Forbidden Manor At The End Of Time : A Beatrix Belladonna Tale

It wasn't often that Beatrix Belladonna came to check on her prisoner. Trapped in a dead world, it seemed a cruel fate. However, she hoped that in time, her enemy's hatred for her had depleted somewhat.

The witch stepped forth from the bluish-white dimensional rift. Its presence hummed as it shimmered behind her before she touched down onto rocky terrain and the oval disappeared completely.

Her violet-eyed gaze scanned the barren earth, devoid of any life much like most planets trapped in this black void, forever to drift aimlessly in space. It wasn't much to look at. “Maybe in time, I can find a way to restore this planet from the Eldritch's damage,” she hopefully suggested with a rub of her chin.

As the daughter of Shining Armor and Trixie Lulamoon, she could have been her mother's twin. She swished back a platinum mane with light violet highlights that matched her richer purple skin and bright eyes.

Garbed in a cone-shaped wide-brimmed hat, cape clasped by a stylized eye she called her Prima Materia, fingerless gloves that came to her upper arms, a high-cut leotard that left her cleavage exposed and ended in a thong, and thigh-high boots that ended in heels, her costume was decorated to resemble an Ursa Minor's coat, all a nod to her mom's legacy who she strove to emulate.

Wandering about in circles, she peered about, trying to locate her prisoner. “Shadow Scythe? Helloooooooo~?” She cupped her hands about her mouth and repeatedly called out, but all that answered was an echo. “Must have ventured off to another part of the plain,” she sighed. "Better have a look around."

Her heels clicked into the rough ground with each step. An eerie wind swept over her, and she huddled her arms to herself and clenched her teeth, certain that Shadow Scythe couldn't have traveled far.

The last time she was here, the former reaper had been rendered powerless. Beatrix had even placed an enchantment that trapped her into a time loop should she wander too far from her cage. It would be cruel if Shadow Scythe weren't an immortal who didn't need any sustenance.

“Mmm, maybe I should have brought her a gift," she considered. "Lord knows how boring it must be to live here.... *Ahem.* I have a few books you can read!” The witch yelled out.

That was when she spotted a gothic mansion, floating ghost-like in the distance. Adorned by gargoyles that served as its guardians, it dominated a black sky, its oppressive surface the color of bone. "How did that get here?! Shadow Scythe shouldn't have been able to build a house!" She shivered, approaching the strange construction before her...only to be swept up off her feet. “W-whooaaaoh!” She floated skyward, weightless like gravity was no longer much of an issue.

The double doors creaked open. She sucked in a heavy breath, took the first step past the threshold. Gravity returned to normal upon her entry, and she attempted to settle in by inhaling and adjusting her hat, which sat sideways on her dome.

Part of her was tempted to slice another rift in the air and dip out. But she couldn't ignore the fact that an ominous-looking mansion now stood on this forsaken hunk of rock. Nor was there any trace of her prisoner.

Did Shadow Scythe find a way to manifest this house into being? “Should've known better than to underestimate her,” she mumbled and stepped into an expansive room.

A black fire crackled in the hearth. Twin staircases stretched ahead, a variety of furniture decorated the area, and the walls were adorned with various paintings. She noted some depicted various monsters, but no clues were given as to who might own this place. There were a few statues that depicted nude stallions and mares, each one a pinnacle of beauty, all of them beheaded.

A chandelier hung overhead, casting a dim light that made her shadows play across the interior. She spotted a banquet hall ahead, complete with a lengthy table where an apparently untouched feast waited, surrounded by rows of lit candelabra.

The doors slammed shut with a thud. She tried the knobs only for them to rattle. Part of her was tempted to simply channel magic through her unicorn horn and blast it open. Instead, she tried kicking it open futilely before giving up with a flustered groan.

Maybe this wasn't something the former reaper conjured and instead tricked her into coming inside like it had Beatrix. And if that was the case, the witch couldn't abandon her here, regardless of her crimes.

With a spin of her heels, she faced the interior with newfound courage. She was an adventurer, after all! She often traveled to different dimensions to see the sights and maybe learn more about herself along the way. She also made many friends and allies that she helped out. This was no different!

She approached the feast, ignoring the rumble of her tummy—no clue what would happen if she indulged herself. Although the choice was made for her on her approach, the meals aging before her eyes, rotting and cobwebs falling, the air filled with a putrid, rancid stench that made her snout crinkle. “Ugh, gross!” She wrenched, waving away the flies that buzzed over the decaying meat.

Clasping her cape around her, she dashed out into another room and slammed the door behind her with her rump. Another corridor loomed ahead; this was decorated by an embroidered carpet and full suits of shiny armor that carried halberds.

She paused, and her heart skipped, wondering if they would suddenly spring to life and attack her. Balling up her fists, she made tentative steps that resounded, ready to lose her magic at a moment's notice to defend herself. She also considered the smoke bombs and tubes in the hidden sleeves of her cloak, each which contained a concoction she'd created through alchemy.

Reaching the hall's end, she stopped to breathe a sigh of relief, only to freeze up when a rattle sounded behind her. Clanks sounded from the mass of metal that marched after her, and she burst into a mad dash, choosing a room at random and shutting herself in...only to wonder if she had intentionally been herded here. “Grr, gotta get a grip. The house is just weird and trying to scare you! Be an adult!" She urged herself.

At least the eerie sounds subsided. The room was pitch black before she lit up her hands with magic, illumination revealing a vast library. The shelves were lined with nearly every type of book she could imagine, a treasure trove of endless knowledge that made her eyes sparkle.

Cautious yet curious, she removed a tome, blowing off the cover, and opened it.

"This could be useful down the line! Ugh, why haven't I come across this before?" She wondered before losing herself in reading, almost oblivious to the dangers looming around her. And how could she not, given how rare a break she gets during her quests?

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice said, cutting through her immersion and making the witch jump.

Huddling in the corner was a mare clad in tattered white robes lined in a black outline and bandages. Her mane was corpse pale white, her skin a deathly blue hue. Icy eyes leered from underneath her hood.

“Shadow Scythe! There you are," Beatrix exclaimed with a flourish of her waved hand. "I could ask you the same thing! Did you build this creepy house?"

“Have you forgotten how powerless you rendered me?” The former reaper answered with open bitterness. While a horn still sat on the unicorn's temple, the mare hadn't been able to conjure even the weakest of spells since her humiliating defeat. “Ugh, who am I kidding? Of course, you'd get stuck here with how childish and stubborn you are..."

“Hey! Childish as I am, I still bested you in combat," Beatrix glared, resting a palm on her hip while snapping the tome shut. "But that's beside the point. I've busted my way out of tighter situations, and I'll get us out of this haunted mansion. You'll see~."

The pale mare let out a dry chuckle. “What are you going to do, exorcize this whole household? You're out of your league, Belladonna. For me, I could have ended this whole 'paranormal activity' nonsense had my powers not been stripped. Oh no, humiliating me wasn't enough, was it? You had to take everything and keep me locked here like some house pet! I'd sooner die than let you rescue me!”

Beatrix frowned, feeling a little guilty over the manner of Shadow Scythe's defeat. “Maybe I got carried away, but after all the power you stole, you can't blame me for your own shortcomings! Besides, you make it sound like it's too late to turn around. I think, with enough time, you'll be able to return with a better outlook on life. Maybe even in a world different from your own!"

Shadow Scythe only glared more harshly at her captor. “You think I'll just accept that? What gives you the moral high ground? It wouldn't matter if I saw anyone again. Not when you're out there, traveling between dimensions and interfering, damaging and altering who knows how many lives! And yet, I'm the one who gets punished?! You can boast and proclaim all you want, Belladonna. Your selfish actions will cause the universe to unravel eventually...if it hasn't already,” she spat, rising up over the violet mare with a snarl on her muzzle.

“You think I don't know that?” Beatrix muttered, unable to tear away from her wrathful gaze. But how was she to know all the potential consequences of her actions and not dwell on them?

She traced the swirling cosmos cutie mark on her flank, certain that she must have been granted the ability to cut holes through dimensions for a reason. She assured herself she wasn't simply a tool to the Necronomicon or the Demiurge; that abomination once contained below her flesh. It took her so much grief to finally be rid of it, and even then, it still haunted her.

“Pfft, whatever. Doesn't change the fact that we're stuck here together. Potentially forever. Just fucking perfect,” said Shadow Scythe, crossing her arms together.

“We'll find a way out, I'm sure of it. Maybe there's a clue in one of these books. Now let's see...” Beatrix returned the book to its shelf and turned her back, lost in thought.

What she didn't notice was that Shadow Scythe momentarily ducked behind a shelf and recovered a scythe she'd hidden there, a weapon she'd taken from what appeared to be a dungeon below the manor. Its steel blade glimmered, casting a silhouette with her hooded and cloaked figure that made her look like death itself.

Silently she inched over; the blade raised high, ready to behead her hated nemesis.

Only this time, Belladonna wouldn't have the Demiurge to save her. Nor could her friends interfere.

A whoosh sounded. The blade scythed the air. Beatrix shrieked and stumbled back onto her bottom, a few threads of her hair cut and cast about, barely able to evade the blow on instinct more by dumb luck than skill.

Her aura seized Shadow Scythe, pinned her, and she used her magic to toss the scythe aside with a clang. “Should have known you'd tried something so brash,” muttered Beatrix, who stumbled to her feet and dusted herself off. “What am I going to do with you? We can't work together like this.”

“Work together?! Why would I work with the likes of you!?” Railed the former reaper. "You've kept me here as a trophy, to feel better about yourself when you're reminded of the fact that you're a terrible person."

“That's not true! I'm not here to mock you, really! I'm...I'm worried about you,” Beatrix insisted, unable to stop feeling responsible for the former reaper.

Guilt always ate away at her for forcing to condemn another to a life of isolation. Yet what other options did she really have? To let her roam free would be catastrophic.

"Oh, save it for someone interested in your lousy get-up," Shadow Scythe spat. "You disgust me."

Beatrix felt the urge to fling her across the library but relented on her magical hold with a sigh. “You remind me so much of my sister. She used to hate me, too. But after long fights and battles against the Eldritch and Sombra, we managed to break through some thick-layered walls."

“Well, I'm not your sister. And I have no intention of becoming your friend,” assured the former reaper.

Beatrix's face hardened. "Perhaps not, but I'm not gonna give that up! Maybe one day, you'll learn to put your animosity aside. Who knows, you might become a better person once you release all that anger," she suggested, planting hands on her hips.

Stubbornness was a trait she took from her parents, refusing to surrender, no matter what setbacks befell them. There must be some way to release this haunted mansion from its curse, and she would attack its halls until she somehow made it inhabitable!

At least this area appeared to be a sanctuary of sorts. Shadow Scythe, rugged as she looked, wasn't inflicted by harm.

She turned to explore the manor further before Shadow Scythe called out, “Wait...” Beatrix hesitated at the door turning back to the reaper, who was digging her nails into her palms with how tightly her fists clutched. “...a ditz like you isn't gonna last long, not without someone watching your sorry ass.”

“Hey, I'll have you know this ass survived a lot worse than this~!” She chimed back, a smile tracing her lips. At least now, she had a little more muscle to work with, seeing as physical bouts were always her weakest suite. "Why the second thoughts?"

“What else do I have to lose?” The reaper responded as robes shuffled behind the witch. "Besides which, I'm the only real strength you've got."

Beatrix rubbed her chin. As much as she wanted Shadow's help, she obviously still hated her and wouldn't hesitate should the opportunity arise to kill her. She really hoped redemption was possible for the former reaper, as she didn't want to live with more regrets. “Well, since you're so fascinated by my cute lil' butt,” she teased, wiggling her bottom with a swish. “I'll leave you to protect it. But at the first sign of treachery, I'll-”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Shadow Scythe seethed, resting the shaft of her scythe onto her shoulder. “I'll settle the score with you after we get out.”

“Still, better be safe than sorry. We'll need a condition.” Reaching into her cape's inner lining, Beatrix searched the hidden sleeves sewn into them and produced a corked tube, its contents bubbly and sparkly. “A little concoction I whipped up thanks to my half-sister Flurry Heart. Think of it as 'insurance'. If you're coming along to help me, you'll have to drink this first!”

Shadow Scythe took the glass, studying it with narrowed eyes. “What is this, poison?”

“Oh please, like I'd poison an immortal! Just drink it, it won't hurt! 'Course, if you want the details, I'll list all the ingredients I found to make it, plus the methods in which best to-"

“Alright, I'll do it! Just shut up already,” she growled, biting off the cork before giving a small whiff of the contents. Scrunching her snout, the pale mare drank it down in one gulp before tossing the tube back...only for it to bounce off midair and strike an invisible blow to her breast, pushing her back. A shatter sounded where the tube hit the floor, reduced to shards. “What the hell?!"

“Think of it as a hex. Misused, it comes back on the caster three times. So if you ever get the urge to backstab me, you'll just triple the recoil damage you'll receive! Nifty, huh~?” She teased, batting her eyes back at her.

“Genius,” the reaper deadpanned with a roll of her eyes. “Anything else you want to torment me with?”

Beatrix ignored her, whistling and planting hands on her wide hips, obviously pleased as she rocked on her heels. “Just be ready to fight. We'll probably be attacked the moment I open the door.” A nod met her, and her hand clasped the knob.

Gradually the door creaked open, her horn already lit by a spell, but a glance down the hallway revealed it was now empty. She and her new partner stepped out, spotting a series of closed rooms all around them. “Hmm, this will be tricky to figure out. Which door should we try first?”

“I don't think it matters. Given that this is a haunted house, each door could just lead to more grueling traps or tricks.”

Beatrix nodded. “Just like the Necronomicon's interior. A labyrinth of layered parallel dimensions where eldritch abominations lurk.” Choosing the closest door on a whim, she pushed it open, her horn still alight in preparation.

Rather than a scene out of a nightmare like they expected, they emerged into what appeared to be some sort of barracks, not unlike the one her father Shining Armor had trained his soldiers in. Crates packed with supplies and sandbags lined the otherwise spartan floors, the walls decorated by a variety of stylized weapons and armors.

Portions were decorated by heraldry that recalled her late father's army, Shining's Force, and runes lined several arsenals to bolster their natural attributes. A thunk sounded somewhere ahead. “What the-”

“Someone's here,” cut in Shadow Scythe, who sidled forward, weapon raised and ready to behead whoever lurked here.

“Wait!” Beatrix threw herself into her path. “I-I think I know this stallion!” She recalled a paradise planet overrun with lush flora, where clothes were forbidden. “Midnight Blitzer?! Hey, it's me, Beatrix!”

The pegasus, clad in a simple set of light armor, paused between his pokes at a training dummy, lowered his spear, and turned with a breezy smile. “H-hey! It's been a while!” A draft-type stallion met them, his coat blue with a darker, spiky mane. His wingspan loomed far wider than usual, even tucked at his back, while golden rings decorated his wrists and ankles. Emerald eyes twinkled innocence, his form well-toned by compact muscles. “Who's your friend?”

“Shadow Scythe, and I am not her friend,” she sneered. “Don't tell me you plan to take him with us?”

“Why not? He's a skilled soldier, and he might have trained under my father's regime,” Beatrix suggested. It appeared behind each chamber was a manifestation warped to suit the psyche of whoever it trapped. His innate innocence acted as a barrier to the curses that suffused the mansion. “Actually, he might be perfect for several reasons! You'll see~! Won't you come with us, Midnight?”

He saluted them. “Always ready for duty! Not sure exactly how I ended up here, but I've been making the most of it. Got to keep in shape! The truth is, I couldn't break down the door no matter how many times I tried. It's like there's a barrier keeping me inside! Might have been stuck there if you hadn't come along! So, uh, where are we headed?”

“You'll see,” assured Beatrix, thankful to see a familiar face. Someone that, unlike the former reaper, she could trust.

She reasoned that the mansion somehow moved between dimensions and swallowed the oblivious stallion up, who naively went with the flow, and that there were likely more like him trapped within these walls, waiting to be rescued.

At least his innocence acted as a shield, one that could potentially be exploited to save them all. From what she recalled, he grew up without a family and still retained a pleasant demeanor despite his hardships.

Midnight peeked out the still-open door. “Yikes! This place sure is strange and creepy looking.”

“I've seen worse,” insisted Beatrix while following behind. "Still, better to keep on our toes!"

Shadow Scythe shook her head, face shadowed by her hood. “Of all the people to end up with..."

However, the moment the trio emerged back in the hall; they immediately encountered the cluster of armored suits that snapped to attention, each one sleek and shining. They clanked and closed in, weapons at the ready.

A war cry sounded from Midnight, who unfurled his wings and charged in to protect them, moving at such rapid speeds when he sped off the ground his spear tip pierced the breastplate of a suit and knocked it over with a clank. He immediately turned on another attacker, teeth bared in determination.

A swish of Shadow Scythe's sickle chopped another armored suit in two. Pieces of metal rattled, rendered impotent.

Beatrix backed them up using rapid-fire spells she worked through her horn, hands, and chants out her lips. A raised invisible barrier deflected an ax in a shower of sparks. Her aura bowled their opponents over and into each other. She watched her allies dodge and counter, wisps of ghostly entities with their faced twisted into grotesque mockeries escaping their metal prisons.

Magical explosions erupted. Shards of metal were cast about like shrapnel, contained by the witch's aura before they could do any harm. Midnight took flight the best he could in the confined hall, diving and stabbing, backed by Shadow Scythe, who used the soldier as a distraction to close the gap and help carve through armor in a shower of sparks and a metallic hiss.

Within minutes they downed the last one. A sweat-beaded Beatrix huffed and asked, “Everyone okay?”

“Pft,” Shadow Scythe scoffed, kicking a helmet she removed executioner-style with a precise stroke. “Lightweight.”

“All clear here!” Midnight touched down and folded his wings about him like a cloak, the spear grasped in his fist. At worst, he'd lost a few feathers but was otherwise unharmed. “That was amazing! You two did great!” He beamed wide and whistled.

“See that? Look what happens when we actually fight together,” proclaimed Beatrix with a flourish of her cape.

“Don't push it,” snapped back the reaper who knelt and studied the downed armor. “Each of these was cursed and embedded with tortured souls, probably by the manor itself. That might make this entire place a sentient, malevolent entity.” She called upon her knowledge as a ferry mare for Equestria, tasked to judge the deceased who were once saved or damned by her judgments.

“Could be! Glad to see you're still putting that old knowledge to use,” noted Beatrix, certain her study of the supernatural rivaled and, in many respects, surpassed her own. Sure, she'd seen quite a bit of the occult but had only dabbled into certain areas, whereas the reaper had lost herself in the dark arts in her relentless pursuit of more power.

“I've devoured most of the library here,” admitted Shadow Scythe. “Not much to do when you're bored as all hell.”

“Well, that's odd,” said Midnight, who studied the reaper's horn. “Why not just use a spell to get out of here?”

“Can't when your friend here rendered me a liability in the magic department,” Shadow sneered, glaring at the witch. “I could fly right out pf this place otherwise.” She attempted to weave a simple spell, only to be met by tiny sparks that popped about her horn.

“Well, I'm sure she had her reasons,” he replied with a sympathetic frown. “At least you're not completely defenseless with that weapon to fall back on!"

“Don't flatter me, kid. I'll choose a door this time,” decided Shadow Scythe, who impatiently picked another at random.

The cool chill of the halls was immediately replaced by a sensuous warmth that washed over the troika. Illumination spilled out.

Cautiously they followed her in. None of them could have anticipated what awaited them on the other side.

It appeared to be a bathhouse of sorts, the floors and walls a once polished ivory white now splattered in a myriad of psychedelic neon paint, soaked in moisture that spilled over under each subdued splash, the drip-drop of water echoing in a spacious tub.

Steam rose in wispy vapors that enshrouded them. Dyed bubbles floated around them.

Nor were they alone.