am. I know my duty. I know Reaper’s duty, and he, too, will recall it ere the end.”

She rose into the air, and silhouetted by Larg, flew off into the night.

Nightmare Moon stood silent for a moment before fading away: “I do not believe you know yourself quite as well as you like to think, True Sister…”

Luna’s eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the dim room. She stretched, put her camisole back on, added a log to the fire, used the chamber pot, pulled the linen shift over her head, and settled beneath the blankets. She lay there quietly, staring at the flickering fire, listening to the muted sounds of the common room from the floor below.

Reaper slowly opened the door and quietly closed and locked it behind him. He stood beside the bed slowly chewing zaka, and focused for several minutes on Luna’s apparently-sleeping form, watching the firelight play across her dark face.

He pulled the short sword from his belt and sat in a chair next to the table, running his thumb absently across the blade.

Reaper spat the chewed zaka into an empty cup and pulled his cloak open, exposing his ribs and abdomen. He stared dully at the short, burnished blade in his right hand, running its point lightly across his belly.

Luna cracked an eye and held her breath, watching Reaper intently, muscles tensed.

Reaper’s hand slowly dropped as his arm went slack and his breathing deepened. The sword slipped silently into his lap. Luna quietly leaned out of the bed and took the sword from Reaper’s lap, placing it softly at his feet.

Luna settled beneath the blanket, wiped away a tear, and dropped into a deep sleep.

Legends
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Death Be Not Proud

Legends

Reaper awoke the next morning and slowly half-opened his bloodshot eyes. He saw Luna lying a few feet away on the bed, staring back at him with her piercing, aquamarine eyes.

He stretched his arms behind his back and cracked his neck: “Good morning, Luna. I hope your ‘debriefing’ went well last night.”

She nodded: “Yes; it was revealing. Did you sleep well?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “You don’t know? I just assumed you were patrolling in there somewhere…”

Luna smiled lightly: “Not last night. I had my own council to keep, and I suspected you could use some ‘alone time’ as well.”

Reaper arched his back and yawned: “I guess. It’s funny: all I can remember of my dreams was being in your sister’s garden off the solarium, or in a meadow outside Ponyville, or on a beach.”

“Was there anypony else there with you?”

“No, and I wasn’t really there either.”

“How do you mean?”

“I was disembodied. I wasn’t a stallion or a man or a spirit or anything. I simply existed in whatever area the dream took me--like I was light or air.”

“Interesting. That is an unusual perspective. Perhaps I can play it back later tonight after we go to sleep.”

“Fine with me--it was just nice to have dreams that didn’t mean anything or torment me or arouse me or whatnot.”

Luna smiled slyly and nodded pointedly at the swelling pressing against Reaper’s breeches: “Are you certain of that?”

He looked down and grinned: “That? He’s just saying ‘good morning’--no deeper meaning, here.”

Luna laughed, sat up and stretched: “So, what is our plan for the day? We need to get our new clothes from Jost’n and acquire you a new mount at a minimum, yes?”

“And a sword for you, riding tack for two dalzi, a week’s-worth of provisions. By the time we’re done, we might be down to our last three kingdoms’-worth of gems!”

“Heavens! How will we ever make it?”

“It’ll be a hardship for sure. We might not be able to over-tip Regel one last time!”

Luna chuckled: “Speaking of: shall we have him bring up food, or should we break our fast in the common room?”

Reaper stood and took the chamber pot into the adjacent bathing room: “Yeah, let’s go downstairs for a bit. Take in the local color.”

Luna slid off the end of the bed and pulled clothing out of a bundle as Reaper finished his piss and turned back toward the bed.

Luna began to remove her shift, then stopped: “Is this still problematic for you?”

“No. I mean, I notice you now in a way that I didn’t when we first arrived. That’s been growing for some time, but not like yesterday--not in that maddening, blood-boiling way.”

He slid his feet into his moccasins and pulled on his cloak: “Bloody mets’il! That reminded me of how some ponies still go strongly into heat, like their ancient ancestors.”

Luna nodded as she finished removing the shift, and pulled on her patched garments, topped by a light cape gathered at her throat: “An apt comparison. How do I look?”

“You look better in just the silkies, but I guarantee that would cause a commotion if we went downstairs!”

Luna smiled and went to the door: “Then let us go now and sample the local color, as you said.”

Reaper picked his blade up off the floor, slipped it back into his belt, and left the room behind Luna, pulling the door shut behind him.

The common room was roughly a quarter full, and Luna and Reaper worked their way back toward the corner between the fireplace and window.

Luna glanced down at the table as she started to sit, then paused and furrowed her brow: “Did you carve this intentionally?”

Reaper sat down and waved for Regel: “No. I was just idly scratching with my blade--or so I thought.”

Regel approached the table, wiping this hands on an apron: “What c’n I do fer the Lady and her Knight this good morning?”

Luna smiled and greeted the servant: "Ona go'zie, Regel!"

Regel blushed and Reaper smiled as he turned toward the flustered young man: “Yes, a good morning to you! I believe we will be fine with some cider and bread, perhaps a bit of hard cheese.”

Regel bowed slightly and backed away before turning and hurrying toward the kitchen.

Luna shook her head: “Poor befuddled boy!”

“Yeah, that’s clearly one member of the fan club who’s going to miss you!”

Luna scanned the room and paused, narrowing her eyes slightly: “Is that not the one called Zain? Is he not a member of the Watch?”

Reaper looked over his shoulder and squinted through the haze: “My eyes aren’t quite as good as yours, but I think you’re right. He may have been chatting with Tal’ar last night, but they were up by the door, so I didn’t get a good look.”

“He did not come in?”

“Just inside the doorway. He was looking for our old friends Sumi and Sagu, who were here mooching off my hospitality.”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “Really? You met the dalzi traders again? What was their tale?”

“I don’t really know. I was a lot more interested in milking them for intelligence about the battles to the south and about our map’s accuracy.”

Regel stepped up beside Reaper and placed two mugs of cider and a serving board laden with food between his two guests.

Luna glanced up and nodded: “Eskerr on gi'zon!”

Regel smiled shyly: “You’re most welcome, m’Lady!”

Reaper handed the young servant a bit: “Go ask Zain if my companions from last night made it out of town safely.”

Regel furrowed his brow in confusion, but hurried off toward the Watchman. Reaper watched him approach and speak to Zain, who turned toward Reaper and pointedly shook his head slowly.

Reaper smiled sadly: “Well, that’s a pity. Still, I’m sure it’s not the first time they’ve seen the inside of a cell. And it takes them off the board as possible random elements.”

“How so?”

“They’re two of the only folks I can think of who travel widely and can identify us.”

“Dux’a.”

“True, and he knows we needed a map.”

“He does not strike me as the type to travel off the beaten path, however.”

Reaper took a swig of cider: “No. I suspect if he’s interested in travelling south, he’ll do it via well-established, smooth, routes.”

Luna sniffed a bit of cheese then nibbled it tentatively: “This is most pungent!”

Reaper took a chunk: “Zor’sain. Strong stuff for breakfast!”

Luna washed down the cheese with some bread and cider: “What could our unfortunate friends tell you about the map?”

“Largely what we assumed: it’s quite old, and missing a few elements. For instance, there’s an active garrison north of Bel’az called Tolki. I suspect it’s held by Gindu’s men, given Sumi and Sagu’s descriptions.”

“So what is our plan? Do we strike straight south from here?”

“No--we’ll stick to the stream-side paths heading southeast for a while, just to misdirect a bit. In fact, now I don’t want to leave early. I’d like to head out at dusk in order to make tracking more difficult.”

“That will also make finding all our last-minute provisions somewhat less ‘last-minute.’”

Reaper grinned: “True! So with that in mind, let’s wrap-up here and head to the swordsmith Dux’a recommended and get you a decent blade.”

Luna nodded and stood, attracting Regel’s attention; he hurried across the room: “Will you be needin’ anything else?”

Reaper turned: “No--please let your mistress know we will be out for the day, and to have her brother meet us at the stables later. I am in need of a new dalzi and would like to make a deal.”

“As ‘ya wish, good Sir!”

As they approached the inn’s main door Reaper noticed Zain hurriedly exiting ahead of them, closing the door moments before Regel reached his hand out for the latch.

The servant frowned and pulled the door back open with a grunt. Reaper stepped out into the cold morning air first, followed by Luna, who paused to thank Regel for holding the door.

He glanced away shyly: “Anytime, T’zesa!”

Luna joined Reaper as they stepped into the street and headed back toward the town’s main gate.

They walked for several minutes, braced against a stiff north wind, until they came to a smoky storefront, open onto the main street bearing a wrought-iron sign depicting crossed hammer and tongs.

Reaper pulled aside the heavy leather curtain covering the opening and stepped inside, with Luna trailing behind.

He squinted at the dark hazy interior, and made out the heavy shape of the blacksmith, his back to the entrance, as his hammer came down on a plow blade with a sharp clang.

Reaper took a step closer and cleared his throat loudly: “Greetings, Smith! We have come at Tal’ar’s recommendation!”

The smith stopped and put down his hammer and turned to face his visitors: “And a good day to you as well, stranger. Er’ryone here in town’s been hankerin’ to meet you two!”

Reaper put out his hand and paused for a moment as he got a good look at the man’s scarred face and neck.

The blacksmith furrowed his brow for a moment, then grinned, exposing multiple gaps: “Ah, this face. Nah, t’aint what yer thinkin’. No accident here--I’m a good smith--this is from the war. It’s why I had to get outta the field and take up the hammer.”

He pulled his heavy, scorched and stained apron aside, exposing a twisted and disfigured right leg: “Well, it’s mostly ‘cause of this leg. Too crippled to fight, not too ugly!”

Luna stepped forward to get a better look: “It is a miracle he is still alive! I would have expected swift death from the wounds on his neck alone!”

The smith’s face brightened: “This must be the famous Princess er’ryone’s been goin’ on about! M’name is Er’rem and it’ll be my greatest pleasure and honor to get you anything you need!”

Reaper nodded: “Most appreciated! As you can see, the T’zesa is tall and strong. She comes from a long line of warrior kings and queens of Zaldun, and needs a blade to match her stature. We do not have much time left in your town--perhaps you have a piece here in-progress you might finish for a bonus?”

Er’rem shrugged and turned away, shuffling toward the back of his shop: “Nah, but you c’n have this…”

He reached beneath a bench and pulled out several bundles of oil-soaked canvas. He placed the bundles atop the bench, laid the cloth aside and lifted out a gleaming longsword.

“This is mine. Finest blade in the town, I guarantee it, both as a smith and as a soldier!”

Reaper took up the sword and looked it over closely: “This is indeed a stout blade! But should you not keep it in case of trouble?”

“Nah, my arms and shoulders and back’re all wrong fer swingin’ a sword now. And I got no legwork anymore, as y’can guess! I keeps a buckler near the door, and woe to any fool who gets within ten feet of my hammer!

Reaper smiled and stepped away from the bench as Luna came in behind him, drawn to the other bundles.

As Reaper and Er’rem stood near the front of the shop by the forge, Luna pored over the contents of the oilcloth before her. She pulled out a pair of greaves and vambraces. They were crafted of light steel, finished in satin black and chased in silver.

“These are beautiful! Ask the smith their source!”

Reaper glanced back and raised an eyebrow: “Wow! Those look like relics! I’ll ask…”

He turned back to Er’rem: “What is the story surrounding the armor the T’zesa is examining? It appears to be antique.”

“Ah, that. My father crafted that in the old style fer the last great warlord of the Northern Midlands nigh on to forty years ago.”

The smith limped back toward Luna and opened the last bundle, exposing a matching set of spaulders: “His father had commissioned the work fer his son, and paid fer most of it, but they both fell in the Battle of Bel Tula ‘fore they could collect it.”

“And you’ve kept it ever since?”

“Nobody could afford to pay it off! My ‘da kept it for me, but it never really fit--stuff’s too long. And I might’ve passed it and the sword to me own son…”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “But?”

“A plague two winters ago took my boy and wife.”

Luna set aside her cloak and buckled on the vambraces: “Offer him a great price in memory of his father and lost family.”

Reaper nodded: “This gear would likely have sat here forever. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

He turned back to the blacksmith: “Her Highness offers her condolences for your loss, and offers to pay the warlord’s price for this armor.”

Er’rem stepped back as Luna strapped on the greaves: “Sure seems to fit her right proper, don’t it! Hold on a minute...”

The smith shuffled behind a curtain into an adjoining storeroom as Reaper knelt and helped Luna adjust the greaves over her dragonhide boots.

Er’rem stepped out of the storeroom a moment later holding an oiled sheath, belt and matching dagger: “These go with the sword. They ain’t the fanciest leatherwork, but they’re sturdy.”

Luna finished adjusting the spaulders to her shoulders as Reaper strapped the belt and scabbard around her waist. He handed her the sword and stepped back as she slipped it into its sheath.

“By Celestia, you really do look like a warrior princess! You’d do the ancient pegasi proud!”

Luna grinned: “Should we not see to you as well?”

Reaper patted his short sword: “Nah, I’m fine. I’d like some proper boots, but other than that, and getting by the seamstress, there’s not much I need.”

Luna pulled her cloak back on and took Er’rem’s hands between hers: “Eskerr on gi'zon! This will serve well!”

Reaper smiled and set two large sapphires on the bench: “I trust that this will retire the warlord’s old family debt, and give you a proper soldier’s pension in the bargain!”

The blacksmith picked the gems up slowly and stared at them. Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Are jewels too difficult for you to barter or convert? I can give you gold if that is easier.”

“That ain’t it--ol’ Bixia will be happy to take ‘em off my hands. But I can’t take all this! This stuff ain’t worth that much!

Reaper smiled: “Think of it as a gift from a grateful noble for helping to return her to her proper glory.”

Luna nodded to Er’rem and smiled. The blacksmith smiled back and pocketed the gems: “Well, sure’n it does look glorious on her!”

Reaper shook Er’rem’s hand as they lifted the leather flap and stepped outside the shop into the street: “All our thanks, good smith!”

The blacksmith stood silently in front of his shop for a minute watching as his customers walked off toward the center of town.

Jost’n met Luna and Reaper as they reached the front door of her shop: “Hurry inside, honored guests! I can’t wait to show you how it turned out!”

Reaper smiled as they hustled inside the shop and closed the door against the wind: “How what turned out?”

“The T’zesa’s cloak!”

The seamstress led them toward the back of the shop where a wizened old man and a young girl waited anxiously next to a simple fabric screen.

“This is Ruzo and the girl what helps me, Lari. Ruzo brung along your kit, good Sir, so you c’n have some proper clothes for the road again.”

The old man handed over several bundles, tied off with butcher’s string, and a pair of worn, but high-quality boots, freshly resoled and oiled.

Reaper took the bundles and raised an eyebrow: “The garments I understand, but what of the boots?”

Ruzo shrugged: “My feet hurt so bad anymore I c’n hardly get ‘em on. I figger’d you’d get more use out of ‘em than I will!”

Reaper turned the dark brown boots over in his hands, examining the heavy stitching and thick soles: “Thank you! These will do nicely! But this is just the warm-up, isn’t it?”

He grinned and pointed at the screen as Luna stepped up beside him.

Jost'n pulled away the screen to reveal a long, hooded cloak crafted of thick, dark blue, well-fulled, felted wool called artil. It was lined with satiny black tazko, and trimmed with a dense, snow-white velvet known as belu, embroidered in a diamond pattern with silver thread. It closed loosely below the throat with a silver chain attached to jewel-studded clasps. There was a matching hook and clasp at the waist should the wearer need to close the cloak against the weather.

Reaper was stunned: "I recognize these fabrics, and am much impressed. But where in all of Kur did you get the trim? I have traveled extensively in the south, and have never seen belu like this!"

The old seamstress beamed: “‘Tis an inheritance of mine, going back generations. My foremothers and fathers held onto it, waitin’ for somebody worthy to wear it. It’s from the vaults of the last King of Iparres'm himself, given to trim his wedding garb.”

Reaper nodded slowly: “For a wedding that was never held. I remember the story of King Azken.”

Luna slowly ran her hands across the fabrics, and fingered the fine chain: “This is breathtaking.”

Reaper shook his head: “That’s an understatement! It belongs in a museum!”

Jost’n hurried over bearing an armload of clothes and took Luna to a side room: “Please, T’zesa--let us see you! Let us see this cloak the way the Kings saw it!”

Luna looked over her shoulder at Reaper with a bemused expression. He shrugged

Luna smiled shyly and stepped into the small room.

Reaper turned to Ruzo: “Let me see what you have for me, tailor."

The old man shook out two pair of woolen breeches and two linen blouses and handed them to Reaper: “There are also some stockings and linen underclothes, and this jacket is yours as well.”

He removed the dark grey coat he was wearing and held it while Reaper changed into his new garments and boots.

He was securing the boots and belt as he heard Jost’n gasp behind him: “By the Lost Gods!”

Reaper stood and turned around, adjusting his cloak at the same time. He froze and held his breath.

Luna stepped into view and rose to her full height while tightening the vambrace on her right forearm.

Jost’n had tailored the grey, deerskin doublet to fit the swell of Luna’s bosom, allowing the white blouse to spill out, bright against her dark skin.

The cloak had been hemmed up so it now brushed against the upper edge of Luna’s greaves. She drew it loosely across her body, covering her arms down to her wrists, allowing a bit her vambraces to show.

Luna glanced over her shoulders and extended her right leg, checking the tightness of the greave against her boot and leg: “This is marvelously made! Again, we must make sure to compensate the creator generously!”

Reaper stared for another moment, then shook his head as though stunned: “‘Compensate?’ It can’t be done! This thing belongs in a museum, if only for this ancient, priceless trim! We can’t take this from them!”

Luna raised her head and looked sternly down her nose: “We can and we will! Do you know how long the people of this town have been hungering for a sign, for a hero, for anything to break the sad sense of doom that pervades this land?”

“That’s not why we’re here, Luna! We’re here to get me killed, not play hero! It would be a lie in any event!”

“Not as far as they know! And when Yunada is slain and his force routed, it certainly will be a relief to this town!”

“Perhaps, but you won’t have had anything to do with it!”

“Unnecessary. I will live on as a symbol and a legend. Reaper, these people are starved for symbols of hope, for legends of old to rise up. I know, better than most, the power of legend and symbol and myth. This is my chance to forge a legend of hope and strength in defiance of, not in service to, fear and darkness!”

She stepped toward the front of the shop as Jost’n and her associates fell back, and drew her sword: “You say Kur is a world drained of magic, my friend--”

She pushed open the shop door and strode into the street, raising her sword high. The blade glinted in the afternoon sun, the burnished metal of her greaves and vambraces gleamed, and her eyes, wide with joy, glittered: “Then let us bring some back!”

Farewell
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Death Be Not Proud

Farewell

The afternoon and evening passed uneventfully: after selling a few jewels to Bixia the gem smith, Reaper bought a new, younger, dark-brown dalzi, dubbed “Colt” by Luna, from Tal’ar’s brother, Arta. The stableman also thoughtfully threw in two full sets of tack, for a “small” fee. They also procured a pair of blankets and new wineskins for their impending trek.

Properly outfitted at last, the two companions returned to the inn as evening set in, and a few snowflakes swirled down from the lowering clouds.

Reaper glared at the sky: “It better not snow tonight, or it’ll make our getaway tomorrow a bit less stealthy.”

Luna nodded, then stopped and peered closely as several flakes landed on her dark blue sleeve: “Behold! They look like tiny diamonds! How beautiful!”

Reaper smiled: “You really do look regal in that outfit! I wonder if we can figure out a way to get it back to Equestria when you return.”

Luna looked away and chewed her lip.

Reaper bounded up the inn’s steps and pulled the door open, letting out a gust of warm, smoky air. Luna stopped at the threshold and stared intently into the shadows of the surrounding buildings for a moment, tipping her head sideways. She shook her head and stepped inside the inn.

Tal’ar hurried to the entrance from across the room: “By the Gods! Don’ you two look like sumpin’ from an old storybook! The T’zesa there looks like mighty Brōka Nosk'a herself come back from the Beyond!

Luna raised an eyebrow and turned to Reaper: “Another day, another elevation to godhood!”

Reaper grinned: “Don’t get too comfortable with the title! If memory serves, Brōka Nosk’a was the last of the Lost Gods to face exile, and she chose to fall in battle, naked and unarmed, instead.”

Luna set her jaw: “Given those options, I believe she likely made the right choice.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow, and turned to the innkeeper: “We have changed our plans somewhat: we intend now to leave tomorrow late afternoon.”

“Not in the mornin’?”

“No, and I would like to purchase enough provender to last the T’zesa and myself for four days.”

“Not a problem--I’ll have plenty of dried fruit and bread and cheese and whatnot ready a-fore 'ya leave. Did Arta treat ‘ya right?”

Reaper smiled as they crossed the floor toward the back-corner table: “I assume his price was a bit inflated, but I don’t mind--we can afford it, and the having the tack immediately was quite convenient.”

Tal’ar rolled her eyes as Luna and Reaper sat down, handing over their bundles: “‘A bit inflated!’ Like as not he robbed ya’ blind, I wouldn’t wonder!”

Reaper winked: “Well, as long as you get your cut, yes?”

The innkeeper stared for a moment then burst out laughing: “Yer alright! We’re gonna miss you two when yer gone!””

She picked up their bundles and headed toward the stairs: “I’ll run yer stuff to the room--Regel’ll see to yer needs. Yo! Regel!”

Tal’ar disappeared up the stairs as Regel hurried to the table: “What c’n I get for you gentlefolk tonight?”

Reaper scratched his chin: “I know you have some Southland wine--bring us that. And perhaps you have something sweet?”

Regel nodded: “The cook just took out some sugared spice bread! I’ll get that!”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Sweet things? How uncharacteristic!”

“Hey, it’s our last night here--let’s try something a little different.”

“More ‘local color?’”

“Exactly.”

“So tell me of this Brōka Nosk’a; I was only able to glean the barest scraps of old tales from my time in your memory store.”

Regel stepped up and placed a jug of wine in the middle of the table along with two cups, then turned away.

Reaper filled the cups: “She was styled as the Goddess of Battle--not of War, per se, just battle. She was the quintessential fighter: she did not seek war for itself, but her bloodlust was insatiable once aroused.”

“And she preferred death to exile.”

“Yes. Killed twenty with her bare hands in her final battle at daybreak of the Last Day--Kenn Gune.”

“‘Last Day?’”

“The final day Kur had its gods. The March of Mortal Time is said to have begun as she fell.”

“When is this said to have happened?”

“If the myths are to be believed, some twenty-five-hundred years ago.”

“So the baths built in honor of Liz’un-urd’a-birna date back over two millennia?”

“Unlikely. Worship of the Lost Gods continued for quite some time. There are still remnants of it today. I would expect that old temple is fifteen-hundred years old, give or take.”

“Like the shrine where we made our arrival.”

“Right.”

Regel reappeared carrying two steaming mugs and a plate of sticky, aromatic, light-brown bread: “'Ya gots yer wine, but the cook thought this might go better with the sweet bread.”

Luna pulled a mug toward her and wrinkled her nose: “Potent! What is it?”

Reaper sniffed his mug, furrowed his brow, then took a sip. His eyebrows shot up: “I’ll be damned--it’s jetutko! I haven’t had this in years!” He took a swig: “Be careful: your use of the word ‘potent’ is spot-on! This stuff’ll knock your boots off!”

Luna took a mouthful and swished it around: “I am unable to identify the flavor, though it seems I should be able to. It eludes me like a memory I cannot quite grasp.”

Reaper smiled: “Any memory this calls forth is likely so old as to be nearly lost to you. Jetutko is spiced, fermented dalzi’s milk. It’s an old winter favorite in the north. I haven’t tasted it in thousands of years…”

Luna raised an eyebrow and took a long drink: “Yes--I have not tasted mare’s milk in more years than I care to recall.”

She took a bit of the bread and another drink of jetutko: “It goes wonderfully with the bread! Celestia would be delighted with this confection!”

Reaper pulled out the map from his cloak pocket: “Tell her when you get back! I’ve marked the location of the shrine at the far north edge of this map, and updated a few landmarks based on our travels.”

He refolded the map and set his gloves on it: “I’ll hold on to this for the moment, and I’ll be sure to make any final edits over the next few days, so your return is as smooth as possible.”

He took a piece of bread and his mug and leaned back, eyes closed, as Luna bit her lip and stared at the edge of the map sticking out from beneath the gloves.

It was well past midnight and several mugs of jetutko later when Luna and Reaper returned to their room, slipped on nightclothes, stoked the fire and crawled beneath the blankets.

Reaper began to fade immediately: “Were you going to check out my last dream? I remember you being interested…”

Luna turned to face him, but the answer died on her lips.

“You have to tell him.”

Luna glanced around, clenched her teeth and hissed in a forced whisper: “Not here!”

“Fine.”

Luna closed her eyes, reached out and touched the lamp on the table in Starswirl’s secret library. It sprung to life, filling the cluttered, dusty room with a cool, white light. Nightmare Moon leaned against the wall, wrapped in Luna’s new cloak.

“Interesting location. You have come to conduct some more research I take it?”

“Yes. I need to have a better sense of Gerrar and Yunada. And I know he will not willingly divulge anything more.”

Luna pointed to the corner where Reaper, again clad only in his half-opened, tattered cloak, slouched in an ornate, richly-carved chair.
Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow: “What an odd piece of furniture to be in this place!”

“Agreed. Now, what do you want?”

Nightmare Moon began running her fingertips lightly over the books filling the shelves along the walls: “You have to tell him. He cannot go on believing that you have a return path.”

“I know, but the time has not yet arrived. I must see to Gerrar first. All options must be closed off.”

Nightmare Moon stepped over to Reaper’s sleeping form and knelt beside him, dragging a fingernail delicately down his neck and around a nipple: “Do you believe you can handle Gerrar? Perhaps you should leave the ‘closing off’ to me.”

Luna glared: “I know precisely what I am doing. I have now had enough experience with the dream tools at my disposal to, how did Reaper put it? ‘Take him off the board.’”

“What then, True Sister? Can you really go through with the end-game? It was terrible once!”

Luna ran her hands over several red, hide-bound volumes titled Yunada: “Yes, I recall. And yes, I am prepared.”

Nightmare Moon turned away from Reaper and looked at the books in Luna’s hands. She closed her eyes and shuddered: “Even by our lights this Yunada is twisted!”

Luna licked her lips nervously: “This is even worse than the visions you forced out of Reaper! I can see why he has so thoroughly repressed these memories!”

Nightmare Moon nodded as the room was suffused with a lurid red light and the smells of naphtha and pitch: “Su'totza. Yet another Lost God. It seems to me they do not entirely live up to their reputations as ‘Lost’--not as often as we see or hear references to them.”

“Yes, perhaps ‘Ghost Gods’ would be more accurate. Regardless, I know all I need to know of Yunada. I have no intent to actually engage with him.”

Nightmare Moon reached out and pulled down a thick volume, bound in rich, green silk: “No, you seek more knowledge of Gerrar, perhaps something like this…”

She opened the book and her eyes went wide; she bit her glistening lip: “Ah, Gerrar--or is it Reaper? You dirty boy! It is a shame we did not meet under different circumstances--you would have been more than welcome to put your tongue there!”

Luna scowled as Nightmare Moon ran her hand down Reaper’s abdomen, under his cloak, and between his legs.

“Leave him alone! He is unaware of our presence, and I should like to keep it that way!”

Nightmare Moon rolled her eyes, but withdrew her hand: “Fine. But you may well need to control him or Gerrar or both by extraordinary means in order to execute your plan.”

Luna sighed: “I am aware…”

Nightmare Moon flipped through more pages: “Well, this certainly has some control potential. One could never pull this one off with hooves…”

Luna stood and waved angrily, causing the room to empty of all books and scrolls: “Stop! I have seen all I need to move forward!”

The room suddenly darkened; Luna shook her head and found herself on the beach at the base of the unknown lighthouse. Nightmare Moon sat on the bottom step, pointing at Reaper, bleeding out into the sand.

“But move forward to what, True Sister?”

Nightmare Moon stood and faded away, leaving behind a faint, silvery shimmer, like a heat mirage.

Luna walked over to Reaper’s body and looked down at it with brow furrowed. His skin was covered with a dense brown coat, like a pony, and a broken horn protruded from his forehead. Gerrar’s bloody sword was stuck in the sand at his side.

Luna bent down to pick up the sword and awoke with a start as her fingers closed around the hilt.

She lay awake for the next hour, starting at the ceiling until she drifted into a restless sleep.

Reaper awoke the next morning and lay quietly on his side, watching Luna’s sleeping face for several minutes, luxuriating in her scent, touching the back of her hand, feeling her pulse.

“You can have her, you know.”

Reaper shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut: “No--I can’t--and more’s the pity. But I have to die and she has to leave. And you, dark angel--once I would have happily explored my basest impulses with you--”

“Something about ‘booze and zaka and cunt,’ if I recall…”

“--but you’re just a voice in my head via a fragment of a lost soul in Luna’s head. You’re not real.”

The hair suddenly stood up on the back of his neck. He could feel eyes behind him. Someone was in the chair.

“You just keep thinking that, Harbinger…”

He snapped his head around--the chair was empty.

“Is something wrong?”

He turned back and looked into Luna’s eyes: “I felt someone else here. Nightmare Moon spoke to me. How is this possible? I’m sure I wasn’t asleep just now!”

“I wish I knew. She eludes me each time I think have her pinned-down.”

Reaper reached out and cupped Luna’s cheek in his palm: “Luna…”

She gently pulled his hand away, kissed his fingertips, and slid off the bed. She walked to the window and looked out on the street below.

“It does not appear we will have to deal with anything more than a light dusting of snow today.”

Reaper took a deep, shuddering breath and sat up: “A bit of good fortune.”

He stood and looked at Luna, silhouetted against the window: “Luna…”

“Please go downstairs and ask Regel to fetch several basins of hot water--I would like to take a bath. Would you do that for me?”

Reaper closed his eyes: “Yes.”

He pulled his cloak over his nightshirt, slipped on a pair of clogs and headed to the door.

As the door thumped shut, Luna turned from the window and wiped the welling tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her shift.

“You have to tell him.”

“Go to Tartarus.”

An hour-and-a-half later Luna came downstairs to the common room, wearing simple, patched and cleaned travel clothes and a light cloak. She sat down across from Reaper who was poring over notes and his map as he sipped mulled cider and chewed absently on a bit of dark bread.

“How was your bath? I suspect you’re a bit too tall for that tub.”

She waved at Regel, who was standing across the room: “It was a tight fit, to be sure, but pleasant all the same.”

Regel hurried over: “Yes, T’zesa?”

Luna spoke slowly as though translating: “Some cider, please?”

“Right away!”

As the servant headed toward the kitchen, Reaper looked up from his notebook: “We can probably drop the language act once we’re clear of the town. I’m sure it’s getting kind of tiring.”

“Indeed. I will be glad to drop the ruse, though I will miss this town. Its citizens have been quite friendly.”

“Yeah, well priceless gems will do that…”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Cynic! I believe these people to be quite genuine!”

“Maybe. My years on this world taught me to trust no one, and my millennia on yours taught me not to really care.”

Luna nodded and took a chunk of bread as Regel placed a mug in front of her: “I understand. Then trust my judgement--these are good people.”

Reaper shrugged and took a swig of cider: “I just hope they survive the coming weeks. It’s hard to tell what will happen after the battle at Fort Torlek. It will likely scramble to whole power dynamic in this region.”

“Well, what kind of man is Gindu?”

“Typical warlord material, if a bit more civilized. Talks the talk about wanting to at least reestablish some of the old city-state arrangements and agreements.”

“And so would be likely to leave a town like Rixk’a alone.”

“As long as they pay their tribute, probably.”

Luna and Reaper sat and ate in silence for several minutes, until Tal’ar walked up to the table bearing a bundle and two earthenware jugs.
“Here’s the food ‘n drink ‘ya asked fer last night. If’n it’s not enough just say so and I’ll hunt up some more!”

Reaper scooted his chair aside: “Just set it on the table. I’m sure it will be enough--thank you!”

The innkeeper nodded and smiled broadly: “It’s been a true pleasure havin’ you two here--I’ll be sorry t’ see ya go! Do ‘ya have e’rrything ‘ya need?”

“Yes--I believe once Regel retrieves our dalzi from your stables and helps us load them, we should be ready to go.”

Luna swallowed a mouthful of bread: “Should we be on our way shortly, or do you still wish to leave at dusk?”

Reaper let out a long breath: “Let’s go ahead and get packed-up and on the road now. By the time Regel gets the mounts and we get them loaded and ourselves out the door, it will likely be noon at least. We can take the main path southeast at a leisurely pace for a few hours before cutting south.”

Luna nodded: “That should appear to establish our route to most observers.”

“Right.”

Reaper stood and gestured to Tal’ar: “I believe the time has come for the T’zesa and me to take our leave of your fine town. Please have Regel fetch our mounts.”

“At once, good Sir!”

Reaper turned to Luna: “I’ll head up now and pack. No need to hurry…”

Luna took another sip of cider: “I will join you shortly.”

As Reaper turned and headed toward the stairs, Luna pulled the dagger from her belt and quickly carved a shape into the tabletop. She finished her drink, stood and placed the empty mug next to the symbol she had inscribed: a crescent moon.

Tal’ar stood next to her brother and Regel two hours later as Reaper and Luna, mounted on Colt and Bitch turned away from the inn, bound for the town gates.

Tal’ar waved vigorously with her left hand, her right being clenched tightly around three almond-sized rubies: “Fare thee well you two! Come back if ‘ya gets the chance!”

Regel waved as well: “Travel safe, T’zesa! I’ll--er, we’ll miss ‘ya!” He blushed furiously as Luna looked back and smiled broadly at him.

They waved to Er’rem as they passed his shop, and Luna, resplendent in her armor and cloak, unsheathed the smith’s sword and saluted him with it. The smith bowed deeply and returned the salute.

And lastly they waved to the City Watch and bade farewell to the throng of townsfolk who had gathered to see the spectacle. The Head Nightwatchman and Captain of the Guard both accepted a bit as an exit toll, then moved the barriers aside as Bitch and Colt cantered toward the gate.

Luna rolled her eyes as they cleared the town’s entrance: “‘Exit toll’ indeed! That was simple extortion!”

Reaper laughed: “Sure, but who cares? Damn near everybody else in town had gotten to wet their beaks, why not them, too?”

“I suppose. It does seem odd that Zain was not present to take his cut as well.”

Reaper shrugged: “Yeah, I mean it’s not like we were sneaking out--I told the Captain of the Guard this morning!”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Perhaps he was seeing to our old dalzi-trading acquaintances.”

“An interesting thought.”

They rode at a slow but steady pace for roughly four hours as the shadows lengthened in front of them. They stopped at a bend in the road before it began to climb slightly through a cut in the side of a hill.

Reaper dismounted and let the dalzi off the left side of the path and down into a dense thicket of beech-like trees and brush.

Luna climbed down off Bitch and looped her lead around a branch: “How long do you expect we should wait?”

Reaper looked to the west: “Looks like about another hour ‘til dusk, then we can work our way through this bit of woodland and follow the natural fall of this set of downs directly south."

Luna sat down on a fallen log, pulling her cloak tightly about her: “I have grown accustomed to warmer surroundings these last few days.”

Reaper smiled: “I understand. It shouldn’t take too much to get re-acclimated to the cold, especially given that cloak!”

Luna nodded: “It is wonderfully warm! I am sure our next leg of this journey will pass far more comfortably than the first.”

“Well, barring encounters with a hartz or a pack of otsal, or losing all our gear, I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet!”

“Given our strange fortunes so far, let us not get too far ahead of ourselves!”

Reaper laughed as he uncorked his wineskin and took a swig of the pale Southland wine it contained: “Thank you, Tal’ar!”

Luna took the wine from Reaper and filled her mouth with the cool, pale liquid, handing the skin back as she glimpsed Larg, now waxing toward full, rising on their right above the dark, skeletal trees.

She pointed at the moon, now casting ghostly shadows through the barren treetops: “Even Larg came out to see us off!”

Reaper grinned: “Finally! A nice, uncomplicated Lost God!”

Luna laughed as she took back the wineskin.

Eavesdropping
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Death Be Not Proud

Eavesdropping

Reaper and Luna worked their way south for two days toward Rutze, following the natural slope of the downs and various streams, until they came across a series of ancient ruins and crumbling breastworks, buried under centuries of mould and forest growth.

Luna dismounted, draped her cloak across Bitch’s back, and strolled into a small clearing next to a collapsed tower. She dropped her trousers and shorts, and emptied her bladder with a sigh.

She looked around as she stood and pulled her trousers back up: “What was all this? It appears to have been destroyed centuries ago.”

Reaper approached, opening the map as he walked: “Recall the scratched-out boundary lines on this map? This is that boundary.”

“Between the Northern and Southern Dukes of the Midlands?”

“Right. This would have been the agreed-upon border through this section of what was even then, likely unoccupied forest country.”

Luna put her cloak back on and pulled a chunk of bread out of her saddle bag, splitting it between herself and Bitch.

The dalzi stopped grazing, lifted its head and greedily took the bread from Luna’s palm.

She laid her head next to the dalzi’s ear and scratched its neck: “Ten'ma du'ze, goz Tax'ar…” Bitch nickered softly as it chewed.

Luna stepped back and brushed her hands clean: “Does this portend anything more? Might we come across a settlement or stray garrison?”

“Unlikely. We’re only about a day away from Rutze, which is, essentially, a garrison itself--well, what’s left of it, anyway.”

He took a drink from his wineskin and walked toward a gap in the breastworks: “However, it looks like we’re about to pick up that road fragment that intersects outside Rutze. Our travel should be somewhat less bumpy going forward.”

“But will it be less observed?”

“What do you mean?”

“We are being followed.”

Reaper turned slowly and nonchalantly, scanning the nearby trees: “For how long?”

“At least the second day out from Rixk’a.”

“How close?”

“I estimate he is keeping back around one to two-hundred yards at any time. I never see him directly, but I catch fleeting glimpses of a body shape slipping between the trees.”

Reaper pulled his sword from his belt, crouched and began preparing kindling and tinder for a fire: “Let’s stop here for the night and see if we can’t lure him in.”

Luna nodded and hobbled the dalzi together while Reaper laid out a ground cloth and blankets, and walked to a nearby stream to fill the water bottle he had brought from Equestria.

He built up the fire while Luna removed the dalzis’ tack and bags: “How do you suggest we do this?”

“If we create enough of a ruckus--like we’re fighting--and make it look like you’re injured, I can go off after Bitch, and maybe he’ll come in close enough for you to take him down.”

“Bitch?”

“If we loosen her lead and leg strap, I can shoo her away, adding a distraction, and giving me a reason to leave you as ‘injured’ bait.”

Reaper looked up at Luna: “Will that work? Will you be able to get Bitch back alright if I run her off?”

Luna furrowed her brow and looked at her dalzi: “Yes. I have no doubt she will come to me.”

“Good. Well then, take a seat and have a bite to eat. We have a big fight to get into once the sun sets in about an hour.”

Luna smiled and took a piece of dried fruit: “Whatever shall be the cause?”

Reaper chewed on a bit of cheese thoughtfully: “Hmm. Let’s see, what would likely be the most interesting thing someone eavesdropping could hear?”

“A lovers’ quarrel of some sort. Salacious details. Hurled insults.”

Reaper nodded: “That’ll work! It gives me the perfect excuse to strike you down, apparently injuring you, and frightening off Bitch. Then I can run after her while you ambush our shadow.”

“I presume, since this is for public consumption, as it were, that we will need to shout in the local tongue.”

“Right. I mean it’ll be pretty clear we’re fighting in any event, but his ability to understand words will help pull him in.”

“Unless he is a professional…”

Reaper smiled and swallowed a mouthful of water: “True. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Luna squinted at the westering sun: “So what will be the proximate cause of our quarrel?”

“I guess I’ll try to force myself on you, you'll get angry, I’ll demand you ‘live up to your obligations,’ you’ll hit me, and so on.”

Luna nodded, then stepped quietly up to Bitch, loosening her lead and removing the restraint on her leg. Colt shifted nervously, and Luna soothed him before returning to the bedding.

Reaper fussed about and got under the blankets noisily, then turned to Luna in a low voice: “How far off is he now? Can you tell?”

She settled beneath the blankets as well: “He appears to have closed in somewhat. The fire is low, but lies between us, and I suspect he cannot see us well. Perhaps under a hundred yards.”

Reaper draped an arm over Luna’s shoulder and pulled her close: “If this works, you’re going to have to knock him out. Will you be able to do that?”

Luna smiled: “The only man I have met yet on this world I was unsure I could defeat was the blacksmith in Rixk’a!”

Reaper chuckled softly: “Even me?”

Luna nodded: “You have acknowledged that you were never the fighter type.”

“True.”

They lay quietly for several minutes as the sun slid behind the surrounding hills, and a fresh flurry of snow began to drift from the clouds.

Luna looked over her shoulder at Reaper: “Shall we?”

Reaper pushed Luna onto her back and climbed on top: “Come, woman! You have resisted your duty long enough! You knew what was required of you when we left Zaldun!”

Luna pushed back, trying to roll Reaper off. They tussled noisily: “‘My duty?’ My duty as T’zesa is to Zaldun and the Throne, not to lackeys and mercenaries!”

“It is well I am a mercenary, and as a result have the money to support your outrageous habits!”

Luna pushed Reaper aside and sat up, glancing quickly toward their quarry’s hiding place: “You are one to talk about outrageous habits! How much money have you wasted on wine and zaka and gods-only-know what else?”

Reaper lunged forward, twisting Luna to her side so she was facing their pursuer directly: “And that ridiculous, exorbitant garb!”

Luna shoved away and rose to her knees: “I am a Princess! I have every right to dress in the grandest style! I am not some mere parzaile!”

Reaper stood, looming above her: “Parzaile be damned! You’re little better than a common galdu!”

Luna’s eyebrows shot up and she fell back into pony speech: “‘Whore?’ Really?”

Reaper shrugged: “Sorry--roll with it!”

Luna rose and drew her sword: “You would naturally think of galdu! No woman would willingly touch you unless your gold touched them first!”

Reaper grinned: “Touché!”

Luna backed up a step and leveled her sword with a smile: “Roll with it!”

Reaper yanked his short sword from its sheath and slapped away Luna’s blade: “Be sure to smack the flats together whenever possible--there’s no need to nick-up the edges!”

Luna nodded and pivoted suddenly to his left side, slamming the flat of her sword against Reaper’s backside.

He hopped back a step: “Fuck! That hurt!”

“I believe we are striving for verisimilitude here, yes?”

Reaper lunged at Luna, bringing the hilt of his sword down on her elbow.

She cried out and dropped her sword: “How dare you!”

He drove his shoulder into her chest: “Go down--twist away from our visitor as you fall!”

Luna dropped heavily to the ground as Reaper aimed a kick at her abdomen, driving his foot into a lump of blankets. He then swooped down, picked up Luna’s blade and stepped over her prostrate form, turning around as he did so.

“Fucking cunt! I’ll teach you to draw a blade on me!”

Reaper drove her sword through the blankets directly in front of her chest, into the ground beneath with a thunk.

Luna let out a bloodcurdling shriek, and wrapped her blanket-entangled arms around the sword, pulling it down, and tucking it against her body.

Reaper staggered backwards as she curled in on herself, catching his feet with her shins. He scattered the fire, flailed wildly and slapped Bitch on the flank.

The beast, already disturbed by all the commotion, shied, pulled her lead free, and bolted, with Reaper staggering and cursing after her.

“Don’t you dare run off, you dumb fucking beast! You cost a small fortune!”

Luna heaved and cried out feebly as she rolled partially onto her back. She cracked her right eye half open and waited.

As Reaper crashed off through the underbrush toward the ruined breastworks in pursuit of the wayward dalzi, a hunched, cloaked figure worked its way furtively across the final fifty yards of tall, brown grass, stopping at last next to the spilled packs, embers and disordered blankets littering the ground next to Luna’s inert body.

The figure took a final, tentative step forward and bent down: “T’zesa?”

Luna suddenly rolled over to her back then her hip, swinging her cloth-wrapped sword in a low, wide arc, ending across the back of her target’s knees.

The man gasped and went down hard, tumbling awkwardly across his opponent's body. He shoved a hand against the ground in an attempt to right himself when Luna drove her elbow hard into his temple with a sharp thud.

The man collapsed at once, and feebly raised his hands to ward off another blow. But Luna did not strike a second time. She quickly disentangled her legs, pivoted around and up onto her knees. She bent forward, dug her fingers into the hair behind her opponent's ears and lifted, then slammed his head down onto the ground. His eyes rolled up and his body went limp.

Luna let out a sharp breath, stood, re-sheathed her sword and straightened her cloak: “Reaper! Please return--I have incapacitated our quarry. It appears to be our missing Guardsman, Zain.”

Reaper’s muffled voice came from a distance: “Zain? Well, that solves one mystery. Guess we need to find out who sent him.”

Luna turned to face the sound: “Is Bitch alright? I am coming to retrieve her now.”

Reaper struggled free of some entangling brush and brambles: “Hold on, let me come back there first--I’ll need your help for a minute!”

Luna looked down at Zain’s glazed, half-lidded eyes: “Hurry, please! I am unsure how long he will remain immobile.”

Reaper shook free of the last branches blocking him and jogged back to Luna and her captive: “Damn, Luna! Did you kill him?”

“No, though I may have been a bit overzealous.”

Reaper shook his head and began rummaging through a saddlebag, pulling out a length of rope: “Well, as long as he stays ‘immobile’ for another few moments--get him up against that tree...”

Luna slid her hands underneath Zain’s arms, dragged him to a nearby tree, and wrestled his limp body up with Reaper’s help. She held him in place as Reaper lashed Zain’s wrists together, throwing two loops of rope around his neck, and securing the rope over a branch with a tug. He pulled hard, suspending the captive from his now-stretched arms. The watchman’s head hung down limply.

Reaper tied-off the rope and set about rebuilding and stoking the scattered fire: “Go ahead and round up Bitch; I have some business with our interloper.”

Luna nodded and turned to find her errant dalzi: “I should be back shortly.”

Reaper pulled out his sword, knelt by the fire, and slid its blade into the coals: “Don’t hurry back.”

“Wake up, Zain.”

Reaper splashed cold water in his captive’s face. Zain’s eyes fluttered open as he lifted his head and blinked as though still stunned.

Reaper tossed a handful of water in the watchman’s face again: “Come--we have business to attend.”

Reaper sat down on a nearby chunk of log, opened his notebook and took up a quill. He sat silently for a minute, scratching characters on the page, glancing up at Larg, which had just risen above the treetops.

Zain watched in confusion for some time while chewing his lip. He finally broke the silence: “Wha-what do you want?”

Reaper stopped writing and lifted his hand up and at arm’s-length, measuring the gap between the treetops and the large moon with one finger.

“I wish I had proper instruments for this, but I’m afraid that without my hourglass, timing against Larg's rise will simply have to do.”

“Instruments?”

Reaper closed his notebook, stood and added several branches to the fire: “I regret that I was not entirely forthcoming with your fine town upon our arrival.”

Zain pulled against his restraints, but this had the effect of tightening the rope around his neck. He stopped struggling.

Reaper blinked slowly, then held his hand up toward Larg again: “I did not lie, exactly--mine was more a sin of omission.”

He bent down and re-positioned his sword in the coals: “I made it sound as though Her Highness had come to us from Zaldun, seeking connection with the powers of these lands. In truth, I was sent by Yunada to see if there is any truth to the legends of Zaldun, and if so, to bring back an emissary.”

Zain’s eyes went wide: “Yu-Yunada?”

Reaper stood and brushed the ash off his sleeves: “Yes. And what sort of man goes on important missions for Yunada? What is such a man called?”

Zain swallowed hard and licked his lips: “T-Tunzal…”

Reaper smiled as he held his fingers up against the moon again: “Very good. Now we’re all on the same page, and I have enough timing measurements from the treetops to Larg. We can begin.”

“Wha-what do you want?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want from me? I can’t tell you anything!”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Want? I want you to die slowly as I document it. I have never conducted a ‘procedure’ in the wilderness, and this will prove most useful.”

“Procedure?”

“Yes--I’ve always had a room or tent, and all my tools and pitch and naphtha and lead, and a table and a proper hourglass.”

Zain began to shudder violently and struggle against the rope, again.

“But a good Tunzal is nothing if not resilient, and his most important tools are his resourcefulness and his--” he smiled broadly “--creativity.”

“Oh, by the Gods, no! What do you want to know? I don’t know anything!”

“I want to know how long it takes you to piss yourself, how long until your first scream, how long until you empty your bowels down your leg--and how much.”

Zain began moaning and panting.

“And make no mistake: you will do these things. There is no shame in it--it is simply part of the process that will begin with me pressing this red-hot blade up under your scrotum until your manhood sloughs away (this will take several re-heatings), and end with you as a pile of greasy, burned bones.”

Zain thrashed wildly: “Help! Oh, Gods please help! Where is the T’zesa? Surely she can’t want this!”

“I have asked for the T’zesa to be absent for a bit. Subjects often find this sort of thing to be quite humiliating--especially in the presence of the opposite sex-- and that is not my intent.”

He turned and held his fingers up against the moon again: “The gap’s now between two and three-finger’s-thickness. The night is running swiftly, and this is going to take some time, so let us begin.”

Reaper bent down, pulled his sword from the coals, and stepped up to face Zain. He grabbed the watchman’s belt and tugged it free. Zain let out a strangled cry as a dark stain spread down the front of his trousers.

Reaper stepped back with a frown: “You could have waited a moment, you know! Now I’ll have to wash these before selling them.”

He grabbed Zain’s trousers and pulled them down, bringing the red-hot steel close to the horrified man’s loins.

Zain’s eyes went wild and he began gibbering: “D-DUX’A SENT M-ME! I DON’T KNOW NUTHIN’!”

“I know that…”

“HE-HE’S TRYIN’ TO PASS INFORMATION ALONG T-TO YUNADA! HE WORKS WITH EVERYBODY! SELLS NEWS TO ALL SIDES!"

“Zain, there is nothing you can tell me that I do not already know…”

“OH GODS, NO!! HE-HE’S GONNA GO SOUTH, TRY TO MEET WITH YUNADA WHEN I GET BACK WITH INFORMATION! I SWEAR THAT’S ALL!!”

Reaper stepped back a pace: “So Dux’a is having us tailed. Where did you pick us up?"

Zain choked back sobs: “I-I left before you and waited on the east road. I saw you cut off and go south. I had to follow and see who you met or where you went…”

Reaper nodded, then stepped in close, holding the hot steel near Zain’s face: “I am going to let you go, now. You will leave immediately and return, without delay, to Dux’a.”

Zain stared in confusion.

“I will inform Lord Yunada of Duxa’s double-dealing when I see him in two days. So you need to hurry back, because if Dux’a attempts to come south to meet Yunada, there won’t even be burnt bone left to return to Rixk’a!”

Zain nodded rapidly: “I-I understand! I'll tell Dux’a! You won’t see me or him or nobody again!”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

Reaper loosened the rope, and unbound his captive’s wrists. Zain yanked his wet trousers back up and belted them, then suddenly lurched against the tree and vomited violently.

Reaper smiled grimly and held his hand up to the moon: “Four full fingers…”

Zain choked back a cry and stumbled away, heading back toward his hiding place. Reaper followed slowly, watching as the terrified watchman pulled on a travelling pack and jogged noisily away to the north.

Reaper drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and popped several zaka leaves into his mouth, before turning around and walking back to the fire.

As he approached he saw Luna straightening up the site, rearranging the blankets, re-securing the dalzi.

Reaper sat down next to the fire and opened a saddlebag, pulling out a piece of dried fruit: “Please, take a seat, Luna. Have a bite of something--it’s been a hectic evening.”

Luna nodded silently, then sat down across from Reaper, and took a drink from her wineskin.

Reaper smiled: “How is Bitch? Not too traumatized, I trust?”

“No, she is fine. I believe she was more annoyed than anything else.”

Reaper spat the zaka into the fire and took a bite of fruit: “How about you? Are you OK?”

“I too am fine. So you believe that Dux’a will be safe now? That he will not try to travel into what is about to be a war zone?”

“Right, though that’s more of a bonus. I’m one-hundred-and-one percent sure Zain won’t even look over his shoulder until he’s back behind Rixk’a’s walls. Now we can get to and out of Rutze without any concern about wildcards or unwanted shadows.”

Luna chewed on a chunk of dark bread and looked at Reaper thoughtfully for a minute: “Was that level of cruelty truly needed? Might he have not told us what we needed with a lesser application of fear?”

“Fear takes time to properly apply and ripen, while raw, bowel-loosening terror is quick and efficient. Its shock wears off fast, rather like torture, and you can get false results, but in a case like Zain, where he gives up everything without even being asked, you can usually feel pretty confident about the information being truthful.”

Luna furrowed her brow and chewed her lip: “You really would not have done those awful things, would you?”

Reaper stared down at the fire for a moment, then looked up with a cold smile: “No, but Gerrar would…”

Gerrar
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Death Be Not Proud

Gerrar

Reaper leaned against a weathered standing stone and pointed down the tree-clad slope to a cluster of small, dark buildings in a narrow valley below: “Rutze.”

Bitch stopped next to him, and Luna looked down as she pulled her hood back: “Not much to look at. Is it abandoned?”

“Sort of. It gets used situationally. I think Gindu has a kind of informal arrangement with the commander of the largest city-state in these parts, Degia.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “That is to the south and west of here, yes?”

“Right, and this is sort of the maximum extent of their influence.”

“But you--or Gerrar, rather--are here to meet an agent of Gindu.”

“Meet, overtake--not quite sure how to define it. I’m fairly sure he knew he was being followed, but never tried to ditch or ambush me. All that matters is that it takes place down in that stone hut at the east end of the compound in about twenty minutes.”

Luna dismounted and guided the dalzi behind the stone, lashing their leads around a thick, stunted tree growing a few feet away. She unpacked two of the bags, and spread out the ground cloth.

“Please help me set up a shelter. The wind flowing down this slope is biting, and I will be here for some time, I suspect.”

Reaper turned away from the valley: “Sure. I don’t really know how this is all going to go down--we’re kind of in uncharted territory, here.”

Luna nodded: “And I assume a fire would attract attention.”

Reaper staked a corner of the cloth as Luna tied-off the upper edge between two saplings: “Correct. Just sit tight and I’ll come back when I’m done.”

Luna quietly stepped behind the cloth and moved a few branches while reaching into a cloak pocket for a small stone jar. She quickly removed the lid, dipped in a finger, and pressed the lid back in place. She ran her fingertip around her lips, licked it clean and stepped back into view.

She approached Reaper who had just secured the final corner, and offloaded the dalzis’ bags: “Reaper--I do not know what may happen here, and I wish you the best of luck.”

Reaper turned toward Luna with a quizzical expression as she leaned in and gave him a deep, wet kiss.

His eyebrows jumped: “Well, that was unexpected! I certainly appreciate the sentiment, but I think...I think…”

Reaper blinked stupidly for a moment and staggered forward into Luna’s arms: “Wha--what’s happening?”

Luna looked into his fully-dilated eyes: “Sleep.”

Reaper’s body sagged, and Luna dragged him under the shelter, laying him down gently and covering him with a blanket.

She rummaged through his pockets for a moment, stood up, and stepped beside the standing stone, where she observed a cloaked figure riding a dalzi in the valley below.

Luna set aside her sword and armor, pulled her hood on, and walked tentatively onto the path leading down to the compound below: “Uncharted territory, indeed…”

Luna crouched behind a low stone wall some thirty yards from the easternmost cottage. She waited nervously for over twenty minutes, until the door opened and a cloaked figure emerged, mounted a cream-colored dalzi, and rode briskly out of the garrison compound. The door closed.

Luna stood, adjusted her cloak, took a deep breath and strode confidently to the cottage door. She knocked.

Silence. She knocked again, and the door slowly creaked open. The room inside was nearly dark, lit only by a low fire in the rough-hewn hearth. She stepped inside and pushed the door shut.

“I know you are in here, Gerrar. I was sent by Yunada.”

“How could Yunada know I was here? I’ve been north and west of these lands for weeks. Even I didn’t know where I’d be until just a few days ago!”

Luna’s eyes swept the room until they spotted a dark shape, crouched motionless beyond the far side of the bed. She pointed to a chair next to the fire.

“May I sit?”

“Yes. Please remove your weapons first.”

Luna nodded, threw back her hood and pulled her cloak open. She slid the dagger from her belt and laid it atop the mantle.

“That’s it? Just a dagger?”

“I came to meet, not fight. My equipment is safely ensconced elsewhere. I have brought your payment.”

Gerrar stood, picked a lamp up from the floor, pulled its shutter away and trimmed the wick. The room filled with a low, yellowish light. He stepped around the bed and put the lamp next to a wine jug on a low table under a small window.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Luna.”

“That’s an odd name. I have traveled extensively in the lands of both the North and South, and have not encountered anything akin to it.”

“I am from Zaldun.”

“Impossible. Zaldun is a myth.”

“Yet here I am; have you ever seen my like?” She stood and let her cloak fall into the chair behind her.

Gerrar chewed the inside of his lip absently, then reached into a pocket to procure a plug of zaka: “No, I must admit I never have.”

“We are legends, not myths. The Lost Gods are myths. We are simply well-hidden and reclusive.”

“Are all Zaldun as tall and dark?”

“Some, yes, though few have my stature.”

Gerrar picked up the wine jug and sat on the edge of the bed: “This is all very interesting, but it still doesn’t answer the question as to how Yunada knew I’d be here.”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “How long have you been at this game, Gerrar? Fifteen years? Longer? Yet you have the temerity to question the efficacy of a network of agents to which you yourself belong!”

“You have a point. Nevertheless, you tracked me here and represent an unknown, possibly unknowable threat. I should simply kill you and take my payment.”

“Perhaps I am the payment.”

Gerrar raised an eyebrow: “You? I can get all the parzailen I want for a fraction of my usual fee.”

Luna sat and crossed her legs elegantly: “Undoubtedly, but I am no parzaile. I am a galdu the likes of which you have never seen.”

Gerrar took swig of wine and chuckled: “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard one of you actually prefer to be called that. Usually you play coy and try to adopt the milder name of ‘parzaile’ even as I stick my cock down your throat!”

Luna smiled: “Perhaps, but perhaps the farm girls and slaves you are used to are simply too self-conscious to embrace the role to its fullest.”

Gerrar laughed: “Oh, you are different! But the solution would remain: I could take my payment and kill you when I was finished.”

Luna nodded: “You could mount me like a dalzi, and I would never know when your blade would strike until it was too late, and I felt it across my throat.”

Gerrar’s eyes glittered as he sat forward and tipped the wine jug again: “You are no mere galdu! You’re clearly dangerous! Who are you?”

“What does it matter? I am here, I am unarmed and I am prepared to give you your payment, as well as a generous bonus in gems.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out two walnut-sized sapphires, as well as the stone jar. She stood and placed the jewels on the mantle next to her dagger.

Gerrar grinned: “Very nice, but what of the poison you just put back in your pocket?”

Luna took the jar back out: “This is no poison--well not in small amounts, anyway. This, shall we say, has the ability to enhance and amplify erotic and carnal experiences.”

She removed the lid and again dipped in a forefinger. She closed her lips around it and cleaned it off: “See? Not a poison. In fact--”

Luna reached in with two fingertips and flicked the sticky, oily salve into the fire. The small room filled with a spicy, pungent aroma within moments. She leaned toward the fire and breathed deeply.

Gerrar furrowed his brow and sniffed the air: “I know this scent…”

Luna nodded: “It is mets’il, and I promise you an experience unlike any you have ever known!”

She stood and removed her doublet, blouse, boots and trousers: “Come, Gerrar--I have done the hard work, here. Reveal now your reward!”

Gerrar took another swig of wine, stood slowly, and walked forward unsteadily, his eyes locked with Luna’s. He stopped inches from her face and lifted her camisole over her head as she stretched her arms high with a faint smile. He put a hand out to touch her left breast.

She pushed it away: “You are nearly done--finish your task!”

He spit the zaka into the fire, licked his lips and trembled as he reached down and slid Luna’s glossy black shorts over her hips. They fell to the floor silently as Luna stepped free of them, picked up the stone jar and dagger, and moved to the bed.

She sat on the edge and gestured to Gerrar: “And now for your final surprise: I am indeed no mere galdu--I am a T’zesa of the Zaldun, and as a noble, I claim first right of pleasure. Kneel!”

Gerrar furrowed his brow as he stepped toward the bed and dropped to his knees: “There is no Zaldun...you are...you are…”

Luna spread her legs and propped a foot on the edge of the bed. She scooped a generous dollop of mets’il from the jar, arched her back, lifted her backside and ran her fingers from her tailbone up between her legs, parting and tracing her folds as she went. She ended by wiping her fingers off between her breasts.

Gerrar stared at her fingers as they left their glistening, aromatic trail. He moved in close, finally burying his face between Luna’s loins.

She braced herself with one hand behind her back, licked her fingers clean on her other hand and placed it atop Gerrar’s clean-shaven head: “If this is poison, Tunzal, then take your full measure and let us die together!”

He murmured and panted, hardly able to catch his breath in the sweet, intoxicating swirl of mets’il and musk and wine. He wrapped his arms around Luna’s waist as she pressed her hips forward.

Gerrar finally pulled free after several minutes, and began working his mouth and tongue up over Luna’s mound toward her stomach. She dug her nails lightly into his scalp.

“No, no--you are not done. All of it!”

Gerrar’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to speak, but Luna arched her legs wide and high and folded them tightly across Gerrar’s back.

She spread her hand and firmly pushed Gerrar’s head down. A moment later her eyebrows jumped and she bit her trembling lip.

Luna laid back and let out a long, ragged sigh as her eyes fluttered shut: “Dirty boy…”

Reaper awoke on the floor of the Sisters’ ruined castle: “What the…? How in Tartarus did I get here?”

“I suspected you were getting lonely up here on this frigid, wind-swept hill, so I thought I would keep you company.”

Reaper sat up and turned to face Nightmare Moon, who was dressed again in a shimmering silver sheath dress: “Oh, it’s you.”

Nightmare Moon arched an eyebrow: “It is nice to see you, too!”

He rolled his eyes: “You know what I mean! Where’s Luna? What is she doing?”

“Fucking, I assume.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “What?”

“True Sister is not as, shall we say, adventurous as I am when it comes to these things, so I felt it best to leave her to enjoy it in her own fashion.”

“But who…? Oh. Gerrar.”

Nightmare Moon nodded: “Yes. She agrees that he needs to be removed from the playing field, but does not think you capable of actually confronting yourself.”

Reaper stood and glared.

Nightmare Moon put up a hand: “We mean no offense, but to be fair Luna does have extensive experience dealing with a contentious alter ego.”

“Fine. But what’s her plan?”

“I am unsure. True Sister has become quite adept recently at masking her intentions. It is rather unnerving. Now I suppose I know how she feels!”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Are you truly two distinct spirits?”

Nightmare Moon nodded: “And I have you to thank for that, Harbinger.”

“What?”

“Yes. When you filled Luna with your essence, bringing her back to life, it empowered and awoke me in a way no magic could. Yours is not magic the way a unicorn or alicorn would understand it. You possess a primal, cosmic energy that transcends normal constraints. As a result, I began to feel myself grow as a separate being, not merely an extension of Luna.”

Reaper’s eyebrow jumped: “You called her Luna!”

Nightmare Moon nodded: “Yes. These last few days I have begun to feel detached from her in a way I never have before. Your power, this place--this world--it has all come together and helped me coalesce as an independent being.”

“But that’s not possible! You’re just a part of Luna’s psyche! A projection!”

“That may have been true, once, but after a thousand years in solitary confinement, with the persona you think of as Luna buried deep, I became dominant.”

Nightmare Moon stepped over to a broken table and lifted a cracked chalice filled with red wine: “The Usurper and her minions did an outstanding job vanquishing me, but I cannot be totally destroyed.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “I’ve heard the stories of the Tantabus--was that you?”

“No, though I was aware of it. It was a fascinating exercise--a puppet Luna crafted in imitation of my shadows, which finally broke loose.”

Reaper nodded: “Like the Void, but less so…”

“No. The Void is more like a golem. It was crafted of actual life energy, twisted and darkened. I believe it finally achieved a sort of sentience.”

Reaper chewed his lip for a bit: “Yeah, that actually jibes with my experience inside the Void for that moment before I reaped Grey Thorn. It felt ravenously hungry.”

“Yes. And it had been feeding on life energy for centuries, becoming stronger and more corrupt.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Something you know well, yes?”

Nightmare Moon tipped her head high and narrowed her eyes: “Yes, but let me tell you a brief tale. When Grey Thorn rendered the Usurper and Luna insensate, I had a conversation with True Sister.”

Reaper nodded: “She told me.”

“I am sure, though she likely whittled it down to ‘we chatted for a minute.’ The reality was somewhat richer.”

Reaper shrugged: “We seem to be stuck here for a bit, so fill me in.”

“When Luna finally decided it was time to break the spell that held the Usurper, then leave, she made it clear she was doing it because, win or lose, there were ponies depending on her, and she could not let them down.”

“And she didn’t. She gave her life in the effort.”

“As did I, Harbinger.”

“What?”

“Of course. I dwell with or within Luna, depending on your perspective. I too, died that day.”

“That makes sense.”

“And I realized that Luna had finally achieved the thing she, I, we had always wanted all those centuries ago--to be needed, to be honored, to give of ourselves and receive in return. That, combined with the dying knowledge that my passing would not even be noticed brought me to a new place.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Nightmare Moon the Reformed?”

Nightmare Moon chuckled: “I would not go that far, but I did finally understand that the pain and damage I had inflicted for all those centuries had caused me nearly as much damage.”

Reaper smiled grimly: “I empathize. As I said in the vision you forced out of me a few days ago: ‘From one monster to another…’”

“Yes, though a monster with fifty times your tenure.”

“I suppose. It’s why I finally decided to bring it all to an end: Yunada’s madness and brutality, my enabling of that brutality, his life, my life. And now Luna’s caught in the middle, and she’s in great danger!”

Luna closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath through flared nostrils; she grinned: “Some danger, perhaps, but she appears to have the situation well...hmm. Not ‘in-hand’ exactly, but in something!”

“Dammit, Luna!”

“Now, now--let the girl have her fun! She has not taken her pleasure with a stallion in, well, practically forever! She has played with the spa ponies occasionally since my downfall, but this is different.”

Reaper paced and shook his head angrily: “That’s not it! I don’t think you fully appreciate what Gerrar’s capable of!”

Nightmare Moon took a sip of wine and tipped her head sideways: “Do you recall your interrogation of Zain the other night?”

“Of course.”

“As do I--vividly. Luna took your ‘advice’ to not hurry back, and hid behind a tree just out of range of the firelight.”

“Yeah, I assumed as much.”

Nightmare Moon took another, deeper sip: “Well, as you approached the conclusion of your demonstration, and brought that heated blade up between Zain’s legs, I knew, of a certainty, that he was, indeed burnt flesh. He would perish in agony that night.”

“But he didn’t...”

Nightmare Moon waved dismissively: “Let me finish. My concern at that moment was not for him. I was certain, given my long tenure as Mistress of Terror and Torment, that he was dead. My concern was for Luna, and by extension, myself.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow.

Nightmare Moon nodded: “Yes. I felt a thrill run down from the pit of our stomach through our bowels when I realized that since you were now fully invested in Gerrar’s role, you would inevitably turn on Luna.”

Reaper chewed his lip: “No witnesses…”

“Exactly.”

Nightmare Moon stood, fists clenched: “I could not help but run a hundred scenarios through my--our--mind in a flash as I contemplated our fate. I felt the searing pain, smelled the splitting, crackling skin, heard the screams I myself had elicited over the centuries.”

She turned away: “But I had never before beheld these things with my own, living eyes. I quailed and Luna actually retched.”

Reaper stepped up behind Nightmare Moon and put his hand on her shoulder: “I’m sorry.”

She straightened and turned around with a thin smile: “Do not be. You did what needed to be done--and at the cost of no lives, as it would turn out. But do not think for a minute that Luna or I are under any illusion as to the risk Gerrar poses.”

Reaper nodded: “All the more reason for me to get down there in case things have gone wrong!”

Nightmare Moon sat on a fallen block of stone and crossed her legs. She closed her eyes: “I do not believe that will be necessary. It appears this particular act in our play is concluding.”

She opened her eyes and looked at Reaper with a grin: “Would you like me to show you? The symmetry of you and me coupling here in the dreamscape while Luna couples with Gerrar would be delicious!”

“No…”

Nightmare Moon pointed at the banner hanging above them: “Perhaps you would like to watch, then? At least watch from Luna’s perspective…”

Reaper rolled his eyes: “No--thank you.”

Nightmare Moon sighed and shuddered: “It is just as well. I think we have missed our window of opportunity at any rate.”

She stood and smoothed her dress: “Ironically, given what just transpired a moment ago, I believe Luna is now guiding Gerrar to the actual climax of their scene. It is time for you to pack up the encampment and lead the dalzi down the hill.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “What’s going on?”

“I am not entirely certain, but I suspect that as you approach the hut below, it will be time for you to enter ‘stage right' for the dénouement.”

“Where will you be?”

Nightmare Moon smiled: “If she is doing what I think she is doing, I am going to lurk in the shadows and watch what will likely be True Sister’s greatest act of creation!”

Reaper furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but she was gone, and the castle dissolved away, leaving him on his back, staring up at the fluttering shelter as the icy wind tugged at it.

Exile
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Exile

Luna quivered and moaned in deep, luxurious tones as waves of ecstasy washed over her. Gerrar felt her pulsing and clenching along his length as her nails dug into his shoulders, and her legs tightened inexorably around his backside.

The sensation, the body heat, the sweet, pungent scent of her sex, the mets’il--it was too much, and Gerrar finally gasped and arched his back as he emptied himself, pulse after pulse into Luna, who spasmed and cried out with each wave of their shared climax.

She opened her eyes even as Gerrar was still shuddering and panting. His legs were twitching weakly and she could feel his heartbeat pounding against her breasts in time with the throbbing she felt deep inside her own body.

Luna took a long, slow breath: “Gerrar…”

He gasped: “Gods!”

“Gerrar…”

He pressed his face against her neck, burying it in her glossy, black hair: “Wha--what? Oh, Gods! I--I can’t…catch...my breath!”

“Kiss me.”

Gerrar’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, then squeezed shut again as he was wracked by a final spasm. Luna moaned lightly as she felt another surge of warmth in her loins.

“Kiss me.”

Gerrar groaned and reached a shaky hand through Luna’s hair to the back of her head. He pulled her in close and pressed his hungry mouth against hers. She murmured something softly. He opened his eyes and toppled helplessly into an aquamarine chasm.

“Sleep.”

The world washed away in a glittering silver wave.

Gerrar awoke some time later in a sun-dappled garden. The scents of hydrangea and lilac were as unfamiliar to him as the surroundings. He had never been here. He had never seen anything like it, even in the finest palaces of the Southlands.

He tried to sit, and awkwardly struggled to his knees--all four of them. His eyes went wide as he took a look at his body. It was covered with a dense, tan coat, and his four limbs now ended in hooves. He had a tail, streaked with brown and grey.

“What in the name of T'zarjāin is going on?!”

“I can assure you that the God of Death has nothing to do with this.”

Gerrar swung his head around and saw Luna walking barefoot across the sward toward him, clad in a simple indigo robe and crescent moon pendant.

“Where are we?”

“We are in the garden off my sister’s solarium. It is one of my more favorite locations to stroll and think and take in the air.”

She sat nearby on a low stone bench: “Do not let my sister know, but I actually rather enjoy mornings sometimes!”

Gerrar struggled to his hooves: “That still doesn’t really answer the question--nor the question as to what happened to me!”

Luna nodded: “I understand your confusion. I went through something similar a few weeks ago. You are now a pony. It is a creature akin to a dalzi.”

“I’m a beast?”

“Not on this world. Here, ponies are the dominant sentient species, as with the Kurlin on Kur.”

“But—but how did we get here? Why are we here?”

Luna stood and walked toward a small fountain carved in the shape of a pair of entwined pegasi, captured as though in flight: “We are here because I brought you here.”

“Again, how? Why?”

“To be honest, this is not real; you are in a dream. On this world I am the Princess of the Night, and Mistress of the Domain of Sleep and Dreams.”

“Well, this all seems quite pleasant, but I’m not sure I see the point. When I awaken—”

Luna smiled sadly: “You will never awaken.”

Gerrar’s eyebrows jumped: “What do you mean?”

“Precisely what I said: you will never awaken. This is your final destination. You will not meet Yunada, you will not betray him, you will not fall before the gates of Fort Torlek.”

A look of shock came across Gerrar’s face: “How do you know these things? What have you done? How did Yunada hear of this?”

Luna put up a hand: “I phrased that poorly. You, Gerrar, as you are, will never again walk upon Kur. But you, as the one named ‘Reaper,’ are on Kur as we speak, and will do all the things you would do, as you would have them done.”

“I don’t understand. Why would someone else do these things in my stead? Why not just leave me to do them myself? I plan to be dead within two or so days as it is!”

Luna reached for a carafe of wine that had appeared on a tray beside the bench. She poured a cup and took a sip: “In a bit over two days you were to have died, after successfully betraying Yunada. At that time, Death or Fate or whoever doles out such assignments will choose you to be the new agent and avatar of Death on our world. You arrive here and take up the name ‘Reaper.’ You have now been here for thousands of years.”

“How horrible! I know I deserve to be punished for the evil I’ve committed, but--”

Luna held up her hand and shook her head: “It is not a punishment--it is a duty. You were sent to us as our species first became fully self-aware and developed an essence, a spirit worthy of some greater fate beyond death than the mere oblivion meted out to beasts.”

“What fate?”

“We do not know. To be honest, neither do you. As Reaper you are a custodian of the spirits of the deceased, and conduct ponies beyond this world to whatever awaits them.”

Gerrar walked a bit, wobbling and stopping: “True, that doesn’t sound much like old T'zarjāin the Blackhearted.”

Luna smiled: “I suspect Kur’s God of Death was as unfairly libeled as our Reaper here--victims of fear and uncertainty and ignorance.”

“Maybe. So this ‘Reaper,’ he doesn’t have to kill?”

“Very rarely. He has a sword for such things, but it is usually only employed in cases of particularly recalcitrant ponies or hauntings.”

Gerrar looked around and furrowed his brow: “I’m not sure I’d have chosen to get stuck as Death’s Agent in a dream. I dream enough about death as it is!”

“Well, Reaper is untroubled by dreams or anything else of the flesh. He feels no desire, has no fear, knows no need. His allegiance is to his task and the care of our world.”

Gerrar shrugged: “I could tolerate that.”

Luna smiled softly: “However, that is not why you are here. You will spend the rest of your days enjoying the company of the ponies of this world--resting and reading and conversing and playing and loving and eating and anything else you like.”

“Again, why?”

“Some weeks ago, a fellow Princess and I were slain combating an evil wizard. Reaper emptied himself of all his power to bring us back.”

“That doesn’t sound especially smart. It seems that Death’s Agent should just tend to his job.”

Luna nodded: “Many might agree, but Reaper believed my companion and I have higher purposes, and that our deaths would be disruptive to this world.”

Gerrar shrugged: “Based on the old stories, Kur certainly doesn’t seem any worse off for the loss of its gods.”

“Perhaps, but be that as it may, this act started us down the path toward Reaper and me journeying to your world in order to have him die again before the gates of Fort Torlek on the appointed day.”

Gerrar nodded: “I see. And there couldn’t be two of us.”

“Correct. I had to remove you from the board in order to allow Reaper to retrace his final steps and engage again with Death, in an attempt to regain his power.”

Gerrar looked at the wine on the tray: “I have no fingers--or hands, for that matter! How am I supposed to pick anything up?”

Luna smiled: “You are a unicorn--a type of pony who can control magic. Point your head down a bit and concentrate on picking up the cup.”

Gerrar stared at the cup and bit his lip. His horn glowed and the cup slowly raised into the air and drifted toward his mouth. He took a tentative sip, then set the cup back down, sloshing a bit in the process.

“So why not just kill me? You had that naked dagger between us for much of our time together, and you got past my guard at last. Why not simply plunge it through my throat?”

Luna shook her head: “I cannot kill, Gerrar; it is not in my nature. I was cruel and dark once, but no more. I will kill if I absolutely must, in the heat of battle, but not if there is another way.”

She turned a circle holding her arms outstretched: “This is that way.”

“So now what?”

“Now I must go and aid Reaper in his final act. When all is done, you will still--for all intents and purposes--be dead and Yunada will be vanquished as you wished.”

“And then?”

“Hopefully Reaper and I will be back on our world, and the balance of things will be restored.”

“And I will be here, dreaming this dream, apparently. Will you be here as well?”

Luna smiled softly: “No, but I can leave an echo of myself, a vision as most ponies see me. However you and I will never meet again within the circles of this life.”

Gerrar nodded: “This is a better fate than I deserved. Farewell and good luck, T’zesa!”

Luna furrowed her brow and turned back around: “Fate. Speaking of…”

She nodded toward Gerrar’s flank; Reaper’s old cutie mark faded away.

He glanced back: “What was that?”

“It was Reaper’s distinctive mark. It means 'death' in the language of yet another world, another reality.”

“So what goes there now?”

Luna smiled: “That is for you to discover! Ask around--I am sure you will receive ample help!”

She walked through the door into the solarium. Gerrar watched, and as he turned away, a long, elegant, silver-shod, indigo leg stepped through the entry, accompanied in stride by a gold-clad, white limb, and a mingling of radiance and deep shadow.

Luna roused slowly and gazed into Gerrar’s blank, staring eyes. She brought a hand up and closed his lids, then cautiously rolled from her side to her back, extracting herself from Gerrar’s arms as his now-spent member slipped free from her body, trailing the last of his seed down her inner thigh.

The door opened and Reaper stepped in, accompanied by a gust of icy wind. He watched as Luna stiffly set up on the edge of the bed and dabbed absently at a trickle of blood on her left breast.

“Please bring me a cloak.”

Reaper nodded and took up her dark blue cloak from the chair.

Luna furrowed her brow as she looked at the bed, the shattered wine jug, the blood-smeared dagger, the half-empty stone jar, the streaks of Gerrar’s and her own fluids glistening on her skin and soaked into the quilt.

“No. Not that one. I would rather not stain it with…”

Reaper reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a nightshirt, draping it around Luna’s shoulders.

Luna trembled and pulled the fabric close: “Thank you. Please warm some water.”

Reaper pulled out the small metal pan and water bottle, and stoked the fire before placing the pan among the embers. He handed Luna the water bottle.

Her hand shook as she raised the bottle to her lips and swallowed a mouthful: “Thank you.”

Reaper knelt next to the bed, his brow furrowed: “Are you OK? This all looks pretty rough…” He gestured to the disarray on display across the bed.

Luna blinked slowly and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked back at Gerrar’s inert body, still slumped on its side, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded.

Reaper sucked air through his teeth: “I remember well who I was then, and I am truly sorry you had to--”

“That is not it.”

“What?”

“Every fluid you see splattered and smeared, every cut of the dagger on his skin and mine, every bite mark, everything he did to my body and I to his, was entirely up to me.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow skeptically: “Then what--”

“It is what I did after all you see here that haunts me.”

Reaper moved back to the fire and brought over the pan of water. He reached into his bag, retrieved a towel and handed it to Luna.

She dipped the cloth in the warm water and began absently wiping and blotting: “All you see here--the last two hours--was in preparation for the final few minutes before your arrival.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I took you unawares and rendered you hors de combat, yes?”

Reaper nodded.

“It was easy because you trust me.”

Reaper bristled and opened his mouth to reply, but Luna cut him off: “And that speaks well of you, Reaper. We are friends and I am sorry I took advantage of that trust. I hope you can forgive me, but I had need of haste, and I knew your defenses would be minimal.”

Reaper chewed the inside of his lip but remained silent.

Luna rinsed the cloth, spread her legs and began cleaning from her belly down to her ass, tipping from side to side, lifting each leg in its turn.

“Gerrar, on the other hand, had his defenses up at all times. No matter what we did, what was said, where my mouth or fingers were or his, no matter the wine or zaka or mets'il, he was always on guard.”

“It’s how I stayed alive for so long.”

“Precisely. And I had to finally break that. Even at the end, as he was emptying himself into me in his ultimate moment of ecstatic release, I could see the glint of steel in his eyes, could feel the shutters about to fall.”

Reaper nodded and rummaged in the saddle bag for the Equestrian antiseptic ointment.

“So I dropped all my own defenses, let the moment sweep me away, and asked him to kiss me.”

Reaper looked up and raised an eyebrow: “That’s certainly not galdu-like behavior!”

“No, and I think that last act caught him off-guard just enough that he opened his eyes and stared fully into mine.”

Reaper smiled grimly: “And was lost.”

Luna sighed: “Yes. Sleep came swiftly, and he will sleep for all time, now.”

Reaper pulled out a wineskin that still contained some cider. He opened it, took a drink and handed it to Luna: “But what happens if he awakens?”

Luna shook her head: “‘For all time.’ He will never awaken. I have trapped him in an isolated dreamscape of one and cast him away. He can never awaken, for he is no longer here.”

She looked over her shoulder: “That is an empty husk, which will soon wither and die in the absence of its spirit.”

Reaper’s eyes went wide: “Wow. Yes, without a spirit, a body doesn’t have long--a few days at most.”

Luna shuddered, rinsed the towel and began cleaning her face and neck: “His spirit now dwells in a perfect copy of Equestria. He has your form as you appear there, though without a cutie mark.”

“Does he know what happened to him?”

“Yes. I explained the reasons and his fate. He seemed to accept it.”

Reaper smiled: “All of Equestria? All its ponies and denizens?”

Luna took another swig of cider and gingerly wiped the blood and sweat from her breasts: “Yes. Every pony whose dreams I can recall for hundreds of generations will be there.”

“Nightmare Moon was right--this is your greatest act of creation!”

Luna nodded slowly and winced as she sponged a swollen nipple clean: “I sensed my alter ego somewhere in the shadows. I know she was watching at the end.”

Reaper chuckled: “Maybe she stayed behind, too!”

Luna smiled weakly: “No, she did not; that would not have been possible."

Reaper tipped his head: “So are you there? Is Celestia?”

“I was able to make convincing facsimiles of myself and my sister. They are not as fully-rendered as the other ponies, but Gerrar will never really know that. He should find them engaging and pleasant companions in any event.”

“I don’t know what to say. This was a better fate than he deserved.”

Luna smiled grimly: “That is what he said, too.”

“Right, so I don’t see the problem. Honestly, you should have just killed him when you had the chance!”

Luna trembled and dropped the towel in her lap: “He said that too. But...but I cannot kill, Reaper--not in cold blood! Not even in the heat of passion!”

“Then you did the best you could. What’s the problem?”

Tears began to drip down Luna’s cheeks: “I sent him into exile, Reaper--me! The one who suffered a thousand years of exile! No being alive knows more about the empty, gnawing pain of exile than I do!”

“Even he admits that what happened--”

“It does not matter what he admitted or you confirm! I just stared into his empty eyes mere minutes ago knowing that he is now cast adrift in a prison of my design!”

Luna hunched forward and began to sob. Reaper stood and stepped toward the bed. He stopped and grimaced as he got a closer look at the quilt, and caught its sour scent: “Wow--you weren’t kidding about ‘fluids,’ were you?”

Reaper opened the saddlebag and pulled out a blanket, stepped beside the bed and pulled Gerrar’s body to the floor. He removed the quilt and draped it over his doppelgänger, then spread the clean blanket across the straw-stuffed mattress.

He removed his boots and cloak and sat down next to Luna. He leaned forward and picked up the jar of unguent and began applying it to the bites on Luna’s neck, and the deep scratch across her left breast.

Luna continued trembling and sobbing softly, but allowed Reaper to lay her on her side as he finished wiping her clean and dabbing ointment on her wounds.

He finished and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair, holding her as her sobs died away: “I’m sorry it came to that, Luna. I wish I had--”

“Nothing. There is nothing you could have done. Gerrar would have killed you the moment you stepped through that door. I know that now with a certainty.”

Reaper closed his eyes and nodded: “Still, I wish there had been another way.”

“As do I, Reaper.”

Luna turned to face Reaper, eyes closed: “Kiss me, please.”

Reaper furrowed his brow then leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against Luna’s, his eyes locked on her tear-dappled eyelashes. They held the kiss for several moments, then Luna rolled back over and pulled the blanket tight against her breast.

“Thank you.”

Reaper took a deep breath and settled in next to Luna as exhaustion overtook him. The lamp guttered out.

Nightmare Moon appeared in the fireside chair, her fingertips pressed together, staring at Gerrar’s inert form.

Descent
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Descent

Noble Steel took point as Zecora’s team worked its way down the long, shallow slope from the upper rim of the chasm to its first major ledge. They picked their way, single-file, along a loose, wet, pebble-covered path that descended via a series of tight switchbacks and hairpins.

Smudge arched a wing above her head: “I fucking hate caves! They’re all drippy and dank and slow as Tartarus to traverse!”

She pointed through a gap in the cave walls: “We could be over to that next ledge by now if we could all fly!”

Solar Gleam rolled his eyes as he formed a water-shedding screen above himself and Zecora: “Well, yes--perhaps Celestia should have sent a full pegasus team, then! I’m sure your pegasus wizard would have no trouble--oh! I forgot! Pegasi can’t use magic!”

Smudge ground her teeth: “I know that--I’m just a little frustrated at how long this is all gonna take before we get into the real action!”

Noble nodded: “I agree, though I see an issue coming up fairly soon.”

Shatter raised an eyebrow: “What’s that, Lieutenant?”

“We’re going to have to span the first major gap at the bottom of this set of switchbacks.”

“Right--the map says so. So what’s the problem?”

Noble looked nervously back over his shoulder: “Meaning no disrespect, Ma’am, but Zecora is the problem.”

“No, Smudge and I will fly, and you and Solar here will take turns teleporting across any big gaps with Zecora.”

Zecora groaned, and Solar’s eyebrows jumped: “Oh, dear, that’s right!”

Shatter furrowed her brow: “What’s right?”

“Princess Twilight informed me that teleporting leaves Zecora disoriented and nauseated.”

“Alright, levitation, then. Is that OK?”

Zecora nodded.

“Super! Problem solved!”

Shatter squinted at the notes and map: “Although...it looks like we will have to keep an eye out for strong cross winds and updrafts as we get deeper. That’ll make ferrying a bit trickier.”

After several minutes of slipping and shuffling, the team reached the edge of the first gap. Noble Steel teleported across carrying the bulk of the group’s supplies while Smudge flew over with the remainder slung across her back or clenched in her teeth.

Shatter spread her wings and hovered over the gap: “Alright, Solar, levitation time!”

Solar turned to Zecora: “Are you ready?”

She nodded, and was immediately surrounded by a pale blue field which lifted and moved her across the opening in a quick twenty seconds.

Solar set Zecora down as Shatter landed next to the zebra. He then closed his eyes and disappeared with a golden flash, reappearing a moment later next to Noble Steel.

Shatter ruffled her wings: “There we go, folks--just like that. One down and a bunch more to go. Let’s get a move on!”

Noble Steel adjusted his packs: “Yes, ma’am--I’ll keep point!”

“Fine. Smudge! Join the Lieutenant, please!”

As the dark-grey pegasus hustled past Zecora and Solar Gleam, Shatter fell back and turned to the old unicorn: “So explain something to me--how is it nopony seems to know anything about these catacombs and caverns and all this shit down below the palace? I assume the earliest builders and masons sounded a lot of this out before putting in foundations, and that wasn’t really all that long ago!”

Solar nodded: “That is true. However, you have to remember that there were unicorns living in what would become Canterlot long before its founding.”

“I remember my history classes--there were a couple of tribes that overlapped and had settlements in this area.”

“Correct. But what is often overlooked in most classes anymore is the savage nature of early unicorn tribes.”

“Can’t be worse than pegasi…”

Solar smiled grimly: “It is believed that the earliest crude unicorn magic was developed not long after ponies gained true sentience, between five and six thousand years ago. At that time earth ponies were, shall we say, working out their differences with crude weapons and strength. In all honesty, so were the pegasi. Much of your reputation as great warriors is, in my estimation, bluff and bravado.”

Shatter bridled: “‘Bluff and bravado,’ huh? I seem to recall stories of the early pegasus-unicorn conflicts that say otherwise!”

“But those took place long after the Awakening, even if they are still quite old by our current standards.”

“So, what happened in those years, then? Why didn’t unicorns just wipe everypony out?”

“Because they nearly wiped themselves out, first.”

Zecora nodded: “Too much power, too raw and too soon / quickly becomes a curse, not a boon.”

“Exactly. Much of the earliest magic discovered or developed, I’m not really sure what word to use, would be considered forbidden and dark today.”

Shatter furrowed her brow: “Which makes my question all the more relevant!”

Solar nodded: “They likely would have overrun all other ponies, except they were busy wiping each other out. That was the beginning of the unicorn tribal wars that lasted intermittently right up to the Age of the Sisters, especially in the Northern Marches.”

“I don’t know this part…”

“Not surprising. Celestia has done her best over the last few centuries to bury and launder much of this. Many academic careers were derailed long ago by a short, pointed scroll from the Palace.”

“You seem to know a lot…”

Solar smiled: “Because I know when to keep my mouth shut and my quill in its holder. My deep knowledge of the past is an open secret among academics and palace staff. It is why I was selected for this mission.”

“But why hide all this? It’s ancient history, yes?”

Solar took a deep breath: “Yes and no. The worst of the worst ended with entire tribes being wiped out and great, terrible experiments going awry, destroying the wizards who were casting the spells. There are echoes of those days even now: many an old tale of evil warlocks and monsters have a grain of truth to them.”

“OK, but again: ancient history…”

“Not so ancient. You must remember that this period only truly ended with the imposition of order brought about by Celestia. Even her great friend, Starswirl, dabbled heavily in ancient, dark magic--and he is revered as a hero of the early days of Canterlot!”

The team rounded a corner and Noble Steel stopped and held up a hoof: “Captain--didn’t the Major say something about bones and the like?”

“Yes.”

“We’re now at the mapping team’s second checkpoint, and the map has observational notes. There should be a substantial scattering of bones here--some kind of rodent-like things.”

“OK…”

Steel waved his hoof back and forth and increased his horn’s brightness: “No bones.”

Smudge tipped her head sideways quizzically: “Maybe the mapping crew took them?”

Shatter sucked air through her teeth: “No, the Major is a first-rate mapper and note-taker, but she doesn’t color outside the lines. Picking up bones is somepony else’s department.”

She tapped her hoof and looked around the passageway: “So, no evidence of scrape marks or drag trails indicating they were removed?”
“Doesn’t look like it, Ma’am.”

Shatter chewed her lip for a moment: “Well, nothing to look at here then, let’s move on! I presume you can handle a few rat skeleton thingies should the need arise, yes Lieutenant?”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“Lead on then, Red Tabs--I’d like to get some more of this cave behind us before we stop for a chow break!”

The team proceeded through a series of large chambers, riddled with stalactites and stalagmites, and across another wide gap, at which point they came up against a fork in the passage.

Shatter rubbed her muzzle and peered at the map with Zecora: “I don’t see this on Stormy’s map--what’s going on?”

Zecora took a few steps forward and peered up each possible passage: “I doubt such a change in only one day / Let us now see what my dust has to say.”

She lifted the pouch from her neck and scattered a half-hooful of bright blue powder on the ground in front of the party. It began crawling forward like a glittering blue snail trail, until it disappeared into dark shadow down a steep path leading away to the right.

Zecora walked forward into the narrow gap, eyeing its low ceiling warily: “This dark slot seems to be our route / My homing dust leaves little doubt.”

Shatter grimaced: “Great--confined spaces. There’s no mention of this on the map…”

Solar stroked his chin: “It would appear that something is altering the landscape, trying to throw us off.”

Shatter let out a loud sigh: “Well, not on my watch! Red Tabs! Take point and turn on the high-beams. Let’s see what spooky thing it’s cooked up for us--wouldn’t want to disappoint our host!”

Noble Steel nodded and increased his horn’s brightness as he stepped up beside Zecora: “Shall we, Ma’am?”

Zecora nodded and fully entered the passage with a shudder. A wet, squelching noise came from the floor, and heavy, brownish tar-like matter dripped from the ceiling. The odor was intolerable, and the unicorns hastened to generate shields above the party.

Smudge stumbled in behind the unicorn and zebra and fought back the urge to retch: “By Cerberus’ hairy balls! What is that smell?! It’s like we climbed up the ass of a rotting yak!”

Solar looked about him, squinting and trying not to breathe: “That’s not a bad comparison, Lieutenant Dusk. As I look around, it really does remind me of a large, rather unhealthy, alimentary canal.”

The walls began to pulsate, and the unicorns’ light began to fade, as the stench became overwhelming, and ribbons of syrupy blackness poured out of the lowering ceiling.

Smudge stopped, wide-eyed and tried to back up as a nearby outcropping burst, spewing her legs with putrescence. She reared, ramming her backside squarely into Shatter’s chest.

“Where do you think you’re going, Lieutenant?”

The panicky, sweating mare turned to Shatter: “I--I--we gotta get outta here! Holy shit, Captain! I mean, holy shit!”

Shatter squeezed the tears from her watering eyes, squared her shoulders and pressed a forehoof into Smudge’s ribs in an effort to turn the recalcitrant pegasus around. Behind her she heard Solar gagging and coughing.

The Captain suddenly stopped: “Smudge, that’s it--shit! Shit don't run backwards!” She glanced at the floor, which was now ankle-deep in effluent, and saw a faint sparkling thread of blue.

“We know this passage is at least as wide as a pony, and Zecora’s powder is still visible for the moment. Red Tabs, give us the best forward shield you can, and everypony put your heads down and charge ahead!”

She shouldered her way past Smudge and Zecora and rammed Noble in the flank: “Let’s get the fuck out of this literal shithole!”

Shatter flared her wings slightly and shoved Steel’s hindquarters, spurring him to bolt forward with his pale blue shield glowing its brightest. All five ponies staggered forward as fast as they could through the mire, and cleared the end of the polluted passage with a wet ‘splat’ after a couple of minutes of effort, just as Zecora’s powder trail winked out.

The team scattered across a small chamber, dropping to their knees or slumping against the wall.

Shatter leaned up against a stalactite and retched: “Well...that was...close and ...gross!”

Steel cleared his throat and spit repeatedly as tears streamed down his face: “Sweet Celestia that was awful! Was it real, or just some kind of intense illusion or hallucination?”

Zecora uncapped a small potion and took a shaky sip: “I have seen such things in Everfree’s marsh / though none so noxious, defiled or harsh!”

Solar Gleam nodded: “I believe that was real material, enhanced with the dark power of the Void. Twilight told me of several re-animations of clearly long-dead tissues and fragments.”

He stood slowly and used magic to wipe away the muck and slime: “And I fear we in for worse as we go on.”

Smudge wobbled behind a rock outcropping; the splatter of her piss on the cave floor echoed loudly, and she emerged with a sheepish grin as her tail dropped: “Sorry--I just got kind of nervous back there!”

Shatter waved a hoof dismissively: “Hey--I’m just glad you held it ‘til you got your ass out of my face!” She turned back to Solar: “Worse--how so?”

The old unicorn sucked at his teeth for a moment and looked back at the corrupted passage: “I think I’m beginning to understand Grey Thorn better, now.”

Map's End
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Death Be Not Proud

Map's End

Zecora’s team descended through several more smoke-choked chambers and shifting mazes of passages over the next three hours, eventually stopping at the edge of another large gap.

The zebra dropped her bags and sat down heavily next to a spring that trickled away over the edge of the chasm. She sniffed and lapped tentatively at the water, then put a drop of deep green liquid from a vial into a small pool at the base of the spring.

She watched the green stain fade to gold then disappear: “Perhaps we should now take a rest / before continuing our quest.”

Shatter stepped over to Zecora: “I take it the water’s clean?”

Zecora nodded as she leaned down to drink deeply.

“Good to know; Stormy’s crew marked it on the map--I think! It’s getting harder to tell by the minute how accurate this map still is! Anyway, they didn’t check the spring for potability.”

She turned back to the others: “Alright, we’ll take a break here for thirty minutes. Keep your eyes peeled, Red Tabs and Smudge. This place is getting weirder by the hour, and I hate surprises.”

Smudge stepped up to the spring and filled a small pan: “Weird I can handle, Ma’am--I’m just glad we haven’t run across any more puke-worthy nastiness!” She moved aside and began splashing water on her face and down her front.

Solar Gleam sat down and looked over the map: “Agreed. I suspect our host is holding its fire until it gets a better feel for us as adversaries or prey.”

Shatter pulled out a high-protein oat cake and a container of sports drink: “‘Better feel?’ Are you telling me you think that thing can think?”

“Not in quite the way you or I do, Captain--more like a timberwolf or windigo. That is, it is imbued with the cunning of a beast that hunts and lays traps. And I believe it learns.”

“So Grey Thorn made this thing capable of thinking and hunting? Why?”

Solar rerolled the map and brought out one of his notebooks: “I doubt Grey Thorn ever expected to part from the Void. I believe he found its genesis down here in these caverns centuries ago, and thought he would always be in control of his creation.”

Smudge toweled-off her face: “But I thought the bone pit where he made this thing was all full of alien what’s-its from other worlds.”

“I have worked extensively with the archaeology and paleontology teams, and it’s clear that though some skeletons are not of this world, others obviously are--though of long-dead species.”

“Why?”

“He had to start somewhere, and he was aware of the ancient catacombs and passages left by long-gone unicorn tribes. That knowledge was not yet embargoed, and Celestia had yet to cast her spells of cloaking and binding deep beneath the castle’s foundations.”

“So he came down here alone? I’m shocked he made it back alive!”

Zecora furrowed her brow and chewed her lip: “No, not alone, I do not think / From such a journey Starswirl would not shrink.”

“That is my assumption. There are shadowy references in some of his later, fragmentary diaries to a ‘stygian lost world of unknowable antiquity.’ I would say this chasm fits that bill nicely.”

Shatter shook her head: “Doesn’t follow. If he knew about this place, wouldn’t he have thoroughly explored it?”

“Not if he was distracted by other work, as was his wont, say by a pair of portal mirrors. In addition, at some point Grey Thorn sealed off the entrance with a ward Starswirl would have been loathe to violate.”

Noble Steel joined the group, now circled around the old unicorn: “Alright, my turn to call horseshit now! No way Starswirl couldn’t get through anything his pupil could throw in his way!”

Solar smiled grimly: “Normally you’d be right, but Starswirl had an aversion to blood magic, especially when it required virgin’s blood. He hated the idea and couldn’t bring himself to seek out the key component.”

Shatter swallowed and tipped her head sideways: “Hang on! You’ve gotten us in and out of that secret entrance in the pit with a vial of…”

She blinked slowly, looked up at the cave roof above them and sighed: “I get it, now. Damn, girl--you need to get out more!”

Zecora shook her head sadly: “A maiden indeed the young Princess may be / This revelation does not surprise me / She spends all her days with her parchments and work / So the practice of love she sadly must shirk!”

Smudge shrugged: “Well, there are options…”

Solar and Zecora looked puzzled as the three soldiers exchanged knowing glances.

Shatter noticed the civilians’ confusion and quickly belched theatrically: “Oh, ‘scuse me! Well, anyway--so the student outwits his master and locks him out. Surely Starswirl must have known something was up.”

“I’m sure he did. By this time Death had visited him once, and in an effort to undo the wrongs he saw arising, he sealed-off the ‘lost’ library and put wards on the passages. Grey Thorn feigned defeat and bided his time until Starswirl finally died, then came back down here to retrieve his embryonic creation.”

Steel nodded: “And take it upstairs. Why?”

“Convenience, I suspect, and a need to contain it in a controlled environment. I have studied the remnants of his wards on the wall between his study and the creation chamber. They are the mightiest collection of interwoven binding spells I’ve ever seen.”

Shatter emptied her sports drink and stood to stretch: “So maybe Starswirl wasn’t quite all he was cracked up to be. Sounds like his protégé was a cut above after all.”

Zecora shook her head: “All is not as simple as it seems / The pupil oft builds on their Master’s dreams.”

Solar nodded: “Precisely. I suspect that those last twenty years Starswirl stole from Death were used by Grey Thorn to extract anything he could from the tired, frustrated old wizard, under the guise of helping his (that is Starswirl’s) research.”

Smudge spit out an apple core: “And his own, to boot!”

“Yes. They were likely becoming one and the same by then. Grey Thorn had no qualms about acquiring and using virgin’s blood, and Starswirl likely looked the other way toward the end, until he just couldn’t justify it anymore, and blocked-up passages, cast wards, burned materials.”

Steel shrugged: “But to no avail, it appears.”

“No. It was too late by then--the die had been cast, and Grey Thorn was likely content to just let the old stallion ‘run out the clock.’”

Shatter turned away and walked back toward the upward-bending, return passage: “Yeah--a luxury we don’t have. Time to hit the road, kids. Take a leak and fill your bottles one last time; I’d like to make it to the end of the good Major’s map tonight.”

She backed into the shadows and lifted her tail as the others began repacking and drinking their fill at the spring. She stepped back into the midst of the team a minute later, flicking her tail and arching her wings: “So where’s our next big gap? The walls are so narrow here I think I could just jump over this one! I could really use even a minute of proper air time!”

Smudge stepped beside Noble Steel, who was unrolling the map: “I hear that, Ma’am! I’m getting a kink in my withers from all the tension!”

The unicorn peered closely at the map: “Looks like we descend one more big switchback, then come to...what? The note here refers to a ‘cataract.’ That can’t be right. There’s no real water down here--certainly not enough for a huge waterfall!”

Shatter and Zecora moved alongside Steel: “Let me see that.”

Shatter pored over the notes for a moment: “That’s what it says: ‘cataract.’ Misused word? Metaphor? Spelling error?”

Zecora pondered for a moment and squinted into the gloom leading down the passage, away from the spring: “Please observe how crude is the Major’s map / once they journeyed beyond this cryptic gap.”

Solar Gleam nodded: “Almost as though they could no longer accurately perceive their surroundings.”

Shatter chewed her lip: “Or were too freaked-out to care. You recall Stormy’s comment about one of her crew shitting himself, yes?”

Steel nodded and glanced at Smudge, who shifted her hooves nervously: “What?”

Shatter spread a wing across her fellow pegasus’ shoulder: “It’s fine, Lieutenant. The Major was down here with mapmakers and archeology types, not hardened soldiers. I have complete faith in everypony here.”

Zecora nodded: “The Major’s team was skilled, no doubt / but we are all more bold and stout!”

Shatter adjusted her shoulder bag and tipped her chin up: “Damn straight! Let’s move out! Red Tabs, you’re on point!”

Steel shifted his load and sighed and sighed as he teleported: “As always…”

The Captain grinned: “That’s the spirit!”

It took the team three exhausting, nerve-wracking hours and several false dead-ends before the team arrived at the bottom of the passage, and the edge of the chasm. They stood inside a large amphitheater-like cave which opened out into the bigger cavern. The far landing and its equivalent chamber was shrouded in a thick river of fog that poured over the ledge, and swirled in eddies and whirlpools kicked-up by strong, chaotic winds.

Shatter stopped and glared across the gap: “Well, that explains ‘cataract’ then, doesn’t it?”

Smudge stepped up next to her fellow pegasus: “And I sure don’t like the look of those cross-currents and downdrafts!”

“Yeah--where’s Blackout when we need her?”

“No kidding! She’d love this shit!”

Solar Gleam joined the pegasi and furrowed his brow: “You raise an interesting point. We are not yet down a thousand yards, are we?”

Shatter glanced at the map: “No, it looks like the mapping team sounded this point at around 340 yards. Why?”

“Should not your gifted friend have remarked on something this odd on her way to and from a thousand yards down?”

The Captain cocked an eyebrow: “You’re right--no way Blackout would have missed anything this obvious. The cross-currents, the eddies, the change in moisture and pressure all would have been red flags.”

Zecora nodded: “Yet again we must contend / with a realm our foe can bend.”

Solar stepped toward the edge and cast a bright beam, illuminating the fog, but showing no detail: “Agreed. The Void is now twisting everything in an effort to block us. I am sure it was not this bad when Blackout performed her reconnaissance some two days ago.”

Shatter sighed: “True. And a single pegasus zipping down then back up would hardly have registered as much of a risk. If you’re right, and this thing is perceiving us as a hunted predator would, then our merry little band is a whole lot bigger threat!”

A gust of wind hit the team, and Smudge fanned her wings: “That’s some nasty air out there! What’s the plan?”

Shatter chewed her lip and squinted into the wind: “OK, so it’s going to be tricky enough for Smudge and me to get across without getting tossed into all those low-hanging outcroppings, and I don’t like the thought of teleporting blind into a six-foot-thick river of fog. Suggestions?”

Zecora took a step forward and stared intently across the chasm: “Send me over first as a guide / I can then hold the other side!”

Solar stepped up beside Zecora and nodded: “Yes--I should be able to levitate you across with less interference than our flying friends will encounter. And if you drop onto a rough or uneven patch, it’s not nearly as bad as teleporting blind into a chunk of stone!”

Zecora and Solar took a final tentative step to the lip of the chasm, and the unicorn peered at the far ledge, judging the final distance: “I have the range--are you ready?”

Zecora nodded and was wrapped in a pale violet glow. Solar lifted her off the floor several feet and sent her skimming across the fog toward the opposite rim.

The zebra had just cleared the edge when a sudden blast and shriek filled the air, and a blood-red glow filled the passageway behind the remaining four ponies.

Shatter snapped her head around and flared her wings: “What the fuck?!”

Solar started and dropped Zecora the last few feet toward the distant ledge. Her eyes popped wide as the solid surface below her dissolved away, and she fell with a scream through the swirling fog.

Noble Steel had been watching Solar ferry Zecora, and he leaped forward, sparks flying from his shoes: “Shit! You dropped her! Solar--tether me!” He dashed toward the chasm and jumped off just as Solar threw a band of magic around the leaping unicorn’s rear ankle.

Steel squeezed his eyes shut and knit his brows, hastily probing the area for Zecora’s mass and form, sending out a wave of magic, catching her as she plummeted downward. There was a pale blue flash in the fog on the far side of the gap, followed by a heavy thud. A few moments later Zecora could be heard coughing weakly and retching.

Steel hung still, head down in the fog for a few moments, catching his breath and regaining his bearings. Solar Gleam began reeling his fellow unicorn back in.

Smudge and Shatter had turned away from the unicorns to face whatever was coming at them from behind as the red glow intensified, and a heavy rumble began to fill the air.

Shatter glanced briefly over her shoulder: “Did you get her? We have to move, NOW!”

Solar deposited Steel next to him and took a deep, shuddering breath: “Yes--she’s on the other side now. The far rim is an illusion! It’s actually a good twenty feet further back than it appears!”

“Great! Let’s get the fuck out of here! Red Tabs--do you have a good bead on Zecora?”

“Yes Ma’am--I can sense the spot where she dropped, and can hear her, well, puking.”

The pegasi were backpedaling slowly as the red glow advanced, and the shrieking became a howl: “Flash-bang the gear over and you two follow! I want a horn-shaped landing beacon over there in ten seconds! Understood?”

Solar and Steel turned to the pile of gear and bags and teleported them moments later in a pair of matching flashes, followed by Steel disappearing with a bright blue ‘pop.’ Solar stood for a moment and chewed his lip uncertainly.

The pegasi backed into the unicorn, causing to Smudge to startle and turn around: “Holy shit, Old Timer! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Shatter pivoted and shouldered past the unicorn: “Go, Solar! Smudge and I dusting-off now!” The pegasi turned fully against the gusting air, rose and took off, diving and swooping, beating their wings furiously as the wind surged to gale force.

Solar stared at the advancing crimson wall for a few moments, swallowed heavily and disappeared in a purple flash.

Steel appeared next to Zecora who had settled on her knees and was spitting vomit and bile as she shakily removed the stopper from a vial.

“You OK, Ma’am?”

Zecora nodded weakly as she quaffed a mouthful of potion and re-stopped the vial.

Steel turned back toward the chasm and gingerly picked his way forward, feeling for the real edge. His horn glowed with a white-hot intensity.

He cleared his throat and lifted his head high: “Alright, Captain! This is the edge, best as I can tell, and Zecora is roughly fifteen feet directly behind me!”

Shatter was buffeted and nearly driven into a wall. She squinted at the bright, glowing nimbus ahead and below: “Roger that, Lieutenant--coming in! Follow me, Smudge!”

Her wingpony drove hard against the gale, staying mere feet behind the Captain: “Trying, Ma’am! This wind is freaky!”

As they swooped low over the glow from Steel’s horn, the pegasi snapped their wings tight against their sides and dropped hard to the floor below, digging their hooves in and skidding to a stop.

Shatter sat down with an awkward ‘thud’: “What in Tartarus is the ground made of over here? It doesn’t feel like rock…”

Steel walked back from the rim of the chasm through the fog toward the pegasi: “I don’t know. It’s slippery, but it’s not ice, and it’s a little spongy. I can’t get real good purchase on it.”

Solar Gleam appeared suddenly with a ‘pop.’

Shatter looked over and squinted through the haze: “Took you long enough! What was the hold-up?”

Solar furrowed his brow: “My apologies. After nearly killing Zecora I was a bit concerned that my own teleport might go awry. This whole area is awash in magical interference!”

Zecora stood shakily and coughed: “You are not to blame, my unicorn friend / this entire place now thirsts for our end!”

Steel stamped a hoof: “I’ll vouch for that! Solar--do you think you and I can do something about this fog now that we’re on this side?”

Solar nodded as his horn began to glow a rich, deep green: “Yes--let’s get a better look at things, shall we?”

The two unicorns’ green magical fields grew together and spread, pushing the fog aside and back, exposing a low, dark opening beyond the narrow ledge where they all stood.

Suddenly a loud ‘boom’ exploded behind them, and they turned to see the red glow on the far side of the chasm coalesce into a shimmering crimson pool, which flowed over the edge like syrup, mixing with the fog, forming a towering, red-streaked cloud pillar, like a blood-soaked thunderhead.

Shatter’s eyes went wide: “Now what?!”

Solar stared at the growing cloud: “That’s the other reason I delayed--I was trying to perceive any intelligence or direction to that red whatever-it-is! I can’t tell if it’s real or illusory or a phantasm or what!”

Steel pivoted and began to trot toward the nearby opening: “Let’s figure it out when we have a defensible position!” He skidded to a sudden stop as a figure emerged from the deep shadows beyond the opening.

Steel’s ears and tail drooped instinctively, and the other ponies took a reflexive step back as a tan unicorn with an unkempt grey-and-brown-streaked mane entered the landing, his eyes glowing white, a sword hovering before him, a tattered cloak flapping in the winds that swirled through the chasm.

The young officer began to pant: “Wha-what the fuck is he doing here?! I thought he and Princess Luna were off on some other world or something!”

Shatter furrowed her brow and dropped into a defensive posture: “They are! At least that’s the last intel I had! Could they be back?”

Solar shook his head: “I have no idea! I would assume they’d both arrive to assist us in that case!”

Smudge began to tremble and glance nervously at the growing cloud rising from the chasm: “Bu-but what if she’s dead? What if he’s back and--and I don’t know! What if this is all going sideways and we’re supposed to die, too?”

The figure suddenly turned its head and locked its eyes on Noble Steel’s. It raised its sword and advanced as the ponies fought their rising panic.

Steel stumbled backwards and bounced off Shatter’s shoulder as the figure’s sword began to glow a pale gold and move swiftly toward the terrified unicorn.

He glanced wildly behind him and turned a circle as his ears were filled with a roaring, and his vision was overwhelmed with images of sword and cloud and blood and death. His bowels spasmed and emptied, splattering his legs and tail as he staggered backwards toward the abyss. The other ponies were rooted to the ground in horror.

Zecora’s eyebrows jumped suddenly and she reached into her bag, retrieving the pouch of blue tracking powder. She hastily poured out a measure into her hoof and cast it on the ground before her. It slithered forward like a glittering rivulet, directly under, through and past the hooves of the advancing figure, disappearing into the gloom beyond.

Zecora bit her lip, closed her eyes and moved into the path of the figure, taking two tentative steps forward. The chamber fell silent and all five ponies held their collective breaths as Zecora’s chest met the glowing blade.

The figure continued to move forward, passing like smoke around Zecora as the sword emerged behind her. She opened her eyes and blinked: “It is but a ruse, a mere shadow of Death! / Still now your tremblings and take a deep breath!”

Shatter shook her head clear, jumped backwards and threw a wing behind Noble Steel, pulling him away from the brink: “Come on Red Tabs, I’ve never lost anypony before, and I’m not starting with you!”

Steel shuddered violently and rubbed the back of a hoof across his eyes: “Tha-thanks, Captain! S-Sorry for the mess!”

Shatter glanced at the greenish-brown muck smeared across her wing and trampled underhoof, and grinned nervously: “Hey, somepony had to do it--I’m just glad it was you! In about another two seconds it was gonna be me!”

Solar Gleam threw a levitation bubble around the bags and equipment Steel had dropped and began trotting toward the opening: “I suggest we make haste before that cloud finishes forming and causes even more trouble for us!”

Shatter nodded and all five ponies dashed into the dark passageway. Zecora entered last, stopped and tossed down a pile of pink dust at the entrance.

“My compound will act when the cloud moves in / and seal this entrance with a durable skin.”

Shatter glanced back over her shoulder: “Nice! That should at least buy us some time. And we’re going to need it now that we’re officially off the map. Let's get some distance between us and that cloud, folks!”

Steel moved to the head of the line and illuminated his horn to its maximum, as all five ponies cantered along quickly, single-file down the steep, narrow passage.

Fire with Fire
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Death Be Not Proud

Fire with Fire

Twilight streaked down from the clouds like a violet thunderbolt as she lashed the ground below her with alternating beams of bright crimson and black dark magic, disintegrating the desiccated, decayed and skeletal pony corpses that had burst out of Las Pegasus’ largest cemetery. The earth was rent by multiple fissures, and dark tendrils could be seen writhing and slithering just below the surface.

She swooped in low over a funeral taking place at a freshly-dug grave: “Everypony run! I’ll clear a path, but you have to go now!”

A dozen ponies scattered and fled ahead of a cluster of tendrils that bore down on the service, knocking over the coffin, spilling out the body of an elderly unicorn.

The withered, pale magenta body rose awkwardly from the ground, and opened its eyes, which glowed a ghostly silver-grey. A young, tangerine-colored unicorn shrieked and pointed: “Grandma’s back! What’s going on?”

Twilight grimaced and pivoted mid-air, intercepting the young unicorn: “Move away, honey! She’s not your grandma anymore! Your grandma’s already passed on, and now I have to take care of the thing that’s controlling her body!”

An older, grey unicorn rushed over and pulled the youngster away as Twilight unsheathed her sword and ran at the animated corpse.

As she reached her target, it suddenly fell to the ground like an unstrung puppet. Twilight stopped short and furrowed her brow: “What the…?”

Suddenly the ground beneath her feet erupted in a geyser of dirt and stones and mud as dozens of corpses in various states of decay burst forth, grabbing and lunging at her and any other nearby pony.

Twilight fanned her wings and phased as she rose into the air, slashing with both sword and magic at the converging bodies. She heard a scream and saw a cemetery attendant trapped under a partially-collapsed monument; a dark cloud was forming around him as a pair of tendrils wrapped around his neck and hindquarters.

Twilight glanced over at the pair of grieving unicorns, and judged them to be clear of any immediate danger. She pivoted toward the trapped worker: “Hold on! I’m coming!”

She threw a protective bubble around the pinned earth pony, and generated a shock wave from her horn, shattering the monument, and driving back the entrapping tendrils.

She landed next to the terrified pony who saw only a grim, cloaked figure, towering above him, framed by falling debris and an ominous black cloud.

Twilight bent down and reached out: “Are you alright?”

The worker averted his eyes as he desperately squirmed and scurried backwards: “D-don’t kill me!”

Twilight bit her lip and stepped aside, allowing the sun, low in the west, to fall across her face, driving back the shadow that encompassed her: “It’s OK--I’m here to help. If you can get up, you should run as far and as fast as you can!”

The terrified, bruised and mud-spattered pony stumbled to his hooves and dashed off toward the main gates. Twilight watched him run and shook her head sadly. She fanned her wings and rose into the air to get a look across the whole cemetery.

She saw that few living ponies were still in harm’s way, but that scores of remains, many fairly recent, were unearthed and either roaming the grounds, tethered by thin, dark strands, or collapsing and crumbling.

Twilight furrowed her brow as she watched an old pegasus’ corpse twist and contort, finally collapsing in like a deflating balloon as a thin black cloud formed around it. The cloud settled like a dark mist and soaked into the ground.

Twilight took to the air again, homing in on a pair of fleeing unicorns, sending out bolts of dark magic to cover their retreat from a cluster of tendrils. The ground directly in front of them suddenly ruptured as some kind of giant, ancient, mummified sea beast burst forth, smashing and swiping with massive, crumbling tentacles.

Large clods of earth and rock were flung in all directions, striking the two unicorns. Black ribbons shot out of the newly-formed fissure, entangling them, pulling them toward the hole.

Twilight phased as she dropped from the sky, passing through the creature, emerging on the other side. She whipped a beam of dark energy across the tendrils and swept up the two stunned ponies in a magenta bubble, as the shambling kraken-like figure flopped forward and began crawling toward a busy shopping center across the road from the cemetery.

Twilight sighed with exasperation as she safely dropped her charges on top of a nearby building: “This is getting out-of-hoof! I need backup!”

She faded out and reemerged in Celestia’s chambers, appearing right in front of a alarmed Royal Guard: “Where’s the Princess?”

The gold-and-white-clad pegasus started and stumbled backwards, knocking over a lamp stand; Twilight arrested its fall before it hit the floor.

“I’m sorry for spooking you, but I’m in a bit of a hurry, Corporal! Where’s Celestia?”

The nervous guard took another step back: “Sh-she got called away to Whinneapolis! It’s an emergency!”

“What kind of emergency?”

“She-she didn’t say! Please, that’s all I know!”

Twilight closed her eyes and nodded: “I understand. Thank you.” She faded away, leaving the sweating pegasus alone. He sat down heavily on a cushion and sighed.

Twilight rematerialized high above Whinneapolis scanning the horizon for clues as to Celestia’s whereabouts. It didn’t take long for her to notice flashes of gold and blue and red in the distance, flickering between columns of smoke and dust.

She raised an eyebrow as she fanned her wings: “Well, that certainly seems to qualify as an emergency!”

Twilight dropped down from the clouds on the north side of the city to a scene of chaos and destruction: buildings smashed and burning, streets caved-in, ruptured water lines spewing geysers of water into the air, ponies yelling, pulling others from the rubble, fighting fires. She looked in vain for Celestia.

As she swept in low, banking around a collapsing structure, she caught a glimpse of a bright white flash of magic cutting through the dust and ash, accompanied by a cry of rage.

Twilight dropped in behind Celestia a moment later and stood stunned: a collection of tendrils had twisted and merged into a single mass that had worked its way into and through an old, abandoned, five-story hospital. The hospital was uprooted, and acted as a kind of framework and armor for the tendril collective.

Twilight rubbed her eyes: “I have now officially seen everything!”

Celestia glanced over her shoulder: “Twilight! I am very glad to see you! My Guard and I have had limited luck in corralling this...this whatever it is!”

“So I see! I was going to ask for your assistance with a problem in Las Pegasus, but I see you have more than enough to keep you here!”

Two pegasi shot overhead with two unicorns running behind, charging the flyers’ lances. They broke contact as the pegasi climbed straight up, then rolled into hard dives, hurtling their lances at the animated structure.

The resulting impacts blasted away large chunks of masonry, but did not appreciably slow the shambling, haunted building as it crushed several carts and street vendors’ stalls.

Celestia rose thirty feet into the air and aimed a brilliant golden pulse of power into the core of the monster/building burning a large hole straight through. But the black ribbon-like material within simply flowed like wax, sealing the gap, pulling in surrounding concrete and stone.

Twilight swung around to the far side and hovered near a group of soldiers: “Unicorns! Come with me! We need to set up some kind of crossfire to cut away big pieces of this thing so it can’t just fill in its wounds!”

The Captain in charge of the squad shifted nervously, but straightened up: “Let’s go, Guardsponies!” She turned to the pegasus next to her: “Give us some cover, Lieutenant!”

The wine-red pegasus saluted: “With me, flyers! Attack pattern ‘Sierra’--lances at the ready!”

Five pegasi lifted off as one and spaced themselves evenly around the top of the building, keeping a respectful distance from the chunks of rubble and lashing tendrils that swirled around it.

Twilight led four unicorns around a crumbled row house for cover, then directly into the monster/building’s path: “Send everything you have at the lower extremities! Try to cut its legs out from under it!”

Twilight took off and phased as the unicorns concentrated their magic at the building’s “foot.” She passed inside the structure and swept her sword through the mass of knotted tendrils, loosening the connection between upper and lower sections.

A large segment of building--what had once been the emergency wing--sheared off and disintegrated, releasing a flood of black cloud and tendril and swirling smoke which gushed across the ground, sending the unicorn troops scattering.

Twilight lifted a few feet off the ground and shot forward as she looked up at the circling pegasi: “NOW!!”

The pegasi readied their lances in unison as Twilight swept across the spreading mass of writhing blackness tossing up bright blue barrier shields with her sword. The haunted structure lurched backwards as the pegasi launched their lances, four of which tore off most of the top two floors in a brilliant, crimson explosion.

The fifth lance became entangled in a web of inky ribbons and fibers as the tendril creature shot out thick bands into adjacent buildings and into the ground.

Celestia ran forward and poured a white-hot jet of energy into the swaying structure: “That’s it! It’s falling apart!”

Suddenly the tendrils heaved and contracted, ripping up a large section of the street, rending steam and sewer lines, scattering bystanders and soldiers alike. Celestia shielded herself and stumbled backwards across the buckling pavement.

As the haunted shell of the hospital broke apart, large chunks fell from the sky like multi-ton hail, mixing with steam and water and mud, obscuring the scene.

Twilight swept through the mess, phasing in and out, shielding and pushing back guards and bystanders as the disintegrating tendrils lashed out. Suddenly a crimson bolt shot out from the wreck as the fifth lance snapped free from its restraining tendril. It headed straight toward Celestia, who had turned aside and was focused on defending a pair of earth ponies whose protective cover had been torn away.

Twilight’s head whipped around as the lance flashed by, and a motion caught her eye as the cherry-red tip closed in on Celestia. A young, platinum-grey unicorn Guard named Argent Hoof lunged in from Celestia’s blind side, shoving her aside as the lance struck a collapsed wall a few feet behind her, detonating with a deafening, high-pitched blast.

Celestia shook her head and stumbled to her hooves as the dust cleared, and Twilight teleported to her side: “Wha--what was that?”

Twilight glanced at the smoking remains of the nearby wall: “It looks like one of the lances didn’t find its mark, and ended up--oh, no!”

A breeze pushed aside the smoke and dust for a moment as Argent stumbled forward, his genitals and lower belly torn away by shrapnel. He staggered another step then fell, his hind legs entangled in his intestines. He died with a raspy sigh in a gout of blood.

Twilight rushed to the blood-soaked Guardspony’s side: “Dammit! We have to get this thing underground or out of town or something--it’s too close-quartered in here!”

She leaned down and touched her horn to Argent’s as a thin mist formed above his body. Celestia stepped beside Twilight and looked down at her fallen Guard sadly: “I agree. I don’t want to see anypony else hurt--especially not on my account!”

Twilight stood and straightened her cloak as she spotted the Guard Commander in the distance, directing fire on a mass of tendrils: “Captain! Come over--we need a plan!”

As the Captain hurried over, and Celestia turned away from Argent’s body, Twilight’s sword suddenly flickered with crimson flames, and her eyes went wide: “Oh, no! I know where they all are! I know where the Void is! Somepony’s dying right now at the heart of the Void! I have to go!”

Celestia furrowed her brow and glanced back and forth between Twilight and the heaving mass of crumbled building, sewage, pavement and sprawling tendrils: “Alright--I understand! We’ll do what we can here until you return!”

Twilight looked back at Argent’s body, still bleeding-out on the cobblestones, then at the Guardsponies doing battle. She bit her lip and rose into the air as a thin band of magic encircled her throat.

She spread her wings wide and looked down at the devastation. Her voice boomed across the city: “Everypony leave this area immediately! I am going to end this now! Flee as far as you can!”

Celestia rose into the air beside Twilight: “What are you going to do?”

“I need you to open yourself up, Princess, pour out your maximum power! Release your full magic!”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Why?”

Twilight took a deep breath: “I’m going to absorb as much of it as I can and blast that thing into oblivion with dark magic and Death’s power! I’m in a hurry and we don’t have time for finesse!”

Celestia trembled, but nodded, then turned away, and landed on the street next to Argent’s body. She was suffused with a blinding white glow.

Twilight turned back to her target and rose directly above it, centering herself above an ever-widening rift in the ground. She spread her wings to their maximum and held her sword aloft as the air around her began to dim and darken. Streamers of light radiating from Celestia began to converge, and the darkness spread.

Twilight threw her head back and her eyes went blank, as Celestia moaned in shock, feeling her essence being drained at an alarming rate.

Suddenly, an impenetrably-black sphere of dark magic formed in front of Twilight, expanding rapidly, sucking hungrily at everything around it. Celestia cried out in anguish and dropped to her knees.

Twilight rose another thirty feet and slashed her sword downward as the sphere, now flickering with crimson and gold flames, ruptured, sending forth a torrent of dark energy at the heart of the tendril mass.

The ground below seethed for an instant as the mix of dark and cosmic energies scoured everything in a 150-yard radius, dissolving stone, wood, earth, steel and tendril alike, negating their very existence. A vortex formed at the heart of the maelstrom, pulling in water, air, debris, the very light, turning dusk to midnight.

Twilight hovered above it all, crying out in power and terror and ecstasy, pouring down her own brilliant violet magic, which danced like lightning in the stygian darkness below.

Celestia pulled her power back to herself and generated a weak shield in an attempt to avoid destruction, but it flickered and failed: “Twilight! Stop! You’re killing me! Killing everypony!”

Twilight blinked and shook her head. The dance of darkness and death and crackling energies below her died away. She rushed to Celestia’s side.

“Princess! I’m so sorry! I got carried away--I just couldn’t help myself!”

Celestia lifted her head weakly: “It’s OK, Twilight--I understand. Is it done? Is everypony safe?”

Twilight glanced at the empty street, swept clean now of even dust or smoke: “Yes. It can’t come back from that--nothing could! And now I have to go!”

She stepped back and began to fade: “Send somepony to Las Pegasus and just down the coast from Vanhoover--something awful’s happening there now, too!”

Celestia nodded: “I will! Good luck, Twilight!”

Twilight froze for a moment, looking like a washed-out photo negative: “Oh--oh, no! Zecora! Celestia, if there’s anypony or anything you pray to, pray now! Pray for all of us!”

Twilight disappeared, and Celestia stared at the bloodstain beside her that was all that remained of Argent Hoof as a glittering tear rolled down her cheek.

Event Horizon
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Death Be Not Proud

Event Horizon

Solar Gleam appeared at the back of the group and watched for a moment as Zecora tossed powders, Smudge wielded her lance, Steel fired bolt after bolt of magic, and Shatter directed it all from a few feet off the cave floor, like some gruesome ballet. He glanced warily over his shoulder and saw the thickening shadow reforming on the far rim of the chasm.

He turned back to the action and squinted at the various defiled, crucified ponies arrayed across the floor, watching their mouths for a moment, observing their attempts to break free of their bonds. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pulled the vial of Twilight’s blood from his shoulder bag. He poured out a small measure on the floor and drew a set of glyphs in it with his horn.

He stoppered the bottle, stood up and unleashed a blast of magical power, deep-green and streaked with black, which filled the entire area with a sudden, brilliant flash.

The tormented ponies shimmered and disappeared, leaving mere stones in their place. The rodent-like skeletons scurried away, disappearing into an adjacent passage with a raspy, scratching sound.

Solar looked over his shoulder again and noted that the far rim had now entirely vanished in the swirling darkness. His brightest beam could no longer penetrate it.

Shatter dropped to the floor: “Thanks a million, Solar! This whole battle was getting tiresome!”

Solar nodded as he stepped up beside Zecora: “And time-consuming. Look across the chasm--we’re out of time.”

The others turned back to look at the encroaching darkness. Shatter furrowed her brow: “What does it mean? What’s happening over there?”

“Please draw in close again, everypony. Zecora, if you would be so kind as to cast another measure of your yellow compound…”

Zecora reached into her bag, pulled out the gourd and tossed up a small pile of yellow dust, where it caught in Solar’s regenerated field. The air around them shimmered and the five ponies disappeared.

Shatter glanced around as the field took effect, blurring the air surrounding the group slightly: “Great. We’re cloaked. Now would you please explain what the fuck is going on back there?”

Solar began walking toward the passageway where the rodent skeletons had retreated, causing the rest of the team to fall in: “I have suspected for some time that we were entering a one-way zone; now I’m sure of it.”

He accelerated to a trot as Shatter forced her way past Steel: “What do you mean ‘one-way?’”

“Do you recall the stream we crossed many hours ago?”

“The one where we all saw different things? Yeah…”

“That was a boundary. I believe we are now inside the Void itself--or at least its outer sphere-of-influence.”

Smudge’s eyebrows jumped: “Inside? B-but how do we get out?”

Zecora sighed: “Only through victory can we attain / the freedom needed to go home again!”

Solar nodded grimly: “Surely you knew this, Captain. Celestia made it clear to me, in any event, that this was a must-succeed mission.”

Shatter ducked under a stalactite and bumped against Solar: “Yeah, I just didn’t envision getting trapped…”

Smudge frowned: “We pegasi never do! So now what?”

“Same plan as always, Smudge--we seal this thing off and secure it. We were never gonna bail on this mission in any event, so nothing’s really changed.”

Steel shrugged: “True. It just would have been nice to have known it a bit sooner! Anyway, what’s the plan? If we’ve entered its ‘sphere of influence,’ as you call it, does that mean we’re close?”

“Let’s find out. Zecora, please toss down another pinch of your tracking compound.”

Zecora drew out the vial containing the glittering blue powder and cast a small amount at her feet. It slithered forward into the darkness as before, guiding them into a small, branching passage.

Shatter looked down at the faint, blue line: “So far so good, yes?”

Solar nodded: “I believe its behavior will change as we approach the epicenter of activity, as it were. The power of the Void and the presence of death will overwhelm its homing function and it will simply disperse like insects from a ruptured hive.”

Smudge pressed in close against Steel as they squeezed through a narrow gap: “The cloak’s different this time. I can see fine, now.”

Shatter glanced over her shoulder: “I assume this is the same form we demonstrated for the Major.”

Solar jumped over a fissure and waited for the rest of the team to collect back under the field: “Correct. I am certain we’re being watched and likely tracked closely. I doubt those rodent-like skeletons are the only things down here.”

Smudge peered then pointed at a massive, half-exposed skull sticking out of a rock face: “Obviously! Like, what is that thing?”

Solar smiled: “Ours is a world soaked in magic, young flyer, and beasts far older than the ancientest of dragons and manticores once roamed here, long before the first pony stepped forth onto the northern heath.”

“Like the bones up in that bone pit?”

“To some extent. In fact I suspect Grey Thorn must have done some of his earliest work down here, among the fossils and relics of long-dead megafauna. Here he could have tapped some remnants of this world’s oldest, most-primitive magics.”

Shatter furrowed her brow: “So those rat-thing skeletons might be…”

“Thousands or even tens-of-thousands of years old, yes.”

Steel’s ears perked up and he pointed to a nearby alcove: “Speaking of--we seem to have company again.”

Dozens of rodent-like skeletons crouched there, bathed in a thin, black mist. In the ceiling directly above the part hung the mummified body of an enormous serpent. It writhed slowly, almost sleepily.

Shatter licked her lips: “I know we’re shielded, but let’s step lightly and keep it quiet, just to be on the safe side!”

The five shrouded companions walked slowly and deliberately through the rough, creature-filled chamber, noting the wide variety of winged, reptilian and unidentifiable skeletons and fossils.

Steel squinted at the bones of a large, bird-like creature that bore a snake’s head: “Are they autonomous? I don’t see any kind of direct control, and I didn’t detect standard magic being used on those rat things.”

Solar nodded: “I repeat, we’ve passed into some sort of zone of control surrounding the Void. It no longer needs to manipulate things directly--its field is enough to give these remains animation and some self-control, though I assume the central ‘mind,’ if you will, exerts overall domination.”

“To what end, though?”

“Survival at a minimum. This thing is clearly imbued with a least a high level of animal cunning, and I suspect even a degree of sentience.”

“Sure--how could it know what disturbs or terrifies us otherwise?”

Solar stopped for a moment to regard an ancient unicorn skeleton blocking a small alcove: “Actually, that’s fairly easy to explain. The Void bears a strong imprint of Grey Thorn. It is his final echo, and much of the Void’s behavior likely parrots actions taken by its creator and master over the centuries.”

Smudge nodded: “Like a dog who’s learned its tricks.”

“Something like that, yes.”

Shatter tapped her hoof impatiently: “Why the halt? We’re still in the midst of all these dead things. Shouldn’t we keep moving?”

Solar licked his lips and tipped his horn toward the blocked alcove: “That space is being protected. I’d like to know why.”

Zecora looked around the chamber: “And in any event it seems quite clear / that the dead from here on will be quite near.”

Solar nodded: “I concur. I assume we will have ‘companions’ for the remainder of our journey--in greater numbers, I would expect.

Shatter sighed: “Great. How are we supposed to get around them? This shield of yours cloaks us, but we still don’t dare touch anything!”

“Maybe. Bear with me a moment…”

Solar pulled out the vial of Twilight’s blood and applied a drop to his horn.

Shatter furrowed her brow: “You seem to like that stuff a little more than maybe you should.”

Solar smiled grimly: “My apologies, but given what I am about to attempt, I need all the amplification I can get.”

He leaned forward and opened a small hole in the cloak. The unicorn skeleton turned its head and a dull glow flared in its empty sockets. Solar touched his black-and-green-glowing horn to the animated corpses’, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

Steel raised an eyebrow: “What the…?”

Solar pulled his head back in and stepped over the fallen skeleton, hastily shepherding the team into the alcove: “Quickly--before the effect wears off!”

The five ponies filed into the small chamber and turned around as the skeletal guardian rose from the floor and resumed its position blocking the alcove entrance.

Shatter tipped her head and peered at the skeletal form: “Neat trick. Can you control it?”

“Possibly. I am unsure how much effort that might take, and I wanted to find out why a trace of Zecora’s blue powder drifted into this guarded space.”

He pointed his horn at the cave floor, and the other ponies noticed a faint blue thread traced across the cracked stone. It was not moving.

Smudge’s eyebrows jumped: “Those are some good eyes, for an old stallion!”

“Everypony else seemed to be fixated on the various bones and mummies and whatnot. I knew we must be getting close to something noteworthy, so I watched our homing beacon, and saw a tiny filament break off.”

Shatter nodded: “So what’s the story? Why this alcove? Why’d the dust stop?”

Zecora rummaged in her bag for a moment, then pulled out a small wooden box with a brass lid. She opened it and tapped a measure of lilac-colored ash into her hoof.

Solar smiled: “I’d tell you, but it might spoil Zecora’s surprise!”

The zebra tossed the ash into the air, through the cloak: “Reveal now that which is hidden / be it lost, secret or forbidden!”

A pale violet light flickered around the walls and ceiling of the chamber like static across a wool blanket. A square outline glowed faintly on the floor two feet in front of Steel.

Solar took a deep breath and licked his lips: “It would appear we have discovered another relic.” He stepped forward and magically lifted the trapdoor, sliding it aside.

Steel cocked an eyebrow: “Interesting that you didn’t need to trace runes or use blood.”

“I am not certain this is Grey Thorn’s doing.”

“Who else could it be? You said yourself that it was unlikely Starswirl made it down this far.”

Solar nodded: “True, but there were explorers of both magic and caves long before Starswirl or his acolyte. I suspect the old…”

He looked at the skeleton blocking the alcove entrance, focusing on its hips: “Mare, there, may have been just such an explorer.”

Steel tipped his head and regarded the unicorn's remains for a moment: "Or a guard..."

Smudge pushed forward impatiently and peered into the dark cavity below the trapdoor: “So what was it guarding?”

Solar leaned down and magically lifted away a heavy, moldering, length of dragon hide. He stepped back with a gasp.

Shatter’s eyebrows jumped: “Fuck me!”

All five ponies gazed down at the skeleton of a unicorn, bedecked with fragments of simple, primitive, silver and gold jewelry--and wings connected to its shoulders.

Steel frowned: “An alicorn? But this thing’s ancient! It has to be older than the Sisters!”

Solar nodded: “At least two-thousand years before their ascendance, from the looks of its adornments.”

Shatter shook her head: “Can’t be! There were no alicorns before the Princesses!”

Solar shrugged: “That we know of! And note the development of the wing bones and joints.”

Shatter craned her neck and stared at the skeleton’s wings and shoulders: “Yeah, they don’t look well-developed. A runt? A mutant? A transition between unicorns and alicorns?”

“Hard to say without a great deal of digging--literal and figurative. I would love to get the archaeology team down here!”

“Yeah, well knock yourself out, once we’re done! We have to figure out how to get past all these damn haunted skeletons in tight quarters!”

Solar furrowed his brow and sucked air through his teeth for a moment as the other sat down to rest. He rummaged through his shoulder bag and pulled out the blood vial and his notebook.

“I may have a plan…”

Shatter swallowed a mouthful of water and looked up: “What is it?”

“I may be able to animate and control this skeleton for a time.”

“I thought the effect wears off quickly.”

“That is true in the case of remains controlled by the Void or its field. This skeleton has never been affected.”

Zecora raised an eyebrow: “You have a chance to start out clean / and take control of it sight unseen!”

“Exactly. Our field is preventing the Void from overtaking this small area.”

Steel shrugged: “OK, but what does that get us?”

“I suspect our embryonic alicorn will exert some influence, and draw out a measure of deference from many of the pony remains--you see that this alcove is still guarded. And if not, we can at least use it as a brief diversion.”

Shatter nodded: “Alright--worth a shot anyway. What can it hurt?”

Solar tipped the half-empty blood vial back and forth: “Hmm. I don’t suppose any of you…”

Smudge snort-laughed, and Shatter rolled her eyes: “Hardly!”

Zecora chuckled and shook her head, as Steel shrugged: “Looks like you’re out-of-luck!”

“I’m not surprised--I just thought I’d ask. Alright, here we go…”

Solar applied several drops of blood to his horn and bent down to trace glyphs across the alicorn’s skeleton while muttering unintelligible incantations. His horn pulsed a lurid green, with occasional flashes of crimson as the skeleton began to glow a faint, dark violet--almost black. It rose slowly and stiffly from its grave and turned to face the party.

Smudge wrinkled her nose and took a step back: “That’s creepy as fuck!”

“Indeed it is, but I believe it may just help us get through this.”

Shatter chewed her lip: “OK, so let’s suppose you can control Old Bony, here--can you also keep up the cloak? I doubt the rat things and snake things and whatnot are going to give two shits about Her Majesty.”

Solar took a deep breath: “Yes. It will be a strain, but I can do it. Zecora--please administer a fresh dose of your compound."

Zecora cast another pile of bright yellow dust into the air, and the cloak shimmered and glowed briefly.

Solar nodded and turned toward the alcove’s entrance: “That’s the best we can do. Let’s see if this works.”

He tipped his horn toward the skeleton and a thin black beam lanced the cloak, striking the proto-alicorn in the skull. Its eye sockets flashed a deep gold for a moment, then it walked slowly to the entrance.

The guard skeleton turned its head, then stepped aside and bent down briefly on one knee. Every other pony skeleton in the adjacent passageway fell back as the proto-alicorn passed by.

Noble Steel’s eyebrows jumped: “Impressive! Why did the guard bend its knee? Did you cause that effect, too?”

The party followed close behind the animated remains as Solar shook his head: “No. Again, this whole area is suffused--haunted, if you will, with echoes and impressions of the past. We have entered a sort of bubble of trapped memories. That guard acts now as it undoubtedly would have millennia ago.”

Shatter furrowed her brow: “Yeah--the Void’s bubble! How long before it senses that something in here is outside its control?”

“Not long, I suspect. Let us make haste for as long as I can maintain mastery. Zecora, if you would be so kind…”

Zecora tossed down a fresh pinch of blue homing powder, and her team began trotting briskly behind it as it wound its way deeper into the labyrinth of passages and caves.

Sacrifices
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Death Be Not Proud

Sacrifices

The five ponies moved swiftly through a series of steep, twisting passages and corridors, keeping close on the heels of their unwitting escort as it swept past rank after rank of now-deferential skeletal and mummified ponies. Zecora and her team still had to step carefully, and they nearly barreled into various non-pony creatures more than once.

Smudge trotted directly behind Solar, panting: “How--how much more of this? It’s hot and stuffy in here, and I need a rest!”

“I really don’t know. Realistically I could lose control anytime, now. I can feel the Void probing and pushing against my link with our guide.”

Shatter slapped her fellow flyer on the flank: “Suck it up, Smudge! You’ve done harder PT than this!”

“Yeah, but not directly under the enemy’s nose! The tension is making the physical exertion twice as bad!”

“I know, Smudge, but we have to strike while the iron’s hot. When Solar loses control of his puppet, up there, we’re gonna have to pick our way through this minefield without a guide!”

Solar squinted at the floor in front of his hooves: “Zecora! Please put down some more homing powder--I’m losing the path!”

The team stopped as Zecora dropped a small amount of shimmering dust which slithered forward past Solar and the proto-alicorn skeleton.

Steel peered at the pouch containing the powder: “I hope we get there shortly--it looks like Zecora’s about out!”

Zecora nodded grimly: “We have used much more dust than was planned / as its role I’ve been forced to expand!”

Solar sent a fresh pulse of dark magic to their skeleton escort, and the group began to walk forward again, tracking along the filament of glittering blue, which shone through the gloom like a glow worm trail.

Solar chewed his lip: “That doesn’t surprise me. These passages and caves have been far more labyrinthine and difficult to navigate. We may be forced to improvise if we run out of Zecora’s powder.”

Shatter rolled her eyes as she sidestepped some sort of tentacle that flopped out from the cave wall: “Super. Well, as old General von Canterwitz said long ago, ‘No campaign plan survives first contact with the enemy!’”

Steel chuckled: “Oh, I think we’re well past ‘first contact’ by now, Ma’am!”

Smudge furrowed her brow and craned her neck up above Solar’s back: “Heads up! The air’s changing!”

Shatter tipped her head around Steel’s flank: “I have my nose up Steel’s ass this time, which isn’t real conducive to my avionics! What’s changing, Smudge?”

Smudge’s ears flicked and she narrowed her eyes: “Pressure’s dropping--we’re about to hit another open area.”

“Roger that! OK, everypony--stay sharp! The last several times we hit the chasm shit got weird! I don’t expect that to change now!”

Solar ducked his head under the stump of a stalactite and came to an abrupt stop.

“I’m fairly sure you needn't worry, Captain--I suspect this will be ‘weird’ enough for all of us!”

The party squeezed through the narrow opening into a broad, high-domed cavern that opened out onto a breach in the chasm so broad, the far rim could not be discerned.

The space was lit with a faint blue glow emanating from swirls and clouds of Zecora’s tracking powder hovering in the air, and from light pulsing slowly from the walls of the cavern. The walls appeared to be lined with endless rows of brightly-illuminated bookshelves, trapped behind thick sheets of translucent, distorted, melting glass.

In the center of the chamber, suspended in a web of countless scores of filaments, ribbons and tendrils, hung the Void, now swollen to the size of a cider fermentation tank. Its surface was glossy and cracked, like a huge, fractured, smoky crystal ball.

The proto-alicorn skeleton stopped and began to twitch and tremble. Solar dashed forward, extending the cloak around his puppet.

Shatter stumbled backwards as the protected space became even more crowded: “Whoa! What’s up?”

Solar chewed his lip: “That’s the Void, and I almost lost control of our escort. I would like to keep her under my control for as long as I can.”

Steel furrowed his brow: “Sure doesn’t look watermelon-sized to me!”

“No, clearly it has swelled and stretched beyond the constraints Reaper put on it.”

He pointed to the spider-web-like cracks covering the Void’s shimmering surface: “You can literally see it cracking and straining. And obviously all these bands and ribbons of dark energy have escaped through its fractured surface.”

Shatter scanned the cave and noticed dozens of creatures and ponies in various stages of decay and mummification lining the walls: “OK, so now what? Can I assume you weren’t expecting it to be this big?”

“Nor this fractured. It has almost escaped the bonds Reaper laid on it! Our original plan was for me to tap and drain some of its power, pinning it in-place while Zecora laid down that pink entrapping compound you saw her use to close off the cave behind us.”

“And you don’t think that’ll work anymore. So what’s the plan now?”

Solar chewed his lip again and stared silently at the Void with wide eyes.

Shatter looked at Solar’s confused expression and nodded: “So this may turn into a military mission after all. Red Tabs! How many of those lances do we have?”

“Including the one Smudge is carrying? Five.”

“That’s a fuck-ton of power yes, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Ma’am, but to what end? Can that thing even be affected? And what would it do to the ceiling of this cave?”

Shatter glanced up nervously: “Ah, I hear echoes of the good Major in that question…”

Zecora shouldered her way next to Solar: “What if we use your unwitting guide / to open a stealthy path inside?”

Solar licked his lips: “Extend the cloak along the lines of power. Walk the skeleton right into the Void…”

Shatter raised an eyebrow: “OK, then what? We have Old Bony on the other side. Could you still control her?”

“Probably not--not long, anyway, but she’d act as an anchor for a conduit along which my spells can run. At least for a moment…”

Zecora nodded: “Then I can insert my binding dust / and our blended magics should form a crust.”

Steel furrowed his brow: “A crust?”

Solar opened his shoulder bag and pulled out the vial of blood: “An odd word choice, but essentially correct. We will form a variation of the shield above us now, but this shield will collapse, compress and bind.”

“I assume this was your plan to begin with, but how will it scale up?”

Solar looked nervously at Zecora, who shrugged. Solar pulled the stopper from the vial: “It was never designed for anything this large and active. I hope that by inserting the binding spell and compound inside, I can expand a bubble of sorts within the confines of the existing containment field.”

Steel furrowed his brow: “Hang on--that’s going to take all the magic you can muster! What’s going to happen to the shield?”

Solar sighed heavily: “Zecora and I will stay inside the shield, which will be stretched to its limit containing our decoy as it enters the Void. You three will have to go...uncovered.”

Shatter smiled grimly: “So we three get to party while you two wallflowers hang around in here. That’s fine--it’s getting cramped anyway!”

She turned to Steel and began pulling the lances off his back: “Alright, Red Tabs--charge up these bad girls, it’s gonna get hot in here!”

Solar began drawing runes in blood across the proto-alicorn’s shoulders and skull: “I truly am sorry, Captain, but Zecora and I must remain undisturbed if there is to be any chance of this working. It should take no more than two or three minutes.”

Shatter nodded as Steel poured beams of crimson magic into the lances: “Seriously, I understand. This whole mission has gone from weird to weirder since we crossed that boundary. I always figured it’d end with us slugging it out with some monster or other!”

Smudge tucked her recharged lance back under her right foreleg: “So what’s the plan, Captain?”

Shatter set one of the lances on the ground as Steel levitated one lance off to the side of each of his shoulders. His horn still glowed a bright crimson.

Shatter grinned at Steel: “Damn, colt! You are ready to rock!”

Steel nodded: “Three minutes, Ma’am? With this low roof and that many targets and that Void over there? I honestly don’t expect to walk out of here. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory!”

Shatter nodded: “You may well be right, but I don’t want any wasted shots or wasted lives. Red Tabs, the heaviest concentration is to the right--that’s your target. Smudge, you go high, pick off targets of opportunity as they move to engage. I’ll head left in a wing-assisted sprint, see if I can draw off some of our opponents to the edge of the chasm.”

Smudge frowned: “Ceiling’s awful low, Captain--not sure how much use I can be airborne.”

“I know you’ll only have seven or eight yards to work with, but that gives you some advantage. With the enemy swarming and these lances going off, it’s going to get messy down here. I want a pair of eyes in the sky.”

Smudge bit her lip, but nodded curtly: “Yes, Ma’am!”

Solar closed his eyes and gritted his teeth: “I apologize to you all in advance, and to Princess Twilight in absentia…”

The other four ponies grimaced as Solar muttered a few arcane words and emptied the final measure of blood from the vial into his mouth. He swallowed with a shudder and his eyes glowed with a dull silver fire for a moment.

Smudge turned away with a look of loathing as Shatter clenched her jaw: “Holy shit, Old Timer! You’re heading into dangerous territory!”

“Agreed--as are we all. The Lieutenant is correct: none of us may survive the next three minutes. I will do what I must, even at the risk of becoming a pariah.”

Zecora closed her eyes and nodded as she pulled out the bag containing her pink binding agent.

Shatter sighed: “Alright, then--let’s do this!” Red Tabs, break right as I go left. Now!”

Steel and Shatter emerged from the cloak with a flash of golden light as Smudge rose quickly to the ceiling and hovered. They were noticed immediately, and two-dozen skeletal ponies and diverse creatures jerked to attention.

Shatter fanned her wings and cut a wide arc toward the left wall of the cave, nearly brushing her wingtip against several mummified bodies.

Steel shot simultaneous pulses of cherry-red magic from his two lances and horn, blasting apart four skeletons just as they stepped away from the right-side wall.

Smudge drifted back as dust and small stones showered down from the cave ceiling: “Captain! Watch out for incoming tentacle things on your eight!”

A cluster of ribbon-like tendrils shot out from the Void, lashing toward all three exposed ponies, nearly entangling Shatter as she swept her lance along the floor like a scythe, shearing off multiple legs.

She belly-flopped on the floor and rolled once, kicking up a cloud of dust, before resuming her sprint: “Shit--that was close!”

Steel looked over his shoulder as his lances ripped apart a pair of advancing, mummified manticores, showering burning fragments across the cave floor: “How’re you doing, Captain? Can you tell if Zecora and Solar are making any progress?”

Smudge swooped down and knocked a flying reptilian skeleton out of the air: “No, the cloak’s definitely doing its job!”

Inside the cloak Zecora and Solar huddled tight against the proto-alicorn and shuffled forward toward the Void as bits of bone and rock pelted them from all directions.

Solar stopped and tapped his horn against the skeleton’s; they both pulsed green and glowed a low, deep violet, streaked with black: “It’s time. I’m sending it in…”

Zecora nodded and sprinkled a line of pink dust along the proto-alicorn’s back, letting it fall off the tail onto the cave floor: “Go forward now into the dark! / Act as host to our secret spark!”

The cloak stretched forward as the skeleton shambled the final few yards to the surface of the Void. Zecora tossed out more hooffuls of pink compound, forming a thick line leading from just behind the proto-alicorn to Solar and Zecora’s hooves.

At the last moment Solar let the leading edge of the cloak pull apart, allowing his puppet’s head to emerge. It touched its horn, blazing with black and green eldritch flames, to the Void’s shimmering surface. The skeleton dissolved like smoke in the wind, and a black ribbon of energy suddenly locked onto Solar’s horn.

His eyes went wide as the cloak collapsed and the Void began pulling him toward it: “Zecora! Quickly! Cast more of your compound on the beam connecting me to the Void!”

Zecora furrowed her brow, but did as Solar requested. The pink powder disappeared into the ebony ribbon, which glittered briefly and slowed its drag on Solar.

Zecora looked around anxiously and scooped the fifth lance off the cave floor. She jumped next to Solar and poised the lance to strike the band of magic connecting the struggling unicorn to the Void.

Solar panted as his eyes bulged: “No! No! Don’t break the link! I--I can control it! I can manipulate your--your comp--comp…”

A tendril slashed at Zecora, driving her back and striking the floor heavily, raising a cloud of pink dust which settled on Zecora, Solar and the tendril.

Shatter pivoted at the edge of the chasm and caught sight of Solar and Zecora’s struggles: “What’s going on? I’m coming!”

Zecora stabbed her lance at the tendril and glanced in horror at the black cloud forming around her companion: “Solar is locked in mortal strife! / I fear the Void may end his life!”

Shatter knocked aside three skeletons and accelerated toward Solar as Zecora leaped over the tendril now entangling Solar’s forelegs. She landed in a patch of now-thickening pink compound and drove her lance into the band of dark energy connecting Solar to the Void.

The Void pulsed outward suddenly, sending out a shockwave, knocking Shatter aside, and driving Zecora to her knees. A section of roof loosened and sent Smudge scrambling for cover.

Solar suddenly lost control of his body and sagged forward, staring blindly into the black conduit that now enveloped his head. Zecora hacked at the black bands in vain as Solar gasped and twitched nervelessly.

“It...it...it’s indescribable…”

His eyes went blank as a faint shimmer rose from his horn, only to be swallowed by the black tendrils pulling him forward.

Zecora screamed in impotent rage and drove the head of the lance into the surface of the Void.

It detonated.

The Void shuddered and its surface ruptured outward, smothering the blast, throwing Solar’s lifeless body across the cave, and enveloping Zecora in black and pink and crimson bands.

She shrieked in horror and struggled wildly in an attempt to escape being sucked in as the Void reformed its outer layer.

Shatter regained her traction and shot forward in a cloud of dust, lance at the ready: “Hang in there, Zecora--we’re coming! Red Tabs! To me!”

Steel turned from his own melee and dashed across the rock-and-bone-strewn floor, disintegrating two foes as he ran, but as he and Shatter converged on Zecora, a wall of tendrils broke through the floor, blocking them as they watched Zecora disappear with a shout through the rippling surface of the Void.

Shatter stamped in fury and fired a blast of crimson magic from her lance at a nearby pony skeleton: “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

Smudge landed next to her as Steel retreated from the squirming black barrier, He turned to Shatter: “Now what, Captain? If we’re going to fall back we have to do it now before the roof gives way!”

Shatter ground her teeth: “Negative, Lieutenant! We’re balls-deep in this thing, and there’s no pulling out now! Solar and Zecora were right about one thing: Celestia made it clear that we either leave here victorious, or we don’t leave at all!”

Smudge nodded grimly: “So what’s the plan?”

Shatter ran her tongue over her teeth: “That lance took something out of the Void, and pulling in all that pink stuff seems to have had an effect, too.”

Steel nodded: “And it sure looked like Zecora went in kicking and fighting.”

“Yeah, she sure was. OK...so let’s hit it at all at once from three directions. I’ll sweep behind it, Steel can hit it with all he has right up front, and you, Smudge, can hit it from above, coordinating our strike, since you’ll be able to see Steel and me at the same time.”

Smudge re-positioned her lance and rose into the air: “Yes Ma’am--good luck!”

Shatter fanned her wings in salute: “You, too! Ready, Red Tabs?”

“Alright kids, we either go home, or we go wherever warriors go! Call the strike when we’re in position, Smudge!”

Shatter sprinted around the right side of the Void, jumping and half-flying over enemies and tendrils, cutting behind the ominous black shape as Smudge rose above it. Steel took a step forward and braced, his horn glowing blood-red.

Smudge rose a final yard and poised her lance for a downward thrust when she felt a gust of air from directly above her. She glanced up and cried out in surprise as the mummified form of a wyvern dropped out of a niche in the ceiling and grabbed at the startled pegasus.

Smudge instinctively swung her lance upward and discharged it directly into the wyvern’s mid-section, blasting it into pieces. One of its talons ripped across Smudge’s neck, tearing open a huge gash that sprayed blood as the pegasus’ broken body was thrown across the cave by the blast.

Steel shielded his eyes from the detonation, then watched Smudge crash to the floor behind him: “Smudge! Oh, Sweet Celestia, no! Captain!”

Steel ran to Smudge’s side as Shatter rocketed around the far side of the Void, avoiding large chunks of wyvern and rock falling from the cave roof.

She skidded to a stop in front of Smudge’s crumpled body: “What the fuck happened?!”

Smudge’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and focused weakly on Shatter’s face: “Sorry, Captain--it--it surprised me...I guess I’m going wherever...warriors…” Her eyes slowly closed as blood bubbled from her lips.

Tears welled up in Shatter’s eyes: “Shut up, Smudge! That’s an order! We’re going to get you out of this shit-hole cave!”

She stood and stepped toward the now-pulsing Void: “Red Tabs--give me your second lance!”

Steel rose from his knees and stepped gingerly around the pool of blood spreading around Smudge’s head. He levitated the lance hovering off his right shoulder toward Shatter.

She spread her wings and hovered two yards off the cave floor, tucking a lance under each foreleg, locking her wrists behind the glowing, crystal tips: “I’m going in hot, Lieutenant. Feed me energy all the way!”

Steel furrowed his brow: “Suicide run, Captain?”

Shatter narrowed her eyes and gauged the distance to the upper edge of the Void: “Not my intent, but if I have to, I will. Whatever you do, don’t stop feeding me--blow these things up if it comes to that! I will not go out like Solar or Zecora!”

She looked back down over her shoulder at Steel: “Am I clear, Lieutenant?”

Steel nodded curtly: “Yes Ma’am--crystal clear!”

Shatter smiled sadly: “I don’t think I’m gonna get to see you get those tabs, Noble, but it’s been an honor serving with you.”

“You, too Ma’am…”

“Shatter--call me ‘Shatter.’”

“Yes M--Shatter. Good luck!”

Shatter rose another two yards: “If not, you and I and Smudge can have a drink together--wherever warriors go!”

The Void surged as pink bands and sprites danced sporadically across its surface, and it threw off sprays of dark energy and tendrils, tearing away chunks of ceiling, smashing skeletons.

Shatter squared her shoulders: “Light me up, Red Tabs--here we go!”

Steel focused his horn on Shatter’s tail, causing his magic to fork just behind her, terminating at the butt-end of the Captain’s lances.

Shatter shot forward, dust swirling in eddies off her wingtips, lances glowing and vibrating as they strained to the breaking point. She accelerated the final few yards with a full-throated battle cry and hurled the lance tucked against her left wrist as she cocked her right foreleg for a second throw.

The throw never came.

A ribbon of black energy darted out of the roiling, fractured surface of the Void, intercepting the lance, detonating it with a deafening roar and blinding flash that ripped across Shatter’s body, hurling her backwards as her left wing splintered in a spray of bone and blood and feathers.

The feedback of the two magic streams, combined with the shockwave of the exploding lance hurtled Steel backwards into the cave wall, directly beneath a large section of collapsing roof. He fell unconscious as a slab of rock crumbled above him.

Smudge gasped feebly as her pulse faded out and blood filled her throat.

Twilight phased-in next to Smudge and quickly surveyed the chaos: falling rock, flyer plunging toward the chasm, dying pegasus, Void rupturing its restraints in a multi-hued eruption.

Her head swam with panic for an instant, then a single word came unbidden into her consciousness like a clarion call: “STOP!”

Everything froze.

Twilight blinked and shuddered, then looked down sadly at Smudge before bending down and touching the dark-grey body with her horn. A faint mist shimmered above the bloodied, broken pegasus for a moment, then faded.

Twilight stood up and looked around the cave, beholding the impending deaths of Steel and Shatter. She chewed her lip and stared at the collapsing ceiling, and the now-unconstrained Void.

She saw two more guaranteed deaths, and heard Discord’s words echo in her ears. She glanced at the marks on both flanks; her eyes hardened: “Fuck Discord.”

Working quickly, Twilight dashed to Steel’s side, pulling him away from the collapsing ceiling, laying him next to Smudge. She then rushed to the edge of the chasm and used her magic to guide Shatter back toward the cave floor, depositing her on Smudge’s other side.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as Twilight cast a violet web across the cave’s roof, restraining it, and limiting additional rockfall. She felt time beginning to slip forward, and sensed the Void straining. She stared intently at its glittering surface and perceived the effects of Zecora’s binding compound.

She brought her sword up in front of her face, squared her shoulders, and let the time-suspense effect end. The air was suddenly a swirling maelstrom of dust and rubble and bones and lashing tendrils.

Twilight’s horn glowed a deep purplish-black as Twilight probed the Void with both Death’s power and dark magic.

She glanced at Solar’s lifeless body, then back at the Void: “What did you do, Solar? Where’s Zecora?”

Her eyes went wide as the truth dawned on her: “Oh, Sweet Celestia! You’re inside! How?”

She probed the fields around the Void again, and furrowed her brow: “Dark, blood magic--my blood! I understand, now!”

Twilight shook her head sadly at Solar: “This was beyond you--beyond any living pony…”

She turned back to face the Void with a frown: “But I am no normal, living pony!”

She turned up a wrist and slashed it with a blade of dark magic. Blood welled up and ran down her leg, dripping on the floor: “Come on! Take it! This is what you want! This is the power of life and death!”

A dozen tendrils shot out and entangled Twilight’s foreleg, whisking away the blood, tugging. She raised her other foreleg and gashed its wrist: “Take it all! Come!”

The Void surge toward Twilight, its black surface now swirling with bands of violet and pink and gold. Twilight gritted her teeth and poured out a beam of dark magic, impossibly black even against the backdrop of the Void.

She stepped forward, panting, eyes glowing with silver fire, sword flickering with gold and crimson flames, horn pulsing purple-black. The Void seemed to shrink back.

“No, no! You want my blood, you pay the price! I know what Solar was trying to do, but his magic wasn’t dark enough, and he didn’t have enough of my blood!”

She lunged forward and plunged both her sword and her horn into the Void, puncturing it with a flash of light and a wave of intense cold.

“But I now command dark magic with a power unrivaled since Grey Thorn fell, and I am deathless! I bind you now to my will!"

She stepped back a pace from the Void and inscribed three glyphs on the cave floor using the blood that was now dripping freely off her hooves.

The Void suddenly contracted as black bands materialized around it, glittering like wet obsidian. Twilight rose on her hind legs and spread out both her bloody forelegs and wings as she rose, writhing ecstatically into the frigid air.

She hovered above the glyphs, sword poised above her head, dark power coursing from her horn as the Void was squeezed and pressed down into a compact sphere again.

The fire died in Twilight’s eyes as she dropped heavily to the floor, falling to her knees, shuddering. The Void drifted toward the floor like a deflating balloon.

Twilight’s head snapped up: “Not this time!”

A concave, violet disk, like a large, shallow bowl appeared beneath the Void, preventing it from passing through the floor into the chasm below.

Twilight sat back wearily on her haunches and pulsed healing magic from her horn across the gashes in her wrists.

“Prin--Princess…”

Twilight rose wearily to her hooves and walked slowly over to Steel.

He looked up at Twilight, eyes unfocused: “Is...is the Captain OK?”

“No, but she’ll live. As will you.”

“Smudge?”

Twilight shook her head: “No, but her death summoned me here, and that saved you and the Captain.”

Steel lifted his head off the floor and nodded: “That would have made her glad--to know her death was not in vain.”

Twilight smiled sadly as she teleported Smudge and Solar’s bodies away.

“Where did you send them?”

“Where I’m sending you two--back up to the top of the chasm. Major Stormy left a patrol there, and they’ll take care of you--your Captain’s in pretty rough shape.”

“I understand. Thank you, Princess.” He tipped his horn toward the Void: “What are you going to do with that?”

“I don’t really know. Take it up to Grey Thorn’s old study, for the time being. After that…”

She looked around the crumbling cavern and watched the glowing, illusory bookcases run down the walls like sepia-toned tears.

“Even the past is weeping, Lieutenant.”

Steel took a deep, pained breath through broken ribs and squeezed his eyes shut: “I’m sorry--what, Princess?”

She looked down with dry, empty eyes at Shatter and Steel’s damaged bodies: “Never mind, Lieutenant. Not important.”

The pegasus and unicorn vanished in a bright, magenta flash, leaving Twilight alone with the Void.

She pitched the last two lances into the chasm and wrapped the Void in a glowing, red bubble, lifting it from its protective base.

She popped the lid on her flask and drank it dry: “A thousand years from now...nopony…”

The Void vanished with a ‘pop’ and Twilight faded-out moments later.

Closure
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Death Be Not Proud

Closure

Luna took a deep breath and tasted stale air, stagnant water, and moss in the back of her throat. Her eyes fluttered open and adjusted to moonlight spilling across cracked, wet, overgrown flagstones.

She rolled onto her back and looked up into the stern face of a jet-black dalzi with a silver horn and aquamarine eyes.

Luna sighed: “Why here? I thought we had moved beyond rehashing our old haunts from the past.”

The dalzi raised an eyebrow and stepped aside as Luna sat up: “Interesting. I was about to ask you the same question. I did not choose this particular venue.”

Luna rubbed her temples and pulled her cloak close against the damp, chilly air: “Wonderful. Yet another potential complication. Regardless of where we are, what is it you want?

Nightmare Moon frowned and sat down on a fallen piece of masonry, summoning a chalice of wine: “That was a nasty piece of work with Gerrar. It gave even me chills!”

Luna looked away and absently chewed a fingernail: “I do not wish to speak of it. It had to be done…”

Nightmare Moon took a sip of wine and nodded: “Speaking of things that must be done, you have to tell him.”

Luna sighed: “I know. But after last night, it is going to be even harder to convince him of the necessity.”

Nightmare Moon gave her alter ego a flat stare: “If you do not tell him, I will! I can now manifest almost physically, and we are down to the eleventh hour!”

Luna glowered: “Do not dare! I will tell him when we awaken.”

“Perhaps we could bring him in now to this dream, and tell him thusly.”

Luna shook her head: “He is growing increasingly distrustful of anything dream-related. He fears that any encounters between us, even in broad daylight, may be tainted by illusion.”

“Not sure I can blame him. He has spent virtually his entire existence in a state of perfect perception, save for his few years of mortality. So to find himself again in a condition where he can no longer discern reality from dream or hallucination…”

“Particularly where zaka and mets’il are concerned.”

Nightmare Moon’s white grin flashed in her dark face: “Or even just the routine betrayals of his own flesh. Push your rump back a bit and wiggle to see what I mean!”

Luna closed her eyes for a moment then glared: “Please do not probe his dreams, right now! Neither of us need the distraction!”

Nightmare Moon smiled sadly: “In a few days it will no longer matter in any event. Whether his plan succeeds or not, he will be without a living body. Gerrar, at least, went out with a ‘happy ending!’ Surely it cannot hurt to…”

Luna stood, fists clenched: “This audience is over!”

Luna turned over to face Reaper, and watched his eyes dart underneath their lids in the telltale pattern of REM sleep. She lifted the edge of their shared blanket and glanced down at the bulge straining against his breeches. She shook her head and sighed.

Luna reached toward Reaper’s face and cupped his cheek in her palm: “Reaper--please wake up. We have much to do before the next leg of our journey.”

Reaper furrowed his brow as his eyes half-opened: “Luna...still a dream. Good…” His eyes drooped shut and he took a deep, ragged breath.

Luna smiled slightly, leaned forward and kissed Reaper on the forehead. She then slid to the edge of the bed, pulled on the nightshirt she had wrapped around her, and slipped on her boots.

She stood and shivered in the cold air as she rummaged through Reaper’s bag and found a second, larger shirt to slip on over the top of the first. She shuffled over to the fire, blew ash off the coals, and fed in kindling and small sticks until flames appeared and the smoke cleared.
Luna stayed hunched before the fire for a few minutes, warming her hands and feeding in larger fuel, until she could place the water-filled pan next to a hot spot. She then stood and walked to the door.

The clouds had cleared overnight and the chill was bracing. Luna felt the sting of wind-blown snow against her bare legs and face: “I really do miss my coat, sometimes!”

She hurried behind the stone hut where the dalzi sheltered together, and rubbed each one’s muzzle: “Good morning, Bitch! Good morning, Colt! I shall bring you each a bit of something shortly.”

She stepped beside a pile of split firewood and retrieved her saddlebags, setting them on top of the firewood. She then crouched in the lee of the pile where the bags had been, squatted and relieved herself, shuddering as the cold wind gusted up beneath her shirts.

Luna re-entered the hut and hurried to kneel again before the fire, shivering and muttering against the cold. Reaper stirred in the bed behind her and propped himself up on an elbow.

He noticed her boot-shod feet and bare legs: “Did you just go outside bare-assed at this temperature?”

Luna glanced over her shoulder with a grin: “My need was great, and I overestimated my cold tolerance again!”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “If your need was that great, there’s a chamber pot by the door!”

“True, but I wanted to retrieve my bags and say ‘good morning’ to the dalzi. To do all that, required a bit of bare-assed adventuring!”

Reaper chuckled and looked at the pan heating next to the fire as he ran his fingers through his hair: “Ah, good--you have water heating. I’m finally going to have to shave all this off, now.”

Luna nodded and pointed to the clothes draped over the chair: “Yes--time to adopt Gerrar’s guise…”

“Right. I figured I could just take his clothes, though I brought a few spare pieces along, in case there was an altercation.”

Luna glanced guiltily at the quilt-draped body lying next to the opposite wall: “That is clearly no longer a concern…”

Reaper looked at Gerrar’s body then back at Luna’s face: “I understand your feelings, Luna, but again, you did what had to be done.”

“You have to tell him.”

Reaper’s looked around the room: “Tell me what?”

Luna gritted her teeth: “I cannot return to our world without you, Reaper. I, too must die before the gates of Fort Torlek.”

Reaper furrowed his brow in confusion: “What? No! I have the map all updated and corrected! With the two dalzi and a good sword and a brief stop in Rixk’a, you should have little trouble getting back to that old shrine in under a week--tops!”

“He does not understand…”

Luna shook her head: “You and I are bound in a way no two beings have ever been--well, three, to be accurate, but one problem at a time! We came to Kur at the same time and place, and we must leave the same way.”

“No! I alone must--”

“Your power within me must go, too, Reaper. It does not belong in this world.”

“Twilight is bound to my power as well, yet she isn’t here!”

“Ah, listen to him fight! He does not want to see you die!”

Reaper whipped his head back over his shoulder: “That’s right--I don’t! And it isn’t--”

Luna turned her back to the fire and sat cross-legged: “Twilight took up your sword and is now bound to our world. Her portion of your power is not Kur’s problem, nor ours at this juncture.”

Reaper chewed his lip and scowled: “Where is she? Where is Nightmare Moon? Are we in yet another fucking dream?”

Luna smiled sadly: “No, though I appreciate your suspicions. She is sitting behind you, clad only in a copy of my new cloak.”

“You appreciate my suspicions? Not bloody likely! You know all about how to weave in and out of dream states, keeping tabs on what’s real and what’s not! I no longer trust anything I see when you--or is it the two of you--are here!”

Luna nodded: “Understandable. I assure you that you are awake, that I am real, and that Nightmare Moon is with us, though unable to fully manifest herself.”

“Do not be so sure, True Sister…”

Reaper’s eyes went wide as he felt a pair of hands run over his shoulders, down his chest, and into his breeches.

“Ah, did you just wake up, or are you happy to see me?”

Luna glared past Reaper’s shoulder: “Stop that! I have to be as honest as possible in order to ensure we complete this mission! I do not need your interference, and neither does he!”

Reaper lurched off the bed and spun around: “What do you want?”

Luna retrieved the rag from the floor and rinsed it before removing her shirts and beginning to wipe herself down: “She wishes to convince you to stay so that you and she, us--I cannot really tell anymore--can adventure here, conquer here, rule here.”

“You know we can’t do that!”

Luna nodded as she ran the rag across her breasts, carefully cleaning the dagger wound: “I know. But that does not mean she desires it any less.”

Reaper sat down heavily on the edge of the bed: “Luna...I--I can’t watch you die!”

Luna got to her knees and began running the rag between her legs. She looked at Reaper: “You have seen me die before.”

Reaper's eyes clouded and he chewed the inside of his lip: “That was as the Harbinger! Shit, I was half responsible for your death! And it wasn’t that I didn’t care or that it didn’t bother me, it’s just...just...this is different.”

“Dead is dead, is it not?”

Luna shot an ugly look at Nightmare Moon.

Reaper swallowed: “Yes, it is. But I’m not an immortal, cosmic entity now--I’m a man, and to see you die…”

Luna sat back down and soaked the rag in the pan: “You will not need to see that, Reaper. I will die after you.”

“What?”

“My death could possibly throw off the ordained sequence of things. Besides, I came to Kur a bit after you, so there is a certain symmetry to my leaving a few moments later, too.”

Reaper put his head in his hands “I...there must be another way…”

“How ironic, that Death turns out to be squeamish!”

“Enough of that!”

Reaper shook his head: “No, she’s right. Back on our world this never would have been an issue. Death is just a process, a function, an operation. When you and Twilight died, I was concerned, of course. I worried that it wouldn’t work, or that you would suffer, but the process of it all didn’t bother me.”

“It is the same here, Reaper. You will die by spear before Torlek’s gates, and shortly thereafter, I will come onto the field of battle and engage an opponent and fall in a similar manner.”

Reaper looked up with a pained expression.

Luna took a deep breath and poured more water into the pan: “Do not mistake me--I do not relish this. I have no desire to feel a sword across my throat or a spear in my heart, but we both must do what we must.”

Reaper tipped his head back, eyes closed, and sighed heavily: “You’re right, Luna; we don’t really have a choice at this point. The die was cast when you stepped through that portal.”

“Yes. You never would have made it to Torlek without me. Gerrar would have killed you last night.”

“To say nothing of the booze and zaka and cunt, which I must say have been most delightful!”

Luna glared at her alter ego: “That is not helping!”

“No, again she’s probably right. Gods know I’ve found the desires and needs of this flesh much harder to resist than I thought! There’s a decent chance I might have ended up sidetracked somewhere.”

“I too, have felt the hunger of this body. This is a strange, raw world, and it tugs at me in ways I have not felt in centuries, if not longer. It is best for us both to make our exits as soon as Fate allows.”

Reaper sat up straight: “Alright, I guess I need to look the part. How sharp is that dagger? I know Gerrar has shaving gear, but this hair and beard are too thick for that.”

Luna smiled as she settled another log on the fire: “Allow me to wield the blade. I suspect it will be easier to have someone do it for you.”

“Most likely…”

Luna set the rag aside, stood and retrieved her dagger from the floor beside the bed. She swiftly and smoothly sheared Reaper’s hair and beard down to a dense stubble.

“There. You should be able to remove the rest with a razor, I would think.”

“Thank you. I used to shave my face and head routinely. Hopefully it’ll come back to me!”

“I hope so, too! It would be awkward for you to show up looking like you had already been in combat!”

Reaper smiled and retrieved Gerrar’s gear from a niche in the wall beside the bed. He sat out a small, polished silver mirror, a thin blade attached to a bone handle, and a lump of soapy material.

Luna finished scrubbing behind her neck, picked up the pan of water and took it to Reaper: “I believe I am as clean as I can get, given the accommodations. I will dress my various wounds with unguent and get dressed while you finish.”

Reaper nodded and began wetting, soaping and scraping his face and scalp. Slowly his jaw and cheeks and scalp glistened, denuded of hair, slicked with soapy water. He splashed his head and face and toweled off.

He stood and stepped away from the bed, catching Luna’s eye: “So how does it look?”

Luna finished rubbing a rag across her feet and lower legs, and looked up: “Very thorough job. Turn around.”

Reaper held his arms out and turned in a circle.

Luna furrowed her brow as she saw his back: “You’re missing a distinctive scar, otherwise you are, well, your own perfect duplicate.”

Reaper looked over his right shoulder: “Oh, you mean Yunada’s mark? Yeah, there’s no way to duplicate that. Not an issue, though, since I only meet with him for about thirty minutes, and never even take off my tunic or cloak.”

Luna nodded and stood, pulling on her breeches as she did, adjusting and belting them over her hips. She sat in the chair and pulled on stockings and boots. Reaper paused and looked at her bare chest with concern.

“How, exactly, did that cut get there?"

Luna glanced down at her left breast and dabbed at the unguent there: “I cut his breast then mine. I mingled our blood and shared its taste.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “He let you cut him?”

Luna nodded and absently rubbed ointment into her dark nipple: “I offered him the dagger. He took it and put it to my throat, but I turned his hand away and used his own hand to scratch a wound across his chest.”

“Then cut yourself…”

“No. He still had the blade, and I slid beneath him, guiding his member into me, telling him to plunge himself into me twice, if he felt the need. I pulled his hand, and the knife, to my own breast and slashed it across my own skin as he thrust inside me.”

Reaper grimaced and shook his head: “I’m just having a hard time grasping all this.”

Luna nodded and pulled on her camisole, blouse and doublet: “I understand. Until I actually entered that door last night, I was not sure I could do it, either.”

Reaper stood and pulled Luna’s various armor pieces from her bag, and began fitting them to her shoulders, wrists and shins. He stepped back as she adjusted the vambraces.

Reaper pulled her cloak from the chair and draped it over her shoulders, clasping the chain below her throat, before reaching beneath and belting her sword over her doublet and breeches.

He nodded approvingly: “Every inch the T’zesa!”

She smiled: “Escorted by the model Tunzal.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “For better or worse. Mostly worse…”

Luna rolled her eyes then stopped, furrowed her brow, and looked at the draped body against the far wall: “Shall we just leave him?”

“Yeah, I mean, with no consciousness, no essence, it’s just a shell. I’d burn this place down around him, but I’d rather not take the time or possibly draw attention to this location. The body will be dead within two or three days in any event.”

Luna nodded and chewed her lip: “I wonder how he’s faring.”

“In his dreamworld-for-one? If he reacts as I did when I first appeared in pony form on an alien world, I assume he’s wandering around in wonder and confusion. But soon enough he’ll start investigating every nook and cranny of the palace, looking for weaknesses--chinks in your armor, as it were.”

“Trying to escape?”

“Possibly. But it’s just as likely that he’ll end up relieved to be done with it all, and be captivated by all Equestria’s engaging, happy denizens, and their equally-captivating rulers.”

Luna sheathed her dagger and finished packing her bags, making sure to keep aside some fruit for the dalzi: “That would be wise. Even were he able to escape the confines of the world I created, he would find himself adrift in the emptiness that stretches between time and space and the stars.”

“I doubt he’d be able to find a way out, anyway. He’s smart, but not that smart, clearly.”

Luna raised an eyebrow and grinned: “Why? Because he was taken in and deceived by me?”

Reaper hefted his bag and glanced over his shoulder at Gerrar’s inert form under its blanket: “Hardly! The brightest strategists and mightiest warriors would fall to you!”

Luna blushed as Reaper opened the door for her.

Reaper followed his companion out and pulled the door tight behind him: “No, it’s because I really wasn’t nearly as smart as I appeared. I was more clever than anything else, and could turn information back around fast, making it seem like I had deep knowledge. There was a lot of luck involved.”

He gazed to the east, down the narrow valley and road leading away from Rutze as Luna loaded her bags on Bitch: “And it was here I cashed-in all that luck.”

He helped Luna up on Bitch’s back, adjusting straps and tightening bits of tack. He then swung up on to Colt’s saddle, and spurred the dalzi forward away from the cabin and onto the the frost-covered road.

Luna pulled her hood up and gazed at the reddening eastern horizon: “Hopefully you can cash it in again.”

Reaper took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It steamed and swirled in the frigid air like odorless smoke: “We don’t need luck this time--we have Fate.”

The two dalzi plodded away as a dark indigo shadow, trimmed in ghostly white lingered in front of the cabin for a few moments before dissolving in the breeze like Reaper’s breath.

“Ah, but whose fate…”

Loose Ends
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Death Be Not Proud

Loose Ends

Reaper emerged from the mist lying over the Zuri River, and rode up to Baro and his men huddled against the cold around a brazier at the river’s edge.

Reaper pointed at Baro and his diminutive companion: “You two--untie the ferry and get me across the river. I need to be to Lord Yunada before the dawn.”

Baro waved at his partner and turned to Reaper: “Right away, m’Lord! But we thought you’d take a bit of a lie-in after your recreation!”

“New intelligence came to me yestereve, and I need to get to our Lord before his morning rituals.”

Baro nodded: “Ah, yeah--no breakin’ in on that!”

Reaper looked east over the river at the grey false dawn and pulled a plug of zaka out of his pocket: “Correct. And speaking of--do not ‘break in’ on the parzaile. I will return mid-day, and expect to enjoy a second helping after she sobers-up a bit.”

Baro glanced at the zaka and pursed his lips: “Oh, the good shit! Yeah, a backwater village cunt like her’s never had the strong stuff, eh?”

“No, and she’s going to need a few hours to tighten back up. Do not disturb.”

Reaper walked Colt onto the small jetty and onto the ferry as Baro took the rope and his companion hoisted a lantern on the stern.

He turned back to Baro: “In fact, I need you to join your cohorts on the west side of the village. Your mate, here, will remain on the east bank of the river for the moment.”

Baro saluted and disappeared up the riverbank, into the fog to retrieve his picketed dalzi.

Reaper held Colt’s reins as the small, rumpled man accompanying him pushed the ferry off the shore with a pole, and called out to the opposite bank to haul against their end of the rope.

The shallow barge creaked and lurched as the crew on the opposite bank pulled the two men and Colt across slowly. Reaper’s attendant strained against the pole, pushing against the river bank and bottom as the dark water swirled by.

Reaper furrowed his brow and stared intently across the mist-shrouded river: “When we get to Lord Yunada’s tent I will need you to return to the riverbank and stand by with my mount. I may come myself or send a runner depending on what decisions are made, and haste will be needed.”

“Aye, m’Lord! Do you expect things to break today?”

Reaper shrugged: “Uncertain...hmm. What is your name?”

“Soros, m’Lord!”

“I am uncertain how events will unfold, thus our need for preparedness and vigilance, especially to the west.”

Reaper looked eastward toward the horizon at Larg breaking briefly through the mist and fog: “Do you fear death, Soros?”

Soros knitted his brows as the barge neared the eastern bank of the river: “Not really, m’Lord--as long as it’s a clean death. I figure the Lost Gods are long-gone, so I ain’t too worried about no judgements. You and Baro been good to me, so life’s pretty easy. I guess I’d miss that…”

“‘Good to you.’ Booze, zaka and cunt…”

Soros grinned, exposing zaka-stained teeth: “Yeah--exactly! Though I wouldn’t complain ‘bout gettin’ a bit more of the last one!”

Reaper closed his eyes and took a deep breath: “It’s not enough, Soros.”

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’!”

Reaper sighed and shook his head sadly as the ferry ground into the river bank and two green-clad soldiers stepped into the water to pull it ashore.

Reaper guided Colt ashore as Soros helped tie the ferry to a crude, temporary jetty. Reaper got into the saddle and snapped Colt’s reins.

Soros jogged alongside Reaper and his dalzi: “Are the rumors true, m’Lord?”

“Which ones? There are so many…”

“Gindu’s actually holed-up in the fort with his Guard.”

“That is the gist of what my most-recent intelligence has told me. It appears his 'escape' to the southeast with his vanguard may be a trap designed to lead our forces away from the fort and into the arms of an unexpectedly-strong opponent, while Gindu slips away.”

“Fuckin’ coward!”

“True, physical courage has never been his strong suit, but I suspect that’s secondary. I assume the real goal is to lead our forces into a trap in the forests to the southeast.”

“‘Cause we think we’s chasin’ a small, scattered force.”

“Correct.”

“Yeah, but Lord Yunada’s not dumb enough to fall for that!”

Reaper halted Colt beside a low, earthen embankment and hopped down, handing Soros the reins: “It has nothing to do with being dumb or smart. Even the most brilliant commander can act honestly on false information, unaware they’ve been led astray.”

Soros grinned: “Sure, but he’s got you to watch out for that kind of skullduggery, yeah?”

Reaper blinked slowly: “That is indeed why I’m here. Now, head back down toward the river. It appears a reconnaissance platoon has picketed their mounts a bit north of the path. Settle-in with them if you like, but do not let the Sergeant in charge attempt to attach you. Make it clear to him that you are Yunada’s chief Tunzal’s man.”

Soros nodded: “Yes, m’Lord!”

Reaper turned away and passed through a cut in the earthworks. He bent slightly to his right toward a large, dark-green-and-red tent when something caught his eye, silhouetted against the pale eastern horizon. He froze.

Reaper waved over a spearman who was guarding the gap in the embankment, and pointed to a warped metal cage suspended some ten feet above the ground by chains hung from a crude iron scaffold. The remnants of a large fire smoldered below, and the blackened cage contained a twisted, charred corpse.

Reaper stared at the cage: “When was the sut’ka used?”

“Dunno. Mayhap six hours ago? Fire was already down to coals when I came on duty.”

Reaper furrowed his brow and absently fished in a pocket for a plug of zaka: “Thank you. Please return to your post.”

The soldier shrugged and wandered back toward the embankment as Reaper headed toward Yunada’s command tent, glancing once more over his shoulder at the soot-encrusted cage.

A guard stepped out from inside the tent’s opening, naked sword in hand: “Greetings, Tunzal! Our Lord awaits your arrival.”

Reaper nodded absently as the guard pulled back the heavy canvas flap. Odors of incense, charcoal, hot metal and burnt flesh wafted out as Reaper stepped inside.

A tall, slender man turned from a rough-hewn, iron-banded table: “Greetings, Gerrar! It has been too long! I always appreciate your reports, but miss the opportunity to lay eyes on you!”

Reaper bowed deeply: “I am of more use to you in the field, my Lord, but I will make a concerted effort to check-in more frequently, if you so desire it.”

Yunada grinned as his steel-grey eyes glittered: “You see, Nai’a? That’s how a clever man abases himself! Gerrar boxes me into a corner where if I demand his presence, it appears I am selfishly impacting the mission! And so he remains at liberty, free from my meddling!”

Reaper straightened: “My time is yours to command, Lord, but I assume you would rather have actionable intelligence and the victories that go with it, than my poor company.”

A broad, pale man with close-cropped, tonsured hair, wrapped in a deep-purple robe stirred in a heavy chair behind the table: “Maybe he knows it isn’t safe to flout your authority to your face, and so wisely finds reasons to stay on the road.”

Yunada smiled and adjusted his own, blood-red robe: “I presume you mean Gerrar’s, shall we say, lack of faith regarding Surjain’kos?”

Nai’a reached for his wine cup on the floor beside the chair and glared at Reaper as he took a swig: “Fuck ‘lack of faith!’ You gave the order that we were to worship and follow the teachings of the Goddess over two years ago, and your word is inviolate law! Where does he get off hiding out in the north, or more likely between some galdu’s legs, just to dodge his holy obligations?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Given the fact that I am largely responsible for our Lord discovering and embracing the Goddess, I know better than anyone the assumed obligations.”

Yunada nodded: “Yes, and like many an ancient cleric or philosopher, you are an apostate. But I allow it since it keeps me on my toes, and sharpens my faith, as a whetstone hones the blade. I trust that in time you will find your own path to the flames.”

Nai’a grinned wickedly: “Maybe his time’s shorter than he knows!”

Reaper furrowed his brow and glanced at his rival briefly before shaking his head: “Speaking of ‘short time,’ my Lord, my contact from Degia finally connected me with his mole inside Gindu’s guard. I have found that previous reports are true: the bulk of Gindu’s forces have dispersed into the forests southeast of here in an effort to draw us into a trap. He is actually inside the fort with a light force, waiting for us to draw off so he can escape.”

Yunada picked up a heavy chalice from the table and took a drink: “Yes, that would seem like a logical plan.”

“The turncoat is awaiting a signal to compromise the gates, and allow us to ride in with a shock force of your best warriors. The company need not be large--Gindu’s guardsmen are doughty, but few. We should outnumber them two or three-to-one.”

“And you would ride with us? That’s unusual.”

Nai’a belched: “One might almost say ‘suspicious.’”

Reaper chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment: “I will need to give the signal. I’m aware that combat is not my forte, but this mission is more important than my personal safety.”

Yunada put his chalice down and glanced at the large map spread on the table before him: “Indeed. And you say Gindu would escape? Where?”

Reaper looked over the map: “Given the terrain, and his belief that our forces have gone southeast, I would assume he’d go north.”

Nai’a chuckled as he drained his wine cup, and Yunada slowly ran his finger up the East road: “North. Yes. Are you familiar with Rixk’a?”

Reaper coughed suddenly to cover his surprise: “I beg your pardon, my Lord--the smoke in here caught in my throat for a moment.”

Nai’a reached up under his robe and scratched: “Yeah, something got caught, that’s for sure!”

Reaper took a deep breath and faced Yunada: “Am I missing something, my Lord?”

Yunada chewed his lip for a moment as he regarded Reaper: “It appears so. Guard! Bring in the prisoner!”

Reaper turned as two grey-clad soldiers emerged through a flap at the back of the tent, connecting the main pavilion to a smaller antechamber tent. The soldiers were dragging a short, disheveled man between them. They dumped him roughly at Yunada’s feet. Reaper froze mid-breath.

Yunada regarded the huddled form at his feet: “An outrider patrol picked him and his companion up yesterday afternoon as they scurried down the East road, trying to avoid detection.”

The warlord turned back to the table and retrieved his chalice: “The patrol determined they were run-of-the-mill bounty hunter/trader types, and were about to release them--”

Nai’a chimed in from his chair: “After a suitable ‘donation,’ no doubt!”

“No doubt. But then one of them made mention of some information that might be of value…”

Sagu looked up from the floor, face bruised and tear-streaked: “I already told ‘ya everything I knows, m’Lord! Please don’t--”

Yunada held up a hand: “Enough. Do you recognize the man standing next to me?”

Sagu turned his swollen, red-rimmed eyes to Reaper and squinted for a moment, until a look of recognition washed over his features: “Oh, yes m’Lord! He’s the one I was tellin’ you about! He ain't got no hair now, but 'e's the one!”

Sagu got up on his knees and clutched Reaper’s cloak: “Oh, please sir! Tell yer Lord everything I said was true! Oh, by the Gods they burnt-up Sumi! He screamed forever but couldn't tell nuthin’! They didn’t ask nuthin of him!”

Reaper swallowed hard and stared down at Sagu: “That’s because they wanted your information. Sumi’s torture was for your benefit, and I assume it worked, crude though it was.”

Nai’a spat and slouched further into his chair as he took up his wine cup: “Oh, it worked just fine, Tunzal. I don’t have your gift for cleverness or invention, but we were in a hurry, and you had yet to grace us with your presence!”

He looked over at Yunada: “Why do we even need this insolent traitor? I can handle interrogations and intelligence just fine!”

Reaper took his eyes off Sagu and glanced coolly at Nai’a: “That would require you to get out of both your chair and your cups. I fear both are beyond you, now.”

“Says the fucking zaka addict!”

A thin smile spread across Reaper’s face: “Better that than mets’il…”

Nai’a glanced nervously at Yunada: “That’s a lie! That substance is forbidden in our Lord’s camp, and you know it!”

Yunada rolled his eyes and held up a hand: “Enough, both of you!” He turned to Nai’a: “You see now why I keep this ‘insolent traitor’ around--he keeps us both on our toes!”

He licked his lips and turned back toward Reaper: “However, I fear Nai’a may have a point when he calls you ‘traitor.’ Our unfortunate guest, here, told a fantastic tale of meeting a tall, dark-skinned princess and her attendant well north of here, then encountering them again in Rixk’a. Have you been to Rixk’a in the last few days?”

Reaper took a deep breath: “I presume he is speaking of the T’zesa Luna. Yes--I encountered her several weeks a ago in an attempt to ascertain the location of Zaldun.”

Nai’a belched: “Zaldun is a myth. You’re dragging one of your dressed-up galdu around with you now instead of just hiring cunt locally.”

Reaper smiled indulgently: “Zaldun is a legend, not a myth, and the T’zesa is very real. And should you come into her presence, I suggest you not call her that if you wish to keep your tongue in your head--she can flash quite the temper!”

Yunada raised an eyebrow: “Then where is she?”

“I parted ways with her a couple of days ago. I told her I had business with you, my Lord, and she wished to see if she could find an agent from Degia. She is searching for ‘the powers of the South,’ to use her term.”

Nai’a stood up and kicked Sagu aside: “And why the fuck would you let her go, traitor? So she could pass secrets along to Degia?”

Reaper laughed: “Degia? That would be like passing secrets along to a lame dalzi, for all the risk it would entail! No, the real risk would be her turning to Gindu.”

Yunada furrowed his brow and nodded: “So Nai’a’s question still stands.”

“I gave her a detailed map and contact information for several Degian agents to the south and west of here. She will either end up there--slowly--and I can retrieve her after the battle, or, should she drift eastward, I assume she would be picked up by one of our patrols.”

Reaper glanced at Nai’a: “Assuming our esteemed sub-commander here has arrayed his forces competently--always a dangerous assumption, I grant you…”

“Fuck you. You still haven’t answered our Lord’s question, traitor: why didn’t you just bring your galdu here?”

Reaper turned to Yunada: “I know that you are not fond of surprises, especially on the eve of a great battle. I did not inform you of my exploration earlier, in case my quest ended up being a bust, and I did not bring her here, for fear of being a distraction.”

“That wasn’t your call, Tunzal--it was our Lord’s!”

Reaper looked over his shoulder at Nai’a: “I’m aware you’re accustomed to being kept on a short leash, but I am used to being given fairly broad latitude in carrying out my missions.”

He returned to Yunada: “Unless that displeases you, my Lord. In which case, I serve at your pleasure.”

Yunada chewed his lip for a moment and regarded Reaper closely: “We’ll discuss it later. What’s done is done for the moment, and your T’zesa--whatever she really is--is out-of-reach. But this concerns me, Gerrar. I have stayed in power as long as I have by keeping very close tabs on my underlings. When one appears to go rogue…”

A high horn note came from outside the tent, cutting Yunada short. He closed his eyes and sat down his chalice: “It is time for the ceremony, my brothers!”

Reaper began to back toward the pavilion’s entrance: “My apologies, my Lord, but I must go. The attack and my turncoat’s part in it depend on precise timing, and I have a few loose ends to resolve.”

Yunada frowned as Nai’a stepped up behind him: “I would prefer you stay, Gerrar--I am sure we can spare an hour. We have not shared the full experience of Surjain’kos’ holy day, and rarely do the moons rise together just ahead of the dawn. This calls for the full observance of the Goddess’ honor.

Nai’a turned aside, bent down and roughly jerked Sagu to his feet: “And we have our blood sacrifice all ready to go!”

He drew a dagger and poised it at the whimpering man’s neck. Reaper suddenly stepped beside Sagu and grabbed Nai’a’s wrist: “No, let me give the blood. You call me ‘apostate’--allow me to make some amends, my Lord.”

Nai’a wrenched his hand away as Yunada tipped his head sideways and licked his lips: “Very well. I will bring the guz’pa.”

Nai’a glared at Reaper then gestured at Sagu: “Guard--take the prisoner away. Stick him in the stockade; I’ll want to question him further, I’m sure.”

Yunada crossed the tent and lifted a shallow gold pan from a bronze stand. An attendant dropped a scoop of red-hot charcoal into an earthenware cup in the base of the stand as Yunada returned to the map table and held the pan in front of Reaper.

Reaper unsheathed his own dagger and winced as he dragged the tip across the palm of his left hand. Blood welled up from the cut, and Reaper squeezed his fist over the pan until the surface was spattered red. Yunada handed him a length of clean linen bandage and walked back to the ceremonial altar.

He sat the guz’pa back on its stand and began to chant and sing as the blood sizzled and smoked. He threw his head back and moaned ecstatically as Nai’a recited verses from a small scroll he had pulled from his robe.

Reaper closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as the sounds of Nai’a’s voice mingled with the clarion call from beyond the tent, and scents of hot metal and charcoal mixed with wine and scorching blood.

Mightier than any raging inferno here on Kur, you rise burning and indomitable above the rim of the world, oh Surjain’ko! Cleanse us! Garbi rahkin! Scorch away our impurities and lead us to a blazing new day as your heat courses through our veins!

Reaper shuddered as Yunada reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder: “It is time to reveal ourselves to the Goddess!”

Nai’a opened his robe and let it fall to the floor, leaving him clad in linen breeches that reached just below his knees. His hairy chest bore several scars and tattoos, and he held his arms wide as an attendant lifted a flap at the far end of the tent allowing a stream of sunlight to penetrate the smoky interior.

Reaper furrowed his brow and bit his lip as he turned away: “I apologize, my Lord, but I really must go. This afternoon’s attack is critical, and..”

“Remove your garment, Gerrar.”

Reaper stopped and swallowed hard: “I do not wish for this attack to go awry. I will return momentarily if you will but...”

“Guards--please help the Tunzal out of his tunic.”

Reaper closed his eyes and took in a long, shuddering breath as two soldiers reached for his arms: “Don’t touch me.”

He turned back to face Yunada and saw his long, wiry body clad only in a loincloth, nearly every inch of his tan skin scarred and rippled with burns and cuts and tattoos, many fairly-recent.

Reaper squared his shoulders and removed his tunic, handing it to an attendant who dutifully took it and hung it over a nearby rack. Reaper then pulled his shirt slowly over his head and handed it to the now-surprised attendant.

Nai’a gaped: “Not possible!”

Yunada walked slowly beside, then behind Reaper and ran his fingers over Reaper’s left shoulder blade: “It’s gone. How can this be?”

Reaper licked his lips as Nai’a took a step toward him, dagger drawn, blade glinting in the reddish light: “He’s a toa’bika! What else could it be?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “A doppelgänger? Now who’s trafficking in myths?”

Yunada moved back in front of Reaper: “I must admit that believing you to be a toa’bika is even harder than believing in Zaldun, but here you stand, with no scar on your shoulder. How do you explain this Gerrar, or is it Reaper?”

Reaper sighed: “That is the name I took these last several weeks. I also let my beard grow out and used a wig. I frequently use disguises and aliases--it keeps me alive and un-captured.”

Nai’a brandished his blade: “Until now, traitor! None of that explains a missing mark!”

Reaper suddenly chuckled: “Blank flank…”

“What?”

He shook his head: “Nothing. Just an old joke I once heard.”

“Well, you can laugh yourself silly in the sut'ka out front! Or maybe I could try my hand at a ‘Tunzal’s haircut.’ Those look especially gruesome!”

“You haven’t the skill. I’d have to do it myself.”

Nai’a lunged at Reaper, but Yunada slapped his hand aside, stepped in against Nai’a’s chest and drove him back towards his chair. Nai’a sat down with a thud and picked up his wine cup again.

Yunada turned back toward Reaper: “We’re not killing him until I figure out who he really is and where he came from. He’s right about one thing: I don’t like surprises, and this is a huge and troubling one.”

Reaper closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again: “My Lord, I can explain everything after the battle, and once you have met the T’zesa. Zaldun has remarkable healing--well, I hesitate to use the word, but magic is the only way to describe it. I was injured and she healed me, inadvertently healing my old scar as well.”

Nai’a snorted in his cup: “‘Healing!’ Is that what you call getting your balls sucked by your whore?”

Reaper smiled coldly: “Again, I warn you against that, should you meet her. It would likely be the last mistake you ever make.”

Nai’a rolled his eyes and drained his cup.

Reaper turned back to Yunada: “My Lord, you have always trusted me. Trust me now--everything will be made clear once we have defeated Gindu!”

Yunada drifted back to the table and looked absently at the map: “Yes, I have always trusted you, at least to carry out my orders. I have never entirely trusted you not to have ulterior motives nor to harbor dark designs against my power.”

Reaper smiled sadly: “As you said--that touch of paranoia is how you’ve stayed on top...”

“Exactly--that, and playing you lieutenants off against one another. And even though I have no specific reason to suspect you of plotting, this tale of a T’zesa with magical powers, and your lack of a mark leave me very uneasy.”

He picked up Gerrar’s sword which the attendant had hung on a nearby weapons rack: “My force is fierce and battle-hardened, but not particularly large. I must pray and meditate before I take the next step. This will also afford me the time to send out some additional patrols.”

Reaper’s eyes widened: “No, my Lord--you must act at once and strike before the evening! Our window is closing fast, and all might be lost if we do not act soon!”

Nai’a stood up as Yunada stepped back and gestured for his guards: “You forget yourself, Gerrar! I must do whatever it is I determine to be best. All this talk of haste and closing windows makes me even more suspicious of your motives.”

Two grey-clad soldiers flanked Reaper as he tried to turn away toward the exit; one suddenly drove his mailed fist into Reaper’s abdomen, doubling him over.

Yunada shook his head: “Guards, take the Tunzal to the stockade.”

Nai’a bent down and lifted Reaper’s chin up and spat in his face: “Make sure to shackle this fucker, and gag him--he can talk his way out of anything with that greasy tongue of his!”

Yunada knelt in front of Reaper and looked into his eyes: “I will come later and interrogate you myself. You are too dangerous to leave alive now, Gerrar, but I at least owe you my personal attention.”

Reaper sputtered for breath as the guards hauled him back upright: “M-my Lord, please! It-it has to be--”

Nai’a glared and slammed his fist into Reaper’s throat: “Get him the fuck out of here!”

Yunada walked with the guards to the pavilion’s entrance as they dragged the struggling Reaper away: “You have taught me many useful things over the years, Gerrar. I promise to be efficient but swift when I meet with you later. But now I must pray to the Goddess for clarity. I suggest you do the same.”

The tent flap fell closed as Yunada returned to the tent’s dark, hazy interior and laid Gerrar’s sword on the map. Its tip touched Rixk’a.

Yunada
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Death Be Not Proud

Yunada

Luna lay on her back in a hollow, between Bitch and Gerrar’s resting dalzi, absently rubbing her mount’s ear. She listened to a distant bird and squinted at the sun through patchy clouds, gauging its height in the sky relative to Larg. She chewed slowly on a bit of dried fruit and began to doze lightly.

She suddenly realized it was pitch dark, and sat up quickly, looking about for the now-missing dalzi. Then she glanced up to see Larg hanging above her, dappled with the distinctive “Mare-in-the-Moon” pattern she knew well.

She smiled and nodded: “Where are you?”

A jet-black dalzi emerged from behind a rock outcropping: “He is late.”

“Maybe. It was never really made clear exactly how long it would take him to meet Yunada then leave. And he may be delayed on his way here.”

The dalzi shrugged: “Yes, and it may take him some time to find you in this glen. But it may be something more, as well.”

“I sincerely hope not. This mission is teetering on a knife’s edge as it is. I genuinely do not know what will happen if the timing of the final battle is thrown off.”

The dalzi shook her head, her silver horn glinting in the moonlight: “Who knows? Your--our--presence has already altered the dynamics. What would altering the time or order of death change?”

Luna chewed her lip: “And more to the point, what if something untoward has happened to Reaper? Even leaving aside the question of timing, if he has fallen afoul of Yunada--”

“Quite possible, given our reading of his memories…”

“Yes, so what if? Do I attempt to retrieve him? Do I confront Yunada?”

“I do not see a choice. You cannot simply sit in this dell forever, and you cannot return to the portal. You will have to present yourself to Yunada and force a conclusion, if you are unable to find Reaper.”

Luna closed her eyes: “I am afraid. Even Gerrar blocked out much of his final encounters with Yunada. He is a grotesque man, given to cruelty I can scarce imagine.”

“I can.”

“I know, but it is even worse, given the fact his Number Two, Nai’a will be there.”

“Yes, but you will not be alone. I will be with you.”

“I am not sure I find that comforting.”

The dalzi smiled: “I understand, but you should. I seek the same thing you do, True Sister--I want to see this situation successfully resolved.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Why?”

The dalzi took a deep breath: “I was with Reaper and his ‘parzaile’ last night.”

“And?”

“Reaper was trying to gain a small measure of redemption for his final days as Gerrar. I know I can never redeem my centuries of malevolence, but maybe I can make a difference, and conclude this affair in a way that might make you think a little better of me in days to come.”

Luna smiled wistfully: “You have been a part of me for so long--two sides of the same coin, really--that to think of you as a separate spirit, as one who would seek my empathy, is hard for me to grasp.”

The dalzi nodded: “It is unsettling for me as well. I am not accustomed to seeking...clemency? Mercy? These all strike me as pity, which I will not take, or absolution, which I do not deserve.”

Luna’s eyes clouded: “I have been shown all those things, and have struggled to accept them, so I empathize with your unease. Nevertheless, you, too may be worthy of some measure of forgiveness. It is up to you to earn and accept it.”

The dalzi nodded: “In which case, the time is short--both for my crumb of redemption and your mission’s conclusion.”

Luna sighed, opened her eyes and sat up: “I fear you are correct. It will take a bit of time to get from here to the river crossing Reaper pointed out. Perhaps we will cross paths along the way.”

The dark dalzi furrowed its brow: “Perhaps, but I have the sense that things have gone awry.”

Luna stood and took up Gerrar’s dalzi’s reins, guiding it to its feet. She walked out of the shallow dell and peered to the south. She saw a thin spire of smoke rising from a fenced-in farm in the distance.

She secured the dalzi’s lead in a knot behind its neck and leaned-in to whisper softly in its ear: “g'izan segra.” The animal’s ears twitched and its tail flicked as it turned its head to peer into Luna’s eyes.

She stepped back from the dalzi and swatted it on the rump: “Go now! Be safe in your new home!” The dalzi trotted away down the slope, its tail rippling in the breeze.

Luna returned to Bitch and tightened her tack before swinging up on the dalzi’s back and settling into her saddle.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: “Alright, Bitch--the time has come to put an end to this one way or another. Go!”

Luna snapped the reins, and Bitch cantered to the northern edge of the dell, giving Luna a clear look across the plain to the crossing. The dark dalzi glanced up at Larg and Arro and faded out silently.

Luna came upon the west-bank guard and ferry some fifteen minutes later, riding warily out of a small copse to the south of the crossing. Two guards looked up from their fire and grabbed their spears, but made no move to advance on the tall, dark, hooded figure riding high with a naked sword in its hand.

They stepped back as their short, heavy-set superior shouldered his way between them: “Hey! Halt! That’s close enough!”

Luna pulled back her hood, and reined-in Bitch: “I come at the Tunzal Gerrar’s behest, seeking an audience with your Lord, Yunada.”

The guard boss frowned and spit out a plug of zaka: “Who are you? How do ‘ya know the Tunzal?”

“I have been traveling with him for the last several weeks. He came this way earlier this morning, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know you…”

“I had business of my own away to the south. That is now concluded, and I need you to ferry me to your Lord’s headquarters.”

She reached into her cloak and pulled out three coins: “In addition I will compensate you for your trouble with a bit of gold.”

A tall, scarred soldier in an ill-fitting brown jacket grinned, exposing stained, gapped teeth as he grabbed his crotch: “Oh, I thinks we c’n ‘compensate’ ourselves, dearie!”

His companion chuckled and took a swig from a cracked jug: “I ain’t been ‘compensated’ fer a couple of weeks!”

Luna shifted in her saddle, tipped her head down and regarded the men cooly: “You can either accede to my request and take this gold as your reward, or I can hand you your balls in its stead. Choose wisely.”

The guard with the jug bristled and shifted his grip on his spear: “It’d be three-to-one, bitch!”

Luna suddenly swung her blade in a tight arc, its tip ending inches from the guard’s face: “And in a moment it would be two-on-one. I repeat--choose wisely.”

The guard’s eyes went wide as he stumbled back, sputtering. His companion fell into a defensive stance.

Luna laid her sword back in her lap: “Besides, I strongly suspect you do not wish to be the men who have to explain to your Lord why you failed to deliver me to his presence. He will know of me by now through Gerrar.”

Her eyes went wide, as though with sudden awareness: “In fact, I feel certain you would have to answer to the Tunzal before Yunada ever had the chance to investigate.”

The boss blenched and put up a hand: “Hey, no need for that now, m’Lady--”

“T’zesa.”

“What?”

“I am a T’zesa. You will address me as such. Let us go now--I am in haste.”

The boss swallowed hard and gestured to the guard with the jug: “C’mon--let’s get the ferry loose and get her across. I don’t wanna have anything to do with that Tunzal!”

Luna smiled lightly as she dismounted: “That is wise.”

The boss untied the ferry and called across the river to the other landing as his underlings guided Bitch aboard the barge and poled it away from the shore while holding tension against the guide ropes. The ferry moved slowly to the east.

Luna screened her eyes and peered across the river looking for signs of heavy troop movement or battle. She turned to the brown-jacketed guard on her right: “What do you hear of battle? Do you expect to engage soon?”

He picked his teeth with a short dagger and shrugged: “They don’t tell us nuthin’. I know lots of troops have moved in lately, but I dunno why.”

Luna nodded absently as she scanned the approaching bank for evidence of Reaper or Colt. The ropes creaked as the boatmen strained against the rigging and poled into the icy, swirling water. Bitch nickered nervously as the ferry bumped into the pilings and men cursed and scurried to secure ropes before the current pulled the shallow barge away.

Luna picked her way across the uneven planks connecting the makeshift pier to the ferry, guiding Bitch as her two guards jumped off on either side of her, scrambling up the loose gravel embankment, using their spears for support. A knot of soldiers stared as Luna passed by, her dark cloak billowing in the cold wind.

She remounted Bitch and began working her way toward the gap in the earthwork as her two escorts walked briskly alongside. She looked to her right and spied a larger group of men and dalzi a couple of hundred yards away.

She pointed with her sword: “Is that a cavalry unit? Outriders?”

The man with the jug squinted to the north: “Nah, that’s just a reserve pool and dalzi paddock. Usually guys just wasting time, drinking, gambling an’ tryin’ to avoid getting attached to a unit!”

His companion chuckled: “Yeah, and it’s likely to get ‘em killed when Nai’a stumbles over lookin’ for ‘volunteers!’”

Luna sheathed her sword and hopped down off Bitch’s back. She turned to her escorts and held out her hand, dropping three bits in an outstretched palm: “I am glad we did not come to blows. I will inform your superiors of my satisfaction.”

The brown-jacketed guard grinned and closed his fist around the coins: “I’m glad we dinna ‘come to blows’ neither! I don’t think we’d’ve come out on top!”

A cold smile crossed Luna’s lips as she took up Bitch’s lead and turned toward the gap: “I am certain of it.”

She passed through the earthworks and furrowed her brow as she saw Yunada’s pavilion and the twisted, still-smoldering corpse curled-up inside the nearby sut’ka. She rode the final sixty yards to the tent slowly, eyes darting back and forth, taking account of the various soldiers, workers and slaves hurrying past, many of whom were openly gawking at the tall, dark, cloaked figure in their midst.

Luna halted Bitch in front of Yunada’s tent and tied her off to a nearby weapon stand, staring icily at a pair of soldiers who drifted too close. She pulled her hood back on and strode quickly to the pavilion’s entrance where she was stopped by a tall, pale, red-and-green-clad soldier standing guard with his hands resting atop the pommel of his bastard sword.

“I seek an audience with your Lord. I come at the behest of the Tunzal Gerrar, and would appreciate it greatly if you would announce me, since he is not here to properly present me.”

The guard looked Luna over, top to bottom, slowly. He sucked at a plug of zaka and spat: “So Gerrar sent you, huh?”

Luna nodded: “He requested I join him here.”

“Uh, huh. I think you must have the worst luck in the world, m’Lady.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Is he not here, then?”

The guard grinned and pulled back the tent flap: “Oh, you’ll see! I don’t think you’ll like it, but you’ll see…”

Luna ducked under a supporting crossmember and caught sight of two robed figures talking in the dimly-lit interior: “...he was right about one thing, however--his intelligence regarding Gindu’s disposition matches other rumors and reports we’ve received over the last few days.”

The guard stepped in behind Luna and cleared his throat as Luna drew back her hood. Nai’a turned around: “Fuck me! His bitch did come for him, just like he said! Did he forget to pay you?”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “My grasp of your language is still imperfect, but I believe I know an insult when I hear one. Is this how you usually greet guests, Lord Yunada?”

Yunada smiled: “My lieutenant is given to crude outbursts. You are Luna, I assume?”

Luna nodded: “Yes. I had rather hoped to connect with Gerrar prior to meeting you, but I was detained a bit south of here for a day. Has he not yet arrived?”

Nai’a picked up his wine cup and laughed: “Oh, he’s arrived alright! I’m pretty sure he wishes he hadn’t, though!”

Luna regarded Nai’a cooly: “I take it he is no longer here?”

Yunada stepped around the table and moved closer: “Well, not here, exactly. He is still in camp…”

Nai’a took a noisy swig: “Cocksucker’s locked up in the prisoners’ stockade.”

Yunada nodded: “Yes, unfortunately I have come to regard him as too dangerous to leave at liberty any longer. His fantastical tale regarding you being a principal reason.”

Luna tipped her chin up slightly: “And having now met me, can I assume he will be free to join us?”

Nai’a chuckled: “Not fucking likely! Nobody gets out of lockup because his trumped-up galdu walks into camp. We get a lot of whores in this camp!”

Luna glared and let her hand settle on her sword’s hilt: “I am a T’zesa of Zaldun, and suggest you curb your tongue.”

Yunada looked back and forth and grinned: “Gerrar did warn you of her reaction!”

“Yeah, but who in Belzul is ‘Gerrar?’ We don’t even know who that traitor was! He sure acted like our old, familiar, stuck-up prick, but who was he really?”

Yunada nodded: “True--” he turned back toward Luna: “And that’s the other primary reason for his detention: I’m no longer certain he really is Gerrar--at least, not anymore.”

Nai’a grinned wickedly: “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Yunada shook his head: “It will have to wait ‘til after the battle, and it will be bittersweet--he has served me for years. Before him, a ‘Tunzal’ was little more than an errand-boy. He remade the role into one of respect and fear and power.”

“Yeah--a little too much of the last one, don’t you think?”

Yunada sighed: “It seems so. I have known, of course, of his unease with my fervent embrace of the Goddess. But I never suspected his loyalty.”

“Well he’s had three years to get over his fucking ‘unease!’ Shit--he was the one who introduced you to Surjain’kos and the Fire Rites!”

A soldier in grey and green, bearing a golden baton stuck his head in through the tent flap: “My Lord! The assault machines are ready!”

Yunada turned away from Luna and glanced at the map: “Very good, Captain. Begin the assault on the side gate while bringing up the fire casting troop before the main gates. I want those gates in full flame by tonight.”

The Captain nodded briskly: “Yes, my Lord! The trenches are complete, and the slaves in position!”

He withdrew from the opening, and Luna shifted nervously, catching Yunada’s attention: “It is quite close and warm in here. Let me take your cloak. Of course you may keep your sword if you feel more comfortable.”

Luna frowned slightly, but took off her cloak and handed it to Yunada. He draped it across the back of Nai’a’s chair, picked up his chalice and turned back to Luna with a furrowed brow: “Do you believe in magic, Luna?”

Luna bit her lip for a moment: “Yes. Kur was once a world of magic, by all accounts, and I believe there are traces still to be found.”

“I sense power in your bearing and presence. Do you believe you possess magic?”

Luna furrowed her brow and took a deep breath: “Perhaps…”

Yunada smiled and removed his robe, standing before Luna clad only in a loincloth, his scores of scars exposed to her full view. She took in a sharp breath and fell back a step.

“Do you think you could heal even one of these scars? Erase the evidence of even one burn?”

Luna licked her lips nervously: “Would that not displease your Goddess? I presume these were inflicted in her honor.”

Nai’a smiled wickedly: “Nice try!”

Yunada glanced down at his chest: “Many of these are but assays in the craft. I would not regret the removal of just one.”

Luna stared at the patches of glossy, inflamed skin, the white streaks, the mutilated tattoos, criss-crossed with gashes and ropy beads of scar tissue. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. She locked eyes momentarily with Yunada.

He smiled slightly, then turned away and waved the guard over to his side: “I presume you have seen the effects of fire on a body, yes? The blackened skin, the withered flesh, the burnt bone.”

“Yes.”

Yunada began walking toward the back of the pavilion, toward a screened-off area. The guard hurried ahead of him and stood beside the screen. Yunada stopped the guard with a raised hand.

“The old sculptures and paintings of Surjain’kos show her most often in the form of a fiery, twisted pillar of fire, akin to a flaming whirlwind. She is streaked with pink and red and white and black. These scars on my body are a crude and pale imitation of that.”

He turned around, exposing his back, showing off numerous scars that wrapped around from the front of his torso: “I have long been fascinated by fire, but it was Gerrar who brought me the two gifts I most cherish.”

Yunada pointed to a dark, hide-bound volume on a nearby stand: “He brought me the Goddess, and he showed me how fire could be art. I have always respected and loved fire as a tool, a weapon, a comfort and a powerful inducer of fear. But Gerrar has a talent for teasing unexpected results out of heat and flame and oils and metal.”

The guard reached for the screen as Yunada stretched out his arms: “Here are flesh and fire taken to their highest forms!”

The guard pulled back the screen, revealing a low, red-and-green-draped, cushion-covered dais. A livid, fleshy mass sat atop a thick mat, propped in-place by bolsters and pillows.

Luna tipped her head sideways and squinted at the vaguely-human-shaped object, with its rippling, welt-covered folds, and open, red sores. It heaved and wobbled suddenly.

Luna’s eyes went wide with horror, and bile rose in the back of her throat, reducing her voice to a choked whisper: “By the moon and stars--it lives!”

Yunada put his foot up on the dais and looked down at the thing on the mat: “Gerrar taught me the techniques of using white-hot metal to slough away flesh--fingers, noses, manhood, what have you--as though they were made of ice.”

Luna trembled and fought down the urge to vomit.

“And one day, almost three years ago, while watching the end result of an interrogation, he noticed that skin and flesh, under the right conditions, briefly became soft and pliable, almost like hot wax.”

Yunada put his hand on the melted man, which made a sort of high-pitched moan: “He showed me the methods--the compounds and oils, the heat, the timings--and I have spent the much of last three years attempting to perfect it. None have lived as long as this one.”

Luna retched into her mouth and swallowed hard: “You’re a monster!”

Yunada smiled indulgently: “I seek to create a living tribute to the Goddess. I myself cannot be that tribute--not at this time, anyway--so I will craft another into Her divine image.”

“Wh-why?!”

Yunada crossed in front of the dais and stood beside a glowing, charcoal-filled brazier, containing a variety of tongs, blades, brands and iron rods. He picked up a red-hot poker and rolled its grip in his hands.

“I was born far to the south, and have spent my life in one battle or another, working my way up through the various petty warlords of the south, then into the north.”

He pushed the poker back into the brazier: “And year by year, battle by battle, I won more than I lost, but was never really able to consolidate my power.”

Nai’a crossed the room behind Luna and refilled his wine goblet, and retrieved Yunada’s as well. Yunada took the chalice and drained it.

“This likely would have continued for several more years until some other petty warlord, like Gindu, or city-state like Degia got lucky and took me down.”

Yunada set his chalice on a low, short bench near the dais: “Then Gerrar brought me the first of the scrolls describing the Goddess and her messages of unity and purification.”

Luna shifted nervously and turned away from the ruined man atop his mat, focusing on various banners and hangings depicting Surjain’kos and her rites.

Yunada glanced at Luna then up at the tapestries: “Yes, some of the story is there: how the Goddess cleanses sin, purifies, anneals, strengthens by driving out dross. How her holy fire welds disparate peoples together, how she was driven out by the forces of Darkness before the fall of the Lost Gods.”

“H-how do you know she was not also lost? Perhaps you are defiling others in a vain attempt to please a myth!”

Nai’a growled, but Yunada put up his hand: “Interesting you should ask. It’s just the sort of thing Gerrar would say.”

“And how would you reply?”

“I have been fascinated by fire since my youth, but it was not until Gerrar brought the scrolls that I saw it as anything more than a tool, or even weapon. It was my reading of the old stories and scriptures I realized that fire could be holy as well.”

Yunada lifted a long, thin blade out of the brazier: “I began to long for that fire, her fire, the holy fire. I began to long for something greater than mere fleeting conquest.”

Luna winced as Yunada dragged the red-hot blade tip across his right hip, leaving an oozing, smoking cut and welt: “I embraced the clarity fire brings, and realized that I could bring that same illuminating, welding, purifying fire to my domains.”

He drove the dagger back into the heart of the charcoal: “And for my devotion, the Goddess has aided me to ever-greater conquests, more-sweeping victories!”

Luna took a tentative step backwards, her eyes darting.

Yunada glanced back at the map table: “And tonight, when Torlek’s gates lie in flaming ruin and I have captured or slain Gindu, my grip on much of the North will be unassailable. And it will all be to the glory of the Goddess!”

He turned back to Nai’a: “I will lead the assault troops myself. Captain Az’i should be able to keep Gindu’s small contingent occupied along the side gate long enough for the fire casting troops and slaves to fully engage the main gates. They should be ready to fall by the middle of the night.”

Nai’a shrugged and pointed at Luna: “As you wish. What are we going to do with her? Lock her up? Kill her now?”

Luna furrowed her brow and put her hand on her sword.

Yunada chewed his lip and regarded Luna for a few moments: “I am certain she is no Princess, but her air of power, her bearing, her intelligence, her real origins (whatever they may be), her time with Gerrar, are all too enticing to throw away.”

He walked back to the dais and adjusted several irons and blades in the brazier as Nai’a went back to his chair for the wine jug. Yunada nodded to himself: “Yes, too enticing...too valuable. She has been sent to me by the Goddess, fittingly through Gerrar’s agency--one last gift! And I will make good use of this gift very soon.”

Luna tightened her grip on her sword: “I assume you mean to make use of me in your bed!”

Nai’a chuckled: “Well, it’s what we do with whores, after all…”

Luna glared as Yunada put up a hand: “It’s more than that, of course. I mean, naturally, you will share my bed, but all who dwell in my domains know that at any time, for any reason, I can demand they give their blood, gold, lives, bodies. There is not a man, woman or child I could not have in my bed, or on the battlefield on a moment’s notice.”

Luna gritted her teeth: “Perhaps none have dared defy you before!”

Nai’a laughed loudly: “Ha! Not anymore, they don’t!”

Yunada smiled lightly: “True. Those who live under my rule know better than to defy me…”

“Making them little better than sheep! I am no sheep!”

Yunada furrowed his brow: “I don’t know this word, ‘sheep.'"

“Arku--I am no arku!”

Yunada’s eyebrows jumped: “Ah, no--you don’t strike me as an arku. You are too spirited and stiff-necked for that.”

He pushed an iron deeper into the brazier and began to walk toward Luna: “But even the most spirited dalzi can be broken, given enough attention and time.”

Luna backed away another pace, her eyes shifting, peering into dark corners.

Yunada stepped to the map table and picked up Gerrar’s sheathed sword: “And once broken, the dalzi--or person--can be molded into a useful tool, fit for my service.”

Nai’a stepped up behind his chair and began fingering the trim on Luna’s cloak: “Maybe, but what service beyond galdu?”

Yunada tipped his head slightly: “No--there’s far more to her than that! With her bearing, wits and power--properly harnessed, of course--she might make an excellent Tunzal! That would be most fitting, wouldn’t it--to have her take Gerrar’s place? My first woman Tunzal!”

“Ha! Make sure to tell him that when you go for your ‘final audience!’”

Yunada nodded: “Actually, he might find it appropriate…”

Luna glared and bared her teeth: “I will die before you defile me or press me into your service!”

Nai’a pointed angrily at her: “Careful what you wish for, bitch!”

Yunada set Gerrar’s sword down and took another step closer to Luna: “It may well come to that, but I hope not.”

He looked over his shoulder at the ruined, melted man behind him at the back of the pavilion: “I know what you fear, Luna; I have seen it in your eyes. One way or another, you will be ‘molded!’”

Luna shuddered and pivoted suddenly on her left foot, sweeping past the table, bolting for the tent’s opening with Yunada on her heels.

The red-and-green-clad guard stepped in from the entrance, blocking her way; she lowered her shoulder and slammed into him, bowling him over, knocking them both to the ground.

Luna shouted in rage and scrambled over the guard who clutched at her legs, as Yunada jumped lithely over the pair and yanked Luna up by her hair, pulling her backwards into the pavilion.

Nai’a wrapped his large arms around Luna’s waist as the guard scurried aside, and the three dragged her back, kicking and screaming, into the hot, dark, stifling interior.

Monsters
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Monsters

Luna twisted and squirmed, freeing one leg and driving a boot tip into the guard’s groin. He fell back with a curse, and Luna regained her footing and spun away from Yunada--just as Nai’a slammed a left then a right fist into her abdomen.

Luna’s legs buckled as she struggled for breath. She slumped forward onto her hands and knees, saliva hanging from her lips, then collapsed entirely as Nai’a brought his elbow down hard between her shoulder blades with a grunt.

“Please get back up, whore--I dare you!”

Luna dropped face-first into the dust and coughed weakly, trying to regain her breath and clear her head. But Yunada grabbed her hair again, twisting it in his fist, pressing her face firmly against the ground, bloodying her nose: “You two--strip her!”

Luna struggled as the guard and Nai’a pulled off her boots and clothes, casting them aside as Yunada shifted back and forth, keeping a knee in Luna’s back, pinning her down until she was naked.

Yunada hauled her up again as Nai’a locked her arms behind her back and drove her toward the far end of the pavilion, kicking his chair aside, and forced her face-down over the low bench before the dais. She squirmed free for a moment and rolled to her back, lashing out and raking her nails across the guard’s face.

Luna stumbled up, bent forward and tried to take a step, but Yunada darted in front of her and tripped her, grabbing at her hair as she fell. She hit the floor and tried to twist away, but Nai’a kicked her hard in the ribs, driving out her breath and sending her head spinning.

Nai’a and the guard pulled Luna back over the bench as she spat dust and blood in Nai’a’s face: “I will kill you if you do this! You do not know the depths of agony and despair I can summon!”

Yunada moved to the brazier as Nai’a stepped over the bench and pulled Luna’s arms taut, locking her wrists in a crushing grip. The guard crouched behind her, pinning down her legs.

Yunada reached for an iron, moving it back and forth in the coals briefly: “I had planned on taking more time for this after the battle, and after I had resolved Gerrar, but it appears I will need to take a moment to begin breaking you now.”

Luna arched her back and tried to get purchase with her feet, but they slipped and kicked out as the guard shifted to her side and pulled her left leg back and out at an awkward angle.

Yunada paused a moment to drain his wine goblet, which he sat beside the bench, before pulling his breechcloth aside and rubbing a palmful of saliva over the head of his now-stiff manhood. He knelt between Luna’s legs and pressed his right hand into her backside, spreading her apart. He leaned down and spat into her now-exposed opening.

Luna craned her head back over her right shoulder in an attempt to see behind her: “I swear on your Goddess, if you violate me, I will--”

Luna shrieked in agony and fainted for a moment as the red-hot brand in Yunada’s left hand seared the skin on her shoulder blade. The warlord pulled the smoking metal away as he drove his member between Luna’s folds and pressed his hips forward, burying his full length inside her.

Suddenly, Luna’s head snapped up, her eyes ablaze with silver-white fire. Nai’a gasped in shock and fear and fell backwards, releasing Luna’s wrists.

She felt an overwhelming surge of power, cresting like a dark tidal wave, washing away all pain and fear--which collapsed in a sudden explosion of bright, shattered light coursing through her brain, radiating from the back of her head.

She slumped forward and lost consciousness to the sound of Yunada’s waist rhythmically slapping against her rump.

“Luna...”

Moaning, eyes fluttering half open…

“Luna. Are you conscious?”

Luna forced her eyes open and found herself lying on her side on a floor of shimmering, grey, stone-like material.

“Wh-where am I?”

“Do you not recognize your old haunt?”

Luna propped herself up on an elbow and peered around at the silvery-grey environment, softly-lit by a cool, bluish light coming from no apparent source, suffusing the area without casting shadows: “Is this the castle? It appears to no longer be in ruins, and to be made of some sort of smoky glass or translucent metal.”

“Hmm…’translucent metal.’ Yes, I rather like that.”

Luna rolled to her side and sat up, discovering she was an alicorn again: “This is unexpected!”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I felt an overpowering surge of energy, akin to that when the hartz attacked. I felt an agonizing burn in my shoulder--”

“When Yunada’s brand struck.”

“Yes. I swooned for a moment, then felt Yunada slide inside me. The power crested, then--I felt it start to pour out of me, and I sensed you were there.”

“I was. That surge of power, that arising of Reaper’s deathly essence pulled me in like a riptide.”

Luna nodded: “Then just as suddenly as it came, it was gone in a burst of pain and blinding light. I assume Yunada struck me.”

“Yes. I was able to maintain consciousness and detachment for an instant, and I can confirm your impressions: moments after he entered us, Yunada hit us across the back of the head with his goblet. I have no good sense of how long we have been unconscious, but I am sure it has been several hours. I also assume we were defiled by Nai’a and the guard as well.”

Luna shuddered, then looked around for the source of the voice: “Where are you? I cannot see you.”

A tall, dark-skinned figure, clad in platinum-grey plate armor and Luna’s cloak stepped out from an adjacent alcove. Her long, black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her aquamarine eyes glittered with cold rage.

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Another new look?”

The figure smiled: “It seems more in keeping with my plan than a sheath dress or taking the form of a black dalzi.”

“Plan? What is your plan?”

The figure drew Gerrar’s sword from the scabbard on her hip: “To kill and kill until I no longer have the strength to lift my arm. Just as you did with Gerrar--clearing a task Reaper could not--I must do the things you cannot do.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “And then?”

The figure walked across the room and sat down on a low bench with the sword across her lap: “It is time for you to go, Luna. You do not belong here.”

“I agree, however--wait! You called me ‘Luna!’”

“Yes. We are totally separate now, you and I. Surely you have felt the growing gap between us.”

Luna nodded: “Especially these last few days.”

The figure ran her fingers lightly over the swirled and mottled surface of the sword, tracing a series of runes etched near the hilt: “The other night, when I was with Reaper and the girl in Bel’az, I believe he could nearly see me. I was also able to manifest enough to make physical contact.”

Luna frowned: “I am now unclear how this will all play out should we find our way back to our world.”

The figure shook her head: “There is no returning for me--I now belong to Kur. Fire, blood and pain have made this my world, now.”

She patted the naked blade in her lap: “And there is more to come…”

“I do not understand.”

The figure closed her eyes and took a deep breath: “This is my body now, Luna. When I awaken, you will be trapped here, able to observe, but not to interfere--please do not try to wrest control from me!”

“Then how am I to return to our world?”

The figure stood: “I will do my best to find Reaper, if he yet lives; he may have thoughts about this. We are all in uncharted waters now.”

The figure turned to leave the chamber, but paused and pointed to a shimmering indigo banner above: “You can watch from here. I do not know if we will meet again ‘ere the end--whatever end that is. If we do not, I bid you farewell, Luna.”

The figure swept toward the exit, her boots ringing on the glistening floor. Luna stood: “Farewell to you, too...hmm. What do I call you? Who are you?”

The figure stopped and touched her tongue tip to her upper lip for a moment. She glanced back over her shoulder: “Reaper had the right of it: I am your Dark Angel.”

Luna sat down heavily on her haunches, looking up at the flickering banner with apprehension as the figure disappeared down a corridor, silver-white fire building in her eyes as she dissolved like a dream.

She cracked an eye and surreptitiously scanned the tent. It was dark, with a dim light cast by a lamp on the map table providing a flickering, yellowish light. The light fell weakly on Nai’a’s heavy form, slumped in his chair, turned halfway from the table.

She heard Nai’a’s rough snoring and saw the empty wine jug at his feet, so she opened both eyes and lifted her head slowly, checking for other occupants.

Other than Nai’a and the melted man on the dais behind her, the tent was empty. She shifted slightly and reached over her back, running her fingers lightly over her left shoulder. She clenched her jaw and her eyes watered as she touched the seared, raw skin.

She slowly rolled onto her side, spreading her legs enough to run a hand between them, which came back slick and sticky. She probed further, wincing as she tentatively brushed her fingers across her aching, swollen anus.

She ground her teeth as she withdrew her hand, wiping the traces of semen and blood on her leg: “Both holes--how thorough…”

She stretched and carefully propped herself up on an elbow, peering at Nai’a. She noted the small, opened stone jar lying on the floor next to his chair, and a faint, spicy scent in the air.

She laid back down, smiling coldly as she dropped into a light sleep: “You fool!”

Nai’a awoke to find himself sitting in his chair atop the cracked and damaged dais in Celestia’s ruined throne room. He struggled to rise, but found his limbs bound to the chair by twisting, grasping vines. He looked around wildly: “Where in Belzul am I? What the fuck is happening?”

A large black otsa entered the room, stepping over skeletons of both ponies and kurlin, and slowly worked its way up the dais: “An interesting choice of words in both cases, Nai’a.”

Nai’a tipped his head to the side and squinted at the beast sauntering toward him: “L-Luna? Is that you?”

The otsa smiled grimly, exposing a row of razor-sharp teeth, glistening in the lamplight: “Not anymore.”

“Wh-where are we? How is this possible?”

“You are in my realm now, limited though it is at this time. Were you not warned? I recall the words: ‘you do not know the depths of agony and despair I can summon!’ We are about to plumb those depths.”

“You stupid cunt! When I wake up--”

The otsa stepped up to the top of the dais and laid its muzzle in Nai’a’s lap: “Oh, no, no! You will wake up, but it will avail you naught. I am not my True Sister, and you are not Gerrar. You are subject to my tender mercies! To wit--”

The otsa opened her maw and took Nai’a’s manhood in her teeth, clamping them shut with a snap. She jerked her head to one side, tearing away the flesh with a wet, ripping sound, throwing his ruined cock and testicles to the floor.

Nai’a’s eyes rolled back in his head and he screamed in agony and terror, straining against his bonds as blood coursed down his legs, spattering the cracked marble below his chair.

The otsa shoved her muzzle into the resulting wound and chewed her way into the writhing man’s abdomen, pulling out intestines and viscera, spraying blood and the contents of his bowels all over the dais.

She shook free of Nai’a’s shredded guts as his head sagged forward, spewing vomit down his chest. He shuddered violently, coughing and blubbering.

The otsa stepped back, blood and flesh and shit falling from her slavering jowls. She regarded the quivering, twitching, spurting body before her: “Good, but still a bit too lively…”

She moved to Nai’a’s side, taking each of his limbs into her mouth in turn, almost delicately, and crushing their bones with her powerful jaws.

Nai’a was now wailing constantly--a thin, high, keening scream that rang throughout the throne room.

The otsa laid her ears back: “And all that racket will never do! Let us quiet it with a kiss.”

She put her paws up on Nai’a’s chest and plunged her bloody muzzle into his open mouth. She yanked her head back a moment later and tossed his severed tongue aside. Blood poured down Nai’a’s chin and streamed down his heaving chest.

The otsa stepped to the edge of the dais and shook from snout to tail: “Well, I think my job is done here. The time has come to take this back to the waking world and conclude our business there.”

She began to fade, then stopped and sighed: “Just once more, for old-time’s sake…”

The otsa turned away from Nai’a, backed up, lifted her tail, and relieved herself into his wrecked, gaping abdomen. She looked over her shoulder, nodded and faded out.

She opened her eyes and sat up stiffly as her vision adjusted quickly to the dim, murky surroundings. She smiled grimly as she peered at Nai’a, hunched forward, slack-jawed, spasming, vomit dribbling from his mouth. The pooled urine in his chair dripped steadily to the floor.

She stood and stretched, wincing anew as the blistered and throbbing skin on her shoulder moved. She stepped behind Nai’a’s chair and lifted her cloak free, draping it across the map table, fishing her dagger out of its inner folds. She then set the lamp beneath the table, casting the pavilion into deep shadow, drew her blade, picked up Nai’s robe from the floor, and melted back into the gloom toward the tent’s entrance.

She chewed her lip for a moment as the silver-white fire built in her eyes: “Guard! Come quickly! Your Master Nai’a has taken ill from an excess of wine and mets’il and is choking on his vomit!”

She heard the tent flap rustle: “Shut up, galdu! He does this sort of shit all the time! Lord Yunada can deal with it when he gets back!”

“He does not appear to be breathing. Are you certain you want to be the one to explain why you let your Lord’s trusted Lieutenant die from his own spew? I bear none of you anything but hatred, yet even I do not wish to encounter Yunada after such a thing.”

She heard a heavy sigh and muttering as the flap opened and a figure entered slowly, sword drawn: “What the fuck happened to the light? I’ll kill you without a second thought if you try anything, bitch!”

The guard picked his way warily across the tent floor, passing by a dark, unseen figure.

She jumped out from behind the guard and threw Nai’s robe over his head, twisting and spinning as she did so, kicking his legs out and forcing him back against the table. The guard slammed against the edge awkwardly, then sprawled on the floor, his cloth-bound sword arm trapped beneath him.

She was on him in an instant, her blade rising and falling with a ‘thunk’ every time it struck home. She plunged her blade in everywhere from his abdomen to his face over and over as he cried out and writhed in an attempt to free himself from the now-blood-soaked robe and the rain of deadly dagger blows.

Her eyes burned white as the guard’s cries and trashing died away. She shifted position and straddled his body, gripping the dagger in both hands now, driving it down with renewed energy, shattering his sternum, spraying bright-red blood everywhere.

She sat atop the guard’s twitching body for a moment, breathing heavily as his blood ran down her breasts and stomach, listening for signs of activity or possible discovery from outside the tent. It was silent save for Nai’a’s choked gurgling and the low crackle of the brazier.

She rose from the guard’s body, and crouching, yanked the blade from his chest, spraying blood across her lower legs. She wiped the dagger off on the hem of the guard’s cloak and set it on the map table.

She lifted the lamp from beneath the table and returned it to the top, then stepped over in front of Nai’a. She placed her bloodied hand against his forehead and shoved him back into a slouched, sitting position. His eyes were frozen open: “Now, where were we?”

She took a step back and tapped her lower lip with a finger: “I could simply leave you like this, a shattered shell of a man, almost a vegetable, really, unable to communicate, or--”

She placed a hand on his thigh, leaned in and grabbed his scrotum with her other hand: “I could simply tear these off, again, and leave you to bleed out. There would be a sense of symmetry to that, no?”

Nai’a’s eyes went wide as a strangled wheeze rose from his throat.

She ran her tongue over her lips and glanced toward the faintly-glowing brazier: “Better still, I could take a rod of hot iron and jam it up here--”

She drove a fingertip roughly into Nai'a’s anus, and locked her blank, glowing eyes on his as she bared her teeth and pressed her finger deeper: “Pushing it in until I could no longer feel its end, listening as it burned out your bowels from the inside!”

Nai’a’s eyes dilated to their maximum and a trickle of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth as his tormentor’s finger was quickly yanked free from his ass.

She wiped her finger in his hair and drew back a step: “Sadly I do not have the time for that, perfect though it would be. I have more important things to do, and very little time in which to do them, I suspect. As a result--”

She walked over to the map table and picked up Gerrar’s sword, unsheathing it as she returned to face Nai’a: “I will simply have to content myself with taking your head. I will leave it to the denizens of Belzul to mete out final justice when your spirit arrives there.”

She moved to her left and gripped the sword’s hilt in both hands: “Give my regards to T'zarjāin! And if you feel lonely, fear not--Yunada will join you shortly!”

She swung the sword in a wide arc, and Nai’a’s body jerked violently as his head separated in a spray of blood. It bounced as it hit the floor and rolled to a stop against a leg of the map table.

She bent down and picked up the head by its hair, and turned to the tent’s entrance just as a green-clad soldier stuck his head through the opening: “Where are you, Gurtas? You can’t abandon your post like this!”

She dashed across the tent before the soldier could react and brought her sword down across his collarbone, cleaving him from shoulder to navel. He let out a horrified scream and collapsed in a heap, dousing his killer’s legs with his blood.

She held Nai’a’s head before her and strode out of the tent, naked, dripping with blood, sword glinting in Larg’s light, and turned to see her frightened dalzi still hitched to the weapon stand a few yards away.

“I am glad you are well, Bitch. I will be back for you shortly. I have business to attend, first.”

The soldier’s scream had attracted the attention of a patrol, which jogged toward the tent. She turned on her heel and broke into a trot, meeting the four men within seconds.

She never broke stride as her sword wove through the soldiers in a blur, hewing off limbs and heads before any of the men could even attempt to strike a blow.

She picked up her pace and passed through the gap in the earthworks, slaying the two guards there before they were even fully aware of her presence. A third guard on the western side of the barrier fell back shouting for help. He died with her sword through his throat as she turned to her right and headed north.

Another small group, en route to battle clad in chainmail, bearing spears, broke into a run heading straight for the dark figure.

She drove straight into the unit, shattering spears, shearing through mail like scissors through silk. Four men died within seconds, the other five fell back, trying to defend themselves--to no avail.

She slashed and lunged faster than the soldiers could react, and within moments, two more lost their heads, as the other three turned and broke into panicked runs. She ran two of the terrified men down within seconds, slicing through their backs, severing their spines and spilling their entrails before they hit the ground.

The third man turned aside, flung away his spear, and screamed as he ran: “Broka Nosk'a! Broka Nosk'a has returned! Flee!!”

She grinned savagely as she sprinted after the horror-struck soldier: “Yes! Not all your gods are lost! I am Revenge incarnate, come to bathe in your blood!”

She overtook the man moments later and brought her sword edge down on the top of his head, slicing effortlessly through his helmet and splitting his skull like a melon. His body staggered forward a few more steps before toppling nervelessly to the ground, spilling his brains in a gout of blood.

She stopped for a moment and took her bearings, noting the outriders and their dalzi pen two hundred yards to the north. She jogged swiftly and effortlessly toward the pen as the men scattered, unsure whether to defend, attack or flee.

Three soldiers mounted their dalzi, took up spears and charged toward her, intent on riding her down. A cold smile spread across her face: “Do you not recall your own stories, fools? None but gods may fell me! I am centuries old, and you are but mere insects to me!”

As the first two riders reached her, she dropped Nai’a’s head and her sword, and grabbed the spears leveled at her just behind their heads, jerking the cavalrymen out of their saddles as though they had hit a wall. The third rider was thrown when his mount reared in terror and fled before the figure’s burning, silver-white eyes.

She flipped the spears in her hands, walked swiftly to the two stunned riders and impaled them through their throats, pinning their twitching bodies to the ground. The third soldier scurried away on his hands and knees until he too, died with a blood-curdling scream as she drove his own spear through his back, tearing through his heart.

She returned to her dropped sword, recovered it and picked up Nai’a’s severed head. She walked to the pen where a few terrified men crouched behind the gate.

She pointed her sword at Colt: “Who brought this dalzi here?”

There was no answer, just panting and sobbing.

“I will not ask again. You have seen what I can do. Who brought this dalzi here?”

Soros stood slowly, trembling: “I-I did, m'Lady…”

She locked on Soros and strode up to him: “Highness.”

He furrowed his brow and swallowed hard: “Sorry, what?”

“You will refer to me as ‘Highness.’”

“Y-yes Highness! I brung this dalzi here.”

“Do you know where the Tunzal Gerrar is?”

He turned and pointed further north: “I-I seen ‘em escort him up towards the prisoners’ stockade. Nobody told me nuthin’ new, so I’m just waitin’ here ‘til somebody does!”

She nodded: “You have new orders now--you are to find the Tunzal and send him to me. I will be before the gates of the fort, which must be fully engulfed in flames by this point, I would think.”

Soros furrowed his brow: “I don’t think they’s gonna let him go on my say-so, beggin’ your pardon, Highness.”

She stood silently for a moment, then held up Nai’a’s severed head: “If you fail me, I will take you down to T'zarjain’s dire mansions myself, where your flesh will be stripped from your bones every day for eternity!”

“B-b-but…”

She leaned in close and frowned: “Do you doubt me? Perhaps you should ask Nai'a here, how he died!”

Soros’ knees quaked and a dark stain spread across the front of his breeches.

She leaned back, smiled coolly and pointed at his crotch with her bloody sword: “It appears you do understand. Wise man.”

She dropped Nai’a’s head at Soros’ feet and turned around, pausing to look over her shoulder: “Do not fail me!”

She took off at a brisk jog, back to the south as the scattered troops, and bearers and slaves fled before her, crying that the Goddess of Vengeance had come. She effortlessly struck down a guard who tried to bar her entry to Yunada’s pavilion.

She thrust aside the tent flat and stepped over the bodies of the soldier and guard, stooping to collect the various articles of her clothing and armor that had been cast aside earlier. She piled these on the map table, then bent down beside Nai’a’s chair, ignoring the decapitated corpse, and picked up the small stone jar of mets’il.

She turned toward the back of the pavilion and regarded the sagging, lumpen figure on its pallet. She took up her dagger from the table and walked to the dais, stepping up next to the melted man.

She reached two fingers into the stone jar, scooped out a bit of the sticky paste, and slipped her fingers into the man’s lipless mouth-hole, wiping the mets’il across his tongue. He swallowed and made a low, moaning sound.

She set the jar aside and laid her hand on the man’s shriveled, scarred scalp: “Sleep.”

The melted man slumped to his left against a cushion and shuddered as he fell into a deep, painless slumber.

She probed the folds and scars beneath what should have been a chin, then brought her dagger up, pulling it in a smooth, sweeping arc from jugular to carotid, spraying her hands red as the blade sliced cleanly through the man’s throat. She wiped her hands and blade on a cushion, picked up the stone jar and returned to the map table.

She studied the map for a few minutes as she pulled her clothes and boots back on, then her greaves, vambraces, spaulders and belt. At last she threw her cloak over her shoulders, resheathed her dagger and Gerrar’s sword, and dropped the stone jar into her pocket.

She uncorked a fresh jug of wine as she walked toward the back of the pavilion, toppling the brazier next to the dais and dropping the Goddess’ holy book on top of the coals. She drank deeply from the jug as she watched the tome burst into flames.

She threw several cushions, scrolls and tapestries on the growing blaze, before turning away and heading toward the pavilion’s entrance.

She looked back at Nai’a’s headless corpse, and the fire now consuming the melted man’s body. Flames had begun to lick up the rear wall of the tent, and the whole space was now filled with an acrid smoke and lurid red light.

She pushed through the flap: “One monster left…”

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Death Be Not Proud

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Reaper tentatively cracked an eye open and waited for the world around him to come into focus. He slowly sat up and peered at the collection of chairs, chaise lounges, sofas and cushions stretching off for hundreds of yards in every direction.

He tipped his head back and gazed up at the roof of some vast domed structure, hundreds of feet above him, and all about him hovered various globes, orbs and cubes, each pulsating in a different pale color, all of them mixing and mingling to produce a soft, ambient light that appeared to flow from all directions.

He stood uneasily and patted his chest, noting it was intact, then ran his hand over his head and across his chin, feeling the presence of hair and a beard again.

He walked around for a few moments, feeling the upholstery on several chairs and imagining a simple white robe into existence: “I don’t actually remember this waiting room last time I came through…”

“A statement of surpassing curiosity, Gerrar. There is much here we do not entirely understand.”

Reaper turned and bowed to the wizened figure hovering just above the floor behind him: “I suspect it will all be made clear--well, clearer, at any rate--if you fully probe my memories, T'zarjāin.”

Kur’s Harbinger pointed to a nearby sofa with its twisted, gnarled shepherd’s crook: “Open thy mind to us.”

Reaper closed his eyes and felt a cold touch against his forehead, followed by a sudden, disorienting rush of memories and emotions. He sagged back against the sofa and shuddered.

T'zarjāin backed away and stood still for a minute as shadows and traces of images flickered across its blank, colorless face: “We understand thee better now, Reaper.”

It tipped its head sideways as if listening: “Pardon us. We shall return momentarily.”

Reaper furrowed his brow and stood, straightening his robe as the chamber was suddenly flooded by a deep-purplish flash. Something caught Reaper’s attention out of the corner of his eye.

He turned towards a nearby chaise lounge where Luna now lay naked and curled in a fetal position, apparently in a deep sleep. T'zarjāin appeared next to her a moment later.

It reached a claw toward Luna’s forehead: “More will be revealed once we have plumbed the depths of this one’s memories as well.”

Reaper walked over to the pair and summoned another robe, which he draped over Luna like a blanket: “So, T'zarjāin, do you understand now who we are and why we are here?”

It nodded: “This Void that we have seen in thy memories--this is a thing we have never encountered or even considered until just a few days ago.”

“You mean Luna’s creation of an isolated, encapsulating dreamscape.”

“Yes. We sensed the disappearance of, well, someone. We did not understand at the time why there appeared to be two Gerrars.”

Luna set up unsteadily and wrapped the robe around her shoulders: “My sincerest apologies, Master T'zarjāin. I could think of no other resolution.”

“His death would have been the trivial solution.”

Reaper chuckled: “Yeah, that’s what I said--shit, that’s what he said!”

Luna nodded: “True, but I cannot kill in cold blood. I had to find another way.”

T'zarjāin shrugged: “We are relieved to now understand how this came to pass.”

Reaper sat down next to Luna: “So now what? Clearly I’m dead…”

Luna bit her lip and glanced away: “I am so sorry, Reaper. I was not in control, and--”

Reaper smiled and squeezed her shoulder: “It’s fine Princess--it had to be done in any event. I don’t blame you for any of this.”

He turned back to T'zarjāin: “So what of Luna? She must also have died or she wouldn’t be here, yes?”

T'zarjāin drifted to one side and waved its staff. A large, ornate frame appeared, hovering in the air before them; it looked down on the battlefield as though from a high balcony.

“Thou art correct: thou art dead, and we removed Luna’s spirit from her flesh. However, the equations do not properly balance for thy returns to the world of thy custodianship.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “I don’t get it--two bodies entered Kur, my dead body remains twice, and Luna’s corpse pays for her flesh to be returned when we--”

“That is not a corpse, my Brother.”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “Nightmare Moon!”

Reaper tipped his head and peered at the image in the frame: “How?”

Luna took a deep breath: “After Yunada and his lackeys rendered me unconscious and violated me--”

“Wait--as in ‘raped?!’”

Luna bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment: “I will explain in greater detail later. As I was saying, as I was returning to consciousness, I found myself back in my and Celestia’s old castle.”

“The ruins--the usual.”

Luna shook her head: “But not ‘the usual.’ This time everything had been rebuilt and refurbished in a style I did not recognize. I myself had been returned to my true form, and Nightmare Moon made it clear that it was now her body, and that I was not to interfere.”

Reaper nodded: “And then Death’s power was unleashed…”

“It actually welled-up and was overtaking me at the moment Yunada was forcing himself on me, but he pressed a brand into my shoulder, causing me to swoon for a moment. It was then I lost control and was struck across the back of the head.”

Reaper chewed the inside of his mouth: “That explains a lot. So you never regained control except for a moment--I saw your eyes clear just before I died…”

“Correct. She now possesses that body in its entirety.”

T'zarjāin nodded: “And so again to our problem. Thy return is assured, Reaper, so that thou canst assume again thy duties. But Luna remains in suspense.”

Reaper stood: “Then send her back--I’ll stay! I’ll pay the price! She doesn’t belong here! She and her native power must be returned to her world!”

Luna cast her eyes down and chewed a fingernail: “What of Gerrar’s body?”

T'zarjāin and Reaper looked at her: “His spirit is gone from the circles of this world, yes?”

T'zarjāin nodded: “Yes, and we resolved his residual flesh earlier this morning. Someone has found and interred it.”

Reaper sat back down next to Luna and rubbed his chin: “So we’re down one Gerrar, and the second one is on his way back to do his duty. That’s an extra body!”

Luna nodded toward the floating frame: “And she keeps the form we took as we entered this world. She herself noted that she now belongs to Kur.”

T'zarjāin tapped a claw against its staff for a minute as Reaper muttered to himself, counting points down on his fingers.

It turned to the frame: “She will pay the price. Her spirit will remain on this world in compensation for thy return and that of thy power, Luna.”

It turned back to Reaper: “When thou wert stripped of thy power, an imbalance occurred, and new flesh was born that should not have been. It was that flesh that arrived unbidden on Kur.”

Reaper pointed to the frame: “So that body pays off the stallion I became. Thank Celestia I’ll finally be rid of it!”

Luna furrowed her brow and nodded at the prostrate, dark form next to Reaper’s corpse: “Is she mortal then?”

“Yes. Thy power and its effects will return to thee along with thy flesh upon the return to thy world. Well, except…”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “Except for what?”

“She and thou wert clearly one and the same in the beginning, so a spark of thy natal power will remain with her.”

Reaper grinned: “Even a spark of that power, in a world devoid of magic, will make her dangerous.”

T'zarjāin nodded: “She will bear watching. But with thy power and Luna’s safely removed from Kur, balance should soon return.”

Luna placed a hand on the frame: “Will she remember anything? Will she know who she is and how she got here?”

“Unclear. She will likely remember some things as though from a dream.”

Luna smiled softly: “That seems appropriate.”

Reaper stepped up beside Luna: “She’ll have to translate her name. Not sure how ‘Nightmare Moon’ will sound in the Iparres'm tongue.”

“No--that is not who she is now. I am uncertain who she really has become, but she is no longer Nightmare Moon. As she left me prior to awakening, she referred to herself only as our ‘Dark Angel.’”

Reaper nodded: “True--that’s exactly what she became. She redeemed us both--there’s no way we could have come through this without her.”

Luna closed her eyes and sighed: “This truly is her home, as she wanted from the beginning…”

T'zarjāin tapped its crook on the floor: “We believe our business here is complete. We need to send thee on thy way to take up thy mantle again.”

Reaper bowed: “Agreed. We have to get back and figure out how to extract the other half of my power out of Twilight.”

“Simply kill her. Again, this is the trivial solution.”

“Not happening! Bringing her back to life was half the reason we ended up in this predicament to begin with!”

T'zarjāin shrugged and pointed to Luna: “Thou mayst have little choice. It took a great effort to extract Death’s power from this one, and we only succeeded because we took her unawares.”

Reaper nodded: “Understood, but I have faith that we’ll find a way. Are you ready to go, Luna?”

Luna opened her robe and glanced down the length of her body: “Yes--this has been an interesting form, but I shall be glad to be an alicorn again.”

Reaper grinned: “No more squatting?”

Luna rolled her eyes: “That is hardly the only reason...but yes.”

T'zarjāin held out its arms as its crook began to glow a pale orange-gold: “Farewell, Luna! Fare thee well, Brother--we trust that we shall meet again at the end of all days!”

The two companions reached for each others’ hands as Luna glanced one last time at the frame hovering off to the side: “Farewell, Dark Angel--I am unsure whether I will miss you, but I do thank you…”

There was a blinding flash of light and two empty robes fell to the floor, shimmered and melted away.

She slowly opened her eyes and lifted her right arm off Reaper’s now-cold body. She wiped the smoke and ash out of her eyes and sat up, coughing a little and squinting at the fires still burning across the field. She turned her head to the right and saw Reaper’s ersatz squire curled up against Colt a few yards away.

She stood unsteadily, adjusted her cloak, and sheathed her sword before walking slowly and stiffly towards Colt and his attendant: “Boy--stand up! I have need of your services!”

The boy roused, rubbed his eyes and stumbled nervously to his feet: “Y-yes, m’Lady! Anything you need, m’Lady!”

She stopped beside the dalzi and bent down, opening a saddlebag and rummaging for a minute, before pulling out a flask. She scanned the field stretching from the keep to the outer wall, noting that the battle seemed to have largely ended, with clusters of green-clad soldiers being rounded-up and driven east beyond the far side of the keep.

She squinted toward the western end of the keep and noted a shrine, surrounded by a cluster of low barrows and tombs. She walked several yards toward the shrine as the eastern horizon began to glow a faint pink. She climbed on top of a wagon and took a long drink from the flask.

She returned to Colt and the boy a few minutes later: “I remember having a dalzi when I arrived. I wonder what became of her?”

The boy pointed back toward the fort’s main gate: “Some riders picketed their mounts back by th’ gate. I dunno if they got kil’t or run off or what.”

“Is that where you got this animal?”

“No, m'Lady--the Tunzal gived him t’ me, said I could keep Colt here if’n he didn’t come back.”

She furrowed her brow and looked at the dalzi’s face for a few moments: “Colt. His name is Colt. So that means…”

She turned away and chewed her lip, gazing across the sward toward the smoldering main gate: “Bitch! That was her name!”

She spun back toward Colt and the boy: “What is your name, boy?”

The boy bowed, his long, dirty hair bobbing in front of his eyes:“T’iko, m’Lady.”

She nodded: “Strap my companion’s leg to your dalzi’s saddle and drag the body over to yon shrine. I will be there shortly, and we can lay him to rest.”

“Y-yes, M’lady…”

She turned away and broke into a jog as T’iko guided Colt toward Reaper’s body. She covered the ground between the keep and the fort’s ruined gate within three minutes and stopped near a pile of hacked and bleeding bodies. A nearby soldier emptied a jug and eyed the tall, dark figure approaching him.

He stumbled forward and blocked her path: “No passage, darlin’--less’n you got somethin’ t’ trade for the privilege!”

She rolled her eyes and gave a high, piercing whistle: “Bitch! To me!”

A moment later the tall, white dalzi appeared tentatively from around the corner of a ruined archway. It threw its head high and let out a low, dog-like cry, switching its bushy tail.

She smiled and took a step toward Bitch, when the soldier slid in front of her, again: “Hey! I said no--”

She drove her fist into his solar plexus, sending him instantly to his knees. She unsheathed her sword and brought the flat of the blade down on top of the man’s head, rendering him senseless. He fell face-first in the dust and moaned softly.

She stepped over his prostrate body and took up Bitch’s reins, guiding her mount through the smoking opening and across the pockmarked sward.

A few minutes later she caught up with T’iko and Colt as they neared a row of open graves. She pointed to a half-empty trench, freshly-dug, and clearly intended for at least two-dozen bodies: “Get his feet and help me lay him in there.”

The boy removed the rope from the body’s ankle and furrowed his brow as he led Colt to one side: “But, m’Lady--he was a Lord, a Tunzal! Shouldn’t we--”

She shook her head: “Do not call him that. He was better than a Tunzal--I think he was my friend.”

“Well, in that case don’t he deserve a proper name stone? We can’t just drop 'im in here with all th’ other bodies, can we?”

She tipped her head to one side as though listening to a far-off voice: “He would have wanted it that way.”

She stepped beside T’iko and pulled off Reaper’s boots, handing them to T’iko: “No need for these to go to waste, yes?”

The boy wrinkled his nose, but took the boots over to Colt and opened one of the saddlebags, removing Reaper’s white cloak, emblazoned with his cutie mark on the back. He laid it across Colt’s saddle as he settled the boots into the saddlebag.

She raised an eyebrow and stepped over, taking the cloak from Colt’s back, and turning toward Reaper’s bloody, dust-streaked corpse. She draped it over the body and crouched before its head, lifting underneath the shoulders: “Help me…”

T’iko grabbed Reaper’s feet and helped drag the stiffened body over the edge of the grave pit. It tumbled in with a thud, and she stepped into the trench, rearranging the body’s limbs, and covering it anew with the cloak.

She climbed out of the grave and brushed the dirt from her hands as T’iko stepped up beside her, looking pensively into the hole: “Do ya’ know what happens when we die, m’Lady?”

“No, I do not--and neither does anyone else. Beware anyone who tells you they do.”

She took a last look at Reaper’s shrouded body, then turned away, checked Bitch’s tack and climbed into her saddle: “Let us leave this place, boy, before anyone thinks to rekindle the battle.”

T’iko nodded and scrambled onto Colt’s back, taking the reins and following Bitch out through the fort’s wrecked gates. The two riders skirted a knot of Gindu’s men leading away a line of green-clad prisoners, and rode southwest for a few minutes until they were largely clear of the main battle lines.

She reined-in Bitch and turned to T’iko: “You are welcome to accompany me if you like, or make your own way as you will.”

T’iko bowed slightly: “Many thanks, m’Lady, but I think I’ll strike west n’ head fer home. I was pressed into service just a few weeks back, so I hopes t’ git back t’ my village and family as soon as I can!”

She nodded and dismounted, bending down to strip a corpse of its broadsword and sheath. She handed them to the boy: “Then take these and fare thee well, T’iko. There should be bounty enough in Colt’s bags to sustain you for some time.”

“Thank ‘ya, again, m’Lady! But where are you headed?”

She climbed back into Bitch’s saddle and looked northwest: “I have many questions, and this world must surely have the answers. I aim to find them.”

She slapped the reins against her dalzi’s neck: “Come, Bitch--let us go!”

T’iko sat on Colt for a few moments, watching the dark figure atop her white mount trot away as the first rays of dawn glinted in her flowing, wind-swept, blue-black hair. T’iko waved silently, then turned Colt toward the southwest and headed toward the fog-shrouded Zuri River.

Reaper opened his eyes and looked out across an expanse of grey-green heath, rolling gently to the north. The sun was just rising, and a light mist clung to the ground. He stood and noticed Luna, lying on her side a few feet away, dozing lightly with her muzzle tucked under a wing.

Reaper bent down and tapped her on the shoulder: “Princess--rise and shine!”

Luna opened her eyes slowly and blinked slowly as she adjusted to the morning light. She rose unsteadily to her hooves and stretched out her wings, rolling her shoulders and flaring her indigo pinions. Her flowing, sparkling, nimbus-like mane waved gently in the breeze.

Reaper glanced about as a look of recognition crossed his face: “This certainly looks familiar…”

Luna nodded: “Indeed--I believe that is the village of Coldstone away to the north beyond that low rise.”

Reaper smiled: “Yeah, though that’s not quite what I meant. This is the same spot where I arrived all those millennia ago, the first time I came to this world.”

Luna spread her front legs wide and raised her rump high, tipping forward, arching her wings over her back and cracking her spine: “Ahhhh, that feels good!”

Reaper grinned: “I’ll take your word for it--I’m just glad to be rid of my body altogether!”

Luna turned to face Reaper with brow furrowed, and swept a hoof across the landscape: “You said this looks familiar. That is the second time you’ve said something like that in the last few hours.”

He raised a puzzled eyebrow: “What do you mean?”

“As you lay dying you said, ‘here we are again…’”

Reaper nodded “But where's Twilight? Yes, I remember, now. Don’t you recall the setting, how the scene looked?”

“No. My vision was very obscured, as though--ironically--in a dream. I only really saw you for a few moments as you died, then lost all contact again.”

“That makes sense. Touch my horn and I can share my death vision. I think you’ll understand my words, then.”

Luna tipped her head forward and touched her horn to Reaper’s. Her eyes drooped heavily and she shuddered. She stood stock-still for a moment, then stepped back and shook her head vigorously.

“Your blood in the sand, but not a beach! And the tower, not a lighthouse!”

“Right--that sandy skirt or surround around the pond, and the path leading to the keep, with its tower. It was never a lighthouse on the Sasol Sea, but it was close enough for a dream.”

Luna nodded: “Or a vision. It is clear Nightmare Moon had a better sense of things from the very beginning!”

“How?”

“I am not sure. I, too, had a sense of things from early on, but--”

Reaper held up a hoof: “Speaking of: that last night I was in Bel’az with the girl--what was her name? Dawn, that was it! Anyway, Nightmare was saying that I might be surprised by how much the two of you had perceived. I meant to follow-up, but Dawn interrupted and I never circled back to ask Nightmare to clarify.”

Luna chewed her lip: “I cannot speak for her anymore, but I know that your earliest visions and our shared dreams seemed to make more sense to me than they did to you.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “I can’t believe she was directing anything, but it’s almost like she was always one step ahead.”

Luna nodded: “Yes. She rarely seemed taken aback, even when things became...dismal.”

The two companions stood quietly and awkwardly for a few moments; Reaper broke the silence: “Of course, I saw your death vision, too. It was only the last few moments before T'zarjāin appeared, so I don’t really know the whole story of the Dark Angel, but you mentioned something about being ‘violated,’ so I assume--”

Luna shook her head: “Not now, Reaper. I will tell you the full tale later. Right now we have business to attend. How are we going to get your power out of Twilight?”

Reaper took a deep breath: “Don’t know. Do you recall what T'zarjāin said about taking you--well, your alter ego, at any rate--unawares?”

“Yes. Clearly surprise is the key, here.”

Reaper began pacing: “Yeah, the big problem with that is, I barely have any power right now, and Twilight would be able to smell me coming from miles away if I did manage to get my power back up.”

“And she is quite powerful in her own right.”

“Correct. I mean, it’s possible that between you and Celestia she could be beaten down enough for me to finally strip away her power, but it would most likely kill her, and I really don’t want it to come to that.”

“Nor do I.”

Luna tipped her head back and stared up at the clouds for a moment: “How do you know she has not detected you?”

“I assume she’d show up. Her power levels are just fine, so I know where she is, and I doubt she’s occupied at the moment.”

“Really. Where is she?”

Reaper closed his eyes: “Canterlot. The castle. Your chambers.”

Luna smiled: “So, former Tunzal, I have a military strategy question for you: if you are facing a superior opponent, what can you do to increase your chances of victory?”

“Well, we already established surprise, so I assume you have something else in mind.”

“Yes--we need to control the terrain, make her fight on ground of our choosing.”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Meaning?”

“Please keep watch over me while I doze. I need some time in the dreamscape to prepare.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Another isolated dream world?”

Luna chuckled: “Nothing so grandiose! I plan to construct some ‘sets,’ if you will, akin to those in a theater, in order to draw Twilight in without arousing her suspicions. They will not hold up to close scrutiny, but I do not believe they will need to.”

She folded her legs beneath her and settled to the ground: “I will only need a few minutes, then we can spring our surprise on Twilight.”

Luna closed her eyes as Reaper stood nearby, chewing his lip: “I really hope you’re right, Luna, because this could get ugly fast, otherwise.”

"All the World's a Stage..."
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Death Be Not Proud

"All the World's a Stage..."

Twilight shifted uncomfortably on the couch she called her own in Luna’s dimly-lit chambers. She lounged among various scrolls, loose sheets of parchment, and books scattered about across a low table and on the sofa itself. She levitated a cup of liqueur-laced cider to her lips as she pored over notes from Shatter’s debriefing, and her own transcription of Smudge’s death vision.

She stared blearily into the distance, and recalled her final encounter with the Void--the surge of dark power, the hot, wet, orgasmic rush of blood pouring out of her wrists, the cacophony in the crumbling cavern. She rubbed her eyes and jotted down a few sloppy annotations, before discarding her quill and draining the silver-and-crystal cup.

She squinted at the multi-faceted crystal, turning and rotating it, peering through it like a kaleidoscope, until her gaze fell on the distorted image of her right flank. She released the cup, and it dropped to the floor, cracking loudly on impact.

Hot tears welled in her eyes as she stared dully at Reaper’s inky-black cutie mark, emblazoned on her violet hide: “I hate it. I hate it. I HATE IT!”

She felt bile rise suddenly in the back of her throat, and she hacked, then spat at the cutie mark, leaving a glistening smear that ran down her flank and dripped onto the upholstery.

Twilight collapsed back against the sofa, scattering papers and notebooks to the floor, as the tears leaked from beneath her eyelids and ran down the side of her face, splattering the crumpled parchment beneath her head.

She sobbed weakly between hiccoughs for a few minutes before dropping into a fitful slumber. A pair of aquamarine eyes narrowed at her from the deep shadows of a far corner.

“Twilight Sparkle!”

“Twilight Sparkle, please report to the Principal’s office!”

Twilight snorted loudly and jerked her head up from her desk, trailing a line of saliva. She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and wiped it on her pleated skirt as she stood unsteadily and stumbled to the classroom door.

She jogged down the empty hallway, passing multiple darkened doors and intersecting hallways. She glanced through a set of windows at the moonlit courtyard outside, and furrowed her brow: “What time is it?”

Her footfalls echoed on the marble floors as she dashed around a final corner and stopped in front of a closed door, labeled “Vice Principal Luna” on its dimly-lit, frosted-glass window.

Twilight straightened her skirt and knocked on the glass: “I’m here, Luna! Did you call for me?”

“I did, indeed. Please come in, Twilight.”

Twilight turned the knob and entered Luna’s office. A single lamp threw a weak pool of yellowish light across the desk, shrouding the room in dark shadows.

Luna waved her hand at a chair in front of the desk: “Take a seat, please.”

Twilight sat: “I’m sorry, Luna--I was asleep, and I didn’t--”

Luna smiled: “No worries, Twilight. Celestia and I know you have been “burning the midnight oil” lately while completing your studies. That is why we do not mind you staying at the school after it has closed.”

She stood, walked to the window and turned back with a grin: “I am something of a night owl myself, you know.”

Twilight smiled: “So what can I do for you, Vice Principal? Do I need to go now? Are you locking-up?”

Luna sat on the edge of her desk and looked down at Twilight with furrowed brow: “On the contrary, I need you to stay. Something worrisome has happened that will require your knowledge of magic to untangle.”

“Magic?”

“Yes. Sunset Shimmer has been going over some old architectural drawings of the school while doing research for a paper, and she discovered a small, hidden passage behind a boiler in the basement.”

“And you want some help with the research?”

Luna stood and paced nervously: “In a manner of speaking. It turns out the school’s foundations rest on a much older, ruined structure of some sort, long-buried beneath the school. Sunset explored this structure earlier today, and reported that she had found an old mirror, akin to the one you both have described.”

Twilight chewed her lip: “You mean back in Canterlot?”

“Yes. She felt that given her experience with magic she was best-suited to investigate it. I asked her to delay until Celestia and I had a chance to consult with you, but I fear she may have done something rash.”

“Rash?”

Luna sat down heavily behind her desk: “Sunset has not been seen since lunchtime.”

Twilight jumped up from the chair: “This is very serious! Can you take me to this mirror now?”

Luna stood and pulled a key ring out of her top drawer: “Yes. Follow me, please.”

Twilight and Luna walked quickly through a series of dark hallways and down two sets of steep, dimly-lit stairways, arriving at last in the hot, stuffy confines of the school’s physical plant.

Luna guided Twilight along a wall, behind the rusting remains of a decommissioned boiler, and through a narrow, cobweb-covered doorway. She pulled a small flashlight out of her jacket pocket and shined its thin beam down a cramped passage which bent away to the right.

Luna ducked under the low door frame: “Follow me.”

They worked their way slowly along the rough tunnel, finally emerging in a small, crude chamber, reminiscent of the ruined shrine to Larg Luna first encountered on Kur. There, in the back wall, surrounded by a rough wooden frame, was a large, cloudy mirror.

Twilight stepped up to the mirror and ran her hands over the frame, looking for any gaps or switches or buttons: “I don’t see any kind of mechanism. I’m not sure if it’s active or…?”

Luna moved beside Twilight and reached toward the mirror: “I actually probed the mirror earlier when I came to look for Sunset earlier this evening, before summoning you.”

“And?”

“I stuck my head through, and kept my hands firmly on the frame to keep from falling in.”

Twilight’s eyebrows shot up: “Luna!”

Luna smiled sheepishly: “I know it was risky, but I did not feel I could ask for assistance unless I myself had at least made an assay.”

Twilight sighed: “Well, you may have gotten lucky, but what did you find?”

“Nothing notable--it was merely disorienting. Clearly it is some sort of portal or gateway, but I fear one must pass fully through.”

“Yeah, that’s been my experience, too.”

She squared her shoulders and centered herself before her reflection: “Only one way to find out. I’ll try to come back shortly and at least let you know what I find on the other side.”

Luna shook her head: “No. It would be wrong of me to send you on such an errand alone. I left a note for Celestia making her aware of our location, and will accompany you.”

Twilight bit her lip for a moment: “OK, but watch out--things can get really strange on the other side of these mirrors!”

Luna brought a hand up to hide her smile: “I have no doubt…”

The two stepped into the dim, smoky interior of Tal’ar’s Inn, emerging in a nook beside the large, crackling fireplace. Twilight was dressed in a rust-colored tunic and long, pale blue skirt, topped by a heavy, brown overcoat. She turned to look at Luna, who was wrapped in her white-trimmed, dark-blue cloak.

Twilight’s eyes grew wide: “That cloak is beautiful!”

Luna held an arm out, lifting the fabric for closer inspection: “Indeed it is! What a curious place this is.”

Twilight held out her own arm and examined her now-light-tan skin: “Well, our coloring’s changed, for one thing--you’re a lot darker, and I’m a lot less purple!”

Luna nodded at Twilight’s hip where Death’s Token hung, obscured by her coat: “And I never thought of you as the sword-bearing type.”

Twilight glanced down and furrowed her brow: “Hmm. Maybe it’s because I have a unicorn’s horn back home?”

Luna bit her lip nervously: “Y-yes, that must be it.”

She scanned the common room and noted the presence of Sumi and Sagu in a corner, scheming with Zain as Regel and Tal’ar scurried between the tables, serving drinks. She turned back to Twilight: “Where might Sunset Shimmer have gone, do you suppose?”

Twilight turned around, nearly bumping into a mud-streaked traveler: “I don’t know. There’s no good way to know how long she’s been here, if she’s even still here! She may have left.”

“True. Perhaps we should sit and chat with the locals--maybe one of them saw something noteworthy.”

Twilight stepped to an empty table and pulled a chair out: “OK, that makes sense. I just hope we can actually understand--”

Luna shifted to Twilight’s blind side and closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly a figure with long reddish hair spilling over a mustard-yellow cloak emerged from the dim recesses at the far end of the room near the front door, and dashed toward the main staircase leading to the upper floor.

Twilight’s head swiveled and she bolted out of the chair: “Hey! That red hair! That must be her!”

Luna put her hand on Twilight’s shoulder: “You saw someone with red hair? That certainly seems promising in this sea of brownish heads--even your hair is brown!”

“Right--it must be her! Let’s go!”

Twilight pushed between two heavy-set merchants as she stumbled toward the stairs: “Sunset, wait!”

Luna nodded and smiled as she followed close behind: “Be careful! We do not know what we may find!”

The common room began to dissolve into shadows and smoke in the background as she mounted the steps.

Twilight skidded to a stop in front of the heavy, ornately-carved door that led to the Merchant’s Suite. She pressed her ear against the wood: “I hear voices. One of them sure sounds like Sunset; I can’t make out the other one, though it seems familiar.”

Luna took position on the other side of the door frame and put her hand on the door’s latch: “Are you ready to go in, Twilight?”

Twilight’s left hand settled on the hilt of her sword: “Yeah--let’s find out what this is all about!”

Luna’s eyes drifted down to Twilight’s hip; she bit her lip and sighed: “I hope this works…”

She pushed the door open with a creak, and Twilight entered quickly, peering about the darkened room: “Sunset Shimmer! Are you okay? Where are you?”

A muffled voice came from the shadows: “Over here, Twilight! I have something amazing to show you…”

Twilight stepped into the gloom, then froze as a white-cloaked figure appeared before her: “Wait! I know you! Sunset--we’re in danger!”

Reaper lunged for Twilight as Sunset’s empty cloak fell to the floor; Twilight pivoted and spun away, backing against Luna: “Twilight, wait! This is not as it seems!”

Twilight swept her sword from its sheath and brought it down toward Reaper’s head in a glowing, violet arc: “Get out! I hate you! This is all your fault!”

Luna darted forward and thrust out her arm; Twilight’s sword bit into Luna’s vambrace with a clank. She slid behind Twilight and pointed at the yellow cloak, which suddenly flowed up Twilight’s legs, binding them.

Twilight gave a shout and hacked at Reaper again as she stumbled. Reaper shot out his left hand, grabbing Twilight’s right wrist, forcing her arm behind her back as she fell against him.

He hugged her tight to his body and slid his right hand through her hair, gripping the back of her head, forcing her flushed face toward his.

Twilight’s eyes flared white and her sword flickered with crimson flames as Reaper crushed his lips against hers and took a long, deep breath. She struggled wildly and screamed incoherently into his mouth as she was overcome by a wave of intense cold.

Reaper locked his eyes with Twilight’s as he held her in a tight, deadly embrace, feeling her heartbeat falter as her struggling lessened. After a minute, her eyes drooped half-shut, her breathing stopped and the sword behind her back clattered to the floor. A dark stain spread across the front of her skirt, she twitched, then sagged lifelessly into Reaper’s arms. He broke the kiss and settled to the floor, cradling Twilight’s head in his lap.

“Did it work? Will she come back?"

“We’ll know in a minute. It’s up to her, now.”

Luna choked back a cry as the scene dissolved.

“Oh, Reaper! Was it too much?”

Twilight snorted loudly and jerked her head up from her desk, trailing a line of saliva. She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and wiped it on her pleated skirt as she squinted at the blinding moonlight flooding the empty classroom.

She felt the floor heave beneath her desk, and lurched to her feet as she glanced up at the crumbling ceiling in alarm.

“Twilight Sparkle! Please report to Canterlot!”

She stumbled sideways drunkenly as a section of wall crashed down beside her, and a glowing black crack split the floor behind her feet.

“Twilight! Come to Canterlot now!”

She wobbled back a step, nearly toppling into the yawning chasm opening across the back of the room. She looked around frantically and saw a pale golden light glowing through the classroom door.

“TWILIGHT!”

She cried out in panic as she staggered toward the door, dodging chunks of masonry and sparking wires, as the dark chasm behind her sheared away an entire wing of the school.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lunged breathlessly for the door in its twisting, splintering frame: “Help me! Somebody help me!”

“I cannot…”

Twilight’s hand reached for the doorknob as the window shattered, piercing her hands and face with shards of glass. The darkness poured in through the ruined door as Twilight lurched forward blindly, her heart pounding, her last words escaping as a frightened whisper as she clutched at the blood-slicked knob.

“I’m afraid…”

“Oh, Reaper! Was it too much?”

Reaper phased-in next to Luna and they both slowly approached Twilight. She was sprawled awkwardly across the urine-soaked sofa, head tipped back, blank eyes half-open, a stream of spittle and bile running down her cheek onto her shoulder. She wasn’t breathing.

Luna looked down with wide eyes: “Is--is she alive?”

Reaper closed his eyes for a moment: “Yes, but just barely. There’s nothing I can do to help her this time, and you’ve done all you can. She’s going to have to claw her way the last few inches by herself.”

Luna chewed her lip: “Oh, Reaper! Was it too much?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Twilight’s stomach lurched suddenly and she retched weakly, coughing and sputtering as she fought to take a breath. She shuddered violently and forced her eyes to focus as Luna dropped to her knees in front of Twilight.

“Lu-Luna...is it really you this time?”

Luna stood and swept Twilight from the sofa to a nearby pile of cushions and cradled her to her chest, wrapping her wings around Twilight’s trembling body: “Oh, Twilight--you live! Thank the moon and stars, you came through it alive!”

Twilight shuddered and hiccoughed: “Is--is this real? I’m not in another dream am--am I?”

Reaper knelt beside the two alicorns: “After spending a few weeks with the Dreamweaver here, I totally understand your skepticism, Twilight! However, I assure you this is real--you’re out of the dreamscape and awake.”

Twilight closed her eyes and leaned heavily against Luna: “Oh--oh, thank Celestia! But...it’s gone!”

She struggled to sit up: “Wh-where’s my sword?”

Reaper smiled lightly as he summoned Death’s Token from beneath Twilight’s sofa. He held it to his left hip with a hoof as he magically wrapped and knotted its cord around his waist: “You mean my sword, Princess?”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “Oh, it’s all gone, isn’t it! I’m so empty!”

She began to sob as Luna looked down at her face in confusion: “The screaming and crying and blood and all of it--it’s gone! I can’t hear them dying in my head anymore and..and..I must be dead!”

She turned to Reaper, her face drawn with grief: “Thank you! I can rest now! I can go lie down with the dead and not hear them...but...but I could see them again! Oh, Celestia, please help me!”

Twilight began to tremble and writhe in Luna’s forelegs. Luna turned to Reaper, her eyes wide with concern: “Why does she believe she is dead? I do not understand!”

Reaper sighed: “Because a bit of her did die.”

“What?!”

“Hold on a minute--let me get Celestia and I’ll explain. I think Twilight’s going to need all the comforting and soothing we can muster.”

Reaper faded out, and Celestia appeared in a flash at the entrance to Luna’s chambers a moment later: “Twilight! Are you in here? It sounded like somepony said you were in distress and I--”

She stopped and stared at the three ponies at the base of Luna’s dais: “Oh, sister! You’re alive!”

She rushed up to Luna and shied away from Reaper at the last moment, eyeing him nervously: “Your cloak, your sword--are you really back, too?”

Reaper nodded and pointed to the mark on his flank: “In the non-flesh!”

Celestia sniffed the sour air and wrinkled her nose as she looked down at Twilight: “What happened to Twilight? She looks awful!”

Twilight stopped twitching and opened her bloodshot eyes: “Oh, Celestia--please tell me I’m really alive! I can’t tell anymore! I’m all empty and numb inside!”

Celestia turned to Reaper, brow furrowed as she settled down beside Luna, extending her own wing around Twilight: “I don’t understand.”

Reaper took a deep breath and sat down on a nearby ottoman: “Okay, Luna, here’s how this went down--when we were on Kur, my power--Death’s power--lay largely dormant in you, save for a couple of notable instances.”

“When I slew the hartz, or in the baths.”

“Yeah, that was a doozy--bloody mets'il! Anyway, other than that, Death’s power was largely quiet until it flared that final time. But by then, Nightmare Moon or the 'Dark Angel,' or whoever she was, was in control, and channeled the power.”

Luna nodded: “Yes--I was largely a bystander.”

“Right. So when T'zarjāin separated you from your body, Death’s power was still there. He didn’t finish the job for another few moments, stripping my power from her. Yours was a clean death that rendered you unconscious for the rest of the process.”

He turned to Twilight who was now breathing steadily and evenly as Celestia stroked her mane: “Unfortunately, Twilight here was fully invested with Death’s power for weeks--it was an integral part of her, and given a few more weeks, it might well have simply hollowed her out, leaving her as some sort of wraith.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “How horrible!”

“Agreed. The power of Death is not intended to be held in living vessels, not even ones of your power. Eventually it would consume you, burning away your real existence, turning you into, well, me--a being of cosmic energy, but not really alive.”

Celestia bit her lip: “Will she be okay now?”

“She should be. Old T'zarjāin was right on both counts--with a caveat: we had to take Twilight by surprise, which we did thanks to Luna’s stagecraft, and I had to kill her--sort of.”

“‘Sort of?’”

Reaper stood and walked to the side table, retrieving a pair of cups of cider for Luna and Celestia: “Up until a few weeks ago, I never worried about precision. Somepony died, I showed up and cleaned up. Somepony was lingering, I showed up, reaped and cleaned up.”

He set the cups next to the Princesses: “But a few months back, when I had to time your deaths perfectly, then resurrect you, I was forced to calibrate my power and its use with a nuance I had never before considered.”

He nodded at Twilight, whose eyes were again open and focused on his: “So when Twilight and I were locked in a literal kiss of death, I had to take every iota of my own power, and a good ninety-eight percent of hers, in order to break the bond between her and Death’s power.”

Twilight stirred weakly: “I--I saw another death vision--my own.”

Reaper nodded: “I know--I saw it, as well. In a very real sense, a small piece of you died as I stripped away that power. Twilight the Harbinger died. Twilight the alicorn Princess, damn-near did, too.”

Celestia took a drink from her cup: “Well I’m very grateful she didn’t! Will she recover? Will there be any lasting effect?”

Reaper tapped his chin: “She should recover, I would think. It will likely take a couple of days, as it did last time.”

He turned back to Luna: “Again, you got the clean death, and T'zarjāin returned your native power to you at the end. I’m sure you’re tired, but you came through relatively unscathed.”

He knelt next to Twilight: “Unfortunately, our brave girl here got the short end of the stick again, and had to be fully-conscious as her life was sucked out of her.”

Twilight nodded: “Will I always...remember?”

Reaper frowned: “Yes. You will always remember your death, and the visions of all those you helped pass on. It is the burden of the Harbinger. I, too, now bear all those visions, as I was able to pull the memories of your time as Harbinger.”

Twilight’s eyes glistened with tears, and Reaper smiled, pointing to Luna: “However, I am sure that Luna can assist you with that. Now that you are no longer the Harbinger, those visions will fade, like old scars. You will never be fully rid of them, but they will seem more like dreams.”

Luna pulled Twilight tight: “Then I can certainly help!”

Reaper stood and took a step back: “Unfortunately, reading Twilight’s memories revealed a new problem.”

Celestia closed her eyes and nodded grimly: “Zecora.”

Twilight wiped away her tears: “I--I was too late to save her!”

Reaper shook his head: “You did everything you could, Twilight! Your securing the Void was brilliant, and there was no way you could have known what was happening until Smudge’s death.”

“I--I know, but it all went so wrong, so fast.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “I do not understand--what happened to Zecora?”

Reaper sighed: “She was pulled inside the Void.”

Luna gasped and brought a hoof to her mouth: “Oh, no! So then she’s--she’s…”

“No, she's not dead. It didn’t tear her apart like Top Cover and Green Streak, and it didn’t suck out her essence like Solar Gleam. It drew her in intact, and Twilight’s sure she felt Zecora’s presence inside the Void.”

“So how do we get her back?”

“That’s an outstanding question. Nopony alive knows more about that thing now than Twilight, and she’s going to need a couple of days to recoup. I’m sure you’re exhausted, too, Luna.”

Luna nodded wearily: “All that ‘stagecraft’ as you called it, really takes it out of a pony! I have rarely had to maintain nested realities like that, and never with such high stakes!”

Reaper smiled: “No doubt! and a top-notch job you did, might I add! So, I suggest we meet again in a couple of days to make plans.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Will Zecora be safe in the meantime?”

“Most certainly not! But rushing in now, without a solid plan and Twilight’s head on straight is just a recipe for disaster. And I think we’ve had enough disaster over the last few months, don’t you?”

Celestia drained her cup and rubbed her muzzle: “I suppose so, but what’s to become of her while we plan?”

“She’s resourceful, clever, tenacious, brave and has spent years thriving in the Everfree Forest. If that’s not solid preparation for whatever the Void can throw at her, I don’t know what is!”

Celestia sighed: “Alright, I guess there’s nothing more we can do at the moment. I will get hold of Noble Steel and Shatter and have them join us in two days.”

Twilight’s eyes drooped shut, but she began squirming uncomfortably: “I can’t close my eyes--I see more death. Please get me a drink--some of that apple liqueur. It helps a little.”

Reaper frowned: “Luna--is there anything you can do for her now that we’re back?”

Luna closed her eyes, and her horn glowed a pale blue as she leaned down and touched it to Twilight’s forehead: “Sleep.”

Twilight slumped against Luna’s chest again, and Luna looked up at Celestia: “Would you please summon an attendant to bathe her while she slumbers? I can keep her asleep for some time, and it might be nice for her to be clean when she awakens.”

Celestia nodded and stood: “I will send a couple of bath ponies shortly. What will you do now, Reaper?”

He looked down at Luna and Twilight: “I have a lot of work to catch-up, but I’d appreciate just an hour to settle myself a little. Luna can attest to the fact that these last few days have been nuts!”

Luna sighed heavily: “Indeed they have! I will welcome some real sleep, devoid of turmoil and danger for the first time in a while.”

Reaper leaned down and kissed Twilight on the forehead: “I owe a debt to her--we all do, really--that I will never be able to repay. Please do what you can. I’m going to find a quiet, sunny spot and just sit.”

He turned to Celestia: “Would you mind if I used the garden off your solarium?”

A small, secret smile crossed Luna’s lips as Celestia shrugged: “That should be fine--I’ll alert the staff to stay out of the garden for the morning.”

Reaper grinned: “Yeah, I’m not exactly everypony’s favorite guest anymore!”

Celestia chuckled: “Perhaps not, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Reaper. You did what you had to and returned my sister and Twilight to their old selves, like you said you would!”

Reaper bowed: “Well, I’d say Luna deserves at least seventy-five percent of the credit, but thank you!”

He began to fade out: “You ladies know how to reach me, otherwise I’ll be back in two days.”

Celestia looked down at Twilight nuzzling against Luna’s neck, snoring softly as Luna’s horn pulsed and glowed faintly. She closed her eyes and teleported in a golden flash. A glittering teardrop hit the floor as the glow dissipated.

Post-Mortem
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Death Be Not Proud

Post-Mortem

Reaper’s form slowly resolved outside the entrance to Celestia’s private chambers. He stepped up to the entrance and knocked on the door frame.

Celestia looked up from a scroll: “Please, come in!”

Reaper walked in and took a seat on a low bench next to Luna. They were seated before a large, oval conference table shared by Shatter--her left side heavily taped and bandaged--Noble Steel, and Twilight, who sat at Celestia’s right side near the head of the table.

Reaper nodded to the assembled ponies: “Sorry for being a bit late--I’m still catching-up on several weeks of, well, out-of-the-ordinary activity doesn’t do it justice!”

Celestia nodded: “Not to worry--we were just finishing a late lunch, and Captain Shatter was about to tell us about her encounter with Air Command. I understand Colonel Shear opened a position on General Staff for you. Congratulations!”

Shatter rolled her eyes: “Yeah, I told her where she could stick those red tabs of hers!”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “That could be badly misinterpreted!”

Shatter shrugged: “I doubt it--though honestly, she acted like she’d never heard the word ‘twat’ before!”

Celestia spit out a mouthful of tea: “What?!”

“I know, right? She really needs to hang around the barracks more!”

The table was overcome by an appalled silence as all eyes fell on Shatter. She grinned: “I’m kidding! I told the Colonel that I was deeply honored, but that I must respectfully decline the offer.”

Celestia heaved a sigh of relief: “Well, thank the heavens for that! But why?”

“I’m not ready to get stuck behind a desk in a roomful of stuffy old unicorns! I know the doctors are going to implant some sort of mechanical monstrosity behind my scapula, and though I’ll never fly combat again, I will fly!”

Her eyes glistened, and she ran the back of a hoof across her face: “I’ll work out of the barracks with the flyers. They can’t take my kids from me!”

Celestia smiled: “I can respect that, Captain.”

Shatter sniffled and turned to Noble: “What about you, Red Tabs? I heard at Smudge’s funeral that they were going to offer you a spot, too.”

Noble Steel nodded: “They did, and I too declined. I’m not ready to get stuck in a roomful of stuffy old unicorns, either! I watched you and Zecora lead, and I know I need more time in the field to learn by doing, before I can give my advice and counsel.”

Shatter grinned: “Good for you, Lieutenant--but you’re still ‘Red Tabs!’ Ask any flyer: once you’ve been given a callsign, you’re stuck with it!”

“That’s fine, Captain--I’m proud to bear your nickname for me!”

Shatter looked around the table at the smiles of the others in attendance and blushed: “Alright, Red Tabs--that’s enough of that! I’m pretty sure the Princess didn’t invite us here to suffer through a meeting of our mutual admiration society!”

Celestia smiled: “After all we’ve been through the last few weeks it was just nice to see an outpouring of unbridled good cheer, Captain!”

She poured a fresh cup of tea: “However, you’re right--we have serious business to discuss, and plans to at least start. I suspect it’s going to take more than this meeting to get everything in-order.”

Reaper nodded: “I’ve gone over Twilight’s notes and memories of her encounter with the Void, and I’m more certain than ever that Zecora is not only alive, but was aware that Twilight was trying to contain the Void. We believe that Zecora was actively trying to seal the breach from the inside.”

Twilight stared into her tea mug vacantly and stirred the lees with her magic: “It was like the stories of earth pony sailors, going down in a sinking ship--the Chief stays behind and closes the last pressure door from the inside while her crew secures it from the outside.”

Shatter furrowed her brow: “No disrespect intended, Princess, but Zecora was in charge of the operation, and I’m sure she knew the cost of--”

Twilight slammed her mug down on the tabletop: “NO! I went down into that cavern and saved you--”

She pointed emphatically at Shatter, then Steel, spittle flecking the corners of her mouth, nostrils flared: “--and you! I heard Discord’s voice in my head...and...and FUCK DISCORD! And fuck you, too! We have to save Zecora!”

Shatter put her hooves up, leaned back from the table and looked with shock at Celestia.

Celestia reached over and put a hoof on her protégé’s shoulder: “Twilight, please! It’s fine--we won’t--”

Tears welled in Twilight’s red-rimmed eyes: “I--I couldn’t get there in time to save her! We--we…”

Celestia stood and moved behind Twilight’s chair, wrapping her wings protectively around the trembling alicorn.

Luna put up a hoof and turned toward Shatter: “Celestia, Reaper and I have already discussed this. You are undoubtedly correct, Captain--if Zecora were here now, she would likely consider herself an acceptable loss.”

She stood: “However, we do not. There must be some way for us to retrieve our friend and ensure that the Void is only responsible for the untimely ends of your comrade and Solar Gleam.”

Shatter shrugged: “Princess, you’re in charge, and if you say you need my help, then it’s given, of course! The idea of leaving anypony behind burns my ass, but I’m not real sanguine about our prospects, given our last encounter with that fucking thing.”

Reaper nodded: “Granted, but this time you have Luna and me, and the Void is secured and in isolation, not down in some damned cave.”

“Okay, so to use your word--’granted.’ What do we do now?”

Reaper turned toward the head of the table: “I’m largely unaffected by the Void’s field; I may be able to probe it and gain more information to give to Twilight. She knows more about it than any pony alive, and should be able to--”

Twilight stared at her hooves: “Any pony alive...”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Twilight? You have a thought?”

Twilight looked up and turned her eyes to Reaper: “What about not-alive ponies?”

Reaper furrowed his brow, then his eyes went wide: “You can’t be serious, Twilight! He’s imprisoned at the bottom of Tartarus, cheek-to-jowl with the Pit!”

Luna sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth: “Grey Thorn?”

Noble Steel look back-and-forth between Reaper and Luna: “The unicorn wizard who created that thing?”

Reaper nodded: “Yes. What did you have in mind, Twilight?”

Celestia interrupted: “You don’t honestly believe he’d help us, do you? He hates us!”

Reaper chewed his lip: “Strictly speaking, he only hates me, though I suspect Luna’s no longer on his holiday card list, either.”

Twilight glanced at Celestia: “He might talk to me.”

“To what end?”

“He’s like Starswirl. He’s like me. He can’t help himself--he’ll talk. I like to talk because I like to explain. He seemed like the kind who liked to brag, to show how clever he was.”

Luna nodded: “That was certainly my impression of him as well.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “Is it even possible?”

Reaper took a deep breath: “Well, I can get down there, and I’m fairly sure Twilight can now, as well.”

Luna sighed: “I, too can join you as I no longer carry the essence and attendant baggage of Nightmare Moon, and am thus no longer prone to the pangs of guilt and anger and self-pity that a trip to Tartarus could inflame.”

Celestia summoned a quill and jotted down a note, then looked up from the parchment: “Well, it sounds like that’s as good a place as any to start. When do you plan on making the trip?”

Reaper ran his hoof across the back of his neck: “I can go pretty much anytime--in fact, I’ll probably head down to the lower levels to do a little reconnaissance as soon as we wrap-up here. I haven’t been down to the lowest levels in a very long time. Honestly, there have been very few ponies through the centuries bad enough to warrant banishment to the deepest reaches of Tartarus.”

Luna nodded: “Twilight and I will need some more time to help her work through her recent traumas. I do not think taking her down into Tartarus’ bowels would be conducive to her recovery right now.”

Twilight trembled a little as she refilled her tea mug: “I know I’m always gung-ho to prove how tough and strong I am, but I just can’t see myself going to Tartarus right now. The dead--they’re everywhere...they’re…”

Reaper furrowed his brow and nodded toward Twilight: “Luna, Celestia--can we get her to a quiet place and let her rest? This is stirring her up again, and I’m afraid she’ll relapse into her death vision panics.”

Celestia nodded: “Twilight--I would feel better if you stayed in the guest room off my personal chambers this evening. Naturally you’ll want to spend some time with Luna, but it might be good to get away from your room there, for a bit--a change of scenery might help.”

Twilight stood wearily: “I’m sorry, everypony--I’m just having a hard time readjusting to everything being back the way it was. Well, sort of...Zecora…”

Luna put a wing around Twilight and led her away: “I believe I may have something that will help. Let us get you settled in bed and we will take a little trip.”

The other ponies watched in silence as the two alicorns left the room. Shatter turned to Celestia: “Damn, Princess! I know she was having it rough the last few weeks, but she seems to have corkscrewed in! How’s she going to hold up for a new mission?”

Celestia sighed: “The circumstances of Luna and Reaper’s return and Twilight’s part in it were, well, complicated.”

Shatter raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak; Reaper cut her off: “I killed her.”

Shatter snapped her jaw shut.

Reaper stood and locked eyes with Shatter: “You recall the Void? You know what it did to Solar Gleam?”

The pegasus nodded weakly, unable to look away.

“That’s what I did to Twilight in order to strip her of Death’s power. I brought her within an inch of her life--her heart stopped. Her breathing stopped. Luna and I stood over her almost-corpse and watched as she literally dragged herself back over the brink.”

Shatter swallowed audibly: “Fuck me...”

Reaper closed his eyes and turned his face toward the ceiling: “So, I think we can all cut the kid some slack. She has experienced horrors the likes of which no living pony has ever known.”

He sat down and swept his gaze across the three ponies across the table: “She’s tough. She’ll be ready--she’ll be fine.”

He furrowed his brow and looked at Twilight’s empty mug, lying on its side: “They both will be.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, then cleared her throat: “Well, I believe we’ve discussed everything we need to for today. I’ll be in touch with you Lieutenant, and you Captain, in the next few days as we plan next steps.”

She stood, and the others at the table did likewise: “Thank you all!”

Noble Steel and Shatter bowed and departed; Reaper trailed behind them, and stopped at the entrance: “I’m going to wait for Luna in her chambers; I’d like to chat with her a minute when she’s done with Twilight.”

Celestia nodded: “I’d like to speak with her, too. I’m very concerned about Twilight, and would like to get an update. I agree that she’s tough, but she’s been very, well, brittle the last few weeks.”

“Not a bad way of putting it. Alright, I guess we can both get her update at the same time, then.”

Celestia turned to Reaper as they both disappeared from the meeting room: “Now what did you mean by ‘they both will be…?’”

Luna guided Twilight into a cozy guest room, decorated in cream and yellow. The blinds were drawn, and the only light in the room was a pair of candles on a side table next to a large, four-poster bed.

Twilight flopped down on the bed as Luna poured her a small cup of almost colorless wine: “Have a little wine, Twilight, and I will put you into a new dream, in a place you have never seen.”

Twilight sipped at the wine: “I don’t think there’s anywhere on this world I haven’t been or seen. Everything seems haunted, now. I know Reaper said the visions will fade into faint dreams in time, but I don’t know if I can stand it for that long!”

Luna knelt by the bed and extinguished one of the candles as her horn began to glow a deep blue: “Let us see what I can do…”

Twilight’s eyes fluttered open and she gazed around at the ancient, caryatid-columned portico of Dux’a’s baths, bathed in the warm glow of late evening. Luna stood beside her, wrapped against the cold in her blue cloak.

Twilight turned and peered at the bronze doors and erotic friezes: “Where are we?”

“This was once a temple to the Lost Goddess Liz’un-urd’a-birna. Long ago it was re-purposed into baths for the town of Rixk’a, and is now run by a man by the name of Dux’a.”

Twilight looked at her tan-skinned forearms and Luna’s complexion and hair: “Is this Kur--like the dream the other day?”

“Yes, though a location you have never been. You will encounter a pair of attendants here, named Nahko and Eska, and they will help you relax.”

She walked to the door and pulled it open, entering the dim, perfumed interior, walking along the winding corridors, leading Twilight to the chamber containing the sunken, tiled baths.

The two slender, tattooed parzailen stood in the waist-deep water, awaiting their charge: “Please to come in, Twilight! The Lady has told us of your dire dreams--how terrible!”

Luna nodded: “Yes. Please see to it that she rests and floats and dreams of nothing worse than the sea and the stars and the wind in the trees.”

Eska stepped out of the water and held her hand out to take Twilight’s robe: “Join us please! We can help!”

Luna smiled as Twilight shyly stripped off the thin, grey robe. She blushed: “I’m sorry if I seem nervous, Luna, it’s just that being naked in this form really feels, well naked!”

Luna grinned as Nahko took Twilight’s hand and guided her to one of the submerged shelves along the wall of the pool: “Not to worry, Twilight, none can enter this private dream save for me. Please try to release your fears and pain--let them flow from your eyes and mouth as tears and breath, from between your legs, from your very pores. This is a cleansing place.”

Twilight leaned back, eyes closed, as Nahko and Eska began to rub pumice and soaproot over her shoulders and arms: “I’ll try, Luna--I really will try. I just want--want…”

Luna watched Twilight doze off in the steaming, scented water for a moment, before fading away.

Reaper and Celestia sat across from each other on a pair of matching cushions at the base of Luna’s dais. The Princess turned to Reaper with a shocked expression: “So she used the word ‘violated?’ Does that imply what I think it does?”

Reaper nodded: “Given she was trapped in a tent with Yunada, Nai’a and likely one guard, I don’t think there’s any other way to--”

He paused and put up a hoof; Luna appeared a moment later: “Back so soon, Luna?”

Celestia levitated a silver cup of wine to her sister: “Is Twilight well?”

Luna sat on a nearby couch and took the cup from Celestia: “I left her in a private dreamspace, under the care of Nahko and Eska.”

Reaper’s eyebrows jumped: “Oh, my!”

Luna took a sip of wine and rolled her eyes: “Not like that! She is now in a deep, almost trance-like state that will allow her to shed much of her debilitating fear and guilt. I will check in on her from time to time over the next day-and-a-half. It will likely take her that long to unwind.”

Celestia furrowed her brow: “Nahko and Eska?”

Reaper chuckled: “I’ll let Luna explain that one to you in private sometime!”

Luna turned to Celestia: “Which I shall, one of these days soon--”

She glanced pointedly at Reaper: “--including what occurred in the tent! But not right now.”

Reaper nodded: “Agreed. We need to determine our next steps.”

Celestia chewed her lip: “Will Twilight truly be ready to help in a few days?”

Luna took another drink: “I believe so.”

Reaper shifted on his cushion: “She’ll have to be. She really is the only pony alive with any real knowledge of the Void, and the clock is ticking for Zecora.”

“What about her idea involving Grey Thorn? Is that really doable?”

Reaper sighed: “That’s what I aim to find out as soon as I leave her. In all my millenia, I’ve never been to the lowest level of Tartarus. I’ve sent a few very nasty characters away over the centuries, but he’s the first one to ever hit the bottom.”

“Will you be able to talk to him?”

“Maybe. He’ll be a shade, and some of them don’t communicate at all, but some are quite chatty. It depends a lot on the kind of pony they were when they were alive.”

Celestia nodded and stood: “Well, learn what you can. I’m going to meet with the Archivist to see if she’s had any luck turning up relics or records from the Highbriar or Greensward clans that may be in private hoards or collections.”

Reaper and Luna rose from their cushions as well, and bowed as Celestia vanished in a brilliant flash. Luna turned toward her dais as Reaper began to fade out.

Luna suddenly snapped her head over her shoulder: “Reaper–do you have a moment?”

He stopped phasing and resolidified: “Sure. What’s up?”

Luna paced a bit, then stopped: “Do you...do you regret…?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Luna sighed and started again: “All the nights we spent together during those weeks on Kur. Do you…”

Reaper blinked slowly and opened his mouth to speak.

Luna cut him off and turned away: “When I was with Gerrar at the very end, I had to open myself to him fully in order to finally lower his last barrier.”

“I remember. You told him to kiss you.”

“Yes. Just prior to that I opened my eyes and looked at his face. But at the moment of our utmost ecstasy, even as I felt his warmth surge inside me, I knew I could not do it.”

“Then how–”

She turned to face Reaper, her shimmering eyes cast down: “It was you. I saw your face. When he opened his eyes, I looked into your eyes. I could not give myself entirely to Gerrar, so I saw you in his stead. Only then could I abandon my own final defenses and genuinely, passionately, honestly ask for a kiss.”

“Which he gave.”

“Seeing me entirely open to him, not as a galdu, but as a lover, naked to him in every sense.”

Reaper nodded: “And so he fell, never having witnessed the true, wrenching, disorienting impact of love before.”

“Yes.”

Luna lifted her head and stood tall: “Do you regret that we never...that you never…”

Reaper licked his lips and furrowed his brow: “Luna, I am…” he paused and looked at her pointedly, “no longer permitted to feel regret.”

Luna turned away as a sad smile flickered across her face.

Reaper chewed his lip for a moment: “Luna.”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

Luna turned back toward Reaper with a quizzical expression: “What?”

“Kiss me.”

Luna narrowed her eyes, but moved toward Reaper, tipping her head slightly to one side, parting her lips. She closed her eyes and leaned in.

“Open your eyes.”

Luna paused and furrowed her brow, but slowly opened her eyes as her mouth met Reaper’s. She gazed into his brown irises and black pupils, then slipped into the unfathomable darkness beyond, which reached through time and space into nothingness. She stopped breathing and her heartbeat dropped as the room dimmed and became deathly cold.

She blinked heavily and looked around. She was standing in the midst of an endless, featureless gray plain that stretched away to infinity in all directions.

Luna heard a quiet voice that filled the emptiness from every point in space, both from within herself and without: “I must not feel regret. I am both spared and denied the complications of love and hate, hunger and fear, pain and joy, want and lust.”

“It is my fate to record the final thoughts and memories of every pony who has ever lived and ever shall live, and to take those memories with me to the end of time. This world will be long dead and gone and I will have forgotten even my own name and any shred of my own past as the final seconds tick away and the last star winks out, yet still I will bear those memories.”

“But even then, at the uttermost end of all things, I will recall a few weeks when you helped redeem the miserable, evil, mortal life I had once led. I will remember that we created and shared a spark of light, radiant against the stygian, all-consuming field of Deep Time. That memory I will keep for myself as Entropy closes in at last.”

Luna stood stock-still for several moments as her heartbeat rose and her breath returned. The dark veil lifted from her eyes and she caught a brief glimpse of Reaper passing briskly from her chamber. His tattered cloak snapped behind him like a ragged banner and his sword slapped against his flank in counterpoint to his heavy hoof-falls.

Luna closed her eyes: “Thank you.”

She drifted back to her dais, summoning her chalice of wine from the side table as she went, and sat on the bottom step. She remained there, sipping in silence, watching the shadows deepen and lengthen across the polished marble floor as dusk descended into night.

Zecora stared breathlessly as the shimmering, distorted rupture in front of her contracted and irised-down to a bright pinhole, finally disappearing altogether. She dropped the now-empty bag of pink powder and flinched as she felt Twilight’s blood dripping from her face and chest. She ran her tongue over her lips and tasted the salty warmth there.

The blood-splattered zebra took in a huge, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, listening for any sound besides the pounding of her own heart.

Slowly, she became aware of a small sound behind her, and a lessening of the darkness. The hair along her spine rose, and she turned unsteadily, finding a small, grey unicorn behind her, its horn glowing a bright gold-white.

The colt tipped his head sideways: “Well, you’re new! Come on--it’s not safe to stand here.”

He turned and walked off into the dark with Zecora following close behind.

Missing
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Death Be Not Proud

Missing

Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy’or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. — John Donne

“Any news yet?” Twilight asked as she entered Luna’s private chambers.

“No,” Luna replied, looking up from a scroll she had just received from one of her Night’s Guard, “but Celestia and I have doubled the search parties in an effort to locate him as soon as possible.”

“I just don’t understand why he took off like that,” Twilight said, sitting down. “And it’s been four days! Doesn’t he know how worried we are?”

Luna shook her head: “Unlikely. Recall that he never has had friends or companions or superiors with whom he needed to communicate. He is the very definition of a “lone wolf.””

Twilight stood and began pacing nervously: “But he could be in real danger, now! He’s no longer invulnerable, can’t phase, doesn’t dare even carry his sword!”

Both princesses looked on the wall where Reaper’s blade hung, secured in an enchanted crystal case. Twilight had cast the binding spell herself.

“I, too, am concerned, Twilight,” Luna confided, “but I am not sure what more we can do, save send out patrols and “keep our ears to the ground,” as it were.”

Luna levitated a cup of tea from a low table to the left of her seat and took a sip: “Have you fully recovered from our experience?”

“I guess so,” Twilight answered, uncertainly, “though I keep having a reoccurring dream where I’m drowning in the sea, I guess. It’s salty, and the sun is low, so the water seems red…”

Luna furrowed her brow: “When next you slumber, I will visit to see if I can deduce the source, and possibly stop it.”

“I would appreciate that a lot!” Twilight replied. “The doctor gave me a clean bill of health otherwise. I don’t really think she believed us until your sister’s very graphic description!”

Luna smiled and nodded: “Yes. That did appear to put an end to her doubts, and likely her dinner plans as well!”

Twilight stood and walked to a side table containing fruit and pastries, and lifted several pieces onto a plate: “I really just stopped by for a few minutes to see if you knew anything, and to grab a bite. I have a meeting with the Archivist in a few minutes. She’s getting her team together to start exploring the catacombs under the High Tower.”

“So I have heard,” Luna responded, returning to her reading. “I assume your friends understand your absence from Ponyville?”

Twilight swallowed: “Sure! I mean, I couldn’t go into a lot of detail, but they trust me enough to know that if I say have to be gone for a few days, it’s for a good reason!”

Luna smiled: “You are becoming a fine leader, Twilight. Whom did you leave in charge of observing the map?”

“Applejack and Rarity will take shifts, every other day,” Twilight answered, washing down her final bite, and placing the cup on a tray.

“And if my cutie mark pops up, well, they may just have to figure out a substitute--I mean, I’m not irreplaceable!”

Luna tipped her head sideways and regarded Twilight, but said nothing.

Twilight trotted briskly to the door: “Well, I’m off! I’ll see you later this afternoon!”

“Farewell, Twilight! Thank you for stopping by!”

Luna closed her eyes and drifted into the dreamscape, continuing her intensive search there.

“Pardon me, Daisy Petal,” she said, encountering a pale yellow unicorn as she skimmed low over dream Canterlot, “have you seen a unicorn stallion, either in your dreams or awake who looks like this?”

Luna generated a half-size, life-like image of Reaper which hovered in the air a few feet from Daisy Petal’s face.

The mare looked closely at the image, then shook her head: “No, Princess, I’m sorry! But if I do, I’ll be sure to get word to you at the palace! Is he a friend of yours?”

Luna furrowed her brow, then smiled lightly: “I suppose I am as close to a friend as he has ever had. Thank you for your time!”

Daisy Petal bowed and cantered off to continue her mid-day nap dream.

Luna spent the afternoon querying the few ponies she encountered in the dreamscape: foals and the elderly taking naps, bored office ponies who had lapsed into daydreams, a young pegasus couple who had fallen into a deep sleep after a particularly exhausting tryst. She was becoming frustrated with her lack of progress, when she encountered a middle-aged mare, taking a nap in the main Canterlot library branch.

“Princess Luna, what are you doing in the library?” she asked, startled.

“This is actually a dream, Ms. Folio--you have fallen asleep in the stacks, it would appear.”

Ms. Folio removed her glasses and rubbed her horn and muzzle: “Yes, that sounds about right. I’ve been burning the midnight oil down here for three days, researching the building of the castle.”

Luna nodded sympathetically: “I understand. It can be difficult to stay awake under such circumstances.”

Ms. Folio rolled her eyes as she looked around her: “Then, to add insult to injury, I end up dreaming I’m in the library. What’s the point? I may as well just wake up!”

Luna smiled: “Perhaps I could grant you a bit of respite from this disappointing dream. But first a question: have you seen this unicorn stallion, either in your dreams or when awake?”

Ms. Folio examined Reaper’s image closely: “Actually, I have, though his cutie mark looked different.”

Luna furrowed her brow for a moment, then her ears perked up and she shifted the image, substituting Reaper’s new, unknown cutie mark-- 馬 for his previous one-- 死.

“That’s it! He was briefly in a dream I had yesterday about the legendary catacombs. I don’t know why he was there--he seemed to be looking for something.”

Luna stepped forward and touched her horn to the unicorn’s temple, replaying the incident through her own mind.

“Yes,” she said, stepping back, “I see. But I do not recognize that part of the catacombs or their adjacent tunnels.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ms. Folio replied, “those tunnels are believed to be long-lost--deeper even than the legendary catacombs themselves--if they even existed in the first place!”

Luna chewed her lip: “Oh, I have little doubt they exist. There is much buried and forgotten, but not lost under the castle.”

She turned to fly away: “Please go to the Royal Archivist when you awaken, and tell your vision in full to Princess Twilight Sparkle. Try to take whatever tome you may have been reading at the time.”

“I will, Princess,” Ms. Folio promised, “wake me up now and I’ll get right on it!”

Luna looked over her shoulder with a wink: “You have my thanks, good mare, and tonight when you are properly asleep I will deliver you that particularly arousing vision that has long eluded you!”

Ms. Folio smiled coyly and blushed as she faded from the dreamscape.

Back to Basics
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Death Be Not Proud

Back to Basics

“Are you sure we need to do this now?” Twilight protested, as she and Luna and Reaper settled into resting positions, preparing to see if they could enter Reaper’s “waiting room” via the dreamscape.

Reaper cocked an eyebrow: “Do you know where the “waiting room” is? Can you feel its presence? Can you point to it in the ethereal plane?”

Twilight shook her head glumly.

Reaper closed his eyes as he nodded: “Right--so we have to find a 'backdoor' and hope that maybe once you have your bearings, you can return.”

“I know,” Twilight replied, “but the texts need to be studied, and nopony knows those books as well as I do!”

Reaper cut her off as Luna began to send out tendrils of dream energy: “Nice try kid, but you know as well as I do that you just got those books, so you don’t really have a leg up on anypony. Luna can start digging into them once you and I are situated.”

Twilight started to respond, but a pulse of light splashed across her forehead as a tendril touched it, and she fell into a fitful sleep.

Moments later the three ponies found themselves once again in the ruined great hall of Castle of the Two Sisters.

“So far, so good,” Reaper remarked, walking toward Luna, who was at the far end of the room, looking up at the moon through the shattered roof.

“Yes,” she said, beckoning Twilight to join them. “Now let us see if we can make the next jump.”

Twilight stepped up beside Luna with a puzzled expression: “But how? You don’t go from here to the “waiting room”--only Reaper has done that.”

Reaper nodded, looking up at the banner they had used to enter old dreams: “True, but you two were there just a few days ago. If we can access Luna’s death vision as though it were a dream, it may open a pathway through this portal that you can use as Death’s Harbinger.”

He looked at Luna: “Are you ready?”

She sighed heavily: “No, but we must do it anyway…”

Luna’s horn glowed a pale blue and shot out a beam into the portal banner. The banner twitched, then glowed, then resolved into a image of the floor of Grey Thorn’s capacious creation chamber.

The three ponies stepped up into the banner, and found themselves in the midst of the maelstrom that had slain the Princesses: the Void rising to the ceiling, sweeping in debris, and dust and air and light.

The scene suddenly irised-in on Luna, lifting and twisting as the Void sucked hungrily at her body, trying to pull her anchored horn free from the floor.

Tears welled in Luna’s eyes, and Twilight looked away as Luna’s legs and wings flailed desperately one last time before going limp at the moment her spine was severed with a ‘crunch.’

All three ponies felt the sharp sting of that snapped neck, then it was done, and the scene paused as past-Reaper shouted his power word, then leaned down to retrieve Luna’s essence.

Luna brushed away her tears and spoke in an unsteady voice: “Now what? I assume my next memory took place in your 'waiting room.' Why have we not gone thither?”

Reaper furrowed his brow, studying the image of his past self, looking for clues: “I’m not sure. I see where I touched your spirit, sending it out of the physical plane, but I can’t detect the pathway. I'm probably incapable of perceiving it now.”

He stamped his hoof in frustration, and stepped in closer, obsessing over every detail of his past self’s actions.

Twilight turned away from the scene, and looked to the left, trying to penetrate the wall of darkness that separated Luna’s specific death from all others.

“But this isn’t the whole scene,” she said quietly, “I died here at this time, too. Maybe we’re connected in this vision…”

She unsheathed the sword and pointed it at the place on the floor where she knew she must have lain.

Reaper’s reverie broke at the sound of the blade being unsheathed, and he whipped around, wide-eyed: “No--don’t!”

The scene resumed, this time on a larger stage, which incorporated Twilight’s past self as well. She looked on, frozen in horror as she watched her wings being shorn away, and her front legs ripped free from her torso in a red spray of wind-whipped blood.

All three ponies collapsed and writhed in agony as the scene played out, until it ended in the hopeless choking sensation of drowning in their own blood.

Slowly, Twilight’s eyes opened and tried to focus on the endless gray plain and flat-lit sky that surrounded her. A yard or two away on either side lay Reaper and Luna, struggling to recover from their shared experience.

Reaper opened one eye and tried to sit up. He retched across his forelegs and collapsed. Luna rolled onto her side and sobbed softly.

“I--I drowned in my own blood! I was torn to pieces!” Twilight sputtered. “Nopony told me! All Celestia said was that you had staked me through the leg with your sword, and that my body had been broken. Broken! You know, like Luna’s! Not ripped to pieces while I choked to death! I’ll never be able to forget that!”

“I know,” Reaper moaned, rolling over to face Twilight, “and I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to set you up for a cleaner death, though I correctly assumed you’d pass out from having the sword driven through your leg. I didn’t even consider that you’d ever experience your own death vision!”

Luna finally sat up unsteadily, wiping the back of her hoof across her nose: “However gruesome that experience was, it does appear to have had its intended effect. We are in your “waiting room,” are we not?”

Reaper dragged himself into a reclining posture and looked around: “Sure looks like it. Unless this is just a dream simulation.”

Luna shook her head: “I can confirm that this is no dream.”

Twilight stood, unsheathed her sword, and pointed into the distance: “And I can tell it’s real, too. That’s the point where departing spirits are sent.”

Reaper smiled weakly: “Correct. Where do they go if bound for Tartarus?”

Twilight furrowed her brow and looked left and right for a moment, before pointing to the far right, and slightly down: “There.”

Reaper wobbled to his feet, and glared at the vomit streaking his legs: “Another first for this body. Do you think you can clean this off, Twilight?”

She tipped her head sideways and concentrated for a moment. Reapers legs were suddenly clean. Then a low, padded bench appeared behind him.

“There,” Twilight said, triumphantly, “all clean! And somewhere to sit, to boot!”

Luna stumbled to the bench and flopped down heavily on it: “It would appear you have adapted to this place.”

Twilight nodded: “I know where everything is, how to create things here, how to guide spirits here.”

Reaper cleared his throat and spat out the bile that remained: “Do you know how to get us back to the lands of the living?”

Twilight looked up and down. Her face took on a far-away expression for a few moments: “Let’s go.”

The three ponies awoke in Luna’s chambers, woozy and briefly disoriented. All three lay still for a minute, trying to clear their heads and get their bearings.

Twilight recovered first, and set up, summoning a cup of cider from Luna’s side table: “Well, I guess that worked!”

Reaper rolled onto his belly and tucked his legs beneath himself: “It looks like it, yes. Now the question is, can you go to the “waiting room” on your own?”

Twilight blinked slowly, then closed her eyes. Her body faded slightly, not as dramatically as Reaper’s used to, but enough to tell that her consciousness had left her body behind.

Luna looked on with mild concern after a couple of minutes had passed: “I trust she will be able to return again.”

“Yes,” Twilight replied, fading back in as though on cue, “I can get back just fine, too.”

Reaper turned to her and nodded: “Good. Then let’s get you some training on the task-at-hoof, so I can get back on-task: extracting my power out of you two, so I can go back to being the Harbinger. That way you can go back to being the Princess of Friendship, since I’m really sure nopony wants me trying my hoof at that job!”

Concord
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Death Be Not Proud

Concord

Twilight materialized a few minutes later on the outskirts of Vanhoover, and turned around once to get her bearings: “I know you’re here somewhere, spirit…”

She walked slowly toward a block of brightly-colored row houses, scanning side-to-side, brow furrowed with concentration.

A small colt walked up to her, stopped and nervously backed up a pace: “Wha-whatch’a doin’, Princess?”

Twilight smiled: “I’m looking for something lost. Do you know if any of your neighbors have been very sick or worse lately?”

The little brick-red earth pony tipped his head sideways and stared into the distance: “Hmm, well old Mr. Concord was pretty sick for a bit, and I haven’t seen him since they had a party in his house a couple of days ago.”

“A party?”

“Yeah, a bunch ‘a ponies from somewhere else--I didn’t know ‘em--showed up with the doctor and a big box, then music, then they all left the next day.”

Twilight concealed her grin behind a hoof: “A big party, huh? Did everypony seem happy and excited?”

“No, it was kinda weird; they all seemed sad.”

Twilight nodded: “I understand, and I’m also here to see Mr. Concord.”

The colt’s ears drooped: “You’re not gonna hurt him, are you?”

“No. He’s lost and I’m here to help him find his way.”

“Where to?”

Twilight frowned: “I’m not really sure…”

“Does Mr. Concord know?”

“Where he’s going?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe. Maybe he and I will figure it out together.”

“Does he know you’re coming?”

“You know, I don’t think so, but I’m beginning to wonder…”

The colt pointed back at the row houses, to the unit on the right end of the building: “Well, he lives in that one.”

Twilight smiled and reached out a hoof to pat the child on the head. He shied away and eyed her nervously.

Twilight sighed: “Thank you very much for your help. Run along and play now!

The colt trotted away a few feet and looked back over his shoulder: “Well, I hope you can help Mr. Concord. He’s always been nice!”

Twilight turned toward Concord’s house: “So do I.”

She walked up the steps to the front door, checked to see if anypony was watching, then phased through the brightly-painted wood.

She entered a darkened room with shrouded and draped furniture. Several bouquets of flowers stood arrayed on a large table.

Twilight closed her eyes: “Where are you, old timer?”

She listened intently as faint hoof-falls echoed through the room, ending at a drape-covered window. She approached the window, pulled back the drapes, and saw her face reflected in the glass.

As she pondered her own image, the features twisted and distorted for a moment, taking on the appearance of an old, blue stallion. She turned around quickly and saw the front door swing open. She dashed outside.

Twilight heard the hoofbeats again, heading across a courtyard, toward a small, carefully-tended grove of aspen trees.

She hurried toward the grove, and saw shadows playing across the dappled sunlight falling through the trees’ leaves. She stared intently, trying to discern a pattern.

“Dammit, Concord! I’m just trying to help you move on!” she growled.

Suddenly a branch struck Twilight hard across her back, stinging, and knocking her breath out. She phased and turned to look behind her.

There was no one there, but the largest tree in the grove appeared to be swaying out of sync with the breeze.

“What in Tartarus is going on?”

She drew her sword and advanced on the tree, head tipped slightly to one side. The blade began to glow with a faint gold aura.

“I don’t know how you ended up in a tree, but it’s time to go!”

She thrust her sword a foot deep into the tree’s trunk. At once the tree shuddered violently, and a pale blue light flickered along its lowest limbs, coalescing into a thin cloud, which settled on the ground.

Twilight leaned down and touched the cloud with her horn: “About time!”

An old blue earth pony stood up on the featureless plain of the Waiting Room and furrowed his brow.

“Hullo?” He called. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my Waiting Room, Concord” Twilight answered, materializing behind him.

“Wha-what happened?”

“You died almost three days ago. Do you remember anything?”

“No, just that I went to bed with an awful headache, then I woke up here.”

Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment: “Stroke. I don’t see anything in your death vision beyond your last memories of your wife, Iris.”

Concord looked away wistfully: “Yeah, I miss the old girl…”

He looked off in the distance as though trying to focus on something: “Will I see her again?”

“I don’t honestly know.”

“That’s OK--I guess I’ll find out in a bit!”

Twilight smiled: “I hope so. Oh, hey--I have a question first!”

“Shoot.”

“Did you have any particular attachment to that small stand of aspen trees across from your house?”

Concord frowned: “Well, yes--a couple. Iris and I planted those trees years ago after we were first married. But I avoided them after the incident some years back, shortly after my wife died.”

Twilight stepped forward and leaned up to touch her horn to Concord’s head: “May I touch you for a moment?”

He tipped his head down: “Sure.”

Images flooded in of his wife’s death, and then of an accident that had killed a young filly who had been climbing the tree that Concord had possessed.

Twilight stepped back: “Did you know the filly well?”

“Sun Catcher? Yeah. She helped Iris with the garden. Damn shame about the fall. The grove was too sad to visit after that.”

Twilight nodded: “I understand. Thank you for the memories.”

Concord smiled: “Maybe I’ll get to see Sun Catcher, too!”

Twilight pointed with her sword into the distance off to their left: “I certainly hope so, Concord. Farewell!”

Concord nodded and walked away, dissolving with each step until no trace remained.

Twilight reappeared silently at the base of the tree she had seen in Concord’s vision, and peered intently up into its branches, thick with spade-shaped, pale-green leaves.

“Why were you moving? How were you moving?”

She walked slowly around the tree, then stopped and touched her horn to its trunk, and sent out a short pulse of dark magic.

Streaks of blood briefly flashed on the tree’s white bark, matching a shadowy pool of blood on the grass at its roots.

Twilight took a step back and wrinkled her nose: “Wasn’t an accident…”

Her sword flashed out of its scabbard in a glittering golden arc that sheared effortlessly through the tree’s trunk. The air was shattered by a high, keening wail that dissipated quickly, as the the tree crashed to the ground. Twilight pointed her horn at the fallen aspen and poured out a burst of bright magenta magic, consuming the tree with magical flames.

She sat next to the scorched stump for a moment and closed her eyes: “A haunted location I understand, but it was almost like this tree was infected...I don’t get it.”

Twilight stood and sheathed her sword. She looked up into the canopy and listened carefully to the wind stirring the leaves. There was no trace of anything beyond rustling foliage.

She chewed her lip for a moment, glanced back at the smoldering embers of the old aspen, and faded out like a passing shadow.

Division of Labor
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Death Be Not Proud

Division of Labor

“The Void? Grey Thorn’s Void?”

Twilight nodded to Celestia: “It has to be! The location, the dark tendrils, the directed seeking. It must be an effect of the Void!”

Celestia took a sip of cider, furrowed her brow and waved over an attendant: “Please bring a carafe of wine--I suspect we all could use a drink of something a bit stronger!”

Zecora entered the throne room from an antechamber and walked unsteadily to the foot of Celestia’s dais. A toilet could be heard flushing in the background.

“You have reckoned things quite true / I will share a draught with you!”

Celestia smiled and gestured for Zecora to sit on a large cushion at the foot of the throne: “So what are we to do about it? If I recall Luna and Reaper’s notes on the topic, it’s lost deep below the castle--neither of them was able to get anywhere near it!”

Twilight sat down on a low couch and rubbed her temples: “I know, and I’m torn! I need to keep cleaning up departed spirits before they all get lost, or worse, but I also know I’m best suited to lead a search for the Void.”

Celestia took a deep breath: “So, let’s look at this from a strategic level: is there anypony besides you who can dispatch spirits and, if worst comes to worst, fight off hauntings and possessions?”

Twilight furrowed her brow and took a sip of wine: “There are a few of your stronger wizard unicorns, especially Solar Gleam, who could likely take on a haunting. But he’d have to be able to locate it first, and that’s a long process without my, well, unique, skills.”

Celestia nodded: “And what do expect will be needed to track down the Void?”

“The ability to trace its influence and defend against its probing and attacks.”

Celestia took a long drink from her chalice and nodded again: “And who, besides you, has shown themselves capable of this?”

Twilight sighed and tipped her head toward the zebra: “Zecora has. I know she can track it with her powder, but…”

“You fear that I might fall afoul / If it should trick me as I prowl.”

Twilight bit her lip.

Celestia sat her chalice down and waved over her assistant: “Please find Solar Gleam and Flight Captain Shatter, and have them report to me at once.”

The pale cyan unicorn turned on her heels and trotted briskly from the throne room.

Celestia turned back to Twilight: “I understand your concern. What is your expectation of this, this thing, when we do find it?”

“I don’t really know. I know Reaper collapsed and contained it, but clearly it’s leaking, or something. I suspect it’s casting about, looking for Grey Thorn, seeking its creator, channeling death in the way it used to when it was under his control.”

“And what did you plan to do once you had found it?”

“Barricade it, trap it behind shield spells and wards, and wait for Luna and Reaper to get back so we could all come up with a proper disposal plan.”

“Which will ultimately be in the Pit of Tartarus, yes?”

Twilight tipped her head back and drained her cup “That’s the intent, yes. Though how we’re supposed to move the thing I have no clue. None of us has any real experience with the Void outside of battle.”

Celestia looked up and motioned for the grizzled, silver-grey unicorn and iridescent electric-blue pegasus now standing in the far doorway to enter the throne room.

“I believe I may have the solution to our problem, Twilight. You were right to call out Solar Gleam, but not as a tracker. He and Shatter, my top warrior, can accompany Zecora on her quest to find and cordon off the Void.”

Zecora nodded: “Leaving you the thankless role / of rounding up each wayward soul.”

Twilight furrowed her brow and looked pensively between the three ponies seated at the foot of the dais: “I don’t know, Celestia. You saw what it did in Appleloosa--I heard the story of the attack there! And none of you saw it fully unleashed like I did!”

She closed her eyes and shuddered.

Celestia nodded: “That is true, but as you said, it has largely been contained and weakened.”

Solar Glean stood stiffly and walked beside Celestia: “Besides, if I’ve heard everything rightly, ours is not a combat or disposal mission, but simply one of locating and entrapping.”

Shatter swallowed a mouthful of wine and stretched her wings: “And I owe Grey Thorn big time for Top Cover and Green Streak! But since that shit-stain’s in Tartarus, I guess I’ll have to make due with corralling his fucked-up toy.”

Twilight walked to a window and put her empty wine cup on the sill: “Alright, I guess we don’t really have any other good options. Nopony has any guess as to when Luna and Reaper will return, and we can’t let this thing spread any further.”

Celestia stood: “What will you need?”

Twilight shrugged and patted the scabbard that hung on her left side: “I have everything I need, here. As for the Void seekers…”

She turned to Zecora: “Do you have enough of that blue powder? Can you show one of the staff potion makers how to produce it?”

Zecora nodded: “It’s largely root of Poison Joke / enriched with timberwolf’s death smoke.”

Solar Gleam raised an eyebrow: “You burn timberwolves to produce the smoke?”

The zebra smiled coldly: “With their penchant for mayhem / it oft comes down to me or them!”

Celestia stepped forward: “That’s not important right now. What is important is that it works, and that we be able to produce more.”

Zecora turned to a side table, picked up a quill, and began to jot down instructions: “If they can follow this process / they can make it in excess.”

Solar Gleam levitated the detailed note in front of his eyes and peered at it closely: “This seems fairly rudimentary--the creation of a second-year student or acolyte.”

He turned to Twilight: “Are you sure this stuff actually works as advertised, Princess?”

Zecora glared, but Twilight cut her off: “I’ve seen it work flawlessly three times, Solar! In fact, the third time it might have worked a bit too well!”

She turned to Zecora: “Do you have any guess why that happened? As you three get closer to the source, I fear it’s likely to get more unpredictable, even without help!”

Zecora raised an eyebrow and nodded. She walked to Solar and curtly took the scrap of parchment from the air.

“You speak the truth in that respect / This should dampen that effect.”

She returned to the side table and scribbled several additional notes and corrections, before offering it to Celestia.

“Thank you, Zecora! I will get my staff working on this right away so that you have all the tracking powder you need in…”

She squinted at the notes: “Two days, if I read this correctly. Your notations don’t quite align with standard unicorn practice.”

Zecora’s eyes narrowed, and again Twilight stepped forward: “It’s OK, Princess--Zecora and I actually have produced a pretty thorough set of term conversions and equivalent measures over the last couple of years. I’ll get them to your Potions Master.”

Celestia nodded at her protégé and the zebra: “No disrespect meant, Zecora, I just want to ensure we follow your directions to the letter, and get you the materials you need as soon as possible!”

Solar Gleam rolled his eyes but held his tongue.

Shatter stood up and drained her cup: “So what are we looking at terrain-wise? Where do we start?”

Twilight nodded to the pegasus: “Good question. I suppose it’s time we introduced you to the ‘scene of the crime,’ as it were.”

Celestia turned and headed toward a side exit: “If you will all follow me, Twilight and I will show you the source of all this.”

Shatter fell in line behind Celestia: “And the source of all these crazy rumors, too, I suppose!”

Twilight brought up the rear as the group descended a narrow stairway and exited into a small walled garden: “I’ve heard a lot of the rumors as well, Captain. When we get down into the catacombs I can explain things a bit.”

Celestia led the four ponies around the corner of the castle tower and along several hundred yards of inner wall, ending in front of a barricaded, guarded hole. The unicorn and pegasus standing watch snapped to attention.

The two guards regarded Celestia with curiosity and warily eyed Zecora and Twilight.

The cream-colored unicorn in gold-trimmed gear turned to Celestia and bowed: “What brings you down here, Princess?”

“Twilight and I need to show our guests the catacombs. Is the archaeology team still down below?”

“No, they called it a day about twenty minutes ago.”

Celestia nodded as she led Zecora and the others past the guards, down the scaffolding into the darkness below: “Thank you, Sergeant. Please let the next rotation know we’re down here.”

The guard ponies saluted as Celestia and Shatter walked by, and bowed politely as Twilight finally disappeared into the opening.

The dark grey pegasus guard leaned in toward her companion as they stepped back from the hole: “Shit, she gives me the creeps, now!”

The five ponies entered Grey Thorn’s creation chamber, the bright light from three unicorn horns casting long, shifting shadows across the stained and pitted floor.

They walked toward the center as Twilight magically lit the series of lamps arrayed around the chamber, flooding the space with a cool, white light.

Solar shook his head in disbelief: “So the Princesses really died here? That’s not just a wild rumor?”

Twilight pointed to a dark stain a few yards to her left: “It’s no rumor. I was torn to pieces right there.”

“Unbelievable! I would really like to have met this Grey Thorn! Clearly twisted, but just as clearly a genius!”

Twilight shook her head: “I can assure you that you would not have wanted to meet him, or his grotesque creation!”

“Perhaps, but given the story you just told, he likely could have cleared up an old legend.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow: “Legend?”

Solar strolled slowly toward the side niche containing the mirror, examining the floor and walls as he went, stepping gingerly past a barricade: “Yes. As you know, I specialize in ancient unicorn magic, from the dark years of strife and discovery.”

“That’s why I selected you for this mission.”

“And rightly so, Your Highness!”

Twilight rolled her eyes: “So, again, what legend?”

“Yes. Legend. There are veiled references through the old stories of Starswirl having a hidden servant or assistant or slave. It’s never entirely clear.”

Celestia nodded and walked up to the mirror, peering at its cracked surface: “I recall. I knew of the rumors at the time, but didn’t follow-up on it. I had more, well, pressing matters on my mind.”

“Your sister--I understand. Well in any event, the rumor has come down through old mares’ tales of Starswirl’s serving colt, and his dark end…”

Celestia’s eyes went wide: “Bramble! I can’t believe I never thought of that before now!”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “‘Bramble?’ I’ve never come across anything like that in my readings!”

Solar smiled coolly: “I’m not surprised, Princess. I know your reading list has been thorough, but it is grounded in classic, academic research. I speak of scraps of legend and dark hints. Not normal territory for one of Her Highness’ prized pupils!”

Twilight looked over her shoulder at the chamber’s far wall and the bone pit below: “Wait, you said ‘dark end.’ What dark end?”

“It was said that Starswirl sacrificed Bramble in an effort to fend off death. Clearly poppycock! It is well-known that Starswirl dabbled in dark magic, but he would never have taken that road!”

Twilight chewed her lip: “No, but you’d be surprised how close he came.”

She turned back toward Celestia: “It makes sense, now! Grey Thorn must have been the source of those rumors after Starswirl’s death!”

Celestia nodded slowly: “Yes. That would have erased him from the popular tales as he went about erasing or hiding the actual record of his existence, and time with Starswirl.”

“The blocked-up passages, the emptied secret library…”

Solar raised an eyebrow: “Secret library? The one purported to lie beneath his old basement library?”

Twilight nodded.

“I would very much like to see this place!”

Celestia smiled sadly: “Unfortunately, Grey Thorn did a very thorough job of emptying it out. Still, when you all have finished your work, I’m sure Twilight can arrange a visit.”

Solar nodded and turned back toward the mirror: “Speaking of rumors, there was a long-standing rumor of one mirror, since validated--” he gestured toward Twilight, “but not two!”

Twilight nodded: “We think this was either an earlier assay in the craft, likely created jointly with Grey Thorn, or a new creation of Grey Thorn’s after Starswirl’s death.”

Solar put up a hoof as if to touch the mirror’s surface.

The alicorns gasped in tandem, and Celestia threw out a golden restraining band from her horn, pulling the startled unicorn back several feet.

Twilight stepped between Solar and the mirror: “Don’t touch it! We have no idea what might happen, or how fragile it is at this point, or anything!”

Celestia nodded as she dissolved the restraint: “It’s the only way back for Luna and Reaper; nopony is to touch it!”

Solar furrowed his brow: “Fascinating…”

Zecora slowly walked across the chamber floor toward the hole in its middle as Shatter shrugged impatiently.

“Yeah, cool. Then why are we really down here?”

Zecora stopped in front of a low barrier surrounding the dark gap: “This hole, I take it, is the source / of our mysterious dark force?”

Twilight turned and made her way around the niche’s barricade, stopping next to Zecora: “Yes. That’s where the Void passed through the floor. Nopony saw it happen, but it looks like it just passed through effortlessly, without a trace.”

Shatter stepped up: “How far down does the hole go?”

Celestia walked up behind the pegasus: “Uncertain. The excavation team sent down a plumb bob on a length of heavy cord. They stopped after it had gone a thousand yards, and pulled it back when they realized the weight was gone.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow: “Gone?”

“Yes. The report indicates that the cord came back up clean-cut: no trace of a knot, no fraying, no scorching. The weight was just gone.”

Twilight nervously licked her lips: “It must have touched the surface of the Void.”

Shatter kicked a small stone into the hole: “Great, so no touchy--got it! We weren’t planning on climbing on the damn thing anyway, right?”

“No--just find it and cordon it off. We’ll have to come up with a disposal process once Luna and Reaper return.”

Shatter raised an eyebrow and looked up from the hole: “If they return.”

Twilight’s eyes widened and she took a step backwards, bumping into Celestia: “They--they have to come back!”

Shatter shrugged: “Sweetheart, the graveyards are full of ponies who had to come back!”

She pointed at the sword hanging off Twilight’s side: “I’d have figured you got that by now…”

Celestia stepped next to Twilight and rose to her full height: “Enough! We have plenty to concern us in the here-and-now without indulging in worst-case scenarios.”

Shatter bowed slightly: “Agreed, Princess. I just prefer to think about the hard things up front, you know? Not hold back ‘til the bitter end.”
Celestia furrowed her brow: “The hard things…”

She shook her head and blinked: “On that note, Captain, let’s get some up-front things out of the way. Follow me, everypony.”

Celestia strode across the uneven floor to the back wall, and down into the bone pit, stopping in front of the same loose stonework Luna had encountered weeks earlier.

She gestured around them “I doubt your powder would do you much good here, Zecora--this whole chamber was a charnel house. I suspect your blue dust would just hang suspended in the air, trapped in confusion!”

Twilight nodded: “Especially down here! This is where Grey Thorn dispatched his sacrifices. But I don’t entirely understand why you brought us down into the pit, Princess?”

Celestia smiled: “You recall Luna’s story of rescuing Reaper?”

Twilight nodded.

“She accessed the area beneath this chamber through a secret passageway hidden behind this wall of the pit.”

Solar Gleam raised an eyebrow: “How?”

Celestia stood silent and looked at Twilight expectantly.

Twilight chewed her lip: “Grey Thorn’s design...hidden stonework…”

She nodded as a haze of dark magic formed around her horn. She passed her horn back and forth across the rock face, illuminating multiple glyphs and symbols.

Solar took a half step back in mild alarm: “You’re quite good at that, Princess!”

Twilight smiled grimly as she studied the glyphs: “Yeah, I had some talent for it before, but I can really pour it on since acquiring Reaper’s powers!”

She squinted at the symbols, then her ears drooped and she sighed: “Dammit, Luna! You kept more of it, didn’t you?”

Zecora glanced between the inscrutable, glowing shapes and Twilight: “What is the thing that Luna took / that generates this bothered look?”

Twilight rolled her eyes: “Do you have a spare bottle, Zecora? You’re gonna need this…”

Zecora lifted an empty vial out of her satchel as Twilight exposed her inner left wrist, piercing it with a thin, magic blade that glimmered a bright violet in the gloomy pit.

Solar Gleam’s eyebrows jumped: “These are blood runes?”

“Of an embarrassingly-specific type, yes.”

Twilight stoppered the vial and returned it to Zecora, as she dipped the tip of her horn into the bead of blood still welling on her wrist.

She leaned forward while sucking on her wrist to stop the bleeding, and touched her reddened horn to the glyphs. The wall face fell back and slid aside.

She illuminated her horn and stepped down the narrow steps: “Tight fit--everypony watch your heads!”

The five ponies worked their way down the cracked and uneven steps until they finally emerged on a small landing that opened out into the broad collection of caverns and fissures that underlay the castle.

Twilight turned to Solar Gleam: “I assume you also have the ability to use dark magic?”

He nodded as his eyes swept across the dark expanse before them: “Some, though not as much as you, clearly!”

“It doesn’t really take much to illuminate most of the symbols. And I suspect you’ll be the one who needs to apply the blood with your horn as well.”

Celestia looked up at the dark cavern roof above, and sent out a powerful illuminating beam: “That must be the hole the Void created in the chamber above us.”

She tipped her head down, and all five ponies tracked the beam as it disappeared into the Stygian depths of the chasm below.

Shatter shuddered: “Fuck me.”

Celestia nodded: “Luna indicated that she had made it down several paths and passages before she found and rescued Reaper from a collapsed tunnel of some sort.”

“Any idea how far down she’d gone?”

“She wasn’t sure, but felt it was probably no more than two hundred yards. And of course she wasn’t really here to explore, so there are no details or map or anything.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Celestia turned away from the chasm, back toward the narrow upward passage: “Clearly you’re going to need a bit of time to round up materials and supplies. I hardly expect you to begin right this moment!”

Solar Gleam turned to follow Celestia: “Clearly!”

The five ponies worked their way back to the bone pit, and then out of the catacombs, climbing or flying along the scaffolding until they reached the surface. The castle wall behind them was bathed in the pink light of the setting sun as they stepped past Luna’s sable-clad guard.

They had just started to walk across the grass toward Celestia’s tower when a breathless, light-brown unicorn trotted up to meet them.

“Oh thank the Sisters I found you, Your Highness!”

Celestia stopped and faced the flustered messenger: “What is it Grace?”

“The Castle Guard report some sort of an attack out by the old stadium. They say it looks like magic, but not of a sort they’ve ever seen!”

Twilight furrowed her brow: “I doubt we need Zecora’s blue powder to tell us what’s causing this attack!”

She disappeared in a bright violet-white flash as Celestia turned to the remaining ponies: “You three head back to my chambers and begin assembling your supplies and materials--whatever you need, just tell my Chamberlain. I’m going to follow Twilight and see what I can do to help there.”

Shatter furrowed her brow as Celestia teleported after Twilight: “I’d prefer to follow them, to be honest! I’m not a fan of confined spaces. Give me an old-fashioned, out-in-the open slugfest any day!”

Zecora smiled grimly and nodded: “We may wish to switch tasks with those two / before all our battles are through!”

Kaleidoscope
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Kaleidoscope

After trotting along the passageway for over twenty minutes the team stopped in a small chamber, studded with crystal and gem outcroppings and veins. The unicorns dimmed their horns and everypony stood quietly for several moments, looking back up the passage, on the lookout for any tell-tale red glow.

Shatter let out a long-held breath: “Good! It looks like our luck is holding, at least for the moment…”

Smudge sat down and grabbed an oat cake: “My nerves are getting seriously frayed! Any idea how much further we have to go?”

Noble Steel rubbed his muzzle as he levitated and unrolled the map: “Well, we left the end of the map almost a half hour ago, and the path’s been steep, so I suspect we knocked off another forty or fifty yards. I need to make a few notes and update the Major’s map.”

Shatter took a swig from her water bottle: “Yeah, well make it quick–I want to add as much distance between us and that red cloud as possible before we work our way around and inevitably end up back at the chasm.”

Solar Gleam frowned: “Yes, that is worrying; I am unsure what we may find. If the Lieutenant is right, and these passages continue to descend in a similar pattern as above, I expect we’ll have dropped roughly 250 or 300 feet below our last position. I can’t guess how far that cloud may have spread.”

Steel looked up from his notes: “If it spread at all. Maybe it coalesced into a single cloud-blob-thing, and is still trying to follow us past Zecora’s barrier.”

Zecora took a bite of apple: “We must assume it took all likely routes / Unless there’s some way to send out a scout.”

Shatter swallowed hard and furrowed her brow: “One–there are only five of us, so not much to spare, and two–I’m not a big fan of suicide missions.”

Solar looked over Steel’s shoulder as the officer sketched in a bit of detail on the newest map sections: “Unfortunately, I do not see a good way to reconcile these views–Zecora’s right that it may have spread along multiple vectors, and you’re right, Captain, that backtracking now would likely end in disaster.”

Shatter wiped the back of a hoof across her mouth: “Then it looks like ‘onward and downward,’ to retool an old pegasus saying, unless you have something else in that bag of tricks of yours, Zecora…”

Zecora shook her head: “Nothing I possess has such a long reach / to span back through caves and across the breach.”

“Then I don’t see much of a choice. We can’t just sit here with Celestia-only-knows-what behind us. Our mission lies ahead, so let’s saddle-up! Red Tabs!”

Steel shouldered past, adjusting his packs and weapon load: “I know, I know–taking the point now…”

Shatter grinned and capped her bottle: “That’s my colt!”

The other four ponies fell in behind Steel as he set a brisk pace, deeper into the branching web of tunnels and passages, guided by the glowing blue thread of Zecora’s powder.

Shatter called from her position at the rear of the group: “So how’s this thing spreading? What’s it feeding on? I can’t believe it’s killing and absorbing any ponies now, not with Twilight and Celestia on the lookout!”

Solar glanced over his shoulder: “I believe it is being forced to make do with death.”

Smudge raised an eyebrow: “Come again?”

“Just as Zecora’s compound seeks out the lines of force and traces left behind by death, so too does the Void–or whatever it’s become. This explains Twilight’s reports of sacked graveyards, disturbed bone piles, and the like.”

“So, what–it’s sucking out remnants of life energy, or…?

“No. Death has an energy of its own. This energy is, in fact, one of the foundations of dark magic. It would appear the Void has substituted death’s energy in the absence of its intended sustenance.”

Zecora tossed down another small pile of powder: “And do you believe this new means of support / is causing our foe to morph and distort?”

“Yes–as I said: ‘whatever it’s become.’ I suspect soon that even Grey Thorn would not recognize his creation. As it feeds on death, even while desperately seeking life energy, it’s being forced to adapt and evolve, far beyond its original constraints.”

Steel ducked under a low-hanging stalactite: “Watch your heads! So will this ‘evolution’ cause it to become weaker or stronger or what?”

“Unsure. It will certainly be altered, now that it has to fend for itself and subsist on a different energy source. I would suspect its absolute power will be less, but it is undoubtedly still quite strong.”

Steel stepped across a small stream onto a patch of grass beyond, as the passageway suddenly opened into a broad meadow. A ruined temple rose in the distance. Steel slowed his pace for a moment and furrowed his brow.

“Huh. Well this is a nice change-of-pace…”

Shatter’s hooves rang out on the passageway’s rust-scored corrugated steel planking as dim, yellowish lights flickered overhead: “Not quite sure I’d call it nice, but whatever…”

Smudge wrinkled her nose and ran the back of a hoof across her watering eyes as she picked her way across a shallow pool of sewage, avoiding several dismembered, decaying corpses of unknown and unrecognizable beasts: “No shit, Steel! You have a funny definition of ‘nice!’”

Solar cocked an ear, then stopped suddenly after he took a long stride to avoid a deep crack in the ancient, weathered marble floor. He stood next to a fluted column that reached up to a dark, domed roof, and closed his eyes for a few moments.

He reopened them slowly and frowned: “Everypony stop!”

The group halted and looked around in confusion. Shatter stepped up beside Solar: “What’s the hold-up?”

Solar took a deep breath: “Can you describe what you see around you, Captain?”

She shrugged: “Sure. It looks like we’ve entered some sort of derelict ship or factory. I’m not quite sure why it’s down here, but I’ve sort of stopped worrying about things that aren’t actively trying to kill us!”

Solar smiled: “Entirely understandable. Would you please stamp your hoof down?”

Shatter raised an eyebrow, then slammed her right front hoof against the metal decking with a resounding ‘clang.’”

Smudge retched into her mouth and spat: “Fuck me with Celestia’s white-hot horn, Captain! Don’t splash that shit around–it’s stirring up bubbles!”

Solar tipped his head sideways: “Interesting. What did you hear, Lieutenant Steel?”

“Nothing, really–just the typical ‘thump’ of hoof on grass.”

“Yes, and I heard the crack of shoe on marble. It seems to me that we are walking through the ruins of some large, classical structure, from just before the era of the Sisters’ ascendance.”

Zecora furrowed her brow: “We each see this place through our own unique lens / and not merely sight it warps and it bends!”

Solar nodded: “Yes, these are very detailed and durable illusions. I smell ancient dust, Lieutenant Steel I assume smells grass, and poor Lieutenant Dusk appears to have encountered another noisome situation.”

“Just ‘Smudge.’ And yeah, if by ‘noisome’ you mean it smells like Tartarus’ backed-up sewer, you’re spot-on!”

“This is most worrisome. We are now in a situation where nothing we experience is to be trusted. Any of us could walk into a pit, off a ledge, into a spike, and not only would we not know, our teammates would be unaware until it was too late.”

Shatter ground her teeth: “So what in Tartarus do we do now? We can’t just sit here!”

Zecora tapped her chin thoughtfully, then pulled her bag open: “Perhaps our cloak can screen out these lies / and allow us again to trust in our eyes!”

Solar nodded: “It’s possible. Let me set up the energy envelope, then you cast your component into the air for my field to capture. I can then try to tune the cloak to our needs.”

Zecora nodded and lifted a small gourd from her bag. She carefully removed its stopper and poured out a measure of finely-ground, bright-yellow crystals into her hoof.

Solar looked around, gauging the distance from Steel in the lead, to Shatter in the rear: “Come in closer, everypony; we’re going to need to get cozy for this to work.”

The five ponies pressed in tight, with Solar in the middle, his horn shining a pale blue, casting a shimmering umbrella over the group, that slowly settled over them. Zecora tossed her yellow dust into the air and it was caught like golden dew on a spider’s web. It hung suspended for a moment, then flowed downward like glowing honey.

Shatter looked down as the metal decking beneath her hooves flickered like a candle-lit reflection for a moment, then resolved itself as dark grey stone: “That seems to have done the trick!”

Steel peered at the glowing curtain surrounding the group: “Yeah, but now we can’t see anything! Not seeing strikes me as just as bad as seeing illusions!”

Solar chuckled: “Bear with me a moment, Lieutenant! As I said, I need to tune the effect.”

The cloak began to flicker and pulsate through various colors and intensities, until it finally dimmed and settled into a translucent state, like thick, tinted glass.

Smudge squinted: “Well, that’s better, but it’s pretty dark!”

Solar nodded: “That’s true--the field is filtering the Void’s distortion and illusion effects, but at the cost of some brightness and clarity.”

Shatter pressed forward: “And at the cost of mobility, too! Alright, it doesn’t matter--this works, and we have to move on. How long can you keep this cloak up?”

Solar furrowed his brow: “I would say I can keep this effect functioning for at least the next six hours. At that point I will need some rest. I trust Zecora has enough of her powder for occasional touch-ups?”

Zecora nodded and dropped the gourd back in her bag.

Shatter turned back toward the front of the group: “Let’s try not to step on each others’ hooves, shall we? I’ll take point this time, Red Tabs--you bring up the rear!”

Steel rolled his eyes: “Which rear? I practically have my muzzle up Smudge’s rear! The distinction between ‘point’ and ‘rear’ is practically nil by now!”

Shatter looked back over her shoulder with a grin: “Well, just make sure to keep it professional back there, you two--General Staff frowns on fraternization in the field!”

Smudge laughed, and the team stumbled and jostled forward and downward into a deep, steep spiral of cracked and stained dry grottoes. The darkness swallowed the passageway behind them like a black fog rolling in.

After four hours of slow, clumsy progress Zecora’s team halted at the edge of the chasm. The far rim appeared to be roughly 80 yards distant, and was covered in a thick layer of tumbled stone and crumbled stalactites.

Shatter squinted ahead as Steel pressed up beside her and threw as strong a light beam toward the far side as he could: “Damn! I can’t make out any detail--just a whole lot of loose rock and boulders. It’s going to be another tricky landing!”

She looked back over her shoulder: “OK, we’re going to change it up this time. Smudge--there don’t appear to be any bad winds or fog this time. Fly over with a charged-up crystal lance and mark us an LZ for teleporting and ferrying.”

Smudge furrowed her brow: “Alright, but how will I know what’s really going on around me once I leave this cloak?”

“We’ll be able to see the true cavern around you. You’ll just have to trust that we’re giving you proper guidance as you cross.”

Smudge sighed and pulled a lance from the bundle strapped to Noble Steel’s back: “OK--I’m really not looking forward to puking again, but let’s do this. Charge me up, Steel!”

The unicorn’s horn glowed cherry-red for a moment, then fired a beam into the lance’s butt-end. The shaft glowed, then the crystal tip.

After thirty seconds he stopped, and nodded: “That should do for now. I didn’t load it up fully, since you just need it as a beacon.”

Shatter shook her head: “Top her off, Lieutenant--there’s no telling what she may run into over there. I’d rather have her ready to rock and roll, if necessary.”

Steel’s horn glowed again as he poured another minute’s-worth of magic into the lance: “That’s the best I can do, without risking a discharge.”

Smudge tucked the lance under her right foreleg, stepped out of the cloak and fanned out her wings. She stared in horror across the chasm, and nearly dropped the lance.

“Oh, sweet Celestia…”

The opposite rim of the chasm was now brightly-lit, as though for a stage performance, and arrayed across its surface were a variety of timbers, girders, rock slabs, and giant bones lashed together in ‘X’ shapes. Each ‘X’ had a pony bound to it by chains, or wire, or nails. There were scores of them.

The ponies’ bodies appeared to be emaciated and covered with numerous bleeding cuts. Most pegasi wings were broken or torn away, unicorns’ horns had been ripped from their skulls, leaving jagged holes, and many earth ponies were disemboweled. All had empty eye sockets that glowed with a pale, grey light. At the very front hung the broken, desecrated bodies of Green Streak and Top Cover.

Smudge trembled violently: “Oh...oh, Captain! I...I can’t!”

Shatter poked her head out of the field and beheld the ghastly spectacle across the chasm: “Fuck. Stand by, Smudge!”

She pulled her head back in and the scene cleared, presenting the far side again as devoid of crucified bodies: “We have a problem.”

Solar furrowed his brow: “What does Smudge believe she sees?”

“The same thing I do, I assume. It looks like a host of the Void’s victims all dead and splayed-out like fucked-up trophies, with Top Cover and Green Streak front-and-center!”

Steel ground his teeth: “That’s just wrong! Is it trying to scare us off or bait us?”

Zecora poked her head through the field for a moment, then withdrew: “I assume our foe would be content / to spawn both moods in any event!”

Shatter nodded: “Right--it wants us to panic or rush in or freeze or anything else, as long as it’s not a coordinated response. Smudge! How you doin’ out there?”

“Cap--Captain! Their mouths are moving, like they’re talking or crying! I--I’m trying not to throw up!”

Shatter grabbed a lance off Steel’s back: “Charge this thing! I’m heading over!”

Steel tipped his head toward the lance’s shaft, when Smudge's muffled voice interrupted: “No, Ma’am--you need to stay here to coordinate and rear-guard until everypony’s across. You gave an order, and it’s a soldier's duty to execute that order! Look for an LZ in a minute!”

She wiped away the tears that were clouding her vision, rose into the air, and shot across the chasm as the other ponies watched breathlessly through the cloak.

Shatter’s eyes flicked up and down as she calculated the best landing point for her fellow flyer. She thrust her head through the shimmering field: “That’s it, Smudge! Drop now, and you’ll hit an open patch, best as I can tell!”

Smudge glanced down and saw two crucified ponies looking up at her with their mouths hanging open in agonized screams. She clenched her teeth as the bile rose in her throat: “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re NOT REAL!”

The pegasus swooped in low, landed heavily between two cracked, fallen stalactites, and dropped to one knee as she heaved violently, spewing vomit across the cave floor. The lance clattered to the ground beside her.

Instantly a dozen skeletal remains of rodent-like creatures scurried toward her, their bones scraping and clattering as they shambled forward. She looked around and lurched to her hooves, scooping up the lance, even as her stomach was wracked with a final spasm.

She flared her wings with a crisp ‘pop’ and pirouetted, swinging the lance in a wide, cherry-red arc, cutting down the carcasses and skeletons closing in on her.

She hacked and spat as she held the glowing lance aloft: “Captain! Here’s your LZ! Be aware there are rat skeleton things over here, and I think they’re real!”

Shatter pulled her head back inside the cloak and turned to Steel: “You’re up, Red Tabs! I didn’t get a real good look across the gap, but it sure seems like Smudge is fighting with something! Give a shout when you’re situated.”

Steel saluted, stepped outside the field and disappeared with a flash. He appeared a moment later next to Smudge, and dropped into a defensive crouch, his horn glowing a bright blue.

Smudge glanced down: “Shit, am I glad to see you! Tell me what you see!”

Steel scanned the area quickly: “I see a bunch of jacked-up pony corpses which I know aren’t real, but damn if they still don’t piss me off!”

“Yeah, yeah, but are there rat skeleton things?”

One of the skeletons, roughly the size of a small dog, leaped at Steel’s face. He disintegrated it with a blast of magic: “Yes--they sure seem real! I’ll expand a magic bubble and clear the LZ--Shatter’s going to want to get Solar and Zecora over here stat!”

Smudge nodded as Steel formed a rapidly-expanding shield wall of pale violet energy that swept the area clean. He then turned to face the opposite rim and boosted his horn’s brightness to its maximum.

Shatter squinted: “That’s the signal! OK, let’s double-up this time! Solar--you ferry Zecora across, and I’ll fly alongside as a spotter.”

Solar nodded and walked to the edge of the chasm. Zecora stepped beside him and was immediately wrapped in a pale golden glow. She nodded to Solar and began moving across the open gap between the rims. Shatter hovered for a moment, taking in the scene on the far side, shaking her head in disgust, then flew out into the open, tracking Zecora’s movement.

Solar knit his brows in concentration as Zecora neared the opposite rim. He felt eyes behind him, and a bead of cold sweat sprang up on the back of his neck.

Shatter swept in tight against Zecora as Solar’s levitation field dissipated, tucking a wing around her, pushing her away from the lip of the chasm, She looked back over her shoulder: “She’s here safe and sound, Solar! Flash-bang on over!”

Solar stood stock still, listening to sounds of breathing and slavering behind him. He turned slowly and saw a dense, charcoal-grey cloud filling the passageway behind him. Hovering just inside the cloud was a pair of pale, lidless, golden eyes.

A faint, thin whisper drifted to Solar’s ears: “Stay. I will teach you…I will give you a gift...”

Solar’s voice caught in his throat and his legs wobbled as the eyes closed in. Suddenly a hoof landed heavily on his left shoulder. He shouted in surprise and jumped sideways, nearly falling off the edge.

Shatter hovered behind and to the startled unicorn’s right: “By Celestia’s holy teats, old timer--why the delay this time?”

Solar blinked and shuddered: “I--I don’t know! Somepony or something was behind me. It tried to talk to me!”

Shatter squinted toward the ascending passage: “Yeah, well it’s gone now, and you should be too! Let’s move out! The others are encountering resistance, and can use all the help they can get!”

She lifted off in a cloud of dust as Solar furrowed his brow and disappeared with a flash. The golden eyes reemerged from the shadows and stared across the chasm, unblinking.

Bel'az
View Online

Death Be Not Proud

Bel'az

Luna dozed lightly as Bitch swayed rhythmically beneath her. The afternoon stretched on lazily and smoothly after a morning spent descending out of the narrow valley east of Rutze on a rough, stony path, under a light sleet/snow mix. Tall evergreens gave way to lower, broad-leaf deciduous trees, still bare of leaves, though some were beginning to show buds.

Reaper reined-in Colt and dismounted, looping the dalzi’s lead around a tree branch.

Luna roused and blinked as Bitch came to a stop and put her head down to bite at the brown grass: “Why have we stopped?”

Reaper stretched and dropped his shoulder bag next to Colt: “Well, for one, I need to piss, and two, I need to take our bearings. We’re here at a different time of day from my first run through this, and I need to make sure we don’t get to Bel’az too early.”

Luna nodded and swung her right leg over Bitch’s back and bent neck, then smoothly hopped down: “Then I, too will stretch my legs for a moment while our mounts graze.”

Reaper stepped off to the side of the path and undid his breeches: “Do me a favor--get into my bag and fish out the map.”

Luna bent down, opened Reaper’s bag and pulled out the map they had acquired in Rixk’a. She studied it for a minute as Reaper drained his bladder against a tree while looking up the sun, breaking through the low clouds.

Luna walked over to Reaper and sat down on a fallen tree trunk as Reaper closed up and belted his breeches: “It appears we will come into Bel’az a bit before dusk, yes?”

Reaper nodded as he took the map from Luna: “That’s the plan. I arrived in the evening, stayed the night, then headed across the river to Yunada’s camp just before sunrise the next day.”

“Yes, and spent the night with a delightful, young parzaile, if I recall your memories correctly.”

Luna turned her head and glared at the jet-black dalzi that had joined them moments earlier.

Reaper faced the sound of the voice and furrowed his brow, unable to make out its source: “Yeah, but not this time.”

The dalzi walked off the path and switched its tail in Reaper’s face: “It seems unwise to tamper with fate, yes? Should you not let the scenario play out as ordained?”

Reaper shook his head as he turned toward Luna: “Where is she?”

Luna sighed and pointed to the ground at Reaper’s feet: “She has taken the form of a dalzi, and is standing directly in front of you with her rump in your face, waving her tail.”

“Well, I have neither zaka nor booze with which to tempt, so…”

Reaper waved his hand blindly in front of his face: “Right--‘cunt,’ I get it. Not this time. I spent decades using, abusing, tormenting, ordering executions of, and degrading my fellow Kurlin. Never again.”

Luna nodded: “I remember Zain. You would have killed him if you truly were Gerrar.”

“Correct. I do agree that I must encounter the girl, but only to pay her and send her on her way in the morning. There’s no need to ruin another life.”

The dalzi raised an eyebrow: “How noble. But what does it matter now? Are all these people not already doomed? Are they not so much walking carrion?”

“Perhaps, but not today. Today I am not Death’s Harbinger. Today they have their lives to live, and they deserve the chance to do so without my interference.”

“I suspect the ‘interference’ ship has already sailed. It is likely my True Sister fucked it out of port the other night!”

Luna shot an ugly look at Nightmare Moon: “Hey!”

Reaper sighed: “That’s a crude way to put it, but she’s not wrong. Too many things have gone differently from the first time. My hope is that between Zain and Gerrar, nothing of note has been altered. I will do my best when I get to Bel’az to avoid changing anything further.”

He bent down and hoisted his bag over his shoulder, and offered a hand to Luna: “But I will not do anything more to that parzaile. Shit, she was no ‘parzaile’--she was just a farm girl! I’ll do no more than sit with her for a time, pay her, and send her off.”

Luna took Reaper’s hand and stood: “I understand. Just as I could not kill Gerrar, I appreciate your desire to do as little harm as possible.”

The dalzi snorted as it fell in behind Reaper and Luna as they climbed aboard their mounts: “I have seen your visions of Bel’az’s torment. I do not see how you can avoid harm without entirely exposing yourself.”

Reaper adjusted his cloak and sword as he settled into Colt’s saddle: “You mean the memory you unearthed back at the baths?”

“Yes.”

Reaper took a deep breath: “The majority of that is being done as we speak. I leave standing orders with my units’ leaders regarding typical operations to undertake when Yunada’s vanguard approaches a district.”

Luna furrowed her brow as she tugged at her cloak and made herself comfortable on Bitch’s back: “Standing orders?”

“Yes, just as Yunada gives his Tunzals great latitude and autonomy, I invest the local gangs and outriders with the same. There is a basic script, if you will, that the local gang will follow in my absence, assuming that I will come along at some point to extend or adapt the mission as I see fit. Most of the dirty work will already be done by the time we get to Bel’az.”

“How awful! So the burned victims in your vision…”

“Are likely already undergoing their torture even as we speak. There is nothing that I can do about it now.”

Luna shuddered: “What shall I do? I assume if I were to appear with you it would raise questions and suspicions.”

“Exactly. There are some low hills, almost like downs, just to the south of the village where you can hole-up and wait for me to return tomorrow mid-morning. We can make final plans then, since the battle will take place that evening.”

Luna gazed toward the darkening horizon and noted a reddish tint: “I see the setting sun’s rays falling on smoke in the distance.”

Reaper squinted eastward: “I’ll take your word for it--I don’t quite have your eyesight. I assume that’s evidence of the various fires my gang has set. Like I said: too late now…”

Luna chewed her lip: “I am relieved we will arrive after the bulk of the depredations. I know they are unavoidable, but I would have been hard-pressed to simply ignore them.”

“I know. It’s going to be hard enough as it is dealing with my underlings and the village elders. I loathe everything about this, but have to see it through.”

“Unlike last time…”

“Right. I couldn’t have cared less last time; I just wanted it over.”

“You were intoxicated, yes?”

“Yeah--another deviation from this run-through. I’m keeping my wits about me, and my head clear this time.”

“Were you sober when you met with Yunada? I can recall seeing little of note in your memories past tonight--well, until your death.”

“I had a fair amount of zaka in me, but that’s not it. Starting just before dawn, I went into a sort of fugue state, almost as though I was not myself. I remember the things that happened, but from a distance. I was afraid, and had to overcome that fear through complete detachment.”

Luna nodded: “That explains other gaps as well…”

“Right. I would force myself into a detached state whenever I had to do or experience something especially awful.”

“I have seen that behavior in many ponies’ nightmares.”

Reaper shifted uncomfortably in his saddle: “Yeah, well I get to walk into this nightmare sober and with eyes wide open.”

As the sky deepened to a purplish-pink blush behind them, Reaper and Luna came around a bend in the road and looked down a shallow slope toward the village of Bel’az, lying under a pall of smoke from several still-smoldering buildings.

Reaper nodded to the south: “Here’s where we part ways until tomorrow morning. I’ll find you in those low hills away to the south sometime before noon.”

Luna scanned the area and furrowed her brow: “I do not know where my alter ego is. I cannot see her at the moment.”

Reaper shook his head and shrugged: “It’s too late to do anything about her now. All we can do is carry on and see this through.”

Luna nodded and dismounted. She took Bitch and Gerrar’s dalzi's reins and led them to the edge of the road: “I wish you the best of luck, Reaper.”

He raised an eyebrow: “What, no drugged kiss this time?”

Luna smiled: “Not this time. Only you can act out these scenes. If I have to become involved, something has truly gone wrong!”

Reaper nodded: “No doubt! I’ll do my damndest to see to it that this all goes smoothly. Take care of yourself, and keep to the treeline until you get to those downs. It shouldn’t be much more than a mile.”

Luna led the dalzi off the road and down into the brush. She turned and waved as Reaper spurred Colt forward toward Bel’az’s dark silhouette. He looked back over his shoulder as Luna and the dalzi slipped away to the south: “Stay safe…”

After fifteen minutes of wary riding Reaper passed two headless corpses in bloody, torn, blue-and-white livery, hanging from a barren tree. He could see several burned-out buildings and a group of men around a bonfire.

He dismounted, smoothed his tunic and strode up to the five men drinking and talking loudly around the blaze: “Who is in charge here?”

A large, sallow man with a heavy scar across his forehead and a scraggly beard turned, his face flush from beer: “I am!”

Reaper stepped into the firelight and turned so the last rays of sunset fell across his face: “Wrong. I am.”

“Who the fuck’re you?”

A short, thin, balding man in a baggy doublet pulled a jug of liquor away from his mouth and choked, eyes wide: “Oh, fuck! Shut yer hole, Baro--that there’s the Tunzal!”

The men fell back from the fire as Baro nervously wiped his mouth: “Beggin’ yer pardon, m’Lord! I knowed you’d be comin’ but we’ve never met! Gerrar, yes?”

“Correct. Have you rounded up the hostages?”

“Y-yes, m’Lord! They’s over by the hay barn!”

“Which had best be intact. The last incompetent who burned a village hay barn in winter died with his intestines wrapped around his throat.”

Baro blenched: “N-no! No heavy burning--just a few cottages and two of the hostages!”

Baro’s thin companion stepped to Reaper’s side as the group headed away from the fire toward a large, round structure. He pointed at a pair of shapes slumped and twisted in the dirt: “See--that’s them there! Well, what’s left of ‘em, anyway…”

Reaper glanced at the headless corpses lying in drying puddles of blackened, burned blood and brains. He choked back a bile-filled cough and reached into a tunic pocket for a plug of Gerrar’s zaka.

He covered his discomfort by talking round the zaka and his finger as he slipped it into his cheek: “Who were they?”

“Ah, nobody--he was a tanner and she was his wife. We’s also pretty sure she was the village galdu to boot…”

Baro nodded with a rough laugh: “Yeah, she seemed to take on me and the boys pretty easy-like. Didn’t help save ‘em, though--they still got the ‘Tunzal’s Haircut!’”

Reaper gritted his teeth and swallowed hard: “It never does. I am pleased to see the hay barn is intact.”

“Sure, and you gonna like what else is in the barn even more!”

“I assume the village leaders delivered Lord Yunada’s tribute and my...recreation?”

Baro’s companion waggled his eyebrows: “Recreation--nice! Yeah, she’s a cute little thing. They’s stocked a room in the old village council building with a bed and wine. Nobody’s gonna bother you until late morning!”

Reaper and the gang stopped in front of the hay barn door: “Correct. Everything seems in order. I need three of you to go down to the river and wait at the ferry crossing. The other two are to head to the west edge of the village, take cover and be on the lookout for agents or riders from Degia. I have heard rumors they seek to make mischief while we engage Gindu.”

“No worries, m’Lord--we’ll take care of it.”

“I have no doubt. I will leave here early, meet with Lord Yunada across the river, and send instructions back. Be on the alert for an errand rider.”

Baro saluted as the other four men bowed and separated: “Yes, m’Lord!”

Reaper watched the five hurry away, then turned back to the barn, taking hold of the heavy, dark, brass latch that secured the door. The door swung outward with a groan on rusty hinges. Reaper stepped inside.

There was a lamp on a low table just inside the opening; Reaper picked it up and trimmed its wick, throwing a pale, flickering light across a figure huddled on a pile of grain sacks.

Reaper regarded the figure coolly: “Stand up, girl.”

The figure rose and stood trembling.

“Take off the robe and come with me.”

The girl shuddered and pulled off the simple linen robe, exposing goose-bumped skin and cold-stiffened nipples.

Reaper looked down at the girl’s slipper-shod feet as he took the robe: “You may leave on the slippers. Let’s go.”

He turned and pushed the door open, guiding the shivering girl out in front of him. Two of the gang looked back as they mounted their dalzi and smiled lasciviously.

“Hey, there ‘recreation!’ Save some for the rest of us! We’ll be back tomorrow sometime!”

They laughed and made crude gestures as they took up their reins and rode past Reaper and the girl.

The two walked briskly toward a low stone building with a dim light visible in a window. Reaper pulled its door open: “Get in.”

The girl’s teeth chattered as she crossed the threshold: “Y-yes, m’Lord!”

Reaper closed and locked the door behind him: “Enough of this--they saw what they needed to see. Put your robe back on, please.”

He handed the girl her robe as he stepped to the fireplace and added fuel, kneeling and blowing on the coals, stoking it for several minutes while the girl stood silently behind him, robe on, but open.

“M-m’Lord? Wha-what should I do?”

Reaper glanced back over his shoulder: “Pour both of us some wine, then take a seat in that chair.”

Reaper added a last log, stood and removed his outer belt and sword, and set them aside. He looked at the girl as she handed him a cup of deep-red wine.

She came roughly to his chin, and had smooth tan skin, sandy, ginger hair and hazel eyes. She clutched her cup with both hands and stood staring at her feet.

Reaper took a drink and sighed: “Sit, girl--please.”

The girl nodded, backed up a pace and settled into a chair next to a large, sturdy bed.

Reaper stretched his neck and shoulders, and took another drink: “What is your name?”

“P-parzaile…”

“No, not that shit! I know that’s what you were told to say. What’s your real name?”

The girl started at Reaper’s raised voice: “Ar-Argía, m’Lord. I was named fer the dawn.”

Reaper smiled lightly: “Fitting. How old are you?”

“I-I’m not really sure--I’m an orphan. M’ ma and pa died when I was real little. They say I was born at th’ end of the last plague.”

Reaper looked up at the ceiling and pondered for a moment: “So, roughly eighteen.”

“Yes, m’Lord. I guess so…”

“Petite with unusual hair and eye color. My reputation, or more likely my gang, precedes me.”

“M’lord?”

“Nothing. I have a type, it appears. Had, anyway…”

Argía took a tentative sip of wine and bit her lip: “Wha-what'd 'ya want, m’Lord?”

Reaper smiled grimly: “That’s a much bigger question than you know. Why don’t we turn it around: you tell me what you’re to do here. What did the village elders tell you?”

“Th-that I’m t’ do anything you ask. That it’s m’ great honor to give you my virginity, and to--”

“Wait--you’re a virgin?”

Argía lurched out of the chair, spilling a bit of wine as she set the cup down. She took a step toward Reaper and hastily slid a hand between her legs, spreading her folds open.

“Y-yes, m’Lord! I swear it! I didn’t lie t’ th elders when they asked! 'Ya can check fer yerself! They did!”

Reaper put up a hand and furrowed his brow: “First, I believe you. Your elders are clearly clever, horrible people, but I can’t say that I blame them: again, my reputation has preceded me. Second, please close your robe and sit back down.”

Argía stopped, then returned to the chair, pulling her robe tight around her as she sat.

Reaper moved to the edge of the bed and sat down: “So you’re telling me you’ve never been with a man?”

Argía blushed: “Well, we girls know how to give the boys a ‘helping hand,’ if you know what I mean…”

“I do."

“But no, I ain’t never lain with a man. I promise!”

“Again, I believe you. So what else did the elders tell you?”

“Th-that you might ask for some unusual or uncomfortable things…”

Reaper blinked slowly: “‘Uncomfortable.’ Did they explain what that means?”

Argía bit her lip: “You might tie me to th bed, or put yer cock in my other hole, beggin’ your pardon, or force me to suck you ‘til I gag, ‘cept I’m not allowed t’ gag…”

Reaper closed his eyes and sighed: “How many years of this horror-show? How many farm girls-turned-‘parzailen’ after an hour of crude instructions?”

He steepled his fingers and opened his eyes: “Did they tell you what would happen if you refused me anything?”

Argía shuddered and pressed her thighs together: “Y-you’d take m’ virginity with yer blade, and...and…” She choked back a sob and took a gulp of wine.

A cool, measured voice came from across the room: “And is she aware she will end up choked into unconsciousness, overdosed on zaka, and slumped against the wall in a pool of what I must assume is her own urine?”

Reaper peered into the corner beside the fireplace: “No, and we’re not going to tell her. It will never happen, so she doesn’t need to know it.”

Argía looked around in confusion: “M’lord? Who’re you talkin’ to in that strange tongue? Is there somebody else here?”

“Just an old ghost who delights in needling me at inappropriate times.”

Argía’s eyes grew wide: “A ghost? Is it dangerous?”

Reaper smiled: “Not to you, though you might do well not to fall asleep in her presence: you would likely not enjoy your dreams.”

“My dreams’ve been awful lately, anyway!”

“No doubt. The battles between Lord Yunada and Gindu have enflamed this whole region. You have seen many awful things.”

Argía glanced accusingly at Reaper for a moment then cast her eyes down: “Y-yes, m’Lord.”

Reaper nodded: “I saw your look…”

Argía’s head snapped up in panic, and she waved her hands in front of her face: “I-I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it, m’Lord! I-I…”

Reaper put his hand up and smiled grimly: “Yes, you absolutely did. Your look accuses me of being the author of your village’s terror and rape.”

Argía gasped and pushed the chair backwards against the wall with a thud.

Reaper shook his head sadly: “You have nothing to fear from me, Argía. You are right that I am the monster who has visited this ruin on your village, and I cannot make it right. But I can end it. And I will.”

“Seeking absolution from her are you, Harbinger? That seems rather cliché.”

Reaper looked at the fireplace: “No, not absolution. No one can give me that, not even death will give me that. But I can at least extract a small measure of redemption.”

“Equally as cliché…”

“Wrong ‘C’ word: I will give you ‘catharsis’ or even ‘cold comfort,’ but not ‘cliché.’ If I can spare just one person on this sorry world whose life I otherwise destroyed, then I can salvage a crumb of redemption, and die knowing I left Kur a tiny bit less of a monster this time.”

“Weighed against a lifetime of cruelty and horror? Pointless.”

Argía watched in quiet confusion as Reaper raised an eyebrow, took a deep drink of wine and continued to talk to the fireplace in an alien tongue: “What’s the matter, Nightmare--jealous?”

He heard a harsh laugh: “Of what?”

“That I get a chance to redeem even one small moment in my past life, but you don’t. That all those you tormented and even killed in some cases are now beyond succor or relief. That your past as a monster is irrevocably sealed.”

Reaper sat for several moments listening to the crackle of the fire and Argía’s breathing.

“What’s wrong, Dark Angel? No cutting remark? No witty rejoinder?”

Nightmare Moon’s voice came slow and soft from behind Reaper: “You are right that my past lies in unrecoverable ruin, and those I tormented can never be assuaged. But redemption may take many forms, and our grand tragedy is not yet complete.”

Reaper sighed as his expression softened: “True, and I know you were drawn into this undertaking unwittingly. None of us wanted to be here, and you are the most constrained of the three of us.”

“Unwittingly…”

“Sorry?”

“You might be surprised by how much True Sister and I perceive.”

“I don’t un--”

Argía stood suddenly and stepped nervously toward the bed: “Beggin’ yer pardon, m’Lord, but what do ya want from me? I ‘preciate you not rapin’ me, don’t misunderstand, but surely there’s sumthin’ I can do for you. I’m ‘fraid the elders will get mad if they think I shirked.”

Reaper turned away from the fireplace, pulled off his boots and moved fully onto the bed. He faced Argía: “Yes. Please lie beside me here on the bed.”

Argía furrowed her brow and began to remove her robe.

“No. Not for that. Please keep the robe on. Just climb on the bed and lie next to me.”

Argía got onto the bed to Reaper’s right as he slid sideways, pushing a pile of cushions up against the rough-hewn headboard. He propped himself into a reclining position.

“Refill your wine cup and hand me the jug. Then I want you to tell me your dreams, Argía.”

“Her dreams?”

“M-my dreams, m’Lord?”

“Don’t call me that. Call me Reaper. Yes, your dreams.”

“I don’t understand m’L--Reaper.”

Reaper took a deep breath and closed his eyes: “I have seen the fleeting last images, hopes, fears and memories of countless thousands of beings, and I will be burdened with countless thousands more. I would like even the briefest break from memory and visions of death to hear the dreams of life.”

He turned and looked to his left: “I know you’re there, I can feel your presence. What do you say, from one monster to another--how about a little catharsis?”

There was a long pause: “Yes.”

Reaper took a swig of wine, folded an arm behind his head and lay back: “Tell me your dreams, Argía…”

“Wake up Harbinger.”

“Oooh, not you again! No more dreams, please…”

“No, not this time. It is time for you to awaken and take Gerrar’s fateful penultimate footsteps.”

“Shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“I assumed as much. That is why I am rousting you.”

Reaper sat up and rubbed his eyes as he looked to his right at Argía’s sleeping form: “Wait--I don’t recall you in my dreams. You’re always tinkering in my dreams, you or Luna!”

“I was in Argía’s dreams this time.”

“Aw, crap--why? What did you do?”

“Fear not, Harbinger--I merely wanted to observe. Perhaps I needed a bit more catharsis.”

Reaper smiled as he swung his legs off the side of the bed and grabbed the chamber pot from under the bed frame: “I hope it helped. I know I feel a lot more clear-headed this time than last time!”

“A little redemption goes a long way, yes?”

Reaper took the chamberpot to a corner and emptied his bladder with a sigh: “I guess, but I’m not done with that yet.”

“How so?”

Reaper closed and belted his breeches and knelt beside the bed: “Argía! Wake up! I need to go and we have some things to discuss before I do.”

Her eyes fluttered open and filled briefly with fear as they focused on Reaper’s face. She held her robe closed and sat up against the cushions and headboard.

“I-I’m awake m’L--sorry! Reaper”

Reaper smiled and nodded. “I understand. We have to talk before I go. This region, your village, the area across the river, are about to get turned upside-down. I want you to have the best chance you can to get away from here in the confusion.”

Argía’s eyes teared-up: “Get away? Where? I’m just a farm girl--now a dirty farm girl who got sold to a Tunzal! What good am I now?”

Reaper shook his head and reached into his pocket: “Not in Rixk’a, you’re not.”

He pulled out the two sapphires Luna had presented to Gerrar: “Take these and go north up the East Road to Rixk’a. Do you know Rixk’a?”

“Sure--traders come ‘n go all the time.”

“You should be able to sneak out of Bel’az without much trouble when things get hot around here tomorrow, or maybe the next day. It should take you about two days to get to Rixk’a, likely traveling among any number of fellow refugees.”

Argía stared at the brilliant blue gems Reaper dropped in her hand: “B-but the elders’ll just take--”

He reached back into his pocket and brought out three bits: “No, not those they won’t; they’ll take these. This bit of gold is theoretically the price paid for your service as a parzaile.”

He pressed the coins into her other hand: “Now, honestly, I expect this really gets taken by the village elders as their ‘pimp’s-price.’ I doubt the girl ever sees a copper penny of it.”

Argía nodded and looked at the gems again: “So what do I do with these?”

Reaper glanced around the room: “We can hide them here. Can you get back into this building later? Especially if everything’s topsy-turvey?”

“Sure, but that ain’t the problem…”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “What do you mean?”

Argía fidgeted nervously with the gems and coins and looked away: “Well, beggin’ your pardon, but it sure don’t look like I been used by a rough customer. And the elders: they’s gonna check my cunny again--I know it!”

“She is right, you know. It appears she spent the night giving a local boy a ‘helping hand’ at worst, then dozed off for a few pleasant hours of sleep.”

Reaper ran his hands back-and-forth across his bald scalp: “Shit, you’re right! Okay, so we need to make this convincing.”

“You could spare a few minutes to resolve the virginity issue…”

Reaper glared across the room at the source of Nightmare Moon’s voice: “Hardly, but you just gave me an idea.”

He knelt by the foot of the bed and rummaged through his saddle bag. He pulled out a candle which he sat on the bed next to Argía.

"Where did you get that?”

“The inn. I thought it might come in handy. Never figured it'd be used for this!”

He stood up: “As for your elders and their investigation, we can take care of that. Slip this candle up inside yourself, and don’t be too gentle about it. You’ll feel a bit of a sting and a tearing sensation, and there’ll be a smear of blood. Wipe that off on the robe.”

Argía bit her lip as she picked up the candle, running her fingers along its irregular, waxy surface. She spit in her palm and rubbed it along the length of the candle, dropped her spread legs over the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and slipped the candle between her folds, rotating it tentatively at the same time.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and winced as she pushed the waxy spindle several inches deep inside. She bit her lip again and gasped a little, then relaxed and pulled the candle out slowly.

“Perfect. Now pull some robe up from underneath your ass and wipe that thing off.”

Argía did so, leaving a crimson streak behind on the cream-colored fabric. She shuddered slightly and handed the candle back to Reaper. He tossed it in the fire.

“Alright, so that’s resolved. We hide the gems, that telltale maidenhead’s gone, you give your parzaile’s price to the village elders. What else?”

“Well, while I applaud your ingenuity regarding eliminating the evidence of her virginity, you may still need to become involved to provide some additional, shall we say, material.”

Argía looked up and caught Reaper’s eye: “Beggin’ yer pardon again, Reaper, but even it’s true I ain’t never lain with a man, I been around enough breedin' farm animals and boys to know what’s supposed to happen next. When the old healer checks my cunny it ain’t gonna be good enough to just be a little bloody.”

Reaper sighed, looked up toward the ceiling and rolled his eyes: “This seems to be a recurring theme! Where’s that towel when I need it?”

Nightmare Moon chuckled: “There are other suitable orifices that might make for a better alibi.”

“True…”

Reaper turned back to Argía: “Tell them that after I was done with you I finished in your mouth. They can’t check--”

His eyes suddenly lit up: “No--I have it! Tell them I couldn't finish! Too much zaka, too much wine, too old, too tired. I went soft, and try as you might I just couldn’t do it!”

“Clever, though I suspect Gerrar would not approve!”

“Fine--he can come talk to me about it! My reputation has preceded me for far too long. Time to put an end to that, too!”

Argía pondered for a moment: “Okay, I guess that could work. But wouldn’t ya’ get mad at me fer not makin' ‘ya come?”

Reaper chewed his lip for a moment, then picked up Argía’s half-full cup of wine: “Close your eyes…” He threw it in her face, splashing her hair and soaking the front of her robe.

Argía sputtered and wiped her eyes with a sleeve.

“That is a good beginning, but hardly convincing, given your reputation for brutality. In reality, if an escort failed Gerrar, I assume he really did use a blade on her!”

Reaper shuddered: “More than once, yes. So what do you suggest? I can’t strike her…”

“I understand. Ask her to stand and walk toward the window. I have an idea.”

Reaper furrowed his brow, but turned to Argía: “Please stand and walk toward the window.”

She swept her dripping hair from her face and stood. Just as she took a step away from the bed and turned toward the window, she stumbled forward suddenly and slammed face-first into a small, low table beside the door.

Argía cried out in pain and fear, and clutched her face in her hands.

Reaper jumped to her side and knelt down: “What in Tartarus was that? What did you do, Nightmare?”

“You have felt my actual touch, Harbinger. You know I can nearly manifest as a full, physical being. I summoned all my power to one point and shoved her in the back as she leaned forward into a step.”

Reaper helped up Argía and guided her back to the chair. He gently pulled her hands away: “Holy shit! Look at her eye!”

“Indeed--look at it. Quite convincing, would you not say? It almost looks like she had a piece of furniture thrown at her.”

Reaper hung his head and sighed: “You’re right…”

He stood, picked up the table and smashed it against the fireplace.

He turned back to Argía and watched her stanch the flow of blood coming from her nose. He picked up a shattered table leg and crouched beside her: “Smear this with blood. And wipe more between your legs.”

She sniffled and touched her swollen eye tentatively: “Wha-what happened?”

“It turns out my ghost really could hurt you. I’m very sorry for this. I don’t think your nose is broken, and…”

“It-it’s okay. I was gonna have 'ya hit me anyway. This’ll be better.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“I know ‘ya are. I dunno how 'ya ever got yer fierce reputation. 'Ya don' seem so bad to me.”

Reaper smiled sadly as he pulled a towel and water bottle from his saddlebag and helped Argía clean her face a bit: “Everything you’ve ever heard about me, no matter how terrible, is entirely true. In fact, it probably falls short.”

“Then--then, why…?”

“Because that man died five-thousand years and two days ago.”

“I don’ understand.”

Reaper smiled, leaned forward and kissed Argía’s forehead: “You don’t need to.”

Reaper closed his saddlebag, belted his sword and dagger back on, straightened his tunic and secreted the sapphires behind a loose stone in the fireplace mantle.

“Will you remember where these are later?”

Argía spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and nodded: “I don’ think I’ll ever forget anything 'bout this place!”

He knelt by the side of the bed and slipped his map underneath: “I’m going to leave my map behind as well. You likely won’t need it, but it won’t hurt to have it.”

“Thank you.”

“And don’t forget, when you get to Rixk’a go to Dux’a’s baths. Show him the gems and map and tell him the T’zesa and Reaper sent you, and they will flay him alive if he cheats you.”

“Then what?”

“Then anything you want. Those gems will give you anything you want to make your dreams happen. Start a new life. Find the best dream you have and make it real.”

Reaper stood and turned toward the door, when he suddenly pivoted, headed to the far corner of the room and picked up the chamberpot.

“You are not going to throw that in her face, too are you?”

Reaper chuckled: “No--I’m just adding a finishing touch that will likely discourage any investigation of the bed.”

He walked back to the bed and dumped the chamberpot on it. Argía wrinkled her nose and tipped her head sideways.

Reaper glanced over his shoulder as he tossed the empty vessel into the corner: “I suspect no one will want to come near the bed now, until you return to retrieve the map.”

Argía nodded, stood up and walked to the door: “I’d give ‘ya a hug, but it’d make a mighty mess on that pretty green jacket.”

Reaper chuckled and took her face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on her swollen eye and split lip: “Have a good life, Argía. Best of luck in your escape and journey!”

“Good luck t’ ya’ too, Reaper! I’ll never forget 'ya!”

Reaper smiled sadly as he opened the door and stepped outside without looking back: “I sincerely hope you do…”

"Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light"
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Death Be Not Proud

"Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light"

Soros glanced down nervously at Nai’a’s severed head lying at his feet, then up at the dark figure, jogging swiftly away to the south. He chewed his lip for a moment and pulled a flask out of his cloak.

He removed the cork with trembling fingers, closed his eyes and took a long swig. He patted Colt’s neck and smiled wanly as the dalzi nickered: “Alright, boyo, let’s go git yer master. I don’ care what it takes--I jus’ don’ wanna have to face her again!”

Soros tried unsuccessfully to press the stopper back into his flask several times before cursing, draining the last of the liquor it held, and shoving the cork and flask into his pocket.

He slowly and unsteadily untied Colt’s lead and turned to mount the dalzi. He stopped and furrowed his brow, then bent down to pick up Nai’a’s head by its blood-matted hair. He then climbed up on Colt and rode north toward the tall, wooden stockade.

Five minutes later Soros reined-in Colt, and hopped off, presenting himself to the head guard: “I needs to see the Tunzal!”

The guard, a tall, muscular, dark-haired man with a scar across his forehead, looked down at Soros’ left hand in shock: “What the fuck is that?!”

Soros lifted Nai’a’s head high so the light from nearby torches could fall fully on it: “This is why I were sent! Our Lord had a falling out of sorts with Nai’a, here, and told me to come git back his favorite Tunzal.”

The guard grimaced: “We have orders straight from, well--”

He pointed to the dirty, dripping head, with its blank, half-lidded eyes: “him, not to unshackle Gerrar under any circumstances.”

Soros nodded: “I git it. OK, then--I’ll run back and tell our Lord yer the reason he don’ have his number-one right-hand man back like he asked.”

Soros turned to mount Colt, looking over his shoulder as he did: “He’s like as not to kill me, so I ‘spect he’ll be here hisself shortly.”

The guard jumped forward and grabbed Colt’s reins: “Woah! Let’s not be hasty, here! Look, leave that thing with me as proof if anyone comes asking, and I’ll release the Tunzal to your custody.”

Soros handed over Nai’a’s head: “Gladly! He was a real piece of work when he were alive, and he ain’t much better dead! I’ll be glad to be rid of it.”

The guard wrinkled his nose as he grabbed a handful of hair at the back of the head: “Just wait here for a minute…”

He disappeared through the iron-bound door, and Soros could hear loud, animated talking, and the slamming of an interior portcullis. Some three minutes later the guard reappeared, tugging Reaper along by his shackles.

The guard pulled a key out of his cloak pocket and unlocked the shackles, removing them from Reaper’s wrists and hanging them over his belt. Reaper pulled and spat out the dirty rag bound across his mouth and stepped away from the guard.

The guard nodded: “Alright, take the Tunzal and go! And if there’s any trouble, I’ll find you and make you pay!”

Reaper looked away to the east and noticed a flickering, dull-red glow in the distance: “I strongly suspect Yunada’s going to be too busy to worry about it for a bit. Besides, I’m off to present myself to him now.”

Reaper took up Colt’s reins and walked away from the stockade briskly: “Come, Soros--we have things to discuss!”

Soros eyes grew wide: “Yer not gonna take me back to her are you?”

“Her?”

“She sent me! I don’ really believe in the old gods, but she has t’ be Broka Nosk’a! She came dashin’ out of the dark, naked, covered in blood, carryin’ just a sword!”

“When?”

“I dunno--maybe ten, twelve minutes ago. I ain’t never seen nuthin’ like it! Three lancers tried t’ ride her down, and she jus’ grabbed two of their spears at the last second like they was pieces of straw!”

Soros shuddered and adjusted his cold, damp breeches: “She throwed the riders and speared ‘em before they even had a chance to roll over! Kil’t the third one as he was crawlin’ away!”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Luna? No--not killing like that! Nightmare Moon?”

He picked up his pace as the two men skirted several units and stray fighters and slaves streaming south and east, making for the distant red glow: “That has to be it! What did you do with Luna, Nightmare?”

Soros raised an eyebrow in confusion: “Are you talkin’ to me, m’Lord?”

Reaper blinked and looked over at Soros: “What? No. I slipped into the tongue I speak with the woman you saw.”

“T’wern’t no woman! A demon, a god, a monster--mebbe! But not a woman!”

Reaper smiled grimly as he and Soros and Colt approached the opening in the earthworks on the west side of Yunada’s pavilion: “You may not be far from the truth...”

They passed through the gap and noted the multiple corpses, and the blaze consuming the rear half of Yunada’s tent. Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Yeah, she made it back, alright.”

Soros froze and began to tremble: “Sh-she ain't here, is she?”

Reaper turned to the east and pointed to the red glow backlighting the distant bulk of Fort Torlek: “I’m pretty sure she’s over there. I can’t honestly imagine where else a battle-cum-revenge goddess would be!”

“I don’ wanna get no closer! I seen a lotta death in my years, but never anything like the white fire in those blank eyes!”

They stopped by the weapon stand where Bitch had been tethered: “You don’t need to go any further, Soros. In fact, head south and east--get as far as you can from here. Make for the Sasol Sea until all this blows over.”

Soros furrowed his brow: “But, the forests t’ the southeast’re full of Gindu’s troops!”

Reaper shook his head: “I’ve been laying down that falsehood through my network for weeks. It’s a lie. The bulk of Gindu’s forces are inside the fort, waiting to spring a trap on Yunada’s smaller vanguard.”

He looked again to the east and the steady stream of squads and companies heading toward the fiery glow: “In fact, I assume Gindu’s forces are fully engaged by now.”

He climbed up on Colt and pulled the last of his gold from his cloak: “You are a very wicked man, Soros; I should know--I have been an exceptionally wicked man for many years. But you can be better than this. Take this gold, leave this place, find somewhere where you can do a little good, heal a tiny bit of the harm you’ve caused.”

Reaper dropped the bag into Soros’ open palm: “You only live for a few, brief moments, then are gone, and even I don’t know what happens then!”

He pulled his short sword out of Colt’s saddlebag and pointed to a few picketed dalzi some yards away: “Take a mount and ride as long as you can. Soon there will be nothing left here but death.”

Soros dropped the bits in his cloak and turned to go, then stopped, with furrowed brow: “Thank ye much, m’Lord, but oughtn’t you go, too, if death is so certain?”

Reaper straightened in his saddle and smiled sadly: “If anyone knows you have to keep a date with death, it’s me--even if it’s the wrong date! Farewell, Soros!”

He drove his heels into Colt’s ribs and rode swiftly to the east as Soros watched him for a few moments, shrugged and headed toward the picketed mounts.

Reaper worked his way warily through the disordered tangle of soldiers, bearers and camp followers who were moving both to and from the battlefield as Colt slowly trotted alongside a rutted roadway, choked with carts and gear.

As he rode along, Reaper began to notice more and more green or grey-clad bodies dragged off the side of the road, some hewed nearly in half, most beheaded. He also took note of several soldiers staggering west in exhausted terror.

Reaper stopped a young, hollow-eyed, sandy-haired man, splashed with blood: “What’s happening up at the front, soldier?”

The stunned man stopped and stared blankly at Reaper for a moment: “Hetz'ar Ingerra is there! She is taking in the harvest for T'zarjāin!”

Reaper furrowed his brow as the soldier pulled free and stumbled away: “The Angel of Death? I haven’t heard that name used in years!”

He pressed on and halted briefly in front of a group of nervous, dismounted lancers: “What do you hear of the battle, riders?”

The troop leader chewed his lip and looked Reaper up and down: “I don’t care if you are a Tunzal--I ain’t ridin’ into that shitstorm!”

Reaper cocked an eyebrow: “Well, we’ll see about that. First, though, I asked for a report…”

The leader glanced nervously over his shoulder as his men muttered: “We got close and pulled back when we saw wrecked siege engines and dead men.”

“You are soldiers--surely you’ve seen dead men before!”

One of the leader’s troopers stepped up beside him: “Not like this! They was killed from behind, or while fleeing! They was torn in half! Some were dead without a mark on ‘em--just open, horrified eyes!”

The leader nodded: “We heard one of the gods was stalking the battlefield, like the old stories!”

“Broka Nosk’a…”

The trooper shook his head: “Nah, she weren’t naked by all accounts. She has a dark cloak and wings and a crown of black flame!”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Wings? Black crown? Oh, shit! Nightmare Moon, no!”

He kicked Colt in the ribs and snapped the reins: “Move, damn you! I have to stop this before it gets completely out-of-control!”

Reaper wove rapidly in and out of straggling, retreating units and traumatized bearers and slaves, staggering west as fast as they could. The walls of the fort rose above and slightly to his right as he cleared a low, shrub-covered rise. He froze in dismay and wonder.

There before Reaper lay the field of his final battle, but the time was wrong, the sky was wrong, and the gates of the fort were not thrown open, disgorging Gindu’s finest riders, but lay instead in flaming, smoking ruin, breached by Yunada’s fire bearers.

Larg hung directly above, his silvery glow blending with Arro’s, who was hovering above the low hills west of the Zuri River. Their light broke intermittently through the billowing clouds of smoke, and clashed with the baleful red glow of burning timbers and pits full of flaming oil spread before Torlek’s walls.

Reaper blinked hard, shook his head and dug his heels into Colt’s sides, urging him forward: “C’mon, boy--we have to get in there before she kills everybody, including herself!”

Colt picked his way carefully across the pocked and wreckage-strewn battlefield, working his way around scores of dead and dying soldiers in both green and blue livery. Reaper noted with grim satisfaction that there appeared to be more green on the ground than blue--though the crimson stains soaking through dominated all.

Reaper reined-in Colt as they approached the flaming pits around the gates. He dismounted and hailed a knot of soldiers huddled next to a broken siege engine: “You--spearmen! I require an escort into the fort!”

The leader started and swung around, spear trembling before him: “N-no fuckin’ way am I goin’ back in there!”

Reaper stared coolly at the sweating man for a moment: “Do you know who I am?”

Two of the soldier’s companions turned to face Reaper and stiffened. The leader swallowed hard: “You’re a Tunzal…”

“I’m the Tunzal, Sergeant--there are no others in this region right now. Additionally, Nai’a overstepped his bounds one final time, and I am now Lord Yunada’s second in-command.”

Reaper saw a young boy nearby, perhaps eleven or twelve, struggling beneath the weight of a bundle of pikes: “Boy--to me; drop those pikes and come over here.”

The boy furrowed his brow, but leaned back and dropped the burden off his shoulders behind him. He trotted to Reaper’s side.

Reaper handed Colt’s reins to the boy: “You are now my squire. I would rather not ride my dalzi into the maelstrom ahead, but I may need him. Whatever you do, do not let go of his lead--stay by this beast or you will die. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded nervously and reached up to touch Colt’s neck. Reaper turned back to the Sergeant: “Now, as to you three--do you see this blade? Do you see the pits of fire? Do you know what I can do, even here in this chaos? What could possibly be more fearsome than that?”

The Sergeant shuddered: “Her! You ain’t seen her, m’Lord! None can stand before her! She followed our Lord up into the keep. He’s tryin’ to git t’ Gindu, but she’s like as to git him first!”

Reaper stood expressionless for a moment as the sweating man chewed his lip: “What is the worst she can do to you, Sergeant? She may well be T'zarjāin’s Dark Reaper, but all she can do is send you to his dim mansions.”

He stepped up to the now-trembling man and leaned in: “But I am no mere reaper--I am the Tunzal Gerrar, and I taught Yunada the terrors of fire and steel and the Goddess. I will not send you to T'zarjāin’s domain--I will send you writhing to Surjain’kos’ blinding, infernal palace where your melting flesh will light her lamps for eternity!”

The Sergeant blenched and stumbled backwards, clutching at one of his underlings: “F-fine! Let’s go, then! And I hope she takes ‘ya to Belzul, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Reaper smiled grimly as he gestured to his new squire to follow him: “A distinct possibility.”

The Sergeant, three of his soldiers, Reaper and his squire struck out across the grounds of the fort, heading toward the keep, with its tall, central tower, wreathed in smoke. Groups of green-and-red or grey-clad troops clashed with bands of blue-clad pikemen and unmounted knights in chainmail wielding greatswords.

It became clear as they picked their way across the trampled sward that someone had carved a terrible path through several dozen soldiers. Their bodies lay strewn aside like trees felled by a tornado, some cut in half, others impaled on their own weapons. Reaper stopped for a moment and looked down into the frozen face of a rider lying next to a wrecked cart.

“They were right--not a mark on him!”

Reaper and his five makeshift companions approached the broad stairs leading through a shattered portcullis and up into the keep. They ducked behind a wagon to avoid a sudden hail of arrows, and Reaper took a moment to survey his surroundings.

Ahead of him, up a broad, cracked and pitted stairway rose the keep’s main tower. Scores of men were engaged in combat at its base, and it was clear from the sounds and smoke escaping from its narrow windows, that many were fighting within, as well.

Reaper heard a crash behind him as a smoldering siege engine fell to pieces, and he looked over his shoulder down a slight slope to a spring-fed stock pond, surrounded by a shore of sorts, made of pea gravel and sand, which stretched toward the keep’s entrance as a well-tended path. He glanced at the sand, then furrowed his brow and looked up at the tower, now backlit by Larg.

The Sergeant jerked his thumb toward the battle raging at the base of the tower: “What now, m’Lord? Yunada has to be in there, yeah? We got ‘ya this far!”

Reaper chewed his lip: “Yes, and I have to get in there as well. I’m likely the only one who can stop this!”

He bent down and spoke quietly to his ersatz squire: “Stay here, boy; no matter what, stay with this animal and avoid getting mixed-up in whatever happens next--flee if you must.”

The boy nodded nervously: “What if ‘ya don’ come back, m’Lord?”

Reaper gestured to the Sergeant and his men to follow him out of cover as he glanced back over his shoulder at the boy: “Then Colt and his saddlebags are yours, and good luck to you, lad!”

Reaper dashed around the corner of the wagon and jogged briskly toward the flaming portcullis with the Sergeant and his men flanking him, fending off soldiers from both factions. Then a blast tore through the tower, halting them in their tracks as they were showered by a rain of stones and burning debris.

A heavy-set pikeman with long sandy hair glanced at the tower and turned to Reaper: “What th’ fuck was that?”

Reaper wiped the dust from his face and looked up at flaming hole: “It appears one of Yunada’s Fire Bearers met his end. Come on--let’s take advantage of this lull and get up there!”

The five men rose from their crouches and ran toward the knots of stunned men scattered across the debris-strewn keep steps. One of Reaper’s flankers twisted and fell like a ragdoll with a crossbow bolt lodged in the back of his neck.

Reaper stopped for a moment and bent down to confirm the man’s end: “At least it was a clean death…”

The Sergeant grabbed Reaper’s shoulder: “We hafta go, m’Lord! We’re in the open, here! If we don’ git up those--”

He was cut short by a sudden crash of armored feet and barding-clad dalzi bursting out of the keep’s crumbling entrance, accompanied by shouts and cries of rage and fear.

Reaper jerked upright and spun to face the sound as Gindu’s personal guard scrambled down the blood-slicked stairs, followed close behind by a dozen green-and-red-clad swordsmen, urged on by Yunada.

The warlord was gashed with numerous cuts, and stripped away his tattered cloak and rent leather cuirass as he ran: “Don’t let him escape! Bring him down!”

Reaper’s eyes narrowed as Gindu and his escort tumbled past in disarray with Yunada’s vanguard on their heels. Reaper gestured for his escort, and moved to close the gap between himself and Yunada. Suddenly, the whole battle--Gindu’s flight, Yunada’s frenzied pursuit, Reaper’s intercept--appeared to slow to a crawl, as though paused.

A dark figure--blood-streaked cloak billowing, shadowy black wings hovering behind, brow crowned with flickering black-and-silver flames--swept down from the tower’s ruined portcullis: “You cannot escape me, Yunada! Death and vengeance are here for you!”

She bolted down the corpse-choked stairs, thrusting aside both blue and green-clad soldiers effortlessly as both Gindu and Yunada spun, directing their guards to close ranks and hold against the dreadful specter that was now wrecking death on all sides.

She crashed through the press of terrified, frenzied men and animals, sword and spear lashing out, tearing away limbs, shattering skulls. She drove through the final few yards, blank eyes blazing white, violet flames flickering along the length of her blade.

Reaper drove his shoulder into the Sergeant just as an ax sheared away the man’s face, spraying Reaper with blood, obscuring his vision.

Yunada turned at the last moment, sword upraised, to face the doom descending on him, as Reaper staggered in from the side, reaching for the dark angel, grabbing her sword arm: “Luna! Stop this madness!”

She pivoted blindly, and with a shout of rage drove her spear through Reaper's chest and out his back. He collapsed instantly, and Yunada spun away, retreating across the sandy path along with dozens of fleeing soldiers and slaves.

Luna’s eyes cleared with a flash as she looked down in horror at Reaper’s impaled body, his blood soaking into the sand.

He twisted feebly and lifted his head slightly, trying to focus on Luna as she knelt beside him: “Well-struck...Princess…”

Luna dropped her sword and reached for Reaper’s face: “Oh, Reaper! This should not have been! What have we done?!”

Reaper smiled weakly as his eyes lost focus, taking in the moonlit tower rising over Luna’s shoulder: “Here we are...again…but where's Twilight...”

Luna bent close, straining to hear over the cacophony of the battle: “I do not understand!”

Reaper’s locked his dimming eyes with Luna’s as his lids drooped: “Envy...Gerrar…”

Luna furrowed her brow as tears welled in her eyes: “What?”

Blood sputtered from Reaper’s lips as his last breath rattled in his throat: “He gets to spend eternity...with you.”

Luna’s jaw trembled as tears ran silently down her cheeks, and soldiers converged from all sides seeing the dark terror so abruptly diminished. She suddenly threw her head back and screamed in rage and grief as the white fire blazed anew in her eyes.

Her would-be attackers froze in their tracks as she rose from the ground, planted her foot on Reaper’s chest and tore the spear from his body, splattering her greaves. She picked up her sword and sprinted toward the stock pond where Yunada’s personal guard was engaged with Gindu’s.

Soldiers fell back in terror again as anyone she touched simply crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The dark, shadowy wings rose again behind her like a cape, as black flames flickered above her brow like a dire crown.

The field parted before her like water, both man and beast scrambling to escape as waves of power coursed from her, slaying all living things within a few yards--contact was no longer required.

Gindu looked past Yunada with widening eyes: “You can stay here and fight Hetz'ar Ingerra if you like, you maniac, but I’m getting out of here!”

Yunada grabbed one of his guardsmen and suddenly stabbed him through the throat, dousing his blade with a gush of blood as the shocked and terrified man gasped, clutching at the blade.

The warlord yanked his sword free as the soldier fell to the ground: “My apologies, but I need a blood sacrifice and don’t have time for niceties!”

He jogged through the fleeing throng, heading toward the dark figure, stopping to plunge his blade into a nearby flaming pit. Orange and green-tinted flames bloomed along the sword’s edges as he pulled it from the livid, smoking pool.

Her voice boomed out as she strode, unopposed to meet Yunada: “COME TO ME AND KNOW DEATH!”

Yunada sprinted the final few yards as those still alive cowered behind wreckage or fell on the ground: “The Goddess will sustain me! The light will always pierce the dark!”

She stopped and spread her arms wide as if to embrace her foe. His blade left a flaming arc behind as it slashed across her chest to no avail. He struck again and again as she looked down, eyes blank, face cold and impassive: “You have failed, Yunada! Your hope in your goddess was in vain, and now you will go down into the dark!”

Yunada slashed and thrust and chopped wildly, desperately at his implacable, immovable opponent: “No! You lie! The light will always overcome the dark! The Goddess burns with the intensity of the sun herself, and--”

She let go her spear, which hovered next to her, and grabbed Yunada’s flaming blade mid-swing, crumpling it like paper: “Even the sun will die, fool! All things die in the end and return to the perfect, silent, cold, airless void of Eternity. Death is the only permanent victor!”

Yunada struggled to free his mutilated sword: “No! I will bask in her glory as--”

She released the warped shards of Yunada’s blackened blade with her left hand, and summoned her spear to-hand as she swung Gerrar’s sword around in a tight arc: “You will go now to Belzul and lament your fate. Give my regards to Nai’a!”

She drove Gerrar’s sword into Yunada’s chest with her right hand as her left brought her spear up under his jaw and out the top of his skull with a spurt of brain and blood and shattered bone.

The warlord’s body shuddered violently as his eyes rolled back and his limbs went slack. She released her grip on both weapons and took a step back, leaving his body hanging in the air like a forgotten puppet.

She jerked her sword free and strode back to Reaper’s lifeless body, scanning the battlefield, furrowing her brow for a moment as she noticed Colt and Reaper’s squire cowering nearby.

She turned back toward the stock pond and nodded, causing Yunada’s blood-drenched body to collapse to the ground: “Who will join him? Why do you wait? I promise all who come a swift, merciful death! Your lives will flicker out mere moments from now in any event!”

She spread her arms wide as the ghostly wings and flickering crown doubled in size and fearsomeness. She waved her hand at a fleeing pikeman who instantly fell face-first onto the bloody sward without a sound.

She rose several inches off the ground as bands of black energy coursed outward from her: “Come, all of you! I will give you your final peace, and we will make such a slaughter together that T'zarjāin himself must come!”

She threw her head back in ecstasy as another dozen fleeing soldiers collapsed: “And I will slay him in his turn and become Kur’s new God of Death!”

Suddenly a gnarled, faceless figure in a tattered grey cloak, propped-up by an ancient shepherd’s crook appeared behind her. She spun around as the figure reached out a bent claw, touching her on the forehead: “We think not.”

The light in her eyes was instantly extinguished, and she fell senseless to the ground next to Reaper, her right arm draped across his chest.