Reaper tentatively cracked an eye open and waited for the world around him to come into focus. He slowly sat up and peered at the collection of chairs, chaise lounges, sofas and cushions stretching off for hundreds of yards in every direction.
He tipped his head back and gazed up at the roof of some vast domed structure, hundreds of feet above him, and all about him hovered various globes, orbs and cubes, each pulsating in a different pale color, all of them mixing and mingling to produce a soft, ambient light that appeared to flow from all directions.
He stood uneasily and patted his chest, noting it was intact, then ran his hand over his head and across his chin, feeling the presence of hair and a beard again.
He walked around for a few moments, feeling the upholstery on several chairs and imagining a simple white robe into existence: “I don’t actually remember this waiting room last time I came through…”
“A statement of surpassing curiosity, Gerrar. There is much here we do not entirely understand.”
Reaper turned and bowed to the wizened figure hovering just above the floor behind him: “I suspect it will all be made clear--well, clearer, at any rate--if you fully probe my memories, T'zarjāin.”
Kur’s Harbinger pointed to a nearby sofa with its twisted, gnarled shepherd’s crook: “Open thy mind to us.”
Reaper closed his eyes and felt a cold touch against his forehead, followed by a sudden, disorienting rush of memories and emotions. He sagged back against the sofa and shuddered.
T'zarjāin backed away and stood still for a minute as shadows and traces of images flickered across its blank, colorless face: “We understand thee better now, Reaper.”
It tipped its head sideways as if listening: “Pardon us. We shall return momentarily.”
Reaper furrowed his brow and stood, straightening his robe as the chamber was suddenly flooded by a deep-purplish flash. Something caught Reaper’s attention out of the corner of his eye.
He turned towards a nearby chaise lounge where Luna now lay naked and curled in a fetal position, apparently in a deep sleep. T'zarjāin appeared next to her a moment later.
It reached a claw toward Luna’s forehead: “More will be revealed once we have plumbed the depths of this one’s memories as well.”
Reaper walked over to the pair and summoned another robe, which he draped over Luna like a blanket: “So, T'zarjāin, do you understand now who we are and why we are here?”
It nodded: “This Void that we have seen in thy memories--this is a thing we have never encountered or even considered until just a few days ago.”
“You mean Luna’s creation of an isolated, encapsulating dreamscape.”
“Yes. We sensed the disappearance of, well, someone. We did not understand at the time why there appeared to be two Gerrars.”
Luna set up unsteadily and wrapped the robe around her shoulders: “My sincerest apologies, Master T'zarjāin. I could think of no other resolution.”
“His death would have been the trivial solution.”
Reaper chuckled: “Yeah, that’s what I said--shit, that’s what he said!”
Luna nodded: “True, but I cannot kill in cold blood. I had to find another way.”
T'zarjāin shrugged: “We are relieved to now understand how this came to pass.”
Reaper sat down next to Luna: “So now what? Clearly I’m dead…”
Luna bit her lip and glanced away: “I am so sorry, Reaper. I was not in control, and--”
Reaper smiled and squeezed her shoulder: “It’s fine Princess--it had to be done in any event. I don’t blame you for any of this.”
He turned back to T'zarjāin: “So what of Luna? She must also have died or she wouldn’t be here, yes?”
T'zarjāin drifted to one side and waved its staff. A large, ornate frame appeared, hovering in the air before them; it looked down on the battlefield as though from a high balcony.
“Thou art correct: thou art dead, and we removed Luna’s spirit from her flesh. However, the equations do not properly balance for thy returns to the world of thy custodianship.”
Reaper furrowed his brow: “I don’t get it--two bodies entered Kur, my dead body remains twice, and Luna’s corpse pays for her flesh to be returned when we--”
“That is not a corpse, my Brother.”
Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “Nightmare Moon!”
Reaper tipped his head and peered at the image in the frame: “How?”
Luna took a deep breath: “After Yunada and his lackeys rendered me unconscious and violated me--”
“Wait--as in ‘raped?!’”
Luna bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment: “I will explain in greater detail later. As I was saying, as I was returning to consciousness, I found myself back in my and Celestia’s old castle.”
“The ruins--the usual.”
Luna shook her head: “But not ‘the usual.’ This time everything had been rebuilt and refurbished in a style I did not recognize. I myself had been returned to my true form, and Nightmare Moon made it clear that it was now her body, and that I was not to interfere.”
Reaper nodded: “And then Death’s power was unleashed…”
“It actually welled-up and was overtaking me at the moment Yunada was forcing himself on me, but he pressed a brand into my shoulder, causing me to swoon for a moment. It was then I lost control and was struck across the back of the head.”
Reaper chewed the inside of his mouth: “That explains a lot. So you never regained control except for a moment--I saw your eyes clear just before I died…”
“Correct. She now possesses that body in its entirety.”
T'zarjāin nodded: “And so again to our problem. Thy return is assured, Reaper, so that thou canst assume again thy duties. But Luna remains in suspense.”
Reaper stood: “Then send her back--I’ll stay! I’ll pay the price! She doesn’t belong here! She and her native power must be returned to her world!”
Luna cast her eyes down and chewed a fingernail: “What of Gerrar’s body?”
T'zarjāin and Reaper looked at her: “His spirit is gone from the circles of this world, yes?”
T'zarjāin nodded: “Yes, and we resolved his residual flesh earlier this morning. Someone has found and interred it.”
Reaper sat back down next to Luna and rubbed his chin: “So we’re down one Gerrar, and the second one is on his way back to do his duty. That’s an extra body!”
Luna nodded toward the floating frame: “And she keeps the form we took as we entered this world. She herself noted that she now belongs to Kur.”
T'zarjāin tapped a claw against its staff for a minute as Reaper muttered to himself, counting points down on his fingers.
It turned to the frame: “She will pay the price. Her spirit will remain on this world in compensation for thy return and that of thy power, Luna.”
It turned back to Reaper: “When thou wert stripped of thy power, an imbalance occurred, and new flesh was born that should not have been. It was that flesh that arrived unbidden on Kur.”
Reaper pointed to the frame: “So that body pays off the stallion I became. Thank Celestia I’ll finally be rid of it!”
Luna furrowed her brow and nodded at the prostrate, dark form next to Reaper’s corpse: “Is she mortal then?”
“Yes. Thy power and its effects will return to thee along with thy flesh upon the return to thy world. Well, except…”
Luna raised an eyebrow: “Except for what?”
“She and thou wert clearly one and the same in the beginning, so a spark of thy natal power will remain with her.”
Reaper grinned: “Even a spark of that power, in a world devoid of magic, will make her dangerous.”
T'zarjāin nodded: “She will bear watching. But with thy power and Luna’s safely removed from Kur, balance should soon return.”
Luna placed a hand on the frame: “Will she remember anything? Will she know who she is and how she got here?”
“Unclear. She will likely remember some things as though from a dream.”
Luna smiled softly: “That seems appropriate.”
Reaper stepped up beside Luna: “She’ll have to translate her name. Not sure how ‘Nightmare Moon’ will sound in the Iparres'm tongue.”
“No--that is not who she is now. I am uncertain who she really has become, but she is no longer Nightmare Moon. As she left me prior to awakening, she referred to herself only as our ‘Dark Angel.’”
Reaper nodded: “True--that’s exactly what she became. She redeemed us both--there’s no way we could have come through this without her.”
Luna closed her eyes and sighed: “This truly is her home, as she wanted from the beginning…”
T'zarjāin tapped its crook on the floor: “We believe our business here is complete. We need to send thee on thy way to take up thy mantle again.”
Reaper bowed: “Agreed. We have to get back and figure out how to extract the other half of my power out of Twilight.”
“Simply kill her. Again, this is the trivial solution.”
“Not happening! Bringing her back to life was half the reason we ended up in this predicament to begin with!”
T'zarjāin shrugged and pointed to Luna: “Thou mayst have little choice. It took a great effort to extract Death’s power from this one, and we only succeeded because we took her unawares.”
Reaper nodded: “Understood, but I have faith that we’ll find a way. Are you ready to go, Luna?”
Luna opened her robe and glanced down the length of her body: “Yes--this has been an interesting form, but I shall be glad to be an alicorn again.”
Reaper grinned: “No more squatting?”
Luna rolled her eyes: “That is hardly the only reason...but yes.”
T'zarjāin held out its arms as its crook began to glow a pale orange-gold: “Farewell, Luna! Fare thee well, Brother--we trust that we shall meet again at the end of all days!”
The two companions reached for each others’ hands as Luna glanced one last time at the frame hovering off to the side: “Farewell, Dark Angel--I am unsure whether I will miss you, but I do thank you…”
There was a blinding flash of light and two empty robes fell to the floor, shimmered and melted away.
She slowly opened her eyes and lifted her right arm off Reaper’s now-cold body. She wiped the smoke and ash out of her eyes and sat up, coughing a little and squinting at the fires still burning across the field. She turned her head to the right and saw Reaper’s ersatz squire curled up against Colt a few yards away.
She stood unsteadily, adjusted her cloak, and sheathed her sword before walking slowly and stiffly towards Colt and his attendant: “Boy--stand up! I have need of your services!”
The boy roused, rubbed his eyes and stumbled nervously to his feet: “Y-yes, m’Lady! Anything you need, m’Lady!”
She stopped beside the dalzi and bent down, opening a saddlebag and rummaging for a minute, before pulling out a flask. She scanned the field stretching from the keep to the outer wall, noting that the battle seemed to have largely ended, with clusters of green-clad soldiers being rounded-up and driven east beyond the far side of the keep.
She squinted toward the western end of the keep and noted a shrine, surrounded by a cluster of low barrows and tombs. She walked several yards toward the shrine as the eastern horizon began to glow a faint pink. She climbed on top of a wagon and took a long drink from the flask.
She returned to Colt and the boy a few minutes later: “I remember having a dalzi when I arrived. I wonder what became of her?”
The boy pointed back toward the fort’s main gate: “Some riders picketed their mounts back by th’ gate. I dunno if they got kil’t or run off or what.”
“Is that where you got this animal?”
“No, m'Lady--the Tunzal gived him t’ me, said I could keep Colt here if’n he didn’t come back.”
She furrowed her brow and looked at the dalzi’s face for a few moments: “Colt. His name is Colt. So that means…”
She turned away and chewed her lip, gazing across the sward toward the smoldering main gate: “Bitch! That was her name!”
She spun back toward Colt and the boy: “What is your name, boy?”
The boy bowed, his long, dirty hair bobbing in front of his eyes:“T’iko, m’Lady.”
She nodded: “Strap my companion’s leg to your dalzi’s saddle and drag the body over to yon shrine. I will be there shortly, and we can lay him to rest.”
“Y-yes, M’lady…”
She turned away and broke into a jog as T’iko guided Colt toward Reaper’s body. She covered the ground between the keep and the fort’s ruined gate within three minutes and stopped near a pile of hacked and bleeding bodies. A nearby soldier emptied a jug and eyed the tall, dark figure approaching him.
He stumbled forward and blocked her path: “No passage, darlin’--less’n you got somethin’ t’ trade for the privilege!”
She rolled her eyes and gave a high, piercing whistle: “Bitch! To me!”
A moment later the tall, white dalzi appeared tentatively from around the corner of a ruined archway. It threw its head high and let out a low, dog-like cry, switching its bushy tail.
She smiled and took a step toward Bitch, when the soldier slid in front of her, again: “Hey! I said no--”
She drove her fist into his solar plexus, sending him instantly to his knees. She unsheathed her sword and brought the flat of the blade down on top of the man’s head, rendering him senseless. He fell face-first in the dust and moaned softly.
She stepped over his prostrate body and took up Bitch’s reins, guiding her mount through the smoking opening and across the pockmarked sward.
A few minutes later she caught up with T’iko and Colt as they neared a row of open graves. She pointed to a half-empty trench, freshly-dug, and clearly intended for at least two-dozen bodies: “Get his feet and help me lay him in there.”
The boy removed the rope from the body’s ankle and furrowed his brow as he led Colt to one side: “But, m’Lady--he was a Lord, a Tunzal! Shouldn’t we--”
She shook her head: “Do not call him that. He was better than a Tunzal--I think he was my friend.”
“Well, in that case don’t he deserve a proper name stone? We can’t just drop 'im in here with all th’ other bodies, can we?”
She tipped her head to one side as though listening to a far-off voice: “He would have wanted it that way.”
She stepped beside T’iko and pulled off Reaper’s boots, handing them to T’iko: “No need for these to go to waste, yes?”
The boy wrinkled his nose, but took the boots over to Colt and opened one of the saddlebags, removing Reaper’s white cloak, emblazoned with his cutie mark on the back. He laid it across Colt’s saddle as he settled the boots into the saddlebag.
She raised an eyebrow and stepped over, taking the cloak from Colt’s back, and turning toward Reaper’s bloody, dust-streaked corpse. She draped it over the body and crouched before its head, lifting underneath the shoulders: “Help me…”
T’iko grabbed Reaper’s feet and helped drag the stiffened body over the edge of the grave pit. It tumbled in with a thud, and she stepped into the trench, rearranging the body’s limbs, and covering it anew with the cloak.
She climbed out of the grave and brushed the dirt from her hands as T’iko stepped up beside her, looking pensively into the hole: “Do ya’ know what happens when we die, m’Lady?”
“No, I do not--and neither does anyone else. Beware anyone who tells you they do.”
She took a last look at Reaper’s shrouded body, then turned away, checked Bitch’s tack and climbed into her saddle: “Let us leave this place, boy, before anyone thinks to rekindle the battle.”
T’iko nodded and scrambled onto Colt’s back, taking the reins and following Bitch out through the fort’s wrecked gates. The two riders skirted a knot of Gindu’s men leading away a line of green-clad prisoners, and rode southwest for a few minutes until they were largely clear of the main battle lines.
She reined-in Bitch and turned to T’iko: “You are welcome to accompany me if you like, or make your own way as you will.”
T’iko bowed slightly: “Many thanks, m’Lady, but I think I’ll strike west n’ head fer home. I was pressed into service just a few weeks back, so I hopes t’ git back t’ my village and family as soon as I can!”
She nodded and dismounted, bending down to strip a corpse of its broadsword and sheath. She handed them to the boy: “Then take these and fare thee well, T’iko. There should be bounty enough in Colt’s bags to sustain you for some time.”
“Thank ‘ya, again, m’Lady! But where are you headed?”
She climbed back into Bitch’s saddle and looked northwest: “I have many questions, and this world must surely have the answers. I aim to find them.”
She slapped the reins against her dalzi’s neck: “Come, Bitch--let us go!”
T’iko sat on Colt for a few moments, watching the dark figure atop her white mount trot away as the first rays of dawn glinted in her flowing, wind-swept, blue-black hair. T’iko waved silently, then turned Colt toward the southwest and headed toward the fog-shrouded Zuri River.
Reaper opened his eyes and looked out across an expanse of grey-green heath, rolling gently to the north. The sun was just rising, and a light mist clung to the ground. He stood and noticed Luna, lying on her side a few feet away, dozing lightly with her muzzle tucked under a wing.
Reaper bent down and tapped her on the shoulder: “Princess--rise and shine!”
Luna opened her eyes slowly and blinked slowly as she adjusted to the morning light. She rose unsteadily to her hooves and stretched out her wings, rolling her shoulders and flaring her indigo pinions. Her flowing, sparkling, nimbus-like mane waved gently in the breeze.
Reaper glanced about as a look of recognition crossed his face: “This certainly looks familiar…”
Luna nodded: “Indeed--I believe that is the village of Coldstone away to the north beyond that low rise.”
Reaper smiled: “Yeah, though that’s not quite what I meant. This is the same spot where I arrived all those millennia ago, the first time I came to this world.”
Luna spread her front legs wide and raised her rump high, tipping forward, arching her wings over her back and cracking her spine: “Ahhhh, that feels good!”
Reaper grinned: “I’ll take your word for it--I’m just glad to be rid of my body altogether!”
Luna turned to face Reaper with brow furrowed, and swept a hoof across the landscape: “You said this looks familiar. That is the second time you’ve said something like that in the last few hours.”
He raised a puzzled eyebrow: “What do you mean?”
“As you lay dying you said, ‘here we are again…’”
Reaper nodded “But where's Twilight? Yes, I remember, now. Don’t you recall the setting, how the scene looked?”
“No. My vision was very obscured, as though--ironically--in a dream. I only really saw you for a few moments as you died, then lost all contact again.”
“That makes sense. Touch my horn and I can share my death vision. I think you’ll understand my words, then.”
Luna tipped her head forward and touched her horn to Reaper’s. Her eyes drooped heavily and she shuddered. She stood stock-still for a moment, then stepped back and shook her head vigorously.
“Your blood in the sand, but not a beach! And the tower, not a lighthouse!”
“Right--that sandy skirt or surround around the pond, and the path leading to the keep, with its tower. It was never a lighthouse on the Sasol Sea, but it was close enough for a dream.”
Luna nodded: “Or a vision. It is clear Nightmare Moon had a better sense of things from the very beginning!”
“How?”
“I am not sure. I, too, had a sense of things from early on, but--”
Reaper held up a hoof: “Speaking of: that last night I was in Bel’az with the girl--what was her name? Dawn, that was it! Anyway, Nightmare was saying that I might be surprised by how much the two of you had perceived. I meant to follow-up, but Dawn interrupted and I never circled back to ask Nightmare to clarify.”
Luna chewed her lip: “I cannot speak for her anymore, but I know that your earliest visions and our shared dreams seemed to make more sense to me than they did to you.”
Reaper furrowed his brow: “I can’t believe she was directing anything, but it’s almost like she was always one step ahead.”
Luna nodded: “Yes. She rarely seemed taken aback, even when things became...dismal.”
The two companions stood quietly and awkwardly for a few moments; Reaper broke the silence: “Of course, I saw your death vision, too. It was only the last few moments before T'zarjāin appeared, so I don’t really know the whole story of the Dark Angel, but you mentioned something about being ‘violated,’ so I assume--”
Luna shook her head: “Not now, Reaper. I will tell you the full tale later. Right now we have business to attend. How are we going to get your power out of Twilight?”
Reaper took a deep breath: “Don’t know. Do you recall what T'zarjāin said about taking you--well, your alter ego, at any rate--unawares?”
“Yes. Clearly surprise is the key, here.”
Reaper began pacing: “Yeah, the big problem with that is, I barely have any power right now, and Twilight would be able to smell me coming from miles away if I did manage to get my power back up.”
“And she is quite powerful in her own right.”
“Correct. I mean, it’s possible that between you and Celestia she could be beaten down enough for me to finally strip away her power, but it would most likely kill her, and I really don’t want it to come to that.”
“Nor do I.”
Luna tipped her head back and stared up at the clouds for a moment: “How do you know she has not detected you?”
“I assume she’d show up. Her power levels are just fine, so I know where she is, and I doubt she’s occupied at the moment.”
“Really. Where is she?”
Reaper closed his eyes: “Canterlot. The castle. Your chambers.”
Luna smiled: “So, former Tunzal, I have a military strategy question for you: if you are facing a superior opponent, what can you do to increase your chances of victory?”
“Well, we already established surprise, so I assume you have something else in mind.”
“Yes--we need to control the terrain, make her fight on ground of our choosing.”
Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Meaning?”
“Please keep watch over me while I doze. I need some time in the dreamscape to prepare.”
Reaper furrowed his brow: “Another isolated dream world?”
Luna chuckled: “Nothing so grandiose! I plan to construct some ‘sets,’ if you will, akin to those in a theater, in order to draw Twilight in without arousing her suspicions. They will not hold up to close scrutiny, but I do not believe they will need to.”
She folded her legs beneath her and settled to the ground: “I will only need a few minutes, then we can spring our surprise on Twilight.”
Luna closed her eyes as Reaper stood nearby, chewing his lip: “I really hope you’re right, Luna, because this could get ugly fast, otherwise.”