Act 2 Verse 8
Libera Me…
No sweet angelic hymns. No tender memories. No coarse blankets. No warmth, no cold. Just nothingness.
First time in years, in forever, I don't see faces. Don't hear the cries, the pleading. Only null serenity. No sense of self here. Some dwindling thought about doing something, but can't recall. Just slip into this sweet void…
Resting on your laurels already? That's not the workaholic Spike I know.
Oh for gods’ sake, can't you let me die in peace? Let me have this one thing?
I most certainly would, wholeheartedly; I'm not the type to deny a man's final. But there's the trifling fact that you're not dead.
What?
Go on: open your eyes, buddy boy.
And I do so, with extraneous effort. A groan escapes my lips, my body trying to draw in some long-deprived air. I feel a slow, weak pulse, steadily getting stronger. Past my eyelids I find I’m lying on my side, half-curled up. A lighter shade of darkness surrounds me, tinted with red. Unfocused, but at least it’s nothing blinding. Someone’s looming before me; I can sorta make out a distorted pair of legs.
“What did I tell you? You’ve been dead twenty minutes, but I infused you with some of my chaos magic to revive you. It never ceases to amaze, the kind of miracles I can pull off, right? You'll be feeling rather stiff, so take your time getting up.”
Twenty minutes? No, too long. I force my arm out and slap the ground with my palm, then get this lead weight of a limb to push me up.
“Or not…”
Grit down my teeth while taking more breaths, getting my other arm into motion as he continues on.
“I would have revived you sooner, but I had to restore myself first after Tirek went and sucked up a good chunk of me. Can you believe the nerve of that guy? Takes your possessions, breaks your heart, and leaves you to rot in a literal hell hole. Definitely a scumbag in any respectable lady’s book. And I bet you he’s making a fine mess of things back up in Canterlot, sucking up the magic from every pony in sight without so much as an ‘excuse me’ or ‘bon appetit’. I would have even settled for ‘itadakimasu’. At least, some weeaboos would have.”
Got both my arms under me, now working on the legs. Too weak to raise my head for the moment.
“Why didn’t you… say he could absorb... magic?” Still too much strain to talk. Back to making a stand.
“I thought they had put a seal on that power of his, to be honest. He’s usually very straight up, one-dimensionally evil when he’s got the upper hand. I didn’t think he’d learn subtlety; I’m as much surprised by that turnaround as you are.”
Left hand gives out and my right knee takes a hit, but the pain is a good motivator that I’m getting better.
“You still could have said something. You… you knew what he was.” Catch my breath, plant my foot back down. “Would’ve acted, sooner. Could’ve… ended him, right then.” Both feet down. Now to slowly unbend upwards. So frickin’ stiff. I sense Discord moving off to the side (chicken doesn’t want to face me).
“That’s the iffy thing about hindsight. Coulda woulda shoulda, and all. But what’s done is done. Our primary focus is rising up to the challenge of our rival and settling the score. Oh, and saving Twilight and Equestria’s magic and all that gab.”
Wobble myself up into a crooked stance. Take some breaths; wore myself out doing that. Grab at my chest. There’s the hole in my shirt, but smooth scales beneath. Miracle indeed. Wish he’d made me less sore.
“How… how exactly am I supposed to do that? That necklace was my, *huff*, way out.”
“Well maybe if you looked around you’d have a more promising scope of options.”
I do so, and would've shifted back in surprise if I didn't feel so tired. To my left is a wide, loooong set of polished ebony stairs going up. Can't make out the top; either way high or blends in too well against all the black.
“Where… did these stairs come from?”
“Being the extra caring and considerate friend that I am, I took it upon myself to carry your corpse over here to a convenient exit before reviving you, saving you the hassle of searching for one in your groggy condition. Speaking of which, I know for a fact that cardio does wonders on relieving stiffness and getting re-energized. So how bout taking that first step on the stairway to freedom, while there’s still time to fix this messy turn of events.”
I feel him wisp off up the side of the stairs, out the corner of my eye. No better option than to follow, and get the stiffness out of my legs. I take a few careful steps to the landing, then lift up one foot onto the lowest step. Solid and firm. Take the next lowest. Still holding. I go up the next three, but then I notice the length of spotless steel jutting out to my left, which I swear hadn't been there a second ago.
“Can't let you leave your precious sidearm, can we? Rather hard to exact fitting revenge without it. I even got it polished, as you can see.”
I look at the sword a moment, uncertain. That's only brief as I grab the hilt and pull it from the stone (smooth). Looking upward, I take a few more breaths, then resume climbing. To my right, I sense Discord hovering about just out of my peripheral.
“While you’re conquering these stairs, let me tell you a story to pass the time. A very old, fascinating one.” He floats over to my left unseen. “Back before time existed, there was only a vast, chaos-enriched ocean of darkness. Lots of nasty things dwelled within those undefinable waters, and none reigned more supreme and nasty than the Titan of Chaos. Eventually, though, the universe sprang into being, and with it came light and form to displace that dreary ocean. In setting up this sparkly new realm of existence, the First Gods felt the monstrous Titan would be a sticking point in their plans of order, so they had him sealed away. To further add ironic insult to injury, they reshaped his body into a prison to hold all the undesirables and outliers of the old chaos no longer needed in the world. And you could probably tell me exactly where they stuck him by this point.”
I’ve overcome several dozen steps during that story, and once it finishes he zips off to some ways above.
“But you’re almost at the end! Come on, only a little more to go. You’re not gonna let some lousy stairs leave you gutted and useless as well, are you?”
The hell I am. The stiffness is pretty much gone from my legs, so I hurry up the remaining dozen steps. Once I reach the top, I take a moment to catch my breath. Pain in my chest is nearly nonexistent as well. Still a little hazy with my thoughts, not helped by a small headache (better than the alternative). My “savior” arises behind me.
“Well done reaching the top, old friend. Now, see what you have won. I present to you, the literal Heart of Tartarus, and your new ticket out of here!”
I lift my head and look ahead. My eyes focus through the darkness onto a massive, bulbous structure, painted in dull yellow and encased in a net of black, reddish webbing. To anyone else it’d look like some ancient desecrated stone, but I can make out the subtle textures that are associated with once-living skin. Then there’s the barely detectable odor of leather coming off it. But… not one trace of decay. Musty, but preserved.
“That ticker has laid dormant for eons, but it’s easy enough to fix,” Discord exposits eagerly. “All it will take is a boost of chaos energy to jump start it, and you have more than enough in you to spare. Just plunge your claw deep in there, and Tartarus will awaken and break free from his earthly bindings, along with everyone and everything residing within him, including you. Tirek wouldn’t see it coming, and it would surely come as a spectacular inconvenience to have his jail buddies interrupt his surprise takeover. Though undoubtedly, Tartarus would be immensely cranky from his millennia of imprisonment, and would want to vent that out on all the unsuspecting surface dwellers. And of course, all the villainous sorts that would pour out to raze, rape and pillage as they once did before in more unlawful times. It will be messy, downright catastrophic. But it’s the quickest way out of here. Nay, the only way out.”
He slips away, leaving me to stand there and idly rub my chest. The soreness is long gone, so I stop the motion, but don’t remove my claw. I stand there staring at that shriveled organ, the most obvious thought going around my head.
“You could have done this at any time. After I brought you in, you could have left and come straight here. Why put this on me?”
That devious chuckle, somewhere to the left of the heart.
“You know how me: I get a real kick out of watching someone grapple with a moral quandary under great pressure. Though, if we’re going to be honest, the choice being made here is unsurprisingly obvious. Which brings up an entirely different question: how does it play out? You lucked out the last time, but will this end in salvation once more, or in bitter tragedy? Shall you be akin to Orpheus, shouldering the perils of the underworld to save fair Eurydice? Or will you be the viper that condemns her to her doom?”
His presence now reclines atop the thing.
“You know you can’t stall much longer. Each passing second allows Tirek to become more and more powerful, and puts your cherished Twilight in deeper peril.” A passing whisper by my ear. “So turn the key, release the shackles… and bring forth calamity.”
A fluttering of cloth, and he’s gone. For good this time.
So here I am: left dead, brought back to life by the element of disharmony, and put standing before a dire choice. To decide what sort of reckoning will befall Equestria: that of a vengeful tyrant, or a monster too old and terrible for history to remember. It’s a decision that requires careful thinking, weighing of options. Determining which outcome is more manageable, or the least worse in the long term. A choice that cannot be made rashly…
I just straighten my head and walk forward. That Discord’s an asshole, always has been, but he’s right (again). Twilight is in danger right now, and I can’t afford any contemplating. Getting back to her, to save her from that soul-sucking freak, is all that matters. Everything else secondary. Like I really cared about anyone else’s opinion, or what I’m about to do will make any difference to what they already think of me.
I wonder what she’d think, after I go through with this. It’s only brief; doesn’t even slow me down. Whatever comes will come, and will be dealt with someway. I just need to be at her side.
I come to a stop before the heart. Just a boost of chaos, right? I raise my right claw. Look over its lines, the cuts and wears of time. The number of injuries made by it. The lives ended. When they learn of this (if they learn), will they remember the predator in their midst? Will their last thoughts be in condemning me?
Whatever. Let them question, let them curse. I forsook myself once of their trust. What's another round? Only this will be for something that actually matters.
Head, heart and claw steeled with determination, I pull back my arm and, as instructed, plunge it deep into that hideous muscle. There's a dry squelch, then I feel a stinging warmth run through my arm. It trails into my claw tips and seeps outwards. A dim light appears around the entry point, spreading and becoming brighter. Then it lets out a pulse, both felt and heard. Then another. And another.
As the beating gets faster and life starts being pumped into the beast, my mind slips. My consciousness wavers, thins out, expands. I'm suddenly able to sense what is going through Tartarus.
The rocks flare up in brilliance. Every inch of cavern shudders and trembles. The prisoners take hold of whatever they can. Far, far above, the ground parts.
I see glimpses of the outside. Beneath an evening sky the land quakes, felt by all. The Badlands splits open, and raw chaos shoots from the depths. The sky above swirls into red that bleeds out far and wide, bringing a fatalistic dusk to the world. A writhing mass of primordial energy oozes upwards, steadily solidifying. Something that was never bound by the laws of physics twists and writhes into a physical form. Thick, monstrous limbs slam into the devastated plains, raising up a disfigured body the size of a mountain that could barely contain the vast power stored within. All along its skin the prisoners of its body are pushed out, letting them take their first breath of freedom in centuries. Their eyes, along with the mesh of misshapen ones on the Titan’s face, look out onto this new world with one unified thought: Conquest.
It sees the shocked looks, the dismay, the fear of those who see its ghastly shape darkening the blood-red horizon. Zecora, the Cakes, Georgie, Sweetie… Tirek. Stunned, just like the rest of them. Not so smug now, ya bastard? You brought this upon yourself. Upon everyone.
Tartarus rears back and screeches a cry that shakes the sky, then begins to move. This serves as the signal for the monsters and criminals to leap away and fly off, spreading out to bring havoc. Some cling on, either incapable of flight, too weak, or waiting for a better place to set down. As for me, I wait high up top his hunched back, looking ahead with sword held ready.
There will be no running from this, Tirek. No hiding. No one will be safe.
Because for the first time in millennia, despite all the efforts put forth by gods, heroes, and even the Elements of Harmony…