Lest There Be Light

Chapters

Season.
Kafkaesque.
Responsibility.
Seek.
Ambivalent.
Climax.
Doubt?
Hazard.

Season.

Observe Obsidian Obelisk; an esteemed, though lesser known associate of the legendary Star Swirl the Bearded, considered by some to be his right-brain counterpart. Whereas Star Swirl was a gifted stallion that revolutionized spellcraft in all its forms, Obelisk was born a lowly goat with an affinity for charcoal and paint. Through observation of the natural world, Obelisk discovered and popularized the laws of perspective during a time when art was almost reviled. His charcoal sketches of the city and the countryside were breathtakingly detailed, lifelike almost to a fault. His anatomical drawings were likewise flawless, lovingly highlighting each muscle and curve of his models. Star Swirl’s protégé and one of the future founders of Equestria, Clover the Clever, encountered Obelisk on one of the latter’s excursions. As a goat, Obsidian had grown accustomed to being discriminated against by the equines, and was surprised when the colt purchased one of his paintings.

Star Swirl took an interest in Obsidian Obelisk upon seeing the painting Clover the Clever brought back, and offered to sponsor the goat’s continuing education. With Star Swirl’s substantial financial aid, Obelisk transitioned to a study of sculpture. In time, he made a name for himself with exhibitions at several prestigious galleries. At the height of his career, Obelisk could do no wrong. His most famous piece is the “Great Fall”, a massive mural done on the south wall of Muzzlechusetts center plaza. This piece was a subtle commentary on the practices of the corrupt aristocracy of the time. Shortly after completing the mural, Obelisk fell mysteriously ill. Medicine was still in its nascent stages and Obelisk wisely stopped his doctors before they literally bled him dry. These days it’s believed that his illness was either gallstones or cancer of the pancreas. Obelisk knew that his death was near; his letters to Star Swirl confirm this much. His last few paintings and sketches were hideous, depicting evil-looking beings and bizarre landscapes the likes of which had not been seen before or since. Obsidian Obelisk died alone and in terrific pain, leaving no descendants.

***

Years in the future, perhaps a millennium, perhaps longer still, an introverted young mare was reading the black goat’s biography. This mare, a unicorn with a lavender coat, was rather special; unique, in fact, in that she was the bearer of the Element of Magic. Not only that, but this particular unicorn was also the personal student to Princess Celestia who was of course, in spite of her title, the undisputed monarch of the kingdom of Equestria. (Or one of the sibling diarchs, as the case may be.) We’ll call this aforementioned unicorn Twilight Sparkle.

As usual in this time of year, we find Twilight in the large hollow tree that serves as the library of Ponyville and her home. The windows of the ‘building’ were frosted over, obscuring the view of the outside. A dreary affair by all accounts, winter. In times like these, it was easy for Twilight to forget that an outside world existed at all. What lay beyond the icy glass? Did the answer matter, really? Meanwhile, the gloom crept in, pooling in the corners. Princess Celestia raised the sun for shorter and shorter periods as the land approached that darkest of days, the winter solstice. Even the candles seemed somehow dimmer these days, and Twilight could not say why. It was during these seasons with their brief days and their freezing nights that Twilight tended to wax introspective and ponder the state of things. More often than not, they looked rather bleak when viewed in the dead of winter, beneath consistent cloud cover. She’d grown happier since she moved to Ponyville, however. Winters had gotten easier to bear.

While Twilight read on about bygone days, her dragon assistant Spike went on with his duties, dusting and re-shelving books as necessary. Spike knew better than to bother Twilight during the cold months. She was distant, often despondent and not overly talkative. But that was alright. She’d return to her old cheery self, come Hearth’s Warming Eve.

Less than an hour from now, Spike and Twilight would have an unusual sort of visitor. This may be a good time to check in with their friends.

***

A quiet, pastel yellow pegasus stood on the edge of the forest. She’d come here to reminisce. It was about a month ago that she stood at this very spot to bid farewell to the birds as they departed for warmer climates down south. The rusted leaves had long since fallen, adding a crunchy layer to the forest floor before being covered in snow. It was always difficult to say goodbye to one’s friends for any extended period. Much of the rest of the wildlife had also either left or gone into hibernation. And so, Fluttershy, (for this was the young pegasus’ name), was alone for most of the winter, save for her pet rabbit, Angel, and the chickens in the coop that she’d cold-proofed with Applejack’s help. There were a great many things that made Fluttershy worried or insecure, and being so isolated certainly didn’t help. Even so, Fluttershy wasn’t one to complain. There was no point.

Angel was asleep when Fluttershy returned to the cottage. She placed the teakettle on the stove and waited patiently until the water began to boil. She realized she’d used a few leaves too many as she sipped her tea. It was bitter, black as the sky outside and left a pungent aftertaste. She drank it anyway.

Such was life.

***

The winter was a quiet time for the Apple family. The crops from the fields were picked clean, the land lay dormant, awaiting spring. The air was cold and dry, the ground, coated in callous ice. Certainly the livestock still required tending, and the eldest daughter, Applejack, took turns with her brother to do the feeding and cleaning. Family dinners consisted of salted and pickled foods, ones duly saved for the occasion in the cellar. The farmhouse was drafty at times, but Applejack didn’t mind. It was a part of life on the farm and she wouldn’t have it any other way. On this evening, having completed her chores, Applejack decided to turn in early.

She lay in bed for a while, watching the flakes drift from the heavens through the window on the far wall. She could hear someone—likely her younger sister Apple Bloom—running around downstairs. Applejack would be the first to advocate the importance of family in ‘most any situation. That being said, it would be nice to have some quiet when in bed. Covering her ears with her pillow, Applejack did eventually manage to fall asleep.

She had a strange dream that night and awoke to find that it may not have been a dream at all.

***

Carousel Boutique was among the more successful clothing dealers in Ponyville, specializing in dresses and female outfitting. The head (indeed, only) couturier and owner of the shop was a talented unicorn named Rarity. It was during this time of year that the number of commissions began to wane. Of course, there was still the occasional order for Hearth’s Warming Eve and New Year’s, but besides those few cases, winter was rather uneventful. Rarity had no problems staying warm, but she understood that not all were so lucky. Despite her friends’ widespread perception of her as a bit of a drama queen, Rarity was a mare of action. Thus, in the winter, she utilized her surplus hours and fabric by making clothes and blankets for charity.

On this evening she had only just returned from the orphanage, having dropped off the most recent batch. She brushed off the snowflakes that had gotten caught in her mane and unwound the scarf from around her neck. Her cat—a magnificent white queen Rarity had named Opalescence—curled up in her lap as she relaxed on a large crimson sofa. She stroked behind Opal’s ears absentmindedly. On nights like this, she could almost entertain thoughts of finding a handsome stallion somewhere, sharing moments, going out. She hadn’t dated since… ah, what did it matter. She was her own woman. She’d take things at her own pace.

Outside, the wind picked up a few notches.

***

Rainbow Dash despised the winter. It was a cold, merciless season if there ever was one. As a full-time member of the weather patrol, Rainbow spent the bulk of her time flying. During the winter the chilly heights became nigh-unbearably cold. Rainbow liked her job. Weather manipulation was a challenging, rewarding task in constant need of experienced pegasi such as her. But the cold made routine flights far more arduous and danger-laden. Muscles grew stiff, all outside moisture instantly froze up. She was consistently frostbitten after each outing. Today, she was expected to take the night shift. She’d been provided with an appropriately thick coat for such occasions. It wasn’t very aerodynamic, but that was a small price to pay for maintaining one’s bodily temperature at a safe level.

Two hours before the shift was to start, she’d made some hot chocolate. Relaxing proved to be more than a little difficult, as her eyes drifted instinctively to the clock hanging over her window. One hour and fifty-six minutes. She stood up, feeling her hooves connect with the foundation of cloud on which her home was built. Clouds. The softest naturally-occurring material in Equestria, and possibly the world. Clouds were the cornerstone to weather manipulation in all its forms. After death, would one be transported to a paradise in the clouds, fluffy white vistas stretching in all directions? What did this mean for the pegasus, who already led such a life?

***

In Ponyville, around the same area where the Golden Oaks Library and Carousel Boutique are located, there is one more facility, a bakery and confectionary called Sugarcube Corner. This place is owned by the Cake family. Tonight we focus on the vivacious young assistant baker of the establishment named Pinkamena Diane Pie, though, of course—

“My friends call me Pinkie! So you can too!”

Quite right. Beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to come off as so impersonal. Pinkie Pie was not related to the Cakes by blood—

“Oh no, not at all. Though I do help out with the baking and sometimes foalsit their two lil’ ones, Pound and Pumpkin Cake!”

This, in addition to her lodging in the building, meant that the Cakes saw Pinkie as a member of the family. Pinkie was a mare of a cheery disposition, spending much of the winter planning her Hearth’s Warming Eve parties. Besides that, she enjoyed playing in the snow and visiting friends. Pinkie liked the winter just fine provided that she could spend it with other ponies. She wasn’t as reflective as some of her friends, preferring instead to take life one day at a time.

On this evening she was… well, why don’t you tell us yourself, Pinkie.

“Can I?"

Please.

"I can! I’m headed downtown to get some festive lights for the holidays! Though we already had some from last year, but they up and vanished for no reason! Funny how that works, but, y’know, stuff gets lost.”

She had her head to the sky as she walked, trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue. And so, by virtue of not looking where she was going, it was inevitable that she’d bump into something eventually.

“Oops! Sorry, mister!”

The towering figure was apparently bipedal and wrapped in an aging gray sheet. Notably, whereas anyone else would have left an opening for their face, this… this stranger was covered head to toe. A pale, four fingered hand protruded from the sheet, dragging a large black crucifix adorned with weird, almost unearthly designs. Pinkie giggled, oblivious to the air of foreboding that radiated from the stranger.

“I guess neither of us was really looking where we were going, huh?”

The stranger brushed past her, silent as the snow. Pinkie turned to watch him leave. His gait was subdued, giving the impression that he was floating. The fact that he left no tracks in the snow certainly added to that effect. This piqued Pinkie’s curiosity. She decided to follow him from a safe distance to see what he was up to and, if for nothing else, then at least to welcome him to Ponyville and maybe make friends.

***

It was eight o’clock exactly when there was a knock at the door of Twilight Sparkle. Having finished most of his chores for the day, Spike went to answer. A violent gust streaked through the tree as the door opened, snuffing the candles. Twilight blinked at the treatise she’d been reading and sighed irritably.

“Uh. Hello?” Spike inquired of the tall figure at their doorstep. “Are you here about a book?”

The stranger pushed past the young dragon, his black crucifix catching momentarily at the edges of the comparably small doorway.

“S-sure, come in; it’s pretty cold out there.”

“Who is it, Spike?” Twilight asked, as she approached the entrance to get a closer look at the newcomer.

It was then that the stranger threw off the sheet that had been covering his body. Twilight lost her grip on the burning candle she’d been holding. The creature’s body was surreal, apparently functioning under a different set of rules than she’d become accustomed to. It appeared gelatinous, pale and slick as a lungfish. It hovered inches above the wooden floor, in apparent defiance of basic physics. While it had no legs to speak of, its arms were wrapped around the black cross it carried. A single eye glared at Twilight from what was ostensibly one of the creature’s breasts. A large nail pierced the thing’s abdomen, just above a large gaping window of sorts. The air around it took on a silvery quality, dancing and forming shapes that were terrifying in their suggestiveness. In short, the creature was absurd. Impossible.

Remembering herself, Twilight stomped out the small fire that was building around the candle at her hooves. When she looked back up, Spike was gone.

“Where’s—what’d you do to Spike?!”

The creature did not speak. She wondered if it could, as it had no readily apparent mouth. How did it eat? Did it practice photosynthesis? Was that even possible for an animal this size? While it did not deign to answer Twilight’s questions, the creature did drift closer to her, and though she willed her body to move, she could not turn away. As it drew closer, the hole in its stomach grew larger, until she could feel herself falling into it, leaving this world far behind her.

***

“Hey, lookit that! He left the door open! I’m not one to judge, but that’s a little rude.”

Pinkie Pie entered the library, mindfully closing the door behind her. The creature turned to look at her.

“Hi there! You’re kinda scary-lookin’ aren’t ya. That’s okay, though! I’m sure you’re a swell guy!”

If it could hear her, the creature did not acknowledge her words. She was beginning to feel a little uneasy around her new friend. She glanced around.

“Hey, d’you know where Twilight is? Twilight! Are you in here? I guess she, um, left somewhere. Well, that’s a shame. We coulda showed you around together! ”

She had the presence of mind to back away as the creature ambled toward her, until her rump hit the door she’d closed not a minute ago. Before she could turn around, the creature had one of its hands around her neck. She struggled feebly but its fingers were stiff and unyielding.

“No… really… I gotta go…” she choked out. “I’ve got… lights to buy… we can play later…”

The creature tightened its grip. As she lost consciousness, it dawned on Pinkie that this was probably not going to be a light-hearted, slice-of-life styled narrative.

Author's Note

Alright. This marks the start of my third fanfic. Despite appearances, this is not intended as a straight horror story. It's not even particularly dark. By this site's standards, anyway. I'm experimenting.
I'm going to upload one chapter a week. While 2000 words a week is barely anything, I gotta do the drawings too, and fight the good fight against my own laziness and lack of motivation. No worries though; I'm not going to quit. In the interest of full disclosure, I'll say that I already have most of the story written. It's not too long. I'm currently six chapters in, and I'm fixing to wrap it up fairly soon. And so. Onwards.

Kafkaesque.

Fluttershy awoke. This was a little strange, considering that she couldn’t remember lying down to sleep. In point of fact, she couldn’t recall much of anything after she arrived home yesterday. Yesterday? She couldn’t even be sure that a day had passed. Shaking her head blearily, she inspected her surroundings.

This was a fairly small room with waxy tiled walls. The wax was scratched off in places, and some of the tiles had freed themselves from the wall, instead littering the floor around her. The floor itself was covered in several layers of dust to the point where she left visible prints as she walked. There was a single window, ingeniously built just large enough that she couldn’t quite squeeze through. Outside was… well, she was unable to really comment on the state of affairs outside, as she couldn’t actually see anything. Whatever lay beyond was as blinding as the sun, and in all visible directions. Something was out there; something tall and stationary, perhaps a landmark. However, it was too far away and trying to make out what it was made Fluttershy’s eyes water. The air outside was crisp but not nearly as cold as winter would dictate.

Fluttershy looked around the room once more. It was here that she was forced to conclude that this was almost definitely not her cottage. Understandably, she was a little concerned. How did she get here? Had she been kidnapped? She tried to get her breathing under control. Everything was alright. She was alive, uninjured and out of the cold, for now at least. Having calmed down slightly, she gathered the courage to try the door. It was locked, and what’s more, built from a sturdy, if not sterling, steel. Her heart rate started to climb again. She was trapped. Someone had brought her here and locked her in. What could they want? She glanced around the room a third time, searching for anything, anything that could help or shed some light on her situation. Her eyes were drawn to a pale rectangle suspended on the wall near the window.

There was a note. There was a note hanging from a nail, just slightly out of reach. Or rather, it would be out of reach, were it not for the fact that she was a pegasus. With two beats of her wings, Fluttershy grabbed the slip and ripped it from its place. It read as follows:

WELCOME TO THE CHARON BUREAU. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM SMOKING WHILE ON THE PREMISES. BATHROOMS ARE FOUND IN THE LAST PLACE YOU LOOK. THE CAFFETERIA IS LOCATED ON THE GROUND FLOOR; LASAGNA IS SERVED EVERY 72 HOURS. IMMIGRATION OFFICES ARE ON THE TOP FLOOR OF THE BUILDING. WHILE YOU’RE HERE, IF YOU ARE STRUCK WITH FEELINGS OF EXISTENTIAL ANGST OR DEPRESSION, PLEASE VISIT OUR COUNSELOR ON THE SECOND FLOOR. IS SOMEONE YOU KNOW LOOKING FOR WORK? WE ARE ALWAYS LOOKING FOR POTENTIAL EMPLOYEES. PICK UP AN APPLICATION AT OUR RECRUITMENT CENTER ON THE BASEMENT FLOOR. FOR YOUR PERSONAL SAFETY, PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE THE BUILDING. THANK YOU.

She didn’t know what to think of this note. So this was a facility of some sort, perhaps a business. She couldn’t say she was familiar with any place called “Charon Bureau”, though. What sort of work did they do here? Immigration offices? Was this a government-sponsored agency in some far-off land? And why did it look so run-down and neglected? Why had the author insisted that she stay indoors?

The note was a bit heavier than she expected. She flipped it over and found a small envelope attached to the back. Inside the envelope was a tarnished silver key. She tried it at the door and sure enough, it fit snugly into the lock. She took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself for whatever lay on the other side. Then, she took her first tentative step into the hall beyond.

***

What kind of a ruffian would spirit a lady away from her home? This was the question that plagued Rarity’s mind as she rifled through the files inside the stuffy office. And why was this place so barren, so lifeless? Was this the work of some twisted psychopath? Had he dragged her here to play some sick game, to hunt her through the abandoned halls? Oh dear. She must’ve borrowed one too many mystery novels from Twilight. She returned to the task at hand: figuring out what this place was and how to go about getting back home to Opal and her friends. She glanced at the file she was presently holding.

CHARON BUREAU
ANNUAL REVIEW

YEAR 13,772,887,212
ITEMS PROCESSED THIS YEAR: 53,356,381
ITEMS IN QUEUE: APPROX. 5.76E10

THE FACILITY IS OPERATING AT WELL BELOW THE OPTIMUM. IMMEDIATE ACTION TO REMEDY THE ISSUE IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED.

Someone had stamped the paper with red ink.

[ACKNOWLEDGED]

Well, of course the place was barely working, she thought to herself. There was nopony here. Then again, it was more likely that the whole facility had already gone under and these pages were just leftovers, memoirs of a distant time. If this facility was still doing… whatever it was supposed to, surely she would have run into a worker or two while she was wandering around. How long could such a poorly-maintained workplace possibly function? Only… thirteen billion years? No. She must’ve misunderstood. She put the review back into the desk drawer so she wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

In any case, surely all she had to do was head down to the first floor. There’d be an exit, and she’d be able to leave. She wasn’t certain where she’d go after that, but it was best to take things one step at a time. She set off, determined to find a stairwell or an elevator. Above her, the Bureau’s steel framework creaked and groaned ominously. Every few minutes the unbearable creaking would be interrupted by a piercing metallic screech. As she listened more intently, she fancied she could hear a voice beneath the harsh noises.

Anyone? Hel-lo! What kinda place is this?

It sounded familiar. Even if it didn’t, Rarity would have sought it out anyway. But as it so happened, this voice belonged to one of her friends.

***

“Somepony answer me!”

Rainbow Dash was getting winded from yelling. She’d been doing so nonstop for the past hour, as she explored the building. Or it felt like an hour anyway. She’d grown quite parched, her throat was dry as the winter air and if she was going to keep this up, she would likely lose her voice. It was hard to say exactly how long she’d been exploring. There were clocks mounted at irregular intervals around the place, but for some bizarre reason, none of them had any hands. It was fortunate that she’d held out for so long however, for just as she was about to give up, she finally heard a muffled reply.

Rainbow Dash? Is that you?

It had come from below.

“Rarity? You’re here too?” She lay with her ear to the floor, so as to better hear Rarity’s response.

That would appear to be the case, yes. I wager you’re as confused as I, regarding this matter?

“I guess so!” Rainbow sighed quietly. “Okay, hang on! Stay right there! I’ll find a way down to meetcha!”

She was at an intersection of two hallways, each stretching to infinity in either direction.

“This might take a little while! Just stay put!”

She took off southward. Countless doors flashed past her as she flew, some of ebony, some of grimy, unwashed glass. She dashed through the claustrophobic passage as quickly as she dared while indoors, but it went on and on to no end. Just how large was this building? What purpose could all these doors serve? At last she decided she was getting too far from where she’d heard Rarity’s voice and resolved to try another direction. And lo, as Rainbow turned around she saw something impossible; not the hallway stretching back, as she’d expected, but a room. Here she found two sets of doors. There was a simple double-door, presumably leading to the stairs, and what appeared to be an old elevator behind an iron portcullis. A sign hung on the adjacent wall:

IN THE EVENT OF AN EMERGENCY, DO NOT USE THE STAIRS.

Rainbow rubbed her eyes in disbelief. As a last ditch effort to make sense of what she was seeing, she spun back to the hallway, and glanced behind her. The scene refused to change. Someone was toying with her, tugging at her strings. It was probably magic; perhaps a teleportation spell or something equally mundane. She tested the walls. Solid.

Well, this was certainly a way down. Perhaps she might find Rarity if she utilized it, regardless of the unconventional means she’d taken to get here. She tried the double-door. Not only would it not open, it plainly refused to budge even a millimeter. It was as though the doors were merely painted on, or were otherwise part of the wall itself. Even Rainbow Dash dared not ram the doors or try to force them open for fear of injuring herself. The metallic creaking of the building reached a fever pitch, as if the source was in the room with her. She looked aside just quick enough to catch the portcullis lift next to her. The elevator door slid open with a whisper.

“H-hey?”

The elevator was empty.

She couldn’t bring herself to trust any facet of this mysterious place, with its long dusky hallways and its seemingly shifting architecture. Stepping onto the elevator seemed ill-advised. With due reluctance, she did so.

Inside, a single light shone over an ancient lever. The mechanism was poorly maintained and pulling the lever was a struggle. Once she finally wrestled the stick to one side, the door closed and the elevator began to descend with a shudder.

For the umpteenth time Rainbow wondered why she was there. She heard Rarity somewhere below. Did that mean the others were here too? The other Elements; her friends. If they were, she had to find them. Then they’d all leave this place together.

Besides Pinkie, she didn’t see any of them very often during the winter. Everyone was simply too busy, or too self-absorbed. In a way, she was glad to have found herself here, away from the freezing heights of Equestria. She felt guilty admitting this to herself. What was the Element of Loyalty, if not unconditionally loyal to her nation? It didn’t matter, she told herself. She wouldn’t trade fair Equestria for this place, so gray and lifeless. She’d gather Rarity and any others, and they’d find their way back. They’d been in worse situations than this. They had always overcome all obstacles together, and come out stronger than before. That would never change. Right?

The elevator was taking much longer than she’d expected. She had only wanted to go down one floor. She tried to push the lever back into its original position. It stubbornly refused to give and the elevator continued its trek ever downwards. Rainbow groaned.

“That’s great. Thanks a lot.”

***

With a start, Applejack found herself prone on a surface of brick and mortar. A breeze brushed over her sprawled form. Although it was gentle, it stole the warmth from her body. She shivered. She could not say where she was or how she’d got there, and the environment seemed to deter all attempts to survey it. Everywhere she turned, all she could see was harsh, blinding light. She stumbled forward until she hit a railing of some sort, crafted from ancient silver. Countless snakes were depicted on the balusters, their mouths clasped tightly around the comparably frugal rail. Looking over it, she could see she was fairly high up. Possibly miles below her was the ground, covered in vibrant greenery. Although she could not say what this place was, she felt profoundly thankful for the presence of the railing. Looking back, she saw that this was a balcony, attached to a building of gargantuan proportions.

She wandered back to the elaborately patterned glass door, which was thankfully unlocked. Lines of steel ran through the inside of the glass like dark veins in some synthetic creature. Beyond the door lay a reception area. A counter of ancient ebony stretched from one end of the room to the other, separating any would-be clerks from their clients. Presently, this place was devoid of anyone she could see. A great clock hung over the counter, but it lacked hands and was useless. A dust-covered, leather-bound logbook was spread where she imagined the head clerk would sit. The cursive script that covered the pages proved to be almost completely illegible to Applejack. She sat on one of the old chairs that were strewn haphazardly around the area. How did she get here? Her memories of the previous night were dull and fading quick, as those of a fevered dream.

She saw a slender, alabaster shape standing outside her bedroom window. But that didn’t make sense. She slept on the second floor. The entity reached through and entered the room, unimpeded by the glass. It stood there, in the middle of her bedroom, looking as though it was waiting for something. It was tall and alien, though she could not make out much detail in the dark. Somehow, screaming or seeking help failed to occur to her. She slid out of bed and asked what it wanted of her. It regarded her with something like enlightened disinterest. It would not speak, but to the Element of Honesty, it would be honest in kind. A single disembodied phrase echoed in her mind as she probed at her memory, a whisper from the depths of her psyche.

None of you will be harmed unless you choose to be.

“But what does that mean?” she muttered absently.

Unbeknownst to her, a quill without any visible bearer added a note in the margins of the ancient logbook.

Responsibility.

Twilight Sparkle came to inside a poorly lit room occupied by several stacks of cardboard boxes. She estimated that the room was a cube perhaps twelve feet across. A single light bulb hung precariously from the ceiling, casting the kind of light you’d see in a murky back alley in a less than reputable neighborhood. After thoroughly inspecting her surroundings she managed to find her assistant lying perfectly still beside the largest stack.

“Spike?”

She shook him gently. It occurred to her that something was off about the young dragon. It may have been his body temperature or the fact that he laid a little too still…

“Spike?”

He wasn’t breathing. Twilight’s mind started to race. She quickly tried the door. It wasn’t locked. Outside she saw something she could only describe as a sprawling office complex. Clusters of cubicles were spread across the massive open space, tan walls separating each work space from its neighbors. There had to be someone here.

“Somepony! Call the hospital! My friend needs medical assistance!”

She didn’t wait too long for a response, instead racing back into the first room which she now realized was probably a storage closet of some sort. Spike’s condition had not improved. Remembering what little she’d read of medical journals, Twilight rolled him onto his back and began pumping his chest. He was still a child, so she lessened the force of the chest compressions, to mitigate the chance of breaking his ribs. After she’d counted thirty compressions, she tilted his head back, pinched his nose and gave him two rushed breaths. She couldn’t do this forever. She could only hope that help would arrive soon, but with nothing to indicate that anyone had even heard her, Spike’s fate seemed grim. She was beginning to panic. It couldn’t end here. He was a dragon; he was supposed to outlive her.

She felt the air inside the cramped closet move. A soft breeze carried her excess heat away, calming her down. It entered Spike’s open mouth, sliding down his windpipe. Although Twilight continued her chest compressions, she felt it wasn’t her doing that ultimately brought Spike back to her.

He sat up straight, coughing violently.

“Ghh… geez, Twilight! What are you doing?”

She felt the lukewarm wave of relief wash over her.

“I… I don’t know. You weren’t breathing.”

He looked incredulously at her.

“I wasn’t? But I feel fine.”

Twilight sat down next to Spike, took his head in her hooves, and looked him in the eyes. They were as sharp and focused as ever.

“Do you feel dizzy or have a headache?” she asked cautiously.

“No.”

“Do you hear me alright? Any double-vision?”

“My hearing’s alright, and so is my eyesight.”

She let him go.

“You can stand on your own? Any issues with balance?” she continued.

“I’m fine, see?”

Spike stood on one leg to demonstrate.

“Okay, okay,” she sighed. “Now, what’s the first question I asked you?”

He hesitated for a second.

“Um… you asked whether I felt dizzy or had a headache.”

She clapped.

“Good! Be sure to tell me if any of these symptoms develop.”

“Symptoms? What were these questions for, exactly?”

“Prolonged oxygen deprivation can result in brain damage!” she noted. “You appear to be alright, though.”

“Well… alright then.” Spike had his first detailed look of their whereabouts. “So this is… where, exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Twilight had another peek at the cubicles beyond the door. Spike’s face turned ashen. Was he injured after all?

“What’s the matter?” she asked him, worry creeping into her voice.

“D-did that… that monster put us here?”

“Monster? What are you—ohhh…” Her memories of the night before seemed to clear their collective throats politely, waiting for her to notice them. She recalled the pale stranger that arrived to her library that cold winter evening. What it wanted remained a mystery to her, as was why it would transport them here, wherever here should be.

“What if, what if we’re stuck here?” Spike stuttered. “What if we’ll never make it back? What if the thing brought us here t-to—“

“It’s too early to say,” Twilight interrupted. She too felt apprehensive, but it wouldn’t do to have the two of them panicking at once. “We’re together at least. I’m sure we can figure this out. Come on; let’s see what this place is about.”

A water cooler stood several paces away from the closet. Twilight glanced up and down the aisles, but failed to notice anyone in any of the cubicles. She turned back to see that Spike had taken one of the paper cups from the dispenser and filled it.

“Wait a second, what are you planning to do with that?”

He put his lips to the rim of the cup, but Twilight knocked it out of his hands before he could take a sip. The liquid spilled across the floor tiles, picking up dust and grime.

“Are you crazy?” she exploded.

“No. I’m thirsty,” he replied testily.

“This water could be ancient. And you’re never supposed to drink from a still pool.”

Spike looked at the puddle spreading on the floor.

“Oh. Sorry.”

She patted him on the back affectionately.

“It’s alright. But you have to be more careful.”

They departed from the cooler and began their investigation of the complex in earnest. The place was gigantic. Miniature office spaces crowded the floor in all directions. Every intersection of the aisles was equipped with a simple water cooler, just like the first they saw. Twilight couldn’t shake the feeling that these were purely for decoration. The water inside didn’t appear tainted; in actuality, it was completely crystal-clear. But Twilight remained resolute in her decision not to drink.

The cubicles themselves were sparsely furnished. The same four items occupied every single one. There was a chair, always well-worn; synthetic leather peeling from the cushions, leaving the gray pillow exposed to the few elements that this place could be said to harbor. There was a desk, similarly distressed. Atop the desk sat a stack of clean paper, yellowing, but a far cry from the parchment that Twilight had grown accustomed to. The last item inside each cubicle was an aging typewriter. This was notable, as it indicated that whatever species once occupied this space, they clearly possessed fingers or talons with which they could work the keys. The cubicles were far too small and orderly for dragons, who were notoriously solitary creatures anyway. Gryphons, perhaps? Or was this a species she’d previously not heard of? Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant ringing.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah!” Spike hurried out into the isle. “I think it came from this direction!”

They rushed toward the source of the noise. As they ran, Twilight began to hear a quiet, irregular ticking, much like the sort one of these typewriters would make while in use. Someone was here! Maybe they might answer the questions that lingered in Twilight’s mind. The ticking grew louder and more insistent as they neared the source. They came to another cubicle, one that was identical to its neighbors, save for the busy ticking and ringing of the typewriter within. Breathlessly, Twilight moved closer to get a look inside.

At first what she saw was disappointing. Clearly this wasn’t where the sound had originated, as there was no one here. However, as she snuck closer to the table, she made out some inconsistencies. There were several stacks of paper here of varying heights, as opposed to the single stack that was ubiquitous around the rest of the cubicles. What’s more, at least one of the stacks was used: the yellowing pages were filled with text. Having prepared herself somewhat with these small discoveries, Twilight looked at the typewriter, partially obscured from her vision by the chair. It appeared to be working on its own.

As she watched with a fascination tinged with horror, the machine arrived to the bottom of the page it was working on. An invisible force pulled the paper free of the typewriter and added it to the stack next to it. A fresh page was slowly and deliberately inserted between the cylinders, and the ticking began anew. Spike being the curious tyke that he was, decided to try and get the typewriter’s attention.

“Excuse us?”

There was a brief pause in the tapping of the keys. After almost no deliberation, the tapping resumed. Spike ran closer to investigate. Twilight had the presence of mind to hold him back slightly, as she didn’t particularly want to find out what would happen if he interrupted the keys with an input of his own. She had no qualms about reading what was being typed out, however.

***CASE SUMMARY***

CLIENT NAME: AUTUMN GUST
GENDER: FEMALE
SPECIES/RACE: EQUINE/PEGASUS
MARITAL STATUS: MARRIED
PLACE OF ORIGIN: STALLIONGRAD
FINAL RECORDED AGE: 31
ARRIVAL DATE: 06/06/01RPL
SCHEDULED DEPARTURE: 01/18/02RPL
EXPIRATION CAUSE: BEAR ATTACK (UP 2% FROM LAST YEAR)
MENTAL CONDITION: HEALTHY
RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: AGNOSTIC

NOTES: THE INCREASE IN AGGRESSIVE ENCOUNTERS WITH BEARS CAN LIKELY BE ATTRIBUTED TO STALLIONGRAD’S ONGOING INDUSTRIALIZATION AND DEVELOPMENT ENCROACHING ON BEAR TERRITORY. MRS. GUST HAS EXPRESSED ACUTE FEELINGS OF FEAR AND FOREBODING. SHE HAS REQUESTED FOR AN ESCORT TO BE PRESENT ON THE DAY OF HER DEPARTURE. AS ALWAYS, PLEASE SEE THE SUPPLEMENTARY ATTACHMENT FOR INFORMATION REGARDING MRS. GUST’S FAMILY.

Twilight barely noticed as the page was, once more, manipulated by some unknown entity and added to the stack beside the typewriter. The machine seemed to be filling out forms for some unascertained purpose. This was clearly a clue to their current predicament, but it wasn’t enough in and of itself to draw any conclusions. She felt Spike lay a claw on her side, trying to get her attention.

“Twilight? Look!”

He gestured at the typewriter, which had written something out on a new page and looked to be waiting patiently, insofar as an inanimate object can be described as ‘patient’.

I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT ACKNOWLEDGING YOU EARLIER. THESE DOCUMENTS TAKE PRECEDENCE, I AM AFRAID. NOW. HOW CAN I ASSIST YOU, GENTLEMAN AND MADAM?

Twilight coughed nervously. She wasn’t sure how to feel about holding a conversation with a sentient typewriter.

“Excuse me,” she started. “Are you talking to, erm, that is, addressing us?”

BUT OF COURSE. IS THERE ANOTHER HERE I AM NOT AWARE OF?

“Uh…”

THAT WAS INTENDED IN JEST. YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF PERCEIVING MOST CREATURES HERE, MYSELF INCLUDED.

Ah. This explained some things.

“So you’re not just a living typewriter then?”

PERISH THE THOUGHT. I AM THE SENIOR REVIEWER HERE IN THE CHARON BUREAU. THERE IS MORE TO THE WORLD THAN WHAT YOU SEE, AFTER ALL.

Twilight was suddenly struck by the feeling of unease one tends to get when they realize they aren’t quite as alone as they previously thought.

“And there are more of you here that we’re not seeing? These cubicles aren’t really empty?”

ALAS, THE BUREAU IS GENERALLY ABOUT AS BARREN AS IT APPEARS, NOWADAYS. AND THAT IS WHY YOU’RE HERE, OF COURSE.

“What is the, uh, the Charon Bureau, exactly?” asked Spike.

There was a pause, giving the impression that the senior reviewer was considering how best to phrase his answer.

THIS FACILITY, THE CHARON BUREAU, IS THE PENULTIMATE DESTINATION OF EVERY SENTIENT CREATURE. MOST ARE BROUGHT HERE UNDER SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES. IT IS HERE THAT ONE IS EVALUATED BEFORE RETIRING THEMSELVES TO THEIR FINAL JOURNEY.

These inferences were lost on Spike. Twilight broke in before he could question the reviewer further.

“You said that most ponies come here ‘under similar circumstances’. What about us?”

NOT YOU. YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE WE REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE. AFTER YOU’VE COMPLETED YOUR ASSIGNMENT, YOU WILL RETURN TO EQUESTRIA.

“Thank Celestia,” Twilight sighed.

“You know, speaking of the Princess,” Spike whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth. “I could probably use one of these machines to type out a letter and send it to her… We could tell her how we got kidnapped and she’d send help, right?”

The typewriter started ticking again.

THIS IS CERTAINLY TRUE. NOTHING IS PHYSICALLY PREVENTING YOU FROM CONTACTING PRINCESS CELESTIA. THOUGH I SUPPOSE YOU ARE PROBABLY UNAWARE THAT THE SHE HAD PERSONALLY CONSENTED, OR, MORE ACCURATELY, RECOMMENDED YOUR SERVICES TO US.

Twilight blinked.

“The creature with the black cross had Princess Celestia’s permission to abduct us?”

THE AFOREMENTIONED ENTITY HAPPENS TO BE SHEOL, THE SPIRIT OF PENANCE, AND THE MASTER OF THE BUREAU. HE IS CURRENTLY ON GOOD TERMS WITH THE KINGDOM OF EQUESTRIA. WE WERE LOOKING FOR A FEW CORPOREAL INDIVIDUALS TO PERFORM A COMPARABLY SIMPLE TASK, AND THE PRINCESS, NATURALLY, SUGGESTED THAT YOU AND THE REST OF THE ELEMENTS WOULD BE IDEAL CANDIDATES.

Somehow this news was upsetting, but it took Twilight several moments to really understand why this was.

“So, Princess Celestia decided to give us one more errand to run. I guess that’s fine, we’re probably all used to it by now. But this time, she’s neglected to ask us herself, and instead just gave some… some stranger the okay to break into our homes and take us away against our will. Am I getting this right?”

YES.

Spike shifted uneasily.

“Maybe you’re overreacting a little, Twi—“

“You think so? So it’s okay for the Princess to just presume that we’re willing to do whatever she wants and plan accordingly, with no regard for our personal lives? What gives her the right?”

SHE IS ROYALTY. I IMAGINE SHE’S QUITE BUSY.

There was a period of silence. Twilight had lost herself in thoughts of her perceived betrayal, and Spike searched desperately for a perspective that would paint the situation in a positive light. After a good thirty seconds of this, their receptionist typed out a new message.

VERY WELL. WE DID NOT REALIZE THESE CIRCUMSTANCES WOULD PROVE SO DISTRESSING TO YOU. YOU HAVE OUR APOLOGY. I CAN EXPLAIN YOUR CONCERNS TO THE SPIRIT, IF YOU WISH. I’M SURE HE WILL UNDERSTAND, AND YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO YOUR HOMES. WE WILL LOCATE SOMEONE MORE WILLING TO CARRY OUT OUR WORK.

Twilight looked at Spike. He looked worried, likely about her. The invisible typist seemed mature enough, sympathetic. This, in turn, made her concerns seem juvenile by comparison. She felt like she’d raised a fuss over nothing, even as her practical mind was screaming not to let this stand. In spite of the Princess’ lack of consideration for the desires of her and her friends, Twilight was not eager to disappoint. Maybe it would be best to do what this Sheol asked and then discuss these issues with the Princess once they’d gotten back home, like rational equines. Maybe…

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS, MY LADY?

“I won’t make a decision like this on my own. I’ll discuss it with the others when I run into them.”

UNDERSTOOD. IF THAT’S THE CASE, PERHAPS WE SHOULD DISCUSS WHAT IT IS THAT MY MASTER WANTS FROM YOU, IN THE EVENT THAT YOU DECIDE TO ASSIST US.

“I guess that’s reasonable.”

Then she remembered Spike.

“Ah, before you start, could you tell us if the water in the coolers out there is safe to drink?”

NOT A SINGLE ORGANISM LIVES IN OUR WATER.

“Does that mean it’s toxic?”

I ONLY MEANT THAT THIS IS LIKELY THE PUREST WATER YOU’LL COME ACROSS.

“Oh… good.”

Seek.

At last, the typewriter stopped.

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, IT’S BEST YOU ASK THEM NOW.

Countless questions buzzed in her head like bees around a flower bed. Twilight took a few moments to try to articulate her thoughts. Focusing became difficult, however, as there was a different sort of buzzing present as well; a very real, audible sound.

“What’s that?”

The droning increased in volume as the origin drew near. The senior reviewer took a few moments to type out another message, this one, unheeded; for at this precise moment a ghastly, rat-sized creature landed on the tip of Twilight’s snout. It appeared insect-like, though this description really didn’t do the beast justice. Its thorax and two of its legs were translucent, almost vaporous, while its metasoma was undoubtedly solid, and covered with a thick ceramic carapace. Its eyes were the stuff of nightmares, celled but with a clearly visible pupil, giving the creature a questioning, haunted appearance. In place of a mouth, the creature sported a long curled proboscis that twitched in anticipation of its next meal.

Of course, the only one in a position to make all these observations was Spike. Unfortunately, he could not find the time to examine the little monster in such detail, as, with a yelp, Twilight swatted it away. Upon impact with the far wall, the creature’s shell shattered and those parts of it that were not composed of solid matter swiftly evaporated.

Trying to catch her breath, Twilight glanced at the typewriter.

THAT’S WHAT WE CALL A ROTMITE. THESE CREATURES MAKE THEIR HOME HERE IN THE BUREAU. THEY FEED ON ENERGY AND, TO A LESSER EXTENT, LIFE-FORCE. ERGO, THEY ARE HARMLESS.

“That doesn’t sound harmless,” said Spike.

ENERGY IS HARDLY A MUCH-SOUGHT-AFTER COMMODITY AROUND HERE. OUR CLIENTS OFTEN BRING AN EXCESS OF IT UPON ARRIVAL. THEY HAVE NO USE FOR IT, AND A SURPLUS TENDS TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE DECAY OF THE FACILITY. ROTMITES ARE VITAL TO OUR OPERATIONS.

“Yes, but we’re, as you said, corporeal,” Twilight pointed out. “Doesn’t that mean that these insects could, you know, conceivably… hurt us?”

There was another pause. The next message was typed out slowly, and with great care.

I SUPPOSE THAT’S A VALID POINT. HMM. I HAD NOT CONSIDERED THIS EVENTUALITY. IT IS POSSIBLE THAT ROTMITES COULD CAUSE YOUR UNTIMELY RETIREMENT. BUT I WILL WAGER THAT THE ISSUE WOULD ONLY ARISE WHEN DEALING WITH A LARGE QUANTITY OF THE CREATURES. DO BE CAREFUL, WON’T YOU. I IMAGINE YOUR PRINCESS WOULD BE CROSS WITH US IF WE LOST YOU.

Twilight took note that their task was not without an element of danger. But such was the case with many of the endeavors that Princess Celestia thrust upon the Elements. It was unlikely that they’d fall now, due to a few insects. The very idea was laughable. If the deciding vote fell to her, Twilight knew that she’d choose to remain here and complete Sheol’s task. The Princess expected it; moreover, this facility and its function were vital to the well-being of the world at large. Twilight could not begin to comprehend what effects its malaise would have on life in Equestria if it were to continue, even after the senior reviewer had told her.

With this assurance close to her heart, Twilight accompanied Spike as they left the reviewer to his work. It was time to find the others.

***

Applejack had not moved from her seat in the lobby. Her eyes had still not gotten used to the striking light that filtered through the glass doors she’d used to come in. The steel designs running through the inside of the doors cast dramatic shadows on the long ebony counter and the wall behind it. Applejack couldn’t say why she elected to remain where she was. If pressed, she’d confess it was only a feeling that kept her rooted to the spot; a feeling that something was due.

“Oh! Applejack…? Is that you?”

Yes. There it was.

Applejack turned to see a familiar yellow pegasus making her way across the dusty floor. A few responses ran through Applejack’s mind, but she settled on a greeting.

“’Ello.”

“It’s so good to see you! I thought I was all alone here. It was… terrifying.”

Applejack didn’t reply. Fluttershy focused on her forelegs, suddenly self-conscious.

“So… mmm. Do you know why we’re here? Or… where here is?”

“Sorry.”

Fluttershy sighed quietly and sat down next to her friend.

“Ah. I see. I guess that’s okay. Um. Why are you so quiet, Applejack? Did something happen?”

Applejack kicked at the dust at her hooves.

“No, no,” she muttered. “I jus’ don’t have much to say. This place… this place just kinder gets to you, y’know? It’s quieter than a church mouse. Or, I guess it was.” She looked at the hideous buzzing creature that was tirelessly orbiting Fluttershy. “What is that awful thing, ‘Shy?”

“This little guy? I found him while I was wandering around in the halls, and he started following me.”

Something about the insect made Applejack feel uneasy.

“I’m thinkin’ it’d be best to get rid of the critter. We don’t know what it is or what it wants.”

“W-what?” Fluttershy looked crestfallen. “It’s not hurting us in any way, is it? It was my only companion for a while… ”

“Alright, alright. Whatever you want.”

Applejack seemed preoccupied. Fluttershy consulted with her buzzing cohort. It did not offer much in the way of advice.

“Do you think anypony else is here?” she asked.

None of you will be harmed unless you choose to be.

“I think so,” said Applejack. “The four other, uh, Elements are probably here as well. That is, Twilight, Rainbow, Rarity and Pinkie,” she explained. She didn’t like referring to the others as ‘Elements’. She felt that it invalidated them as individuals. Her friends had functions besides simply being the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, after all.

“Should we go and look for them, then?”

“Prob’ly. From the outside it looked like we’re close to th’ top. We should check upstairs first, just to be thorough.”

Fluttershy remembered the note she found upon waking up.

“I read that’s where the immigration offices are.”

“Immigration offices? What kinna place is this?”

Another familiar voice broke in, mingling with the sound of hooves on concrete stairs.

“This is the Charon Bureau. It’s a testing and preparation grounds for the dead.”

***

The better part of the hour had passed since Rarity had heard from Rainbow Dash. Rainbow had assured her that she would find a way down, that they would be reunited. And yet, Rarity could see no reason that Rainbow would take this long to find her. It was a little uncharacteristic. She was getting worried. Had something happened to Rainbow? Rarity could not bear to wait any longer, not when her friend’s safety was on the line. The creaking of the building above continued.

As she began her canter through the tired hallways, the noise built as though the stones themselves shrieked, leading her to provinces unknown. But the dead and the departed had no voices. The facility, long forgotten, was a relic of olden times. Countless civilizations arose and fell over the eons, leaving behind countless artifacts and cities of ghosts and rubble. Many of these had been recovered by modern historians; many more still slept beneath the ever-drifting sands of time. But what did that matter to her? She cared about the now. What was that one saying? Carpe diem; a sensible way to live, any way you cut it. When one has only so many days in their lifetime, what’s the point in brooding or leafing through the past?

Among the most enduring aspects of this world were stones, the hardest of which were diamonds, like those her mark symbolized. She realized early on that not even the mark determined her fate. Her mark was a trio of diamonds, yet was she a miner? Certainly not. While she found diamonds appealing, she focused on making her dresses, which occasionally used diamonds. But the dresses themselves were never so durable as the diamonds that decorated them. That was alright, though. Among other things, this kept her in business.

Rarity surfaced from her sea of introspection. She realized now that the tiles beneath her hooves were checkered black and white, whereas they previously were an unappealing gray. The walls were a bright crimson with a golden trim, an oasis of color in a building that was predominantly monochrome. She looked back to see if she’d missed something, to try and catch a glimpse of the path she’d taken to arrive here. The garish red and gold hallway seemed to go on forever. She questioned her predicament, but in doing so, accomplished nothing. The universe, as she saw it, stood still… until she resumed her journey through the crimson passage.

Paintings adorned the walls, numberless paintings; all colored a somber black and white. Rarity recognized some of the paintings as works of Salvador Oscura, Lucky Isabel and Obsidian Obelisk, although they were clearly not the original pieces. Rarity had seen these paintings in various museums and art galleries in Canterlot and they were supposed to be in color. The subject matter of the paintings was grim. Only the classical Gothic-inspired artwork of Oscura was presented. The artwork by Lucky Isabel was exclusively the sort she drew after her eventual mental breakdown. Obsidian Obelisk’s pieces were the ones he created in the last few years of his life while wrestling with his unknown disease.

The hallway terminated at a large cubical space up ahead. Four pillars towered near the center and Rarity suspected these weren’t built for support or any other practical purpose. They looked tan, but their weathered quality implied they were once white or light gray. A large, muscular stallion was carved into the base of each column, eternally burdened by the weight of the ceiling above. Rarity stopped to admire the four statues. They were expertly sculpted; smooth, lifelike and anatomically correct. The walls of the room were decorated by murals depicting featureless gray alicorns in flight, accompanied by a flock of brilliant white doves.

A scythe was mounted on the wall opposite the exit. As Rarity drew closer, she was struck by the exquisite craftsmanship of what was intended to be a simple farmer’s tool. The body of the scythe was carved from a dark, sturdy oak, which had been polished to a high shine. The shaft was crafted from two lengths of wood that twisted around each other in a double helix. A single handle protruded from the midsection of the tool, and ended in a point that looked to be about as sharp as the blade. The blade itself was built from lustrous mirror-like platinum, and curved in the shape of a semicircle, reminding Rarity of the crescent moon. Were she more scientifically minded, she would question the practicality of crafting a blade from a metal as malleable as platinum. But even without this background information, Rarity was certain this scythe could not have been made for any purpose besides strictly decorative or ceremonial.

Take it with you.

The suggestion was internal, and she questioned whether she had truly heard or understood it. She was compelled to look back into the crimson hall. Something stood there, in the distance, something slender and pale and indistinct. Was it hostile? She dared not let it out of her field of vision for fear that it was the only thing keeping the alien shape at bay. Several seconds passed. At last the shape moved slightly, as if rotating, and evaporated. Was she hallucinating? She held her ground for a minute more to see if the phantasm would rematerialize. When it failed to do so, she turned back to the scythe. Fabulous as it was, it was unlikely to be of use to her. Even if she took it for self-defense she was about as likely to hurt herself with the unwieldy thing as she was to ward off any attackers.

Ten minutes passed. Rarity had evidently moved on, as she was no longer inside the room with the ivory pillars and checkered floors. And, as fate would have it, neither was the platinum-bearded scythe.

Ambivalent.

Twilight explained what she’d been told as they walked, Spike interrupting periodically to add in the often trivial information that she omitted.

“Well, I s’ppose that’s fine. I don’t mind helpin’ out here for a spell. And it’s not as though collecting a few trinkets is terribly hard,” said Applejack. “What’d you think, Fluttershy?”

“I think it’s alright. Maybe. I’d like to hear what the others think before I commit.”

Twilight nodded, making a mental note. Applejack has voted to stay in the Bureau and do as they were asked. Fluttershy appeared less certain, but would likely choose to assist as well once the votes were tallied.

“So, uh. Did your magic typewriter tell you anything ‘bout… dyin’, or anything?” Applejack asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. “What happens to a ‘body afterwards. Y’musta asked, right?”

Twilight thought back to the conversation with her host.

“Could you tell us what happens after a pony passes on?” Twilight asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

I’M AFRAID NOT.

“Well, there has to be some sort of afterlife, correct?” Twilight inquired carefully. “This paperwork you’re filling out ends up going somewhere, right?”

DOES IT HAVE TO BE GOING SOMEWHERE? CAN’T IT MERELY SERVE AS PROOF THAT THESE PEOPLE ONCE EXISTED? IF YOUR ONLY REWARD FOR ACCOMPLISHING WHAT YOU HAD IN LIFE WAS THE DISPASSIONATE EMBRACE OF OBLIVION, WOULD YOU NOT WANT TO BE REMEMBERED?

“Is that really all this is?” Twilight gaze fell to the dusty floor. “I just thought… I don’t know. Maybe there was more to us.”

The typewriter continued, unperturbed.

YOU CAN CHOOSE TO BELIEVE WHAT YOU WILL. WHO AM I TO TRY AND SWAY YOU?

“You’re the one with the answers. Right?”

NO.
HOW SHOULD I HAVE THE KNOWLEDGE YOU SEEK? I AM LIKE YOU; I HAVE NEVER BEEN BEYOND THE BUREAU. IT WAS MY FEAR FOR WHAT LAY THERE THAT DROVE ME TO BECOME A REVIEWER. IN WORKING HERE, I POSTPONE MY OWN DAY OF RECKONING. THOSE THAT DEPART CAN NEVER RETURN TO RECOUNT THEIR EXPERIENCES. AND NO WAKING EYE MAY SEE BEYOND THE VEIL OF DEATH FOR FEAR OF BEING BLINDED FOREVERMORE.

“Nopony knows, then,” said Applejack. “That’s not too surprisin’.”

The rotmite hovered in front of her face for a few seconds before she shooed it away. Even after Twilight and Spike identified the creature, Fluttershy opposed disposing of it. Applejack and Twilight remained uneasy around the rotmite, but for the time being it was not hindering their progress.

The hallway ended in an enormous chamber. There was no outside wall to speak of, merely a large window looking out onto the rest of the Bureau and the blinding skies. The floor lay perhaps a hundred feet below them, with the only thing keeping them suspended being a narrow bridge. Although worn, the bridge looked stable enough to last another thousand years, possibly longer. The other two ponies glanced at Twilight tentatively.

“Where are we going, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.

“This is the way to the first artifact, right?” hazarded Spike.

“That’s right,” said Twilight. “There is no other way, at this point. The Bureau will steer us and our friends toward our objectives. Otherwise, it’d be unlikely that we’d ever find what we’re looking for in a place this big.”

“There’s always another way,” said Applejack.

“Not in the Bureau. Even if we turn around and walk in the other direction, we’ll probably just loop around and come back sooner or later.” Twilight looked over the side of the bridge. Windlasses and conveyor belts decorated the floor below. Crates full of what Twilight could only assume was paper were being moved to the various corners of the facility. The hum of machinery permeated the air.

“But that’s not right!” Applejack exclaimed. “It’s like we’ve got no choice at all but to do this fella’s bidding!”

“It doesn’t matter what choices you make,” said Fluttershy. “Everypony ends up in the same place.”

Twilight felt herself bristling slightly. Fluttershy’s observation left a bad taste.

“Come on.”

The party began crossing in a single file, with Twilight and Spike in the lead. The light from the window fell upon them, but gave no warmth. Outside, the vents expelled amorphous clouds of steam which distorted the harsh effulgence, but only barely. The omnipresent nature of the light insured that shadows were short, insubstantial. Spike decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Why does everything die, Twilight?”

Twilight looked back at him disapprovingly.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be asking questions like that?”

“I’m with Spike,” said Applejack. “I’d be interested to hear your explanation. And if you could spare us the sighin’ and the eyeball-rollin’, I’m sure we’d be mighty thankful.”

Barely restraining herself from partaking in these two things, Twilight considered the query for a second. Why did life, whose only purpose was to perpetuate itself, inevitably expire? The answer seemed self-evident.

“Were ponies to live forever, we would succumb to overpopulation and expend the land’s natural resources,” she exposited.

“What if it was more difficult to, y’know, reproduce,” Applejack pressed. “An’ if we only used renewable resources. Would livin’ forever work then?”

They arrived to the other end of the bridge. The hallway beyond was a gaping, windowless maw, illuminated only by the dim, flickering tubes hanging from the ceiling.

“But that’s not how things work, Applejack,” Twilight said with a hint of impatience, as they entered the corridor. “Even if it was, would you really want to?” Applejack opened her mouth to speak, but Twilight cut her off. “Age spells do exist, you know; they’re difficult and very few unicorns are powerful enough to use them. But they’re there. How do you think the two Princesses have lived so long, virtually unchanged? Nevertheless, those who are capable rarely extend their lifespan by longer than a century. Star Swirl the Bearded famously called these spells a ‘foal’s folly, futile and ill-founded.’”

For a split second Applejack’s eyes betrayed a trace of anger, but she quickly regained her composure. This brief lapse was not lost on Twilight, however, who wondered why Applejack was so concerned with these metaphysical matters.

“So,” Fluttershy muttered hesitantly. “So is it death that gives life purpose?”

“That’s a pile of horse apples!” said Applejack. “There’s so much to see and do! So many ponies to meet! Why not continue living?”

Twilight licked her lips.

“You remember when you were a little filly and just ten minutes seemed like a really long time?” she began. “And as you got older you learned that ten minutes wasn’t really all that much? Your perception of time changes as you age. Increments of ten minutes become smaller and smaller percentages of your life. Princess Celestia told me; for so-called immortals like her, days, months, even years or decades pass in the proverbial blink of an eye. You alienate yourself from your peers because you know they’ll never stick around for any considerable measure of time. Nothing does, anymore. Life becomes a chaotic blur, so you cling desperately to the happy moments, trying to make them last. Make no mistake; if there are gods, they undoubtedly envy us for our mortality.”

Applejack didn’t respond. Twilight wondered if she was getting through to her at all. Meanwhile, Spike scanned the environment furtively, seeking to divert the group’s attention from these matters. He was regretting posing the question that triggered the discussion, as he found its course depressing. They came to an intersection. As the four looked at the passageway running perpendicular to their own, a hint of color in the corner of Spike’s vision drew his attention.

“So if what you were sayin’ is true, it shouldn’t matter which path we take, right Twilight?” asked Applejack.

“Maybe. But I’d imagined there would be some indication of the shortest route. I guess—”

“There’s a red stripe on the wall leading this way,” Spike interrupted, pointing left. There was a brief pause as the three others tried to make out what the dragon was seeing.

“I don’t really see any red…” said Fluttershy, squinting at the corridor.

“Now wait just a darn second.” Applejack stooped down to have a closer look at something she couldn’t be sure she saw. There, near the point where the wall met floor, was a single line, a little wider than a hair and scarcely visible against the brickwork. “Don’t think I’d call this’un a stripe, Spike. How’d you even see something like this so quick-like?”

Spike shrugged.

“I dunno. Seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Dragons feed on gemstones,” said Twilight, remembering what little she’d gleaned from the few books and field journals written on the subject. These journals tended to end abruptly, often with pages scorched beyond legibility. “Their vision is developed to the point where they can spot deposits on the ground in midflight. It’s not impossible that this paint was prepared with traces of ruby or some other precious stone.”

“A’right. So should we go this way then, or what? This line might not mean a thing, y’know. It might just be the mistake of the painter, or, what is it y’all call it? A red herring?”

Spike scratched at the line with a stubby claw.

“It’s not coming off. And the width is the same throughout. Whatever this is, it’s been put here on purpose. Should we follow it, Twilight?”

Twilight looked down the narrow corridor. It veered off at an irregular angle. Another might have wondered why the architect had designed something so inefficient in utilizing what space the facility had available, but Twilight was better informed than that.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to try.”

Once more the four set off, following the red ray along the side of the corridor.

Applejack spoke up again, though, to Twilight’s relief, not regarding their prior argument.

“So, these four artifacts... What exactly are we supposed to do once we find them?”

“The reviewer said we’d have to return to Equestria and give them to Princess Luna,” said Spike.

“Why, what’s she gonna do with them?”

Spike’s brow furrowed under the burden of recall.

“Uh, Twilight?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight replied. “He was awfully vague concerning their nature. He mentioned that they were confiscated from her after her rebellion and subsequent banishment. Now that she’s reclaimed the throne, they are to be returned. What all this has to do with the Bureau remains a mystery.”

Twilight was not entirely forthcoming about her thoughts. She had a theory concerning Luna’s involvement with this situation. Luna was the Princess of the Night, and sleep by extension. Twilight had heard tales of the Lunar Princess visiting the dreams of her subjects. Whether these rumors were true or fabricated she couldn’t say. However, if Luna truly had power over the moon and stars, as well as sleep and dreams, perhaps she had some say in matters of death as well. Sleep and death were, after all, the closest of cousins. If Luna was somehow involved in this decedent business, it made some sense that the Bureau would completely fall apart in her absence. The four artifacts could be symbols or physical vessels for her power.

The fluorescent tubes hanging overhead grew steadily dimmer as they progressed. At last they guttered out completely, flooding the way ahead in thick, preternatural darkness. The crimson line running along the wall glowed, gliding through the black void, guiding them. Twilight tried to light the way with her horn, but the feeble glow of her magic was swallowed by the darkness, illuminating nothing. She shrugged at her companions.

“It looks like we’ll have to trust the way ahead is safe enough, but tread carefully. I’ll maintain the light of my horn. You girls stay close.”

They were alone in that place, accompanied only by the sound of their hooves on the floorboards, and the persistent buzzing of the rotmite beside them. Time passed. No conversation interrupted the drone of that insect, and there, in the dark, Twilight suspected that she was going mad. That awful buzzing seemed to be amplified by the lack of other sensory stimulus. She knew she’d lose it if she had to put up with the noise for one more minute. She’d flail in the dark until she’d found the irritating rotmite and crushed it.

But that moment never came. The red ray built in thickness ahead, until the entire wall was covered in phosphorescent crimson. As they turned a corner, the opposite wall took on the color as well. As the floor caught the light of their surroundings they saw that it was checkered black and white; squares of ivory among shining obsidian. The buzzing of the rotmite reached an octave, and began to recede into the distance. The creature had fled.

“W-wait!” Fluttershy called after it, unheeded.

“It’s alright,” Applejack tried to reassure her. “Let it go.”

They continued along the hallway until it led them into an atrium of sorts. Stained glass windows decorated the outer walls of the space, colored predominantly in shades of red. The harsh light of the outside was weakened significantly by its passage through the thick glass, emerging dim and of a deep carnelian shade. The air was oppressively warm and humid. Were she more poetically-inclined, Twilight would imagine the combination of the lighting and temperature gave the room a womb-like atmosphere.

An ancient horn was suspended beneath the largest window, curving around itself several times, as though removed from the oldest of rams. Twilight and Spike approached it to have a closer look. It was hollow, and the tip had been replaced by a brass cone with a hole on the end. This was an antique blowing horn.

The gryphons had used instruments like these during their skirmishes with the nomad sheep-people of the Tungsten steppes. As they were made from the horns of their fallen foes, they were intended to demoralize and degrade, little more than war trophies to the belligerent gryphon kingdoms of yore. Twilight has always found this particular piece of history somewhat mean-spirited. Relations were strained between the gryphons and the rams to this day.

Letters were inscribed into the body of the horn.

Vexilla regis prodeunt inferni.

Issue forth the banners of the king of... something or other. The last word was unfamiliar to her. She heard Applejack’s voice coming from her periphery somewhere.

“Is this it, then?”

Twilight nodded half to herself.

“Must be.”

She freed the horn from the hook that kept it affixed to the wall and turned back to her companions.

“And that’s all we have to do, is it?” asked Fluttershy.

“Yes. Just a simple delivery job. Here you go, Spike, you can carry this.”

Spike dutifully grabbed the blowing horn and the party collectively looked back to the black corridor that led them to this place. Applejack tapped on the floor impatiently.

“Let’s get moving, then. Won’t do to keep the others waiting.”

Climax.

The building is vast, possibly infinite, labyrinthine. The observer is hard-pressed to pinpoint where the building ends and the brilliant void begins. The building sits on the border between the known and the unknown, a massive sentinel keeping us disconnected from whatever lies beyond. An institution to rival the fiery Gates of Tartarus itself, an abstract concept made flesh.

In his last hours, Obsidian Obelisk wept, slowly folding beneath the agonizing pain in the pit of his stomach, wondering what awaited him after his passing. His paperwork was processed by the reviewers and stored or sent off somewhere once he arrived. But the reviewers did not remember him. He was but one soul to pass through the Bureau, one out of the countless millions upon billions. Why should he deserve special treatment? Death is the great equalizer, it comes to all without prejudice.

The corridors of the building are long, ill-lit and dreary. Many have travelled these sinister roads, but few would return to recount the experience. The sterile grays flow into one another, mixing, dulling the eye. The hallways stretch like elastics way past breaking point. This effect is amplified by the constant groaning of the building’s framework, giving the impression that the whole thing is liable to snap and collapse in on itself at any given moment. The overall atmosphere of the place is distressing, leaving one to wonder if there’s any point—

“Are you alright, Twilight? The floor’s not that interesting,” said Spike.The other two ponies looked aside to see Twilight jerking upright reflexively.

“It’s nothing,” she blurted out. “I just can’t help but feel—”

At this point they heard a number of voices engaged in conversation, coming from a distance. The four exchanged hopeful glances, and, without so much as a word, broke into a run, racing towards the sound.

***

“You know, Rainbow, you really should resolve not to break your promises to a friend,” Rarity started in a huff. “Do you know how long I’d spent waiting for you, worrying? Had the thought even crossed your mind as you abandoned me? You’ve some nerve!”

Rainbow Dash turned to Pinkie Pie, looking for help. Pinkie shrugged and tried to grin apologetically, but the effort was spoiled by the silver scales she was carrying in her teeth.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Rainbow tried, as she turned back to face Rarity’s fury. “I found an elevator but I couldn’t stop it, and it took me to the basement! It wouldn’t go back up!”

Rarity grunted irritably, resting the ornate scythe against a wall with her magic. Rainbow Dash unclenched her teeth and drew a breath. Seeing Rarity levitating the blade around them left her a little on edge, if you’ll forgive the pun.

“So, what’s with the sickle you’ve got there?” she asked.

“Given that Applejack’s not here to correct you, I suppose it falls to me to point out that this is a scythe, Rainbow, not a sickle. As for why I have it, well. I just found it and thought it looked rather striking.”

“Huh. Well, watch how you handle that thing. Don’t want you striking one of us, right?”

“Ah-ha. Ha. Sheathe that razor wit of yours, dear, lest it dull.”

Pinkie dropped the scales to make her own contribution.

“You hear that, Dashie? That one didn’t quite make the cut.”

Rainbow giggled despite herself. An unwilling smile was tugging at the corners of Rarity’s lips.

The sound of rushing hooves echoed around the halls. Rarity gasped.

“Oh my. You think that’s—”

Rainbow Dash took off running toward the sound. Pinkie took a moment to pick up the scales and followed suit. Rarity followed last, with the platinum-bearded scythe in tow.

***

They entered a large stage in front of a sizable auditorium. In this case, “they” is indicative of both parties, although the two entered through opposite sides. The wood from which the stage has been built was ancient and stained in places, but sturdy enough that it could be deemed safe to walk on. Moth-eaten burgundy curtains were drawn together, hiding whatever lay backstage. There was no audience to speak of, the red-cushioned chairs were empty. Nevertheless, the spotlights near the ceiling were active and focused on a single point in the center of the stage.

The monstrous Sheol stood there looking oddly pensive in the light, as though he was about to launch into a soliloquy. Twilight had to stifle a groan of embarrassment for the spirit. It seemed even one such as he could have a taste for pointless drama. He was without his cross; instead he was holding something else in his outstretched arms, something that shone brilliantly in the spotlight.

The seven closed in around the misshapen creature hesitantly. Although they were reunited, an unspoken agreement between them delayed their joyous greetings. Sheol’s bizarre appearance demanded their undivided attention. As he drew his arms in, they saw that he was holding a golden crown. The crown caught the spotlight and scattered it in all directions, throwing shimmering spots across the floor like rice over a newlywed couple. And although they knew not what this meant, the air was solemn.

Rainbow Dash glanced over the various items they had accumulated in their travels and broke the silence.

“What’s with this junk?”

The eye on the creature’s mamma blinked twice and rotated to look at her. A look of revulsion crossed her face for a split second before she rallied.

“You’re the one who strangled Pinkie, right? And kidnapped all of us? You lookin’ for a fight?”

Sheol did not answer. Instead, he offered her the crown.

“I don’t want your stinking crown, alright?!”

Twilight moved to try and diffuse the situation.

“Hold on a second, Rainbow—”

Rainbow Dash thought back to her mad dash against the rotmites. She and Pinkie had almost died trying to evade the loathsome creatures. She wondered if she’d be lost in this place forever, if she would ever see her friends again. And here, standing before her, was the hideous monstrosity that was responsible.

“You think you can just snatch us up and get off scot-free?! I’ll show you!”

She lunged at the monster before she even knew what she was doing. Sailing through the air, she half expected him to deflect her blow, or dodge it somehow.

An instant passed.

Her hoof was buried in Sheol’s eye.

Many creatures have evolved so that their eyes are fairly well-protected. They tend to be set inside a bony cavity in the skull, such that they are mostly out of harm’s way.

Sheol’s eye had been on a fleshy bulb hanging on the outside of his body. The damage looked severe. He recoiled violently, dropping the golden crown; his shuddering was all the more eerie for his silence. The wound began to drip something, a liquid as black as unrefined oil and as thick as tar. Rainbow looked at her stained foreleg and then at the creature, suddenly remorseful. There was no retaliation. Sheol turned away, with one four-fingered hand held to his bleeding eye. As they watched, the creature drifted away from the stage and evaporated.

As her stomach caught up with her brain, Rainbow Dash was hit with a wave of nausea. She fell to her knees, taking deep, greedy breaths in an attempt to keep the contents of her stomach where they were.

“The Princesses will not be happy about this...” Spike observed, chewing on one of his claws.

“Say what?” Rainbow turned to face the dragon, her nausea all but forgotten.

Twilight’s eyes were fixed on the drops of black on the floor in something akin to shock. When she looked up, one of her eyebrows was twitching.

“Why did you do that?” she shouted.

“Because that was a bad guy, right?” Rainbow Dash answered hesitantly.

“He wasn’t, actually!”

“Easy there, sugarcube,” Applejack interjected. “She didn’t know.”

Rainbow winced. She didn’t like it when others made excuses on her behalf.

“Didn’t know what?” she asked. “Who was it then?”

Twilight was making a concentrated effort to calm down. Her eyes were shut and her breathing sounded strained. She didn’t answer.

“That was the fellow in charge,” Applejack filled in. “Twilight says th’ Princess wanted us to help him out.”

“But, but he kidnapped us!”

“Yeah, I’m with ya. Princess Celestia shoulda warned us. But it makes no difference now, right?”

Rainbow couldn’t meet the eyes of any of her friends. Now, more than anything, she wanted to be elsewhere.

“Listen, I’m really... I...”

The words died in her throat. She hung her head, mortified. Some seconds passed, but the moment seemed to stretch to impossible lengths.

Finally, Fluttershy picked up the crown Sheol had dropped.

“Rainbow, Pinkie and Rarity have two artifacts and our group has one, so that would mean that this is the fourth, right?”
The crown rivaled Princess Celestia’s Solar Diadem in beauty. Unlike the Diadem however, this crown was a complete ring, and the goldsmith had forwent encrusting it with any jewels in favor of a more subdued, economic design. Were she more concerned with material wealth, Fluttershy might have considered keeping the radiant crown for herself.

Twilight had regained some of her composure by this point.

“That’s right. The last step of our task is to return to Equestria and give these items to Princess Luna.”

“Why?” asked Pinkie Pie. “Also, how?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Let’s head for the exit on the first floor. There’s an elevator around here somewhere.”

***

ONCE YOU HAVE ACQUIRED THE FOUR ITEMS, YOU MAY LEAVE.

“How do we do that?” Twilight asked him.

There was another brief pause as the senior reviewer gathered his thoughts.

THIS FACILITY HOUSES A NUMBER OF DEPARTMENTS, EACH SPECIALIZING IN A DIFFERENT ASPECT OF OUR BUSINESS. ONE OF THE SMALLER SUCH DEPARTMENTS IS OUR QUESTION AND ANSWER BRANCH. FEW IN YOUR WORLD ARE AWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF THE BUREAU. THOSE WHO ARE MAY FIND THAT THEY HAVE QUESTIONS CONCERNING OUR PRACTICES AND REGULATIONS. NATURALLY, WE ARE UNABLE TO PROVIDE THE ANSWERS TO MANY OF THESE QUERIES, AND THE QUESTION AND ANSWER BRANCH EXISTS TO COMMUNICATE THIS TO OUR WOULD-BE CLIENTS.

“You have an entire office dedicated to... to not answering questions?” Twilight asked, wondering if she’d misunderstood. “What’s the point of that?”

REGARDLESS, THIS SERVICE REQUIRES A WORKING PHONE LINE BETWEEN THE CHARON BUREAU AND THE LIVING WORLD, AND INDEED, ONE EXISTS. OUTSIDE, IN THE GARDEN, YOU WILL FIND A UTILITY POST. IT IS PERHAPS A COUPLE HUNDRED YARDS AWAY FROM THE MAIN EXIT. A FRUIT GROWS AT THE FOOT OF THIS POST. YOU AND YOUR ASSOCIATES MUST EACH TAKE A BITE OF THE FRUIT TO RETURN TO YOUR WORLD.

“I see. Are there any precautions we should take?”

ONE. DO NOT LEAVE THE PREMISES. IF YOU ENTER THE BRILLIANT VOID BEYOND, YOU WILL NEVER RETURN. THIS WOULD BE... UNDESIRABLE. YOUR PAPERWORK HAS NOT YET BEEN DRAFTED OR PROCESSED.

Twilight heard Spike snort. She was beginning to feel the same way.

“Goodness. I’d hate to be such a bother.”

***

After Twilight had explained what they were meant to do, the rest exchanged stories.

“None of you will be harmed unless you choose to be?” Rainbow repeated upon hearing Applejack recount her arrival to the Bureau.

“Funny, innit?” said Applejack. “Doesn’t seem to gel with your an’ Pinkie’s, ahem, encounter, eh?”

“He probably lied,” Rainbow concluded. “It sure wasn’t our choice to nearly get killed, right Pinkie?”

Pinkie nodded, causing the skull-shaped dishes hanging from the scales to ring against one another.

“Maybe he didn’t mean it literally?” said Fluttershy.

She was wearing the crown, albeit reluctantly, as Rarity had insisted that it complemented her coat. Twilight looked back at them and hissed for silence. When they complied, they all heard a distant buzz in the walls. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie tensed up visibly.

“It’s those things,” Rainbow spat out. “We gotta pick up the pace or we won’t make it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Applejack. “Hope we ain’t got much further t’ go.”

***

The receptionist had been with the Charon Bureau for the better part of two millennia. Her job title was somewhat misleading in that she didn’t actually receive anyone. Nobody used the main doors to enter the building; they were there primarily for spirits to exit it and, presumably, to proceed to wherever it was they went afterwards. The job was simple enough, and became even simpler about one thousand years back, when the volume of departing spirits began to thin rapidly. The receptionist did not question this development, nor did she question the decline of the building’s physical maintenance and sanitation. None of that was even tangentially her business.

Her studied indifference ensured that when the six horses and one baby dragon sprinted into her lobby and started pounding on the exit doors, she did not regard them with anything more than idle curiosity. After watching them for a few minutes, she took out a disinfectant wipe and began her customary cleaning of the desk.

***

The buzzing had doggedly chased them down as they moved through the building. Rarity and Fluttershy closed every door the group passed through and locked it—where there was a lock available—but their efforts weren’t slowing down their pursuers very much. And now, here they were, a hair’s breadth from escape. Unfortunately for them, the two revolving doors were stuck in place; no amount of pushing or bucking moved the stubborn doors even an inch. Meanwhile, the drone of the rotmites grew steadily in volume, its timbre becoming more and more distinct with every passing second.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack renewed their attempts at rotating the doors, kicking with an urgency that would leave most unreinforced doors in shambles. Not so for these doors; the glass was thick and heavy, almost unnaturally so. No force they had in their reserves was enough to crack it.

“What shall we do, Twilight?” asked Rarity.

Twilight considered their options.

“Let me try something.”

“Alright. Nooooo pressure.” Rainbow tried to sound casual, but there was a palpable tension in her voice that made the act less than completely convincing.

Twilight took a deep breath and concentrated. With a pop and a flash, she vanished. Before the others had time to question what she was doing, she reappeared where she stood, looking bewildered.

“What in the—” she began. “I can’t—teleportation won’t work!”

“Why?” Rarity shouted inanely.

“I don’t know!”

The first of the rotmites became visible in the hallway.

Twilight looked around the lobby and finally caught the disembodied rag sliding across the main desk in circular motions.

“Hey! You there!” she addressed the rag. “We could use a little help!”

The rag stopped. After a few agonizing moments the receptionist pulled out a battered-looking notebook, a quill and an inkwell from the recesses behind the table. The quill danced on a clean page for a couple of seconds and the notebook was held up for Twilight to see. The text was written in a flowing cursive script.

Of course. How can I help you?

“Why won’t the doors move?!”

None may exit the building without showing me the necessary papers.

Twilight looked back at the hallway to see that a number of rotmites were slowly pouring into the lobby. Her friends had given up on the doors and were crouched into combat stances, or at least something that resembled them superficially.

“We’re alive! We don’t have papers!”

The receptionist didn’t miss a beat.

Then you may not exit the building.

“Why doesn’t teleportation work?”

The rotmites drew closer as the receptionist wrote out her response. Rarity swung the platinum scythe. It was a weak, poorly balanced swing that intercepted nothing and rebounded off the marble floor upon reaching the end of its arch. By all appearances, it should have been a wasted effort, but the blade flickered almost imperceptibly as it sailed through the air. At least a dozen of the nearest rotmites shuddered slightly and disintegrated. Rarity looked at the platinum blade with her mouth comically agape.

You are no longer in your own world. This land belongs to the Bureau. While occupying it, you must abide by our rules. Thaumaturgy is not within company policy. All spells significantly more complex than levitation are either reduced or banned outright.

“We are going to die if those doors don’t open!” tried Spike.

The receptionist held up her notebook again. Her reply was short and businesslike.

Come back with the necessary papers afterwards.

Rarity continued swinging away at the incoming waves of insects, but it seemed as though there were simply too many to stamp out in their entirety.

“I don’t want to alarm anypony—” she shouted over her shoulder. “—but I don’t think we can hold these creatures back indefinitely!”

The swarm began to pool outside the range of the scythe, biding their time. The rotmites intended to overwhelm the party with a single prolonged assault. As Twilight was about to start pleading with the receptionist, Fluttershy firmly pushed her to the side. The usually demure pegasus leaned over the aging desk and fixed the empty space behind the floating notebook with a steely glare. Her quiet voice cut through the din like cannonfire.

“Let us through.”

After the fact Twilight could have sworn she saw the crown shine briefly as Fluttershy voiced the command. Was it Fluttershy’s trademark stare that compelled the receptionist, that fierce gaze that brought wild lions to heel? Or was it something else? Fluttershy herself could not say when Twilight asked.

The next moment would be silent were it not for the building drone of the rotmites around them. The receptionist wrote out one last message and held up the notebook for Fluttershy and Twilight to see.

The doors are unlocked. You may exit the building.

They turned and ran then, Twilight shouting for the other four to do the same. The rotmites, perhaps sensing that their meal was about to escape, gave chase. The doors yielded this time, rotating with ease, and the seven sprinted into the brilliant garden outside.

“Down!” one of them shouted, and they threw themselves into the tall, dew-specked grasses, fearing even to breathe. The two doors spun as the bloodthirsty insects barged through and, blinded and enraged, scattered into the heavens.

Doubt?

Spike quietly got up and, standing on his tiptoes, peeked over the tall grass surrounding him. Even with his eyes slitted, he could not make out anything further than two or three feet away in any direction. The buzzing of the rotmites had subsided and he felt reasonably safe. Unless... Could this garden be home to another creature as dangerous as the rotmites? Or—he shivered—perhaps something even worse?

A breeze danced through the vegetation like fingers caressing the hair of a loved one. The only sound he heard was the gentle rustling of the grasses in the wind. After spending so long inside the lifeless building, he found the scent of nature to be startling, almost overwhelming. He felt alone. The only reminder of how he’d come here and for what purpose was the antique blowing horn he clutched in his hands.

He cleared his throat.

“Guys? You there?”

There was movement in the brush as the six ponies resurfaced, squinting in the light. They seemed unharmed, as was Spike.

“Twice in one day,” said Rainbow Dash. “Lucky us, huh Pinkie?”

“No wonder nopony wants to work here!” Pinkie exclaimed. “This place needs an exterminator bad. I remember, back in the day, Sugarcube Corner had a termite infestation. That was the worst! Except it wasn’t, really, because termites don’t grow to be the size of a gerbil!”

“I agree,” said Rarity. “We should leave this place post-haste.”

She turned to try and address Twilight.

“Did the reviewer specify where we could find this telephone pole you mentioned...? Twilight? Are you listening?”

Fluttershy remembered seeing something like a pole outside when she first awoke in the Bureau. However, her spatial reasoning was all but in tatters after navigating the mazelike innards of the building, and she could not deduce its position. She scanned the horizon for any signs of the landmark.

“Is... Is that it?”

It was a faint suggestion of an outline with what may have been others further off. They waited for confirmation from Twilight, but none came. She might have shrugged, but the gesture was lost in the light.

“Let’s investigate,” Rarity suggested. “And do liven up, all of you. We’re almost done here; we’re almost home.”

The rolling grasslands were interrupted periodically by thorny bushes, brambles and the like, but there was not one tree anywhere to be seen. Numerous flowers of varying families and hues dotted the landscape. As they walked they saw vibrant yellow roses and daisies as well as other, lesser known flowers that Twilight would have identified as phlox and calliopsis. The party respectfully stayed back from the flowers; all except Pinkie that is, who could not resist sniffing some of the more fragrant breeds.

As they were nearing the post, Applejack abruptly became aware that something, someone may have been missing, but the light made it difficult to make a visual check.

“‘Ey. I think... Did we lose somepony? Fluttershy, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Pinkie, you’re still here, right?”

“Yep, I’m here!”

“Rarity?”

“Present, of course.”

“Twilight?”

This time there was no response.

“Aw, shoot. Did she get lost somewhere? How’re we ever gon’ find her in this overgrown patch?”

“Perhaps we can arrange for her to find us instead,” said Rarity.

“How d’you mean?”

Rarity gestured towards the blowing horn Spike was holding.

“Wait a second,” Spike protested. “You remember what that scythe of yours did back there, don’t you? Are you sure this is a good idea? Can’t we just meet her at the telephone pole?”

One of Twilight’s earlier remarks echoed unsolicited in Fluttershy’s head.

Make no mistake; if there are gods, they undoubtedly envy us for our mortality.

She spared a nervous glance for Rainbow Dash before her eyes gravitated back towards the ground.

“What’s the matter, Fluttershy?”

“I’m worried.”

***

Twilight stood well away from the others; she’d wandered off at her first opportunity. While this wasn’t something she would normally consider, today she felt... different. The coming of the winter with the first proper snowfall since last year, the kidnapping, Spike’s brush with death in the closet, the dull gray viscera of the Charon Bureau; it had all gotten to her. She thought she might clear her head alone. And yet, now that she was alone, she felt worse than ever. The vast silhouette of the Bureau behind her, the blinding void just ahead; and in between, a vibrant field of green, full of life. Was there a practical reason for the existence of the field or was it only here for the benefit of departing spirits? She looked around wistfully. Peaks of spiralling wormwood stood watching over the flowing grass below. Flowers of narcissus and love-lies-bleeding swayed gently in the breeze. She began walking on a whim, heedless of her direction or purpose. There was no trail to follow, after all. Her mind began to settle, filling with the rhythmic whispering of the grass beneath her hooves.

She felt the air move before hearing the beating of wings. A voice interrupted the sound of her footfalls.

“Twilight! Where do you think you’re going?”

Twilight pivoted in place to see Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy touch down behind her. They seemed out of place; unwanted. She considered how best to answer. The awkward silence wore on, inflated, surrounding them.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

In the wake of her words, the silence neared its bursting point.

“Were you... Are you... leaving us?” asked Fluttershy.

Their eyes met for a split second before Twilight looked away. She felt warm. Ashamed.

“I don’t know,” she repeated wretchedly.

“What kind of answer is that?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “Since when do you not know something?” There was a momentary crack in her voice. “I won’t let you go. I screwed up once already, I won’t have this eat away at me.”

“Rainbow—”

“What?”

“I’m not...” she floundered, trying to find some way to say it without sounding trite. Abruptly, she decided it didn’t matter. “I’m not like you. I’m weak. Some days I can barely cope.”

“With what?” asked Fluttershy.

“Just... expectations.” As Twilight spoke, Fluttershy got the impression that she’d opened a floodgate by posing the question.“When Princess Celestia accepted me to her school all those years ago, I barely knew anything. I was always anxious, afraid that my being there was just blind luck. I wouldn’t have been able to pass the acceptance exam if it wasn’t for you, Rainbow Dash. I felt like... like a failure who’d only gotten as far as she did through a specific set of circumstances beyond her control. It would be only a matter of time before I was discovered and expelled. I thought if only I’d studied hard enough, if I learned as much as I could that feeling would go away... But it never did.”

Twilight’s eyes began to sting. She told herself it was the effect of the blinding skies, knowing that it wasn’t.

“I spent most of my life in self-imposed isolation in Canterlot. Studying for days on end in my tower, always so eager to please the Princess... What did she want from me? With each test I passed, each project and paper I completed she congratulated me, but it always seemed so superficial, as though these things barely even mattered. And then, with no warning, she just sent me away to Ponyville to oversee some celebration. Was she getting rid of me?”

She paused to swallow the lump that was building in her throat.

“The encounter with Nightmare Moon shortly afterwards... Never in my life prior to that night had I been in any actual danger. But then, in the space of two hours, I’d faced an angry manticore, nearly plummeted to my death twice, and engaged an alicorn princess in combat. In the end, stopping Nightmare Moon has left me with my own share of nightmares. But we’d all come out on top, as the wielders of the fabled Elements of Harmony. Is that all we are? Are we just... just glorified soldiers?”

She shut her eyes and sniffed.

“It’s hard. So if I’m given the choice to end it all painlessly... why shouldn’t I act on it?”

Rainbow opened her mouth and—sensing that she lacked the poise to address Twilight’s worries tactfully—promptly shut it again. She couldn’t relate; she would never consider leaving her friends so suddenly. But an indignant response would almost certainly make matters worse. She lowered her gaze to try and hide her own eyes and the helplessness that lay behind them. What could she say?

Meanwhile, Fluttershy had reached a decision of her own. She removed the crown from her head and handed it to Rainbow Dash wordlessly.

“It’s okay,” she said, turning back to Twilight. “Everypony has problems... Will always have problems. It’s a fact of life. I’ve felt pressured and useless and scared, like you. Maybe more than you, who really knows? Sometimes I can’t help but feel that it would be easier if I didn’t have to put up with these emotions. If I didn’t have to put up with anything. But I know that if I go, I can never come back and see any of my friends. No more sunny days, no more jokes or picnics or...” she trailed off and started again. “Everypony will die eventually, Twilight. Maybe it’s best that you try to enjoy the time you have, rather than make a blind leap that you won’t ever be able to undo. You’ll always have us to help you endure the pain you feel. Besides all that, you help us bear ours. But I won’t ask you to continue living for us; you have to continue living for yourself. A life is precious. You already know that much, right?”

Twilight took a deep breath. It was interrupted by several embarrassing sobs that shook her frame.

“I... I just...”

Fluttershy flashed her an awkward smile.

“Um. Sorry if that didn’t make much sense. I’m trying my best. Just know that you’re not alone. Please.”

Twilight hung her head. Tears were streaming freely from her eyes; they wouldn’t stop, even as she tried to stay in control. All she wanted was to clear her head, yet here she was, coming apart in front of her friends. This was no way for her to act. She was supposed to be the cool-headed one.

She felt Fluttershy wrap her forelegs around her. They felt warm and comforting in the chilly air.

“I’m s-sorry,” she choked out between labored breaths.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”

***

The two pegasi returned to the party with Twilight in tow, much to the relief of the others. There were a few questions asked regarding where she’d been and why, but nobody felt up to answering them just then. The utility pole towered over them, a bony finger pointing at the brilliant sky. The pole was overgrown; vines twisted endlessly around the ancient wood. Several long, luscious clusters of violet-colored grapes hung suspended from the vines. Another breeze drifted through the air, setting the clusters in motion. This was their destination. Although none of them had grown attached to the Bureau, an air of melancholy surrounded the place. One more adventure had been seen through to its conclusion. Perhaps one of countless more to come. In due time.

“Looks like we’re finally here,” Applejack said redundantly. “So. Who wants th’ first bite?”

Twilight exchanged glances with Fluttershy and Rainbow.

“I’ll go first.”

There were no objections. She looked back at the building as she plucked a single berry from the stalk with her magic. It stood silhouetted against the timeless light of the sky, dark and solemn. It was not often that the Bureau’s visitors returned to the living world. She knew that they were lucky to be among them, although whether the experience was a positive one was anyone’s guess.

Good riddance.

“See you all on the other side.”

She had one last thought as she popped the grape into her mouth.

Why couldn’t Sheol deliver these things to Princess Luna himself?

She bit down.

***

The senior reviewer examined the forms that his latest client had brought him. This was the standard departure package. These files had been processed by every relevant department, embossed and signed in triplicate. In short, the spirit had gone through all the necessary channels and was ready to leave. The reviewer opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a stamp and an inkwell. There was no wasted motion, no delay. The stamp was dipped into the emerald ink and brought down on the front page of the package.

[APPROVED]

The senior reviewer handed the files back to his client. In a voice that no still-living ear could hear, he asked the spirit to inform the main desk that he’d be unavailable to take any more clients for the next half-hour. As the grateful spirit left him, the senior reviewer turned back to his desk and pulled out a page he’d been saving. This page was decorated with the official Charon Bureau letterhead, which was used specifically for documents that were going back to the world of the living. With a practiced efficiency, he inserted the paper into his machine and began to type.

DEAR PRINCESS CELESTIA AND/OR LUNA,

WE HOPE THAT THIS LETTER FINDS YOU HEALTHY AND IN FINE SPIRITS. AS PROMISED, THIS WILL BE A BRIEF ASSESSMENT OF YOUR AGENTS AND THEIR WORK.

THE SEVEN ARRIVED TO THE BUREAU AT APPROXIMATELY 8 O’CLOCK LAST NIGHT AND, AFTER A PERIOD OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS (AS TO BE EXPECTED), COMPLETED THEIR TASK AT 9:36 THIS MORNING. YOU AND/OR YOUR SISTER WILL BE RECEIVING CHARON’S REGALIA SHORTLY, IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY. THIS SHOULD REESTABLISH YOUR LAND’S CONNECTION TO OUR FACILITY, AT WHICH POINT WE WILL BE ABLE TO BEGIN ACCEPTING EMPLOYEES AND VOLUNTEERS ONCE MORE AND RESUME OPERATING AT 100% CAPACITY. THUS, THE SEVEN FOLLOWED THEIR INSTRUCTIONS TO A SATISFACTORY DEGREE.

HOWEVER, THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BESIDES.

FIRSTLY, A MISUNDERSTANDING ON HER PART LED RAINBOW DASH TO ATTACK AND INJURE THE SPIRIT OF PENANCE, SHEOL. WHILE THE DAMAGE IS SUPERFICIAL AND THE SPIRIT WILL LIKELY MAKE A FULL RECOVERY IN DUE TIME, THE GESTURE IS NOT APPRECIATED AND WE HOPE THAT MS. DASH WILL BE DISCIPLINED.

SECONDLY, YOUR STUDENT, TWILIGHT SPARKLE, WAS ENTERTAINING THOUGHTS OF SELF-TERMINATION WHILE IN OUR GARDEN. WERE IT NOT FOR THE INTERVENTION OF HER ASSOCIATES, WE ARE UNSURE THAT SHE WOULD HAVE MADE IT BACK TO YOU. SHE IS ANXIOUS AND SHOWS SIGNS OF SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER. IF THIS ISSUE IS NOT ADDRESSED, WE MAY BE SEEING HER AGAIN SOONER THAN YOU’D EXPECT.

PLEASE BE AWARE AND ACT ACCORDINGLY.

KIND REGARDS.

Author's Note

I guess ending stories with an epilogue letter is just sorta my thing now. And I guess that concludes this little experiment. What did I learn? Leave emotional/psychological stuff to other people. Not my best story, I freely admit. It kinda felt like I had wasted everyone's time. I suppose such is the nature of experiments. Next time I'll make something a bit closer to my comfort zone. Don't hold this one against me, okay? Thanks a bunch. Appreciate you all. Ciao.

Hazard.

Pinkie Pie was floating in a hazy white expanse beyond the universe as she knew it, dreamless, remembering nothing. The void was comfortable and she was at peace. This is a metaphor, of course. In truth, she was unconscious. There was no clouded void, nor was there any color the waking mind can see, merely the serenity of non-being.

“This is soooooo boring. When can I wake up, please?”

Who’s to say you will ever wake up? It’s quite possible that you’re dead.

“Oh, gosh. Is this one of those stories?”

I don’t know. Probably not.

Gradually, Pinkie regained consciousness, piece by piece. She heard something. Sharp, irregular breathing, sniffling. Sobbing. Her vision returned, blurry at first. She was on her side somewhere. The surface on which she lay felt colder and significantly less comfortable than her bed in Sugarcube Corner. A fuzzy blob of baby blue was dominating her view and as her vision cleared, she recognized it.

“Dashie!” she exclaimed. “Good morning!”

Rainbow Dash recoiled with a gasp.

“What’sa matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” As Pinkie got up and looked at her friend’s face, she noticed that Rainbow’s eyes were puffy and streaks of water were running down her cheeks. Rainbow turned away, wiping her eyes hurriedly.

“That’s not funny!” she yelled. “I thought you were d-dead!”

“Whaaaaat? That’s crazy! Why would you think that?”

Rainbow looked at the floor sullenly.

“You were cold, you weren’t breathing and you had no pulse,” she muttered.

“Oh.” Pinkie noticed that she did feel chilly, but that feeling was slowly melting away as the blood circulated in her body once more. “Yes. Good reasons. I’d have thought the same thing. But I’m not! Isn’t that great?” She sighed, feeling guilty. “Gee. Sorry for worrying you, Rainbow.”

Rainbow threw her forelegs around Pinkie wordlessly, holding her close. But there was a tightness in Pinkie’s throat, and it wasn’t there for the same reasons as it may have been in Rainbow’s.

“Ow, owwie, careful. My neck’s still bruised from when that white guy grabbed it.”

Rainbow Dash released her, surprised.

“White guy? What’re you talking about?” she asked. “Somepony grabbed you?

“Weeeeeeellllll, I dunno if somepony is the right word…”

“What happened?”

“Okay, so, I was on my way to buy some lights for Hearth’s Warming Eve when…” The whole story took less than a minute to recount. “…and then I woke up here with you!”

She looked around. This was ostensibly an office space. Several cushioned chairs were set beside a large, expensive-looking desk, which was laden with folders, loose sheets and one ancient-looking phone. A bookshelf stood behind the desk, filled with an assortment of dark-colored tomes. The outside wall bore a long, narrow aperture near the ceiling; a harsh light shone through this window, making the room appear otherworldly, transcendent. One must imagine the slot was once fitted with glass, but now grasses and other vegetation crawled through it, dangling freely over the waxen floor.

“That stranger…” Rainbow muttered to herself. Something stirred in her memory at Pinkie’s description of the monster. She could swear she saw something similar, just before leaving for her shift on the weather patrol the day before. “And from what you’re saying, maybe he took Twilight too…”

“Hey, what is this place?” Pinkie asked.

“It’s just the basement floor in some building somewhere,” Rainbow said dismissively. “I heard from Rarity earlier but we, uh, we got separated.”

“That’s no good!” declared Pinkie. “We should go find her! And all the others! If there are any others! Allons-y!”

“What’s that mean?”

“I dunno. I heard Time Turner say it once.”

As always, Pinkie Pie was taking everything in stride. She did not question her presence here or her earlier state of suspended animation as she deemed these things unimportant. While Rainbow was curious about how they were brought to this place and why, Pinkie’s enthusiasm proved to be infectious and, in no time at all, they set off to explore.

“I’m glad I found you,” Rainbow Dash confessed as they began their journey through the endless hallways. “I’ve been combing this place alone for hours. Really doesn’t help the mood, you know?”

“That’s okay!” Pinkie replied. “Y’gotta keep your head up! The trip’s only as bad as you make it! And it’s more fun with friends!”

They turned a corner and pushed through a set of double-doors.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I dunno what I’d do without you.”

The foundation screeched once more, sounding not unlike a poorly-tuned violin. They cringed. As the echo reverberated and faded, they could hear a new and mysterious sound. There was a buzzing in the distance, and it seemed to be drawing closer. Rainbow stopped, holding Pinkie back with an outstretched foreleg. They stood there, waiting silently for the source of the buzzing to come into view. The din grew louder each second, now building from behind them. The double-doors flew open and five large beetle-like insects zoomed through, catching the two ponies in their hungry eyes. They danced around the two, hovering just out of reach, waiting for them to make their move. Rainbow had not seen these creatures before, but even so, was filled with a sense of profound dread. As the two gazed fearfully at the insects, another three joined the squadron. The noise was attracting roaming beasts from the entire floor. Rainbow Dash was paralyzed, observing the building swarm to see just how large it could possibly get. The next instant, Pinkie’s voice rang out, breaking her out of her trance.

“Rainbow? Y’think we should maybe run?”

“Jump on my back, now.”

As Pinkie did so, Rainbow took one last look at the swarm. A score of rat-sized monstrosities bore down on the two of them, waiting patiently, daring the pegasus to try and outrun them.

She took off, though not as quickly as she would have liked. Pinkie clung tightly around her neck and she could not accelerate to her top speed for fear of losing her. The walls seemed to close in on them and she wondered if she was developing claustrophobia. She was not used to flying so fast inside enclosed spaces; a slight deviation from her path could result in broken bones. They burst through two more doors, the second of which flew off of its aged hinges completely. The buzzing behind them persisted; they weren’t making any headway in losing their pursuers. Searching for any way to slow down even a fraction of the insects, Rainbow made a sharp ninety degree turn into a side passage, almost throwing Pinkie off.

“Ack! A little warning would’ve been nice, I think!”

“My bad!”

This passage was a good deal narrower than the hallway. The tips of Rainbow’s wings nearly touched the walls flanking her. The passage ended in a distinctive jet-black gate that was coming up at an alarming speed.

“Uh, Dashie?” Pinkie yelled over the incessant buzzing of the insects. “That door looks a bit tougher than the other ones!”

“There’s no other way! Get ready!”

Before they could close the distance, a single straggler from the swarm grabbed hold of Rainbow’s left wing, surprising her and making her bank sharply to the side. The right wall leaned in close in a conspiratorial manner, clipping Rainbow’s side. She spun out of control, bouncing violently between the two sides of the tunnel. Pinkie, meanwhile, found herself airborne, but not quite in the same way that she had been previously. She landed several yards ahead of Rainbow Dash, facing the black doorway.

She stood up, her injuries barely registering in her brain. The mass of insects fell upon them both. Pinkie swatted them away in a futile gesture, trying to crawl to Rainbow’s side. The foul creatures obscured her vision, but she heard Rainbow’s strained voice over their victorious drone.

“Pinkie… You gotta… live.”

There was no reason to suspect that Pinkie Pie had a better chance of escaping this situation with her life than Rainbow. Pinkie did not think to point out Rainbow’s error in thinking however, and uttered something a bit more heroic.

“Not without you!”

She could feel the insects draining her strength, but her resolve to save her friend remained. She dug Rainbow Dash out of the squirming pile, and slung her over her back. Rainbow may have been unconscious by this point, as she did not protest. The creatures grabbed hold of Pinkie’s legs and piled onto her back, slowing her down, as though desperately trying to hold her in place. Absolute terror took hold of her heart as she realized that she would die here. But even so, she trudged closer to the jet-black gate, her tenacity fueled in part by burning curiosity for what lay beyond. She fumbled with the silver knob for a few seconds, barely finding the energy to turn it.

The gate swung inwards, revealing the room beyond. A black and white checkered floor stretched between walls of blood red, no, decadent crimson interspersed with gold. Miraculously, the vampiric insects began to disperse, as though repelled by the bright coloration of the crimson cell. As Pinkie Pie entered it, she felt Rainbow stir. Were she religious, Pinkie would take a moment to thank her deity. It would seem that they’d survive for a while longer.

Her ears popped as the last of the loathsome buzzing faded off into the distance. The silence was deafening in itself. The room was average-sized and mostly empty. Whereas the floor outside was in sore need of a mop, the checkered floors here were pristine, spotless, untouched by time. Pinkie examined some of the paintings that lined the walls. Strange figures were twisted around one another, locked in a carnal embrace, appearing at once torturous and obscene. She felt dirtier for having looked at them.

In the center of the cell stood a cylindrical pedestal, gear-shaped and bone white save for the teeth, which were painted red, matching the walls. Atop the altar sat a remarkable set of scales, whose sparkling silver dishes were designed in the shapes of skulls. Each skull was flat-faced and quite unlike the equine shape that Pinkie had gotten used to seeing in Twilight’s books on anatomy. Adding to the surreal appearance of the instrument were the clenched fists that held the wire from which the dishes were suspended. All in all, much like the paintings, Pinkie found the scales disturbing. Regrettably, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she might need them later.

Rainbow moved again.

“Hey. Pinkie? Are we alive?” she groaned.

“Yep, yep!”

“Awesome.” She carefully slid off Pinkie’s back, but wobbled and collapsed as soon as she tried to stand on her own. “How’d that happen?”

Pinkie helped Rainbow get into a comfortable position, leaning her against the altar.

“I opened the door and all the bugs flew away.”

“Why?”

“Beats me!”

Rainbow looked around the room, focusing in turn on the paintings and the scales behind her.

“This place looks kinda creepy. But… I guess if those things don’t like it here, maybe we could rest for a little while?”

“That’s a good idea!” Pinkie took a second to look her friend over. “Are you hurt, Rainbow? That crash was pretty bad.”

Rainbow gently stretched her wings and legs. “Just my pride; maybe a few bruises and a pulled muscle or two. But I think everything’s in one piece.”

“Great! I was worried for a while back there.”

They were both dealing with post-traumatic stress. The encounter with the vampiric beetles left them mentally and physically exhausted. Rainbow sat still, barely keeping herself awake. Next to her, Pinkie Pie was visibly trembling with a grin plastered across her face.

“Er. Pinkie? Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m just so happy we’re both still okay. We were really lucky this room was here, you know!”

“I’ll say. I was starting to think this place was almost toying with me, before. But maybe… Nah. I’m just being paranoid.”

“I think we’re supposed to be here to take those scales that are sitting behind us,” Pinkie said.

“You sure that won’t trigger something even worse?” Rainbow asked.

“Not really! It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Okay.”

Pinkie looked at her quizzically. Rainbow shrugged.

“I trust your intuition,” she explained.

And so the silver scales, too, were lifted from their resting place.