//------------------------------//
// Limbo 
// Story: Sweetie Hell 
// by Wolfgang Fyst 
//------------------------------//

Sweetie Belle breathed out a lethargic groan, her bleary half-lidded eyes fighting to peer at an environment she did not immediately recognize as her hometown of Ponyville, or really anywhere which could qualify as a geographical location. She could not tell what exactly she was seeing, but she knew for certain that this place, wherever it was, was not home. Her ears twitched and swiveled in response to an orchestra of unfamiliar noises that resounded throughout this alien place, made worse by the fact her hearing behaved as if she had cotton balls buried in her ear canals. Though her senses of sight and hearing were currently unreliable in her semiconscious state, her sense of smell was operating at a hundred percent capacity. In spite of this, however, a few cautionary inhales through the nose could no better divine the truth of her present location.

The unicorn foal pushed against the heavy weights attached to her eyelids and willed them fully open, demanding to know what had happened to the tranquil town of her birth. Her vision cleared after three or four blinks, and as it did so too did her hearing correct itself. The first thing she noticed was the ground upon which she lay, which was uncomfortably hard and unyielding as stone, but also strangely warm. In fact this earth was exuding heat, a trait which only compounded Sweetie Belle's discomfort. It was also caked with a layer of black soot that, upon standing, marred most of her ivory coat on one side. Sweetie frowned with displeasure and attempted to shake the stuff loose, but alas only yielded a modicum of success. Patches of soot clung stubbornly to her pearlescent fur and two-tone pink and violet hair. To make matters worse, a long panoramic view of the rest of her surroundings dispelled all notions of a bath from the near future.

The air sang like shattered glass with the horrified, anguished shrieking of gray simian bodies that tumbled like gruesome waterfalls from caves with eerily lifelike faces, and plummeted from the sky like a hailstorm of bodies. Some crashed violently into the ground, birthing large impact craters and kicking up thick clouds of soot. Mere seconds after impact the creatures would miraculously rise from their landing places and either blithely pitch themselves over the nearby cliff, or shamble steadily down the only road leading away from this area on to the next. Other creatures were arguably less lucky, instead plunging like rain down through a rolling blanket of mist far below the cliff, the vapor now and again dissipating enough to reveal a river of thick black sludge wherein countless numbers of the vague creatures splashed and floundered helplessly. Those falling to their doom screamed piteously; those that walked the road moaned like so many livestock destined for slaughter.

"Where on earth am I?" Sweetie Belle wondered aloud, anxiety apparent in her tone. She scoured her memory for clues that might elaborate on the circumstances which had brought her to this dismal place, but the search ultimately ended in failure. She could recall nothing that would explain where she was, how she'd gotten here, or what had become of dear Ponyville. The young unicorn observed the only path before her, which had the unfortunate luck of bearing her further and deeper into this cavern of woe. She did not want to go in. She wanted to get out, but for the moment it seemed the only way out was in. So, despite her reservations, she would obey the unidirectional road and follow it to its point of conclusion.

"You are either very brave, or very foolish, to so carelessly strike off into the blind world." The abrupt occurrence of a disembodied voice gave Sweetie Belle a start and halted her progress, which had not been much. Though understandably on edge, she could not deny the gentle attitude of the voice, nor could she help feeling comforted by its soothing intonation. Following the ensuing silence a figure began to coalesce in front of Sweetie Belle, and to her mixed surprise and relief it was a fellow pony. He was ghostly pale with a bald head and faded grey eyes, and he was garbed in an unremarkable soft-blue robe that hung off one shoulder. The spirit wore a genuinely kind smile which had the effect of making it easier for Sweetie Belle to speak to him.

"Who are you?" she inquired.

"I am called Virgil," the shade replied with a courteous bow. "May I ask your name, pretty child?"

Sweetie Belle could not help gushing slightly at the compliment, and answered accordingly. "Can you tell me where I am?" she asked once the introductions were finished.

"Many cultures have bestowed upon this foul place a variety of names. At its core, it is Hell. At present you stand at the uppermost lip of this hole," Virgil replied.

An answer though it was, Sweetie felt no less confused. "Hell? Where is that? Is it anywhere near Ponyville?"

"Hell lies below the earth, and further yet beneath Heaven," Virgil said. He gazed at the little filly for a time, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Normally it is forbidden to all but the dead and celestial entities. You are neither, yet here you stand. Most curious..."

Despite the apparition's best efforts to be helpful, he had inadvertently managed only to confound Sweetie Belle even more. She took a moment to analyze everything Virgil had told her and try to discern some form of sense from it all. The mentioning of Heaven was utterly meaningless to her, and neither did it seem terribly pertinent to ask about it at this time, so she archived it for later. Virgil had said that Hell was beneath the earth, which Sweetie Belle took to mean it was quite literally below ground. She did not know what a 'celestial' was, but Virgil's comment about the dead demanded an explanation.

"The uh...the-the dead?" she asked, her voice shaky with worry.

Virgil nodded his head. "Every soul once living that is burdened by sin descends into this wretched chasm, to then await sentencing and punishment in perpetuity."

Sweetie Belle tried to swallow the lump which had formed in her throat. "Am I...dead?"

This time Virgil shook his head. "Nay, fair child. You yet live, which makes your presence in Hell so perplexing." Sweetie Belle exhaled a sigh of relief. "Have you no memory of how you came here?" Virgil requested to know.

"No, I just woke up here," Sweetie Belle confessed. "Can you help me get back home?"

"I can take you to one who can," Virgil said, "but it will be a long and arduous trek, one which will require us to traverse the entirety of the blind world, from Limbo to Cocytus and all territories betwixt them."

"How long will that take?" the young filly asked.

The spirit shrugged his shoulders. "It is impossible to know. The journey shall take only as much time to complete as it must."

That was an unpleasantly vague answer. By Virgil's reasoning, it was possible that Sweetie Belle's quest to return home could last anywhere from a day to as long as several years, not to mention the number of obstacles she would surely be confronted with along her travels. A disheartened frown appeared on Sweetie's muzzle. She did not wish to spend any more time in this forsaken place than was absolutely necessary, which meant she had no other choice except to walk the road to the bottom of Hell. Thoughts of home and her family and friends manifested in her mind, and instilled in her the courage she would undoubtedly need for the journey ahead.

She looked up at Virgil and nodded once. "Take me to him," she said.

Virgil took the lead as he and his young ward embarked on the walk to Hell's base. Now and then they would pass by the grey creatures padding down the road as well. Their ashen forms were almost utterly devoid of distinguishing characteristics, such things having been ripped away during their fall into the houses of fire. Scars, birthmarks, even their hair and eyes had been robbed from them. Damnation was the great equalizer. It did not matter what these poor souls had been in life or where they had come from; sin corrupted them all the same way a plague can afflict the population of an entire continent. Down here, they were just prisoners to be tormented and beaten until the end of time. Their pathetic groans and unhurried gait seemed to suggest they were fully aware of the awful fate befallen them, and the equally terrible things waiting for them in the dark depths.

Sweetie Belle gazed at them as she and her guide strode past. "What are they?" she inquired.

"Human souls, shrunken and twisted by their misconduct while living," Virgil informed her.

"So they're dead," she reasoned out to herself. Then she looked at the phantom beside her. "Are you dead?"

Virgil nodded. "Indeed. I met my end long ago."

"How come you don't look like them?"

The spirit pondered this for a moment. "I suppose it is due in part to my place in Hell, and in part to the impact I have had on human history," he said finally.

This spurred follow-up questions from Sweetie Belle. "So who were you before?"

Virgil smiled fondly as he recalled his former life. "I was a poet. A rather good one, if one believes all the puffery surrounding my works. Or a terrible one, depending on who you ask. People have been reading my poems for generations well after my...retirement." He paused, and then sheepishly amended that statement. "That is to say, people have been reading one of my poems for generations. The others are not quite so famous."

"Wow," Sweetie Belle said amazed. Then she began to ruminate on something Virgil said just now. "You said something about your place in Hell?"

"That would be Limbo. Consequently it is also our present location," the shade said.

Another thoughtful pause from the young filly. "So we're in Limbo, and you said the person we have to talk to is in Coc...Coca..."

"Cocytus."

"Yeah, that place. You also said something about all the places between here and there. How many, uh...levels, I guess, are there?"

"Nine, and they are called Circles," Virgil said. "The first five circumscribe what is called Upper Hell, and the final four Circles make up Lower Hell."

"What's the difference?" Sweetie inquired.

"Severity of penance served," replied the poet. He noticed the expression of confusion on his ward's face and the queer tilt of her ears. "You will understand soon enough." That last statement bore a tone which suggested that Sweetie Belle would indeed understand better once they were farther along. So she decided to reverse track and address another topic.

"So what exactly is Hell?" she asked of her guardian.

Virgil took a breath to prepare for this next dialogue. "It is the final resting place of all souls who in life did not accord God the Almighty all due respect and fear. What sins they committed in the waking world overburden them and cause them to fall here, into the houses of pain." As if on cue the path ahead erupted with the sudden arrival of a freshly damned spirit, causing Sweetie Belle to shout in fright. The creature picked itself up almost immediately and started down the road to an as of yet unknown destination. "Once a soul has had judgment passed upon them, they are sent to one of the nine Circles to begin their eternity of atonement."

"How are people in Limbo punished?"

"With time." Once again Virgil observed the perplexed look on Sweetie Belle's face, but this time he chose to answer the question her expression was asking. "The souls of Limbo are denied a place in God's Heaven, but similarly are they spared from the agonies of deep Hell. Instead of pain, they endure the test of time. They rest in this place of sanctuary, contemplate the lives they lived and the choices they made, and await the End of Days."

That doesn't sound too bad, Sweetie Belle thought internally. Such a fate certainly promised to be quite boring after a time, but it seemed better than what abuses Virgil promised could be found in the other Circles. She then had a strange thought at the same moment that she noticed how relaxed she had become in the last several minutes. Hell had sounded as much as looked like an awfully terrifying place to find oneself in, but she found her fears greatly reduced after having learned more about it. There was no doubt that she was still afraid to go any deeper into this kingdom of woe, but Sweetie also felt a certain degree of cautious interest in exploring and uncovering all of Hell's secrets. It gave her the drive to push on which did well to counter her reluctance to move forward.

Before much longer the road split into multiple diverging paths which all led to one place: the cargo hold of an enormous ship. The vessel was probably sixty feet high and measured exactly double that from stem to stern, implying that it could comfortably carry an incredible payload without fear of being encumbered by the weight. The material which composited the ship was an intriguing mixture of wood and flesh. Jutting up from the prow was an enormous bald head with burning yellow eyes like two great furnaces, and a deep booming voice that rattled Sweetie Belle's bones with every spoken syllable.

"Through me the way to the city of woe," the shipmaster bellowed. "Through me the way to everlasting pain. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," he chorused as the dead shuffled their way into his great belly, their pitiful moans likening them to cattle being herded into an abattoir.

Virgil noticed his companion staring in awe at the entity. "He is Charon; boatman of these foul waters known as Acheron. All souls from every nation gather on this forsaken shore to await passage across the woeful river to the Circles beyond."

"We have to ride that?" Sweetie's tone was incredulous. Her reluctance to do this intensified when she saw her incorporeal guardian nod his head.

"Without Charon's assistance, you will never see your homeland again." The unicorn foal looked back to the gruesome ship, her heart steadily filling with dread at the very idea of being inside it and not knowing what nightmares may or may not dwell within. Her breathing hastened with her mounting anxiety, but she quickly got a handle on it before her mind could be overridden by terror and suppressed these feelings with a solitary nod of her head. Virgil waited patiently for her to gather her courage, and then brought her to the waterfront.

Charon turned his head to set his gaze upon the pair, the wood in his neck snapping and crying out with the motion. "You there, thou who art living," he roared, "Stand aside from those that are dead."

"We cannot divert from this path, boatman," Virgil responded. "This child has no place here in Hades. She must be brought before the Prince of Lies so she might return to her proper home in the world above."

"I service the dead, pale poet. Let her wither on the shoreline until death makes room for her on his list," the stubborn shipmaster countered.

Virgil fixed the boatman with a challenging glare, and raised his voice into a commanding shout. "This task is willed from on high, by He who is called I Am. Would you refute an order from God the Creator? Have you the nerve to set your will against the Almighty One?"

Charon tried to meet the shade's stare, but doubt intermixed with fear of reprisal from The Lord compelled him to turn away. "Proceed," he growled bitterly.

There was no helping a smirk of pride as Virgil and Sweetie Belle boarded the great ship with the last of the damned. The vessel gave a jarring start as it got underway, sailing down the river of tar on route to its next port of call. Virgil found a place for Sweetie Belle to sit and rest while they waited for the ride to reach its conclusion.

"What was all that stuff you said about God or whoever?" she asked once she'd made herself comfortable. A less-than-easy task given the floor's rough texture.

"Now is not the time to discuss it," Virgil said in reply.

"Oh." A brief silence followed before Sweetie Belle spoke once again. "So who is God? Is he, like, king of the universe or something?"

"In a manner of speaking," Virgil said chuckling. "God is the maker of all things, from the ground beneath your feet to the stars in the sky. He is the inventor of life and death, nature and time. He is the master of all creation, and of everything that has ever or ever will live and breathe." The poet spoke of this God character with great adulation.

"Wow. He made everything, huh?" Sweetie Belle had certainly heard of gods and godlike entities. The subject had been discussed in school, but the prevailing attitude regarding these deities was that they are nothing but myths from a more primitive age. Fantastic stories passed down through the generations, and nothing more. It seemed to her that she had been mysteriously transported into one such fiction, though whomever had written this particular tale appeared to have a very...colorful imagination. "What about that prince you mentioned before? Who's that?"

"Lucifer," Virgil said in a grave tone. "He is the King of Hell; the Fallen One; the Prince of Lies; the Light-bringer. Nothing transpires in Hell without him immediately knowing about it."

"He's the one we're going to talk to about sending me home?"

"Indeed. That is, if we find him in a helpful mood."

Sweetie Belle's ears fell flat upon hearing this last statement. "What does that mean?"

"Lucifer is trapped here, condemned like these sorry souls with us right now," Virgil elaborated, illustrating his point by sweeping his arm across the grey crowd before them. "He is king only because he was forced to be by God. It is not hard to assume he has a less-than-charitable disposition as a result."

"Wait. God put him down here?"

The poet nodded. "After the war in Heaven. God cast all the rebellious angels into Hell."

Sweetie Belle's head began to swim with the volume of knowledge being presented to her in so short a time. "Hold on, you're kind of losing me," she said as she pressed a hoof to her temple. "Where did the angels come from?"

"God created them," Virgil answered. "They were one of His first inventions following the construction of the universe."

"Okay. Was Lucifer an angel?" Sweetie inquired next.

Again, her guide answered in the affirmative. "In fact he was the first of his kind," he added.

"Why did he get kicked out of Heaven?"

"For rebelling against God and starting the Angel War."

"Why did Lucifer rebel against God?"

This time Virgil could not give a clear answer. "No one knows for sure what Lucifer's intentions were. Some say he fought for power. Others say it was envy that guided him, which thus caused him to be known as the Devil of Pride."

Sweetie Belle fell into a thoughtful silence. She found it quite strange that one person could start a war with no clear motivation, and that none of the angels who had sided with him even knew his reasons. It was an interesting mystery, one which she found herself compelled to strive to solve. If learning about Hell worked to assuage her fear of this place, then it stood to reason that learning about its king might help her in some way when she was able to finally meet him.

"Is there anyone we can talk to who would know something about that?" Sweetie asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

Virgil considered her query for a time. "Some of his more sane lieutenants do remain," he said. "It is possible we can ask them, but their cooperation in this endeavor is not guaranteed. It is also important to remember that the only one with a clear understanding of Lucifer's motivation for the rebellion is Lucifer himself. Anyone we talk to could likely be misinformed on the subject."

"It doesn't matter. I want to hear their side of things as much as Lucifer's," the young filly stated resolutely. "Besides, they might tell us things that only they know from personal experience."

The spirit thought about this. "I would be lying if I said that I was not also curious to know the full breadth of this oldest of stories." A contemplative pause, and then Virgil nodded with a smile. "Very well. In our course to send you home, we shall endeavor to learn everything we can about Lucifer and his rebellion."

"Deal!"

As their conversation ended, so too did the voyage aboard the macabre cargo ship come to its end. The wall on one side split open length-ways, and the damned cargo shambled out to their next destination. Approximately ten yards directly ahead stood a large obsidian structure that was pentagonal in shape with a domed roof surrounded by upraised parapets, squat tiered towers adorning each of the building's five corners, and a wide portcullis gate flanked on both sides by armored demons. The structure itself was not very tall, standing only about three stories high and measuring another thirty meters wide, and it bore a curiously rococo aesthetic. The towers reached a mere ten feet higher than the domed roof, and they were constructed in a style reminiscent of ancient pagodas. As the dead drew near, the portcullis rose up through hidden machinery to permit the crowd entry.

The devils on either side of the gate kept a watchful eye on the procession. They were quite tall compared to the grey creatures shuffling past them, standing roughly eight feet high on cloven hooves and carrying impressive horns which sprouted from their brows. One of them had his horns curling up and back like an ibex, and the other's more closely resembled the antlers on an elk. Their eyes were crimson and their flesh was charred black under their uniforms of surprisingly immaculate plate armor the color of gold. They each brandished an eight foot-long glaive which glittered with a similar color as their suits.

"The armor is meant to make them stand out," Virgil said to Sweetie Belle, who had been staring at the demons with mixed fear and awe. "It ensures the dead understand that this is their fate. This is their reward for the lives they led above."

Sweetie Belle's gaze shifted to the damned parade. "Do any of them try to run?"

"Occasionally, yes. But none have ever made it very far. Let us waste no more time on them." Virgil directed his companion away from the path tread by the damned to an alternate entrance far to the side. Here was found a rectangular door that was decorated with an exquisitely detailed, almost lifelike carving of a demon. It was posed with membranous wings folded but visible behind the shoulders, its two muscular arms folded under the chest, and the blazing orange eyes within the horned skull downcast. Sweetie Belle stared at the magnificent design, and noted in amazement that the eyes seemed to dance like fire, giving the illusion of life.

"Returned at last, have you?" Sweetie yelped in surprise as the door unexpectedly spoke. The head lifted up so it could look directly at Virgil.

"Where else have I to go?" replied the poet.

The door glanced down at the young unicorn beside him. "What is that you've brought with you? It has the stink of the living."

"All that matters is she does not belong in Hell. We seek an audience with Lucifer, so that he may correct whatever error brought her here and send her home. Obstruct us no longer and grant us entry," Virgil commanded. The carving fell back into its original pose as the door rose up within the doorway, shutting itself again once poet and pony were inside.

The two companions found themselves standing in a long stone hallway lit by torches mounted along the left-hand wall. Virgil led the way forward, the sound of Sweetie Belle's hoof steps echoing down the length ahead.

"I thought..." The young filly broke off mid-thought at the loud echo of her voice in the quiet. When she spoke again, it was in a much lower register. "I thought you said Lucifer was at the bottom of Hell."

"He is. This is the palace of Limbo, where the dead are judged and directed to their final places in the woeful realm," Virgil clarified.

"Oh. So it's like the river all over again, right? The only way to go forward is through this place?"

"Correct," Virgil said in confirmation.

"What will I see here?" Sweetie Belle inquired to know.

"Souls who are neither wicked nor holy enough to be admitted into deep Hell nor Heaven, respectively." Virgil's countenance brightened noticeably as a thought occurred to him. "Why don't I show you the place where I live?"

"Sounds good to me." Sweetie Belle was not sure whether she actually had a choice in the matter, but she did not wish to sound rude by declining the offer. Besides, she was also genuinely interested to see the place where Virgil and other souls like him spent their time in captivity. The poet's pace quickened with his excitement to unveil his home to her, which forced Sweetie Belle into a jog so she could keep up with the animated apparition. Their increased speed quickly brought them to the entrance of an expansive, rounded grey chamber absent of any decoration or character. Occupying the space was a large gathering of spirits similar to Virgil, except they were not garbed in the equine form as he was. Their shape almost exactly mirrored that of the depressing ghouls outside, but unlike them these shades still bore the characteristics they had earned in life. Some were old, others young. Some of them were dressed like nobles and lords and ladies of repute, and others were more simply clothed. The assemblage was a healthy mix of men and women who conversed animatedly with each other, sharing knowledge of their individual times or just idly chatting about nothing of real importance. They debated politics, discussed various nuances of art and science and mathematics, told jokes, regaled anecdotes from their former lives.

Sweetie Belle tore her gaze from the exuberant scene to ask a question of Virgil, but was shocked into silence when she beheld his new form. He had the look of an older man, possibly mid-forties, with a hard chin, sharp nose, and stern thin lips flanked on either side by shallow yet definite frown lines. His brow was furrowed from countless years of intensive thought and dedication to his work, giving him a permanent grimace even despite his currently jovial mood. His face was untouched by even a suggestion of facial hair, and his scalp was hidden beneath a cap encircled by a laurel wreath. Though Sweetie Belle had rightly guessed that Virgil was not actually a pony in light of the great knowledge he possessed of this world, and the fact that she had seen no sign of other equines residing in Hell, it still came as a surprise to see the poet in the form he had been accustomed to in life.

Virgil looked down at his young ward, noticed her astounded expression, and was just preparing to ask what the matter was when he paused to consider his appearance. "Oh," he said now he was enlightened to the dilemma's source. "My apologies for the deception, dear child, but I felt it necessary to appear to you in a form you would be most comforted by. You seemed rather confused and frightened when I first saw you, and I only wanted to put you at ease."

"No, it's...it's okay," Sweetie Belle said when she found her voice. "I already kind of knew you weren't actually a pony after a while, but it's still kind of weird seeing you like...this."

"I understand," Virgil said with a nod. "If you wish me to resume the equine shape..."

"Once we're done with this room. Please." With that minor mess taken care of, Sweetie Belle returned her attention to the congregation. "So who are all these people?" she asked of her guide.

"Poets, philosophers, artists, writers, kings and queens, soldiers...All manner of civilized persons who lived with neither excellence nor infamy," the poet answered. He strode forward into the crowd, the young unicorn following dutifully at his side. "A great number of them, myself included, are confined to Limbo because they lived and died before the birth of Christ."

"Who's that?" Sweetie asked.

"The son of God, and intended savior of humankind," Virgil replied. "Because so many lives had occurred before Christ walked the earth, they were unable to know the light and nature of God, and thus are denied places in Heaven and deep Hell." The pair stepped through the masses with polite determination toward an exit on the far side of the chamber. Virgil and Sweetie Belle bestowed smiles and friendly hellos on one and all. The other spirits would return the greetings in similar form, though there were more than a few odd looks and curious remarks made of the unicorn foal in their midst. Much as he may have wanted to stay and visit with his friends, Virgil was compelled to hurry Sweetie Belle toward the exit. There would be time to discuss with them the astonishing occurrence of a unicorn in Hell once this journey was finished. As promised, the moment they had left the grey chamber behind, Virgil changed back into the equine guise from before.

The next room appeared to be a nursery of sorts. It was lit by torches mounted on the walls and a handful of burning hearths. Pushed against the walls was a veritable fleet of beds and cribs, and the occupants of these sleeping places were scattered all about the room. Children, from as young as infants to as old as twelve. They chased each other, played together, and even helped care for one another when the matrons were not immediately available. Speaking of whom, the matrons were quite ghastly beasts of various shapes and forms. Some skittered about on segmented legs like spiders; others flew on membranous wings and crawled like snakes. Some had six arms, others had cloven hooves and spiked tails, and even more resembled broken porcelain dolls of once regal winged creatures. In spite of their nightmarish aspects, the children seemed entirely untroubled and treated them as if the she-devils were their birth mothers.

Sweetie Belle was stunned beyond words. How was it possible that children could find themselves prisoners of this foul place? What crimes could a child possibly commit that would warrant eternal damnation? These thoughts and more fanned the flames of a fury in her heart like she had never felt before. It enraged her to see that creatures as innocent and pure as children were not beyond the reach of Hell. Her guide noticed her shivering with barely contained rage, and hurried to try and quench her inner fire.

"Please, dear child; let me explain what is happening here," he implored of her. "These poor babes are here not for any perceived wrongdoing on their part, but purely out of misfortune."

"What's that mean?" Sweetie Belle demanded in a measured tone, her curiosity having quelled her anger slightly.

Virgil swept his arm across the room. "Many of them reside here for the same reason as I and many of the spirits from the previous chamber; for not knowing the grace of God before meeting their end."

"And what about the others?"

The poet's face grew sullen. "The offspring of impure conceptions. They are the children of incest and rape. God cannot admit these unclean cherubs into His kingdom, but He grants them mercy by housing them here in Limbo."

"How is this right?!" Sweetie Belle suddenly shouted, causing all activity in the nursery to stop and look her way. "None of what you just said is their fault. They didn't ask to be born whenever or however they were, but they're still being punished like they did! Who cares about that other stuff, they're children! By rights they should go to Heaven no matter what!" The matrons had gathered the children together and were shielding them from the uproarious unicorn, glaring at her with open hostility like wolves protecting their pups.

Virgil stood calm and quiet while his companion screamed at him. This conversation was not new to him. He himself had experienced some of the same indignation when he first arrived in Limbo, and many other spirits after had to have the same talk he did. Even some of the younger sprites had to be educated in the way of things when their time in Hell first started. This discussion had taken place hundreds upon thousands of times before now and would likely never stop, but it never got any easier trying to explain that this was just how the afterlife worked; that these were the rules, and there was no changing them.

Sweetie Belle eventually exhausted herself, and though the anger still boiled in her breast, she saw no reason to continue dwelling on it any longer. She focused her gaze directly onto the doorway across from their position and refused to look at anything else. "Let's just go," she mumbled. Her guide nodded silently and led the way out of the nursery without another word. The matrons snarled and hissed, and the children whispered amongst themselves as they passed. All previous activities resumed once the two visitors had departed.

Unicorn and ghost continued onward in total silence, the experience of the nursery weighing heavily on both of them. Their path pulled them into a gradual, almost imperceptible descent as it curled around in a spiral. It directed them through duplicates of the grey room and the nursery, each of them filled to capacity with morally neutral souls. Sometimes they would pass some of these shades in the hall who were themselves on route to one of the two chambers. During this time Sweetie Belle's mood had shifted from rage to sadness. She no longer hated whatever cruel entity had written the rules governing life beyond death, but pitied the victims of this system. The experience in the nursery caused her to wonder: if it was so easy to fall to Hell, then how difficult must it be to get into Heaven?

Soon the winding hall came to a head inside what appeared to be a grand auditorium. Countless numbers of the shallow grey figures from Charon's rough passage were seated in the risers above which encircled the whole room, but the true sight to behold was the massive monstrosity dominating the scene. It was a very odd beast indeed, whose entire form was a strange amalgamation of man, reptile, and octopus. It squatted at the back of the chamber on a flat base possessing a number of writhing scaled tentacles. Starting from where the hips should be and moving up, the rest of the thing was mostly man, though the the belly and upper chest were adorned with the same smooth scales like on the underside of a snake. The creature had neither eyes, ears nor teeth, its nose had been removed, and fused to its skull was a stone obelisk which seemed to fill the same purpose as a crown.

Some feet before the great beast, arranged in the center of the auditorium, was a golden wheel adorned with serrated spines, and to its immediate left was a push-lever. Roughly every minute or so the beast would blindly snatch up one of the souls seated around it in one of its large bony hands and bring the struggling prey to its face. Then it would sniff the soul once or twice, mutter a single word, and then impale the victim on the wheel using one of its tentacles before slapping the lever. The wheel would spin once, and the soul would be gone.

"What's going on here?" Sweetie Belle whispered to her guide.

"Judgment," Virgil stated simply. He pointed to the monster at the head of the assembly. "He is Minos. He judges the dead before sending them down to one of the Circles below."

"Do the ones who stay in Limbo have to come here?" the young filly asked next.

Virgil shook his head. "As I said before, they are spared the torments of the pit. This is where that pain begins."

Minos had his hand hovering over another terrified soul when he stopped moving, his face twitching as he smelled the air. He inclined his head to face the new arrivals. "Visitors in my court?" He sniffed a couple times again. "A ghost of Limbo...and..." Minos's brow rose in surprise. "Life? A living soul has come to Hell? Such a thing hasn't happened for ages."

"We are Virgil and Sweetie Belle, your honor," the spirit said.

"Ah, the famed Roman poet. What a treat." Minos leaned forward, causing Sweetie Belle to fall back a few steps. "What brings you to my house of pain?"

"An errand of great importance," Virgil replied. "This child has come to Hell by mistake. We require audience with Lucifer so that he might explain why she is here, and do what he must to send her home."

"I see. And your only way forward is through me." Minos chuckled darkly. "That's a long walk, for a poet and a child. Sure to be fraught with peril, dangers like the little one's never seen even in her worst nightmares."

"Will you let us go, please?" Sweetie Belle's plea drew the great judge's attention to her.

"It speaks. And it has manners." Minos chuckled again as he sat upright. "However, let me answer your request with a question of my own: what's in it for me?"

"Hey!" All attention focused on the young unicorn stomping her way to the center of the chamber, a look of raw fury on her face. "Now I've just about had enough of this place! It's awful, it's depressing, and I just want to go home. You let us go right now, or..." She turned around to look back at Virgil. "Who was it you said? God? Yeah, that's it." Then she turned back to fix Minos with her glare again. "God will hear about this and make you help us!"

A conniving smile split the great judge's lips. "God, eh? The Lord Almighty has a personal stake in this quest, does He?" At the auditorium's exit, Virgil had fallen silent and was sporting a look of pain. Minos coughed out a harsh laugh before looking down at Sweetie Belle. "You should talk to your friend there about telling lies. We have an entire Circle down here just for liars, and let me tell you they certainly wish they'd been more honest in life."

"What..." Sweetie Belle was no longer angry, just utterly confused as to what was happening. Meanwhile, Minos was lifting one of his tentacles to reveal a tunnel just to his right.

"You've convinced me, little one. I certainly do not wish to incur the wrath of God, now do I?" He chuckled again as Virgil and Sweetie passed by. Minos's mocking laughter followed them a fair distance down the tunnel before eventually dying off. Then, save for Sweetie Belle's hoof steps and her hushed breathing, they were plunged into silence once more.

The young filly looked up at her guide, a suspicious look written on her face. "What was he talking about, Virgil? What did he mean by all that stuff about lying?" she demanded to know.

Virgil let out a pained sigh. "What I said about this quest being commanded by God...it was false. No one in the outside world knows you are in Hell."

A small part of her seemed to have known that for a long while, but to hear the poet's confession firsthand still came as a dreadful shock. "Then why did you say that to Charon?!"

"Because I knew he would believe it," Virgil replied calmly. "The boatman only ferries the dead from one side of Acheron to the other. It is not his business to know the reasons behind any one soul's incarceration. Minos judges each and every soul that enters his court. He knows everything about them because that is his dominion. It was my hope that I might persuade him to let us pass without alerting him to the fiction I told Charon."

It was Sweetie Belle's turn to sigh, already having grown tired of Hell and she was barely out of Limbo. She took a brief moment to compose herself before speaking again. "Well he may have known it was a lie, but it still worked."

Virgil was less optimistic. "I can only wonder what impact this will have on my station in Limbo."

A wave of guilt washed over the unicorn. She felt compelled to apologize, but could not find the strength to actually say it. A simple "sorry" did not seem like it would be enough to comfort the poet, especially if his life of peace and sanctuary was now in jeopardy because of her. Sweetie's mouth flapped wordlessly for a few seconds, and then she finally gave up and faced forward. Hopefully whatever threats and horrors waiting in the next Circle would be a sufficient distraction from the trouble she may have made for her guide.