“Twilight Sparkle. Alicorn. Age 27. Cause of death: train crash in the Smoky Mountains on April 14, 1006, 2:08 PM.”
Not exactly the most reassuring of phrases.
Twilight felt odd. Like she should be aching, but wasn’t. In fact, she felt more relaxed than she had ever been in her life. That was especially strange, given the train-
The train crash.
Her eyes snapped open and she jumped to her feet, spinning around to get a look at- But the mountain was nowhere in sight. The train was nowhere in sight. The other passengers were nowhere in sight. Everything was nowhere in sight. Her last memory was of being in a train car tumbling down the mountainside after it derailed. Apparently, this was the afterlife.
“I beg pardon.”
Well, one thing was in sight. Standing in the colorless expanse before her was an old-ish unicorn. Pallid off-white coat, straight black mane and tail. No cutie mark. She looked pretty, but she wasn’t Twilight’s type. Twilight wondered if everypony saw her as “pretty, but not my type”. The Reaper bowed, but it was that small inclination of the head that was a gesture of mild respect rather than of fealty. “Greetings, Princess.” Her voice was cultured but distant, like it was at the far end of a speaking-tube.
“Um.” Exactly how were you supposed to greet the Reaper when she said that? “Hi, Ms. Reaper.” Twilight tentatively waved. She looked around again, as if something else had appeared. She was feeling a lot less anxiety than she’d have expected from, well, dying. Maybe that was part of the process. “It’s really not that fair,” she said, mostly to herself. “I spend the last few years risking life and limb weekly- no, just monthly. But still. All that, and I die from a train crash?”
“Perhaps not.”
Twilight whipped around again. The Reaper was watching her like she was a mildly interesting painting. She opened her mouth to ask what that meant, then her brain kicked in and instead she asked, “So this is that thing where my life is hanging in the balance but I get to play chess with you for my soul, right?”
“No. This is that thing where you would be dead and gone already but you’re an alicorn and are allowed certain privileges I set down long ago and you get to play chess with me for your soul.”
“Could…” Twilight took a few steps forward. “…you explain that?”
If the Reaper was annoyed, she didn’t show it. “Many centuries ago,” she said, “during Discord’s reign, Celestia and Luna stood up against him. And against power such as his, they died.”
Twilight pursed her lips as her eyes grew huge. Celestia had never mentioned anything like that.
“Now, I…” The Reaper flicked her tail, but her face remained expressionless. “I… did not… do not… like Discord. I recognized that they were the best chance against him. And so I altered my usual procedures slightly. Any sophont can play me in a game of their choosing if their death is not so certain. Celestia and Luna were alicorns, beings with access to higher forms of existence, so in spite of their deaths having already happened, I allowed them a second chance. As you might have guessed, they won. My faith in them proved well-founded, as they soon defeated Discord. And now, all alicorns have that right by default: to come back from any death whatsoever if I am bested.”
“So…” Twilight frowned and rustled her wings. “Celestia and Luna have cheated death for so long,” she muttered to herself, “because the Reaper doesn’t like Discord?”
The Reaper tutted. “Hardly. Celestia and Luna did not cheat in the slightest. They won fair and square. Although otherwise, yes. Now-”
A chill ran down Twilight’s spine. “Wait, wait, hold on,” she said, waving her hooves. “What about everypony else on the train? Are… Are they going to be okay?”
“Most ponies survived,” said the Reaper. “Eleven others did not.” She said it like she was reading it off a grocery list. Of course she would.
“And do they get this chance, too?”
“They have already died and they are not alicorns.”
Twilight wanted to protest, but what was the point? Death was death, and it was impartial (unless you were an alicorn, apparently). She wasn’t going to win anything by arguing. By playing chess, on the other hoof… Struggling to keep thoughts of the other dead from her mind, Twilight said, “Okay. Alright then. So when do we start?”
The Reaper gestured just a few yards to the side was a table, chairs, and chessboard that hadn’t been there a few moments earlier. “You may have white.”
The game progressed in an unnatural silence, so complete Twilight could hear the hairs of her mane brushing against each other. She and the Reaper moved their pieces, one after the other, and made little sound. Except for the pieces against the board.
Clack.
Each piece fell with deceptive force and a strange loudness, but there were no echoes. For all Twilight knew, the concept of echoes didn’t even exist here; technically speaking, the air she was breathing probably wasn’t air, so there were no soundwaves, so… Maybe the volume was just her imagination.
Clack.
Twilight did her best to keep her mind on the game, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was playing against a blinkered genius. The Reaper rarely hesitated when moving her pieces, but it was rare that she took one of Twilight’s unless Twilight started it. She blocked movement with ease, but rarely pressed the attack. Maybe she was gauging Twilight’s playing style. Maybe this was all some kind of long gambit she was slowly setting up.
Clack.
But she wasn’t losing at the moment, so Twilight wasn’t complaining.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
…Clack.
Clack.
“You’re very quiet,” said Twilight. Clack.
“As are you,” the Reaper responded. Clack. When she moved her pieces, her magic aura didn’t have any color whatsoever.
“Oh.” Twilight’s wings twitched and her ears went back. “Right. Sorry.” Clack. “It’s just… what would we talk about?”
“I cannot blame you,” said the Reaper. “Death is not a welcome topic in most cultures.” …Clack.
“And that affects you?” Twilight asked. “I would think-” But she cut herself off before she said anything more insensitive.
“…More than it ought,” said the Reaper. She didn’t look up, instead intently inspecting the board. “Mortals fear what they do not understand, the pale of death most of all. Precious few first react to me with anything but shock or horror. I escort them onward, and never again do I see them. Sophonts of all kinds pass me by, and I can never know them. It can be… draining. Even for one such as I.”
“I’m sorry,” said Twilight. Clack. The Reaper, experiencing ennui. Huh.
“Thank you.” Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Twilight cleared her throat. What kind of afterlife was this that she still needed to clear her throat? “Is this difficult for you? Being… a… pony like this.” She vaguely gestured at the Reaper’s body. “You’re really some abstract being I can’t fully understand, right?” Clack.
The Reaper looked up, frowning. “You wish to know?”
“I’m curious,” said Twilight. She shrugged. “And since you’re short on conversation, I figured I might as well give you some.”
The Reaper went deathly still (ha ha), her brow furrowed. Then she said, “In truth, I am far beyond what you can hope to comprehend. When the first microscopic bacterium started wiggling in its primordial ooze, I was waiting. I shall be waiting for the final living thing in the universe to breathe its last, however many countless eons in the future that is.”
“I figured.” Close enough to the equine mind to communicate like this or not, how else could a psychopomp work? The Reaper was undoubtedly beyond time and space and whatever other dimensions there were. “So being pony-like…”
“It is… unusual, but of no great difficulty. I am not as limited in this form as I may look.” The Reaper was still staring at Twilight, which might’ve been off-putting if she weren’t so confused. “This is but a small part of me.”
“I see.” Twilight faked a cough. “You know it’s your move, right?”
“Hmm? Ah, yes.” …Clack.
“So how did you… I don’t know, begin? Come to be?” asked Twilight. Clack.
“I never began. Once, I wasn’t. And then, I was.” Clack.
“Really.” Why was she surprised anymore? Twilight grabbed a rook in her magic and began testing moves, but her mind was only barely in the game. “When life began, I’m guessing?”
“Yes. Where life does not exist, neither can death exist. And so I wasn’t. When life was, so was I. Is that so different from you being born?”
“W-well, I… guess not.” Actually, yes, in a lot of ways. But Twilight knew she was out of her depth and would probably get debated under the table if she tried talking. She moved her rook to a certain space. No, that wouldn’t do at all. “Did you know what you were supposed to do once you were?”
“I did not know it any more than your eyes know how to see. It is what I do.”
“Huh. Interesting.” Not really thinking, her mind caught up in the idea of instinctively knowing something, Twilight chose a move half at random, dropping her rook next to her king to head off a potential attack by a knight.
The Reaper’s colorless glow surrounded her queen, and Twilight realized, to her horror, that she’d made a grave mistake. Once the Reaper moved the queen two spaces over, Twilight’s king would be in check and, hemmed in by her own pieces, blocking moves were limited. The Reaper could force Twilight’s hoof as she saw fit, as long as she kept moving Twilight’s king into check. It was almost over and Twilight had lost.
“Why chess?” Twilight asked suddenly.
The queen froze in the air. The Reaper looked at Twilight. “Hmm?”
“Why is chess the game you play?” repeated Twilight. “Just- out of curiosity.”
The unnatural silence fell again. The Reaper looked at the queen and twirled it. Eventually, she sighed. “It is… expected. I’ve no particular fondness or aversion to the game. It is simply what ponies wish to play, if only out of tradition. Celestia and Luna selected it their first time and I suppose the stories grew from there.” She set the queen on the board, slowly tapping it. “Any game is an option. Every now and then, somepony realizes that and requests a different game.” She chuckled. “A fair number of them have suggested Twister.”
“So I could’ve said we should play Cloud Nine? Or Chineghse checkers?”
“Or backgammon, or Clue, or Go, or some variation of mancala, or whatever game you wished,” said the Reaper. “I am always open to suggestions.” She plucked the queen up again and moved it two spaces over.
“Oh,” said Twilight. She kept staring at the queen, knowing that once the Reaper let go of it, it was only a matter of time before-
The Reaper moved the queen another space over and captured one of Twilight’s pawns. “And time is irrelevant here, so it matters not how long the game would take,” she said, moving the pawn to the side of the board. “Gygallop desired a session of Ogres & Oubliettes with win/lose conditions.” The corners of her mouth quirked slightly, as if she were recalling some fond memory. “A rather long session. It would have taken several moons in real time.”
Twilight continued, staring at the queen. The Reaper… hadn’t missed that move… had she? “Was it a fun session?”
“It began slowly, but by the end, it was most enjoyable. Gygallop lost, but he was proud to have gone down fighting.”
Twilight kept staring at the queen. She wasn’t anything special, cosmically speaking, so why had the Reaper not put her into check? She’d obviously seen it; she was too skilled to have not seen it. Maybe she-
“Did you have something to add? Or are you thinking?”
“Oh, um-” Twilight’s wings twitched. “Thinking.” About a lot. Loneliness. Duty. Conversations. Playing time. Hmm. She moved her rook over a few spaces, just enough to prepare to capture the Reaper’s queen in case she moved it back. It was all Twilight could think of as her mind raced. Was the Reaper trying to drag the game out?
“Might I ask about what?” The Reaper moved a pawn up.
“You know,” Twilight said vaguely. “Just what sort of games you might want to play, how good you’d be at them, that sort of thing.” She decided to gamble. “Oh, and…” She moved her white-square bishop forward and left a space. “Check.” The Reaper could block the check with her own white-square bishop… or take the bishop with her rook and place Twilight in checkmate in the space of two turns.
Twilight was well aware that her life was on the line, but she was feeling good about this.
The Reaper’s eyes flitted over the board, taking it in. “Not bad,” she said. Her horn began glowing. Twilight held her breath.
“But not good, either.” The Reaper moved her bishop to block Twilight’s.
Hypothesis: confirmed. Twilight managed to hide a grin. Diverting the Reaper’s attention (not that it was needed, anymore), she asked, “So have you gotten good at chess? You’ve had millennia to practice, after all.” Clack. “But if you’re too good, you’ll win one way or another, so there’s no point to the game.”
“I match my skill with whomever I face,” said the Reaper. “Immortality is not a certainty for grandmasters.” She waved a hoof dismissively. Clack.
“Good thing there isn’t a Princess of Chess, though, right?” Twilight grinned. Clack.
The corners of the Reaper’s mouth twitched. “No. Indeed not.” Clack.
“…You’re a transcendent being. Do you know if a Princess of Chess is even possible?” Clack.
The Reaper was blinkered, but she was so deliberately. All of her moves were based on extending the length of the game, with actually winning being an afterthought. And the more Twilight talked, the less aggressive the Reaper’s moves became. And when Twilight held off on taking pieces, the Reaper’s answers grew longer.
But Twilight had to press the advantage. She couldn’t stay here, playing chess, forever, even if it was a “place” outside of time. Eventually, she heard herself saying, “Checkmate.”
“Mmhmm.” The Reaper barely glanced at the board, like she’d expected the result. “An excellent game. Your life is won.” A big oak door materialized next to them, light streaming out of its cracks. “You may return to the living whenever you are ready.”
Twilight slowly got out of her chair. “Thank for the chance,” she said, bowing, “thank you for the game, and thank you for the conversation.”
The Reaper blinked. “You are most welcome.”
As she reached for the door handle, Twilight’s thoughts were a mixture of elated and morbid. She was fine, true, but would she wake up in a train car filled with the dead? What was she going to say about it? That she was alive bec-
And then Twilight got an idea. She spun around. “Can I play for the dead passengers? All eleven of them.”
One of the Reaper’s ears twitched. “…Pardon?” she asked, as if the question had never been posed before. Her voice echoed even more than usual.
Her voice full of confidence, Twilight blazed on. “You said I’d be dead already if you hadn’t allowed me that game,” she said. She got back in the chair, as if the Reaper had already made her decision. “So maybe you can keep them alive, too, if I play the game and win. I’m Equestria’s Princess of Friendship. It only makes sense. Please?” she added hopefully.
For half a second, the Reaper’s eyes brightened. “I cannot argue with that,” she said. “But I must insist on-”
“-one game for one life?” said Twilight. “I was expecting that. I mean, I’m nopony special, cosmically speaking. Even if I can play for my friends, I shouldn’t get special treatment for them.”
The Reaper’s mouth twitched. “Then we are of one mind. Excellent. Chess?”
“Chess.”
And the board was reset.
Three ponies won. None lost. Eight remaining.
“What deaths do you remember?” asked Twilight. Clack.
“All of them,” responded the Reaper. “If you are asking of particularly noteworthy ones, none you have heard of.” Clack.
“Try me.” Clack.
“Azure Glass of Alto Reál.” Clack. “Check.”
“…Who of Where?” …Clack.
“It is an old pegasus town on an island in the Celestial Sea. She died over a century ago saving ponies from a changeling posing as Celestia.” Clack. “She wasn’t even part of your Guard. Check.”
“Posing… as… That’s a big deal! I would’ve read about it!” …Clack. “Are you just pulling my leg?”
“It is a relatively insular society. The news almost never left the island and was dismissed as a fanciful story when it did leave.” Clack. The Reaper removed Twilight’s queen. “Check.”
“I can see that. I guess.” Clack. “Checkmate.”
“I encourage you to read The Deceivers by one Large Type. Most comprehensive, if a bit, ah… dated in its mentality.” The Reaper swept the board clean and set it up again, choosing black.
“You read?” Clack.
Six ponies won. None lost. Five remaining.
“How often do you see Celestia and Luna?” Clack. “If at all.”
“Not often in Celestia’s case. Four times since the first.” Clack. The Reaper removed a bishop from the board.
“And Luna’s?” Clack.
“Twice since she returned from the moon.” Clack.
“…Twice? Already?” Clack.
“I suspect knowing there is a safety net makes her more reckless.” Clack.
“Only if she can beat you in chess.” Clack.
“Says the one who has never played her in chess.” Clack. The Reaper removed a rook from the board. “She is… intense.”
“Well, that sounds like Luna.” Clack. “Checkmate.”
The Reaper swept the pieces from the board and set them back up, choosing white. “And why else would you think she managed to very near die twice in the past few years?” Clack.
Ten ponies won. None lost. One remaining.
“So what’s the afterlife like?” asked Twilight.
“Nothing you can imagine.” Clack.
“Try me.” Clack.
“Can you explain color to the blind, a symphony to the deaf? Neither can I explain death to the living. One must have a point of reference first.”
“…If that’s a cop-out, you’re really good at it.”
“Perhaps.” Clack. “Perhaps not.”
“Although it makes sense.” Clack. “Checkmate.”
The Reaper’s eyes flitted over the board. “Indeed.” She heaved a sigh. “Very well. As agreed, those eleven souls shall return to the living with you. You play well.”
“Thank you. You do, too.” Yet Twilight didn’t move from her chair. “But before I go, I’d like to play one more game.”
The Reaper blinked. “For what? You have nothing more to win.”
“For fun. You seem lonely. You’ve been dragging these games out so you can talk to me, haven’t you? This is the most conversation you’ve had in… ever, for all I know, and I’m not afraid of you like most other ponies. Maybe you gave Celestia and Luna the chance to go back so you could have some company and the fact that they are alicorns was just the excuse.”
Silence reigned as pony and psychopomp looked at each other. “Do you suppose I need it?” the Reaper asked emotionlessly. “I have existed as long as life itself has, regardless of how intelligent that life is. I am accustomed to solitude. Worry not about me. Live your own life. You have no reason to tarry.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” Twilight tilted her head. “And that’s not a ‘no’.”
Finally, the Reaper smiled. “Your title is most fitting. Very well. One game.”
The Reaper’s strategy had changed. Maybe she wasn’t as unsympathetic towards ponies as she made herself out to be. Compared to her earlier games, she was definitely playing to win. She was more aggressive, more subtle, more roundabout, always pushing. Twilight found herself losing pieces more quickly before she adjusted.
But just because the Reaper had (probably) let her win didn’t mean Twilight was going to let her win.
“You sounded almost embarrassed when admitting you were lonely,” said Twilight. “Why?” Clack.
“I am, quite literally, a force of nature. It is… unbecoming.”
“Are there others like you?”
“In a sense. Not in any way you could comprehend.” Clack. The Reaper took one of Twilight’s knights.
“I suppose embarrassment was the best way my mind could process whatever you were going through?”
“To a certain degree. It is not wrong, but it lacks nuance.”
“Bummer.” Clack. Twilight took the Reaper’s queen. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can get to your level so we can have a proper conversation, is there?”
“Not that I am aware of. Possibly.”
“Maybe I can figure it out when I’m back in Equestria.”
“Knowing you? It would not be surprising.” Clack. “Hmm.”
Twilight looked over the board. She had her king and a rook. The Reaper had her own king and rook, plus a bishop. Not many possible ways for either of them to make checkmate. She could’ve offered a draw, but instead said, “I concede.” She tipped her king over.
“Concession accepted.” The board and table vanished. The Reaper crossed her chest with a leg and bowed deeply to Twilight. “I thank you for your time.”
“It was nothing,” said Twilight.
“And yet you are the first person to offer it. May your life be fruitful and may your influence outlive you.”
“Um. Thank you.” Twilight half-bowed back to the Reaper.
The door was waiting for her. When Twilight opened it up, pure white light poured out of it. She experienced sensations she hadn’t realized she’d been missing: the soft hiss of wind, grass on her hooves, the smell of the air. She put a hoof through it and felt like she was stepping from a snowdrift into a warm shower.
One step away from life, Twilight turned back. “Hey!”
The Reaper looked over.
“It won’t be for a while, but… see you later.”
Everything went white as the Reaper chuckled. “Indeed. Eventually.”
