“Miss? Young Miss? Are you all right?”
The voice called Sunset once more to her senses. This time she found herself laying on a wrought iron bench. Sunset sat up, taking a more comfortable position.
The first thing she saw was a bug wearing an old grey robe and a pale horned mask. It took Sunset a moment to realize that this was not the same bug she met on the cliffs. While they were dressed similarly, this bug was larger. There was one other notable difference.
“Ah, it is good to see you return to the waking world. You had given me quite the scare, falling out of the sky like that.”
This one actually spoke.
“Here, drink this.” He handed Sunset a bowl filled with a sweet smelling liquid. “You must have had quite the ordeal to reach our village.”
Sunset contemplated the bowl she held. She understood how moths fed themselves, but understanding was proving easier than actually doing. Clearing her mind, Sunset pictured herself holding a straw in her mouth. Moving this imaginary straw was met with an unraveling sensation.
As she began to drink from the bowl, Sunset decided to not question how she was able to speak through a proboscis.
Sunset placed the emptied bowl to the side. “Thank you,” she said, “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
“Flying takes a great deal of energy, or so I’m told,” the old bug said, “Though I’ve never envied flying bugs myself. I prefer to keep all of my feet firmly on the ground.”
“It is harder than it looks,” Sunset admitted.
“Oh! But where are my manners?” the old bug chuckled, “I am Elderbug, and I would like to welcome you to the humble town of Dirtmouth.”
Sunset looked around the square. Of the buildings she could see, only three showed any signs of recent use. Most of town showed signs of neglect. Of what windows even had glass, most were broken. The door to one home hung off its hinges, swinging listlessly in the breeze.
Sunset spoke up, “This place looks...”
“Abandoned?” Elderbug guessed, “You would not be wrong,”
Elderbug collected the bowl and sat down next to Sunset. “The other residents, they've all disappeared.” He explained. “Headed down the well at the edge of town, one by one, into the caverns below.”
Sunset grew concerned, this did not sound like a natural occurrence.
“Why were they doing this?” Sunset asked, “Is there something down there?”
Elderbug nodded. “Used to be there was a great kingdom beneath our town.” He explained, “Its long fell to ruin, yet it still draws folks into its depths.”
Sunset was reminded of Equestria’s old capital of Everfree. For reasons not fully understood, the forest began to grow out of control, forcing the ponies to abandon the city. Still, some of the more stubborn citizens stuck around, eventually moving to a town on the forest’s edge called Ponyville. Some believed the forest was cursed by Nightmare Moon after Celestia...
Sunset discarded that train of thought.
“Was there something specific any of them was searching for?” Sunset asked.
“Wealth, glory, enlightenment,” Elderbug listed, “that darkness seems to promise all things. I'm sure you too seek your dreams down there.”
Not exactly untrue, considering what she had seen in the mirror, and yet...
“I think I’ve already seen what just rushing ahead will get me,” Sunset admitted.
You’re not ready...
“Indeed. It's a sickly air that fills the place,” said Elderbug. He seemed to relax slightly at what Sunset had said. “Creatures turn mad and travellers are robbed of their memories. The shopkeeper, Sly, was one of the only bugs to return, and he can’t say what happened to him down there.”
Elderbug sighed. Sunset realized the loss that must weigh on the old bug, able to do nothing but watch his home wither away as friends and family disappeared one by one.
“Are there any other bugs left in town?” Sunset asked. The large tents sitting on the outskirts came to mind.
“Of the original townsfolk, there is only Sly and myself,” Elderbug confirmed sadly. However, his mood seemed to brighten slightly.
“A young couple’s just recently taken up residence in that house over there.” Elderbug pointed to a small building. Oddly, there seemed to be a large pair of glasses sitting on the roof. “Seems they’re running a map shop,”
“It seems a bit, cozy for a shop,” Sunset noted.
Elderbug chuckled, “Indeed, She's a tall bug, the wife. I told them to take a larger house, especially given they're all empty, but they liked the look of that one.”
Sunset was glad that there was some brightness to this gloomy town, but it did not escape her notice that Elderbug had not mentioned something specific.
“What about those tents I saw?” She asked.
Elderbug flinched slightly, then looked around as if he was concerned of being watched. This was not the kind of response Sunset expected.
“Those tents, they suddenly appeared not long before you arrived,” Elderbug whispered, “I had left my watch for but a moment to check on Sly, and when I returned, those ghastly things were there as if they had always been.” He shuddered. “Shortly after, you had your fall, and I took you here to recover.”
Sunset pondered this new information. If the tents were a recent arrival, could they have something to do with the torch? Whatever was going on, Sunset knew magic was in play, new and unfamiliar magic, and Sunset’s curiosity would not let her rest until she understood it.
...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...
Sunset had to admit, now that she was standing before the entrance to the main tent, she could see why Elderbug was so unnerved by it’s arrival. A screaming mask for a door did not give a friendly impression. The two masked giraffe weevils that were staring at her also did not reassure Sunset with their silence.
Elderbug had naturally objected to Sunset investigating the tents, and only took her assurance that she would be fine with a depressed resignation. Sunset could tell that the old bug worried about her. It wasn’t hard to tell why, he’d simply lost too many. But If whatever was responsible for these tents was dangerous, then staying in Dirtmouth would not be wise. However, between the wastelands outside the mountains, and the cursed kingdom below, there was nowhere to go. Sunset knew she had to do something, after all...
This was likely her fault.
From within the tent, Sunset could hear a familiar accordion tune, the same one she heard after lighting the torch. Just inside, a hallway stretched into darkness. As she walked down the hall, Sunset noted that it extended farther than the tent’s exterior suggested as possible. The deeper she went, the clearer the music became, until Sunset finally encountered the source.
A large, costumed bug stood just before a dark doorway. Sunset noticed that the ‘accordion’ he was playing was actually another bug, and while she couldn’t know for sure, Sunset was pretty sure that was not normal.
Sunset put on an air of confidence, one she used to great affect when she had to speak with Canterlot nobles.
“I recognize that song,” Sunset said accusingly, “You were at that cave with the torches, weren’t you?”
The costumed bug barely glanced at her as he continued playing.
“Mrmm. You called us?” he grunted, “Speak to Master.”
That was... less than what Sunset hoped to get.
“Who is this Master you speak of?” Sunset demanded.
“Mrmm. Speak to Master.”
Somehow, this bug was more infuriating than the mute one.
“Fine then. Where is your master?” Sunset asked.
The costumed bug indicated the doorway behind him, and Sunset walked through without another word. Perhaps this Master would be more talkative.
Sunset found herself in an open space. In the darkness, she could barely see anything. When a spotlight suddenly illuminated her, Sunset was able to see even less. A drumroll began as the spotlight swung about, while a crimson fog began to fill the air. The the song from the accordion bug grew louder, seeming to come from everywhere at once.
With a sudden crash of cymbals, a tall, slender bug appeared in a burst of crimson fire, the spotlight snapping to him. He stood with his back to Sunset, wings wrapped around his body like a cloak. When he turned his head to look at her, Sunset saw that he too wore a mask, one with eyes that glowed scarlet.
“So, it was you who called us.”
His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried a weight that stripped Sunset of any bravado. She could only nod her head in response.
The master turned around and gave a low bow.
“Well met, my little moth. Well met. I am Grimm, master of this troupe.”
He took Sunset’s claw in his own and brought it up to his mask as if to give it a kiss. Sunset quickly jerked her claw back with a shudder, though this did not appear to bother Grimm in the slightest.
“The lantern has been lit, and your summons heeded,” He continued, “A fine stage you choose, this kingdom fallowed by wyrm and root, perfect earth upon which our Ritual shall take place.”
“Ritual?” Sunset repeated with growing concern, “What kind of ritual are you talking about?”
“No need to be alarmed, my little moth, all will be revealed to you in time,” Grimm replied, bowing once more, “If it would reassure you, I personally swear by the Heart of Grimm that no harm will come to any resident of this village.”
Grimm’s promise sounded sincere. While Sunset was grateful that she had not brought further misfortune to Dirtmouth, the fact that Grimm’s oath contained a rather glaring omission did not escape her.
“And you, my little moth. Your own part is far from over.”
And there the other pin dropped.
“As the lantern flared your role was cast, our compact written in scarlet fire.“
“And what if I refuse to take part?” Sunset cut in.
Grimm merely chuckled. “Little moth, why would you even wish to?” he countered, “Could you see yourself simply living a life in this village, watching as doomed adventurers marched by one after another into the ruins below, never to return?”
Grimm knelt down and took Sunset’s claws into his own. Golden flames ignited within their grip without Sunset having conjured them.
“You have a fire within you,” Grimm explained, “A spark that demands you strive for greater things. It is what called you to this kingdom is it not?”
Sunset was unable to deny this. A part of Sunset wondered just how much Grimm knew about her.
“We can help you cultivate this spark,” the troupe master continued. A red hue began to bleed into the flame they held, “Just as you will aid us in our purpose.”
Sunset thought back to when she first became Celestia’s student. The Alicorn Princess had told her much of the same, and yet what had come of it? Was she willing to take the same chance again?
You’re not ready...
Or perhaps nopony ever is.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
“Wonderfull!” Grimm exclaimed. He released Sunset’s claws and leapt back into the spotlight. The flames they had held were scattered about like loose coals, but still continued to burn.
“Eager we are to see you commence, but first, some illumination is required.”
At the snap of his claw, a second spotlight lit the ground between them. Within the beam, a tiny bug was revealed. With it’s mask and wings, the creature looked like a miniature Grimm. If it had not immediately bowed to her, Sunset would have also said it looked like a withered corpse.
From somewhere on it’s person, the tiny bug withdrew a slate and red chalk. It began to scribble on the slate while Grimm spoke.
“Across these lands my kin now spread, harvesting that essence peculiar to my... breed, the flame in dream.”
The tiny Grimm showed Sunset a crudely drawn white faced red blob carrying a torch. The troupe Master acted as if he did not notice.
“Seek my kin; claim their flame and return it to me. Together, marvels shall be achieved.”
The next drawing was of a scribble that presumably was meant to be Sunset... stabbing the red blob? Another was of Scribble Sunset giving the torch to a well sketched Grimm.
“But don't fret, my little moth. For this task you won't travel alone. My child shall guide you to the flame and gather within itself that burning essence.”
At this, Grimm’s child leapt into the air and spread it’s wings. It flew to the scattered embers which, rather than burn the child, were drawn under it’s mask. When it’s demonstration ended, the young bug landed beside Grimm. The admittedly impressive display of areal acrobatics was undercut slightly when it belched up a small plume of smoke.
“Like you, the child plays key role in this task.” Grimm concluded. He knelt down and gave the child an affectionate pat. “Only with it by your side will the flame, and my kin, reveal themselves to you.”
Sunset took a moment to process the presentation. She suspected that Grimm had yet to explain this ‘ritual’ in full, but there was little she could do about that. There was one thing she still needed to know.
“How will any of this help me?” Sunset asked.
“An astute question, my little moth.” Grimm responded. “Brumm, would you bring our guest the gift we have prepared for her?”
“Mrmm.” a familiar grunt sounded off behind Sunset. She most assuredly did not jump in surprise. She turned to see the accordion player, Brumm, holding a red cloth bundle, on top of which was a mask similar to those worn by the troupe.
“The masks we wear aid us to focus our minds and flame.” explained Grimm. “What you seek can not simply be taught. You must look within yourself. Wear the mask as you seek the kingdom’s flame and it shall attune itself to your own.”
Sunset took the mask from Brumm. It was a simple rounded shape, wider than her own head, but not unpleasantly so. It was like a mask one might wear to a masquerade ball. Turning the mask around, Sunset inspected the inside. There was no means of securing the mask, but Sunset suspected that would not be a problem. Her primary concern was how difficult would it be to take the mask off?
“In for one, in for it all.” Sunset sighed. Taking care not to bend her antennae, Sunset donned the mask. Her sight briefly went dark while she aligned the mask’s eyes with her own.
...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...
The bell above the door jingled merrily as Sunset entered the shop. While Grimm had been able to provide her with a traveling cloak (fireproofed and tested, don’t mind the ashes) and a pouch of geo, (metallic shell fossils used as currency) Sunset was required to supply herself for the journey ahead. Thus, a trip to the store was needed.
She surveyed the shelves, curious as to what supplies were available. What she saw was underwhelming to say the least. A few shards from broken masks, a bent rusty key, a cracked lantern, and a few other unidentifiable knick-knacks lay haphazardly on display. On the back wall hung a blade larger than Sunset, obviously as a decoration. No bug could possibly wield something that big.
However, it was the apparent lack of a shopkeeper that held most of Sunset’s attention.
“I was told this was a shop, not a museum,” she quipped.
“My apologies for that,” came a response from behind the counter. The voice’s owner, a small firefly, peeked up from behind the counter. “Most of my stock is locked in the storeroom, and I can’t find the blasted key anywhere.”
The firefly, presumably Sly, hopped onto the countertop. “I may still have something to sell you,” he offered, “What are you looking to buy?”
“I aim to venture into the kingdom below, and require supplies for the journey,” Sunset answered.
Sly’s eyes seemed to gleam. At once, he began to flit from shelf to shelf, gathering an assortment of goods and piling them on the counter.
“Now, while I gather the basics for you, I want to know; what do you have to defend yourself with?”
Confident in her magic, Sunset lifted a claw and lit a flame. Sly paused in his gathering, before returning the lantern to it’s shelf. Suddenly, something struck Sunset’s foreleg, causing a burst of pain and dousing her flame. When the stars cleared from her eyes, she saw Sly inspecting a wooden splinter.
“Not even singed,” he noted, “a pretty parlor trick, but not very good for defense now is it?”
Sunset deflated slightly. Sly had made his point.
The shopkeeper himself had moved on to rummaging by the back wall, muttering to himself.
“Now let’s see, I should still have something up here she can use. She’ll insist on something one clawed. Can’t be too heavy or she’ll struggle to fly. Ah-HA!”
Sly hopped back to the counter to present a blade to Sunset. “One Airguard’s shortnail, a favored weapon of flying guards all over.”
Sunset took up the blade, but she barely had the chance to get a feel for it before Sly’s splinter slapped the shortnail from her grip. It landed point first in the wall and stuck, quivering. Ignoring her cry of indignation, Sly returned to his rummaging.
“The balance is all wrong for her, need something she can keep a grip on.”
The second weapon Sly presented was shorter, with a wide guard-piece between the blade and grip.
“A shieldtack, well balanced, both in weight, and in offense and defense.”
Sunset lifted the tack, taking care to keep an eye on Sly this time. When he leapt into the air, she was ready for it. She was not however, ready for the firefly to begin spinning in the air, splinter out. Sunset was barely able to catch the attack with the tack, the splinter glancing off the point three times before Sly twisted and struck the back of the shield, wrenching the tack from her grip.
“Prefers to deflect rather than block, sensible, especially for in flight.”
By this point, Sunset was putting together that Sly preferred a claws-on approach when it came to arming new customers. Exactly how a shopkeeper knew so much about fighting she couldn’t fathom, but the oversized nail on the back wall was starting to look less decorative.
“Prefers a high stance, less power, more finesse. Perhaps? Ah, of course!”
This time, the weapon Sly presented to Sunset was a simple piece. Slightly longer than the shortnail, it was bladeless save for a pointed tip. The grip was simply where the shaft of the weapon curved in on itself to to form a hook.
“A Lacemaker’s Hookpin,” Sly intoned. “Perfect for fencing and parrying, the hooked grip allows the wielder to freely adjust the angle of the pin as needed.” Sly swung the pin to a vertical position, drawing Sunset’s attention to the tip. “While only the point is sharp, this allows one to freely brace the pin with their free claw to better ward of heavy blows,” Sly explained. He then spun the pin around, showing Sunset the other end. “The hook is more than just a grip, it can be used to disarm foes or grab them. You could even tie on a thread and mimic techniques normally performed with a needle, though you like to play with fire, so you’d probably burn through it if you tried.”
Sly lay the hookpin on the countertop for Sunset. There was no sudden attack from Sly when she picked it up, though the Shopkeeper watched her with a critical eye. After a moment he nodded.
“That pin looks happy to have a wielder again,” he said, satisfied. “It should serve you well.”
“Again?” Sunset questioned.
Sly had the decency to at least act bashful. “Ah, yes. Most of my merchandise was ripped from the claws of dead adventurers,” he admitted. “But let’s not discuss the ethics of grave robbing. A dead customer is never a repeat customer, which is why I aim to sell you the best of my stock.”
Sunset sighed, Elderbug may have called Sly greedy, but at the very least she could tell the firefly’s heart was in the right place.
“And that means I don’t even have to feel guilty about upselling you! Now, let’s talk Geo.”
Scratch that, Sly’s heart was pure greed.
Without another word, Sunset simply took out her geo pouch, and emptied it’s entire contents onto the countertop.
...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...---...
In the end, Sly had oh-so ‘generously’ left Sunset with just enough Geo to purchase a pair of maps from the map shop. The incomplete nature of said maps had not escaped Sunset’s notice, but she understood that it would take a long time to properly chart out the caverns below. Greenpath seemed as good a place as any to begin her search. As she finally began to make her way to the well, a voice called out.
“So, you too have decided to journey below,”
Sunset turned to see Elderbug standing forlorn at the edge of town. The old bug examined her with a weary resignation, especially the mask she now wore.
“At the behest of those strangers, no doubt.” He sighed. “Have you truly considered the risk they have asked of you?”
Sunset nodded. “I have. I can’t deny that the road ahead of me will be dangerous, but I also can not simply stay here doing nothing.” She looked back to the well. “There is something down there, drawing bugs to it. Even if the troupe had not come to this town, I would have left in search of it, to try and stop it from causing any more harm.”
Elderbug mulled over Sunset’s words.
“Perhaps you are right,” he agreed. “Many used to come here, hoping the kingdom would fulfill their desires.” Elderbug looked to the well, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Hallownest, it was once called. Supposedly the greatest kingdom there ever was, full of treasures and secrets.”
Elderbug turned away. “Now it's nothing more than a poisonous tomb full of monsters and madness.” He spat bitterly. “If I thought it would have done any good, I would have sealed that well years ago. Alas, it is not the only entrance, merely the safest.”
Elderbug began to return to town, but paused. He looked back to Sunset.
“Young miss? I do believe I never learned your name.”
He looked past Sunset, to the graveyard beyond the well. Sunset found herself following his gaze. Far to many of the gravestones were unmarked. What Elderbug was implying was not lost on Sunset,
“How about this,” Sunset offered, “I promise to tell you when I return. Not ‘if,’ when.”
Elderbug was silent for a time, clearly weighing the terms of Sunset’s deal. Eventually, the old bug gave a sigh of resignation.
“I suppose I have no choice in the matter,” he sighed, before turning back and disappearing among the empty houses.
As Sunset watched him leave, she couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt at what she’d said. However, she stood by her decision. Elderbug would not be putting up a grave for her if she had anything to say about it.
“The shade of regret hangs heavy over this village.”
Sunset turned to see Grimm standing by the well, the Grimmchild hovering by his side.
“The regrets of inaction, of being incapable of stopping a tragedy one believes they could have prevented, even when events were far beyond their control,” Grimm recited.
Sunset could agree that every life that had passed through Dirtmouth weighed heavily on Elderbug’s conscience.
“The regrets of a wife who does not know the time when she will be a widow.”
Sunset thought back to Iselda, the shopkeeper that sold her the maps. Since her husband had to explore the kingdom at length to make his maps, there was the ever present danger he would never return.
“The regrets of a teacher who watched his students turn on one another, and so distracts himself with personal gratification.”
Sunset wondered again just why Sly was so proficient with a blade.
“And the regrets of a young maiden who threw away the life she knew in search of glory.” Grimm concluded, staring right at Sunset.
Sunset wanted to argue, to deny Grimm’s accusation, but a weight in her chest prevented her from speaking up.
“Regret weighs heavy on one’s soul. Regret too much, and you will find yourself unable to act. So tell me, my little moth, what has this village taught you about regret?”
Sunset took a deep breath and thought over her time in Dirtmouth. Why had Elderbug stayed here when every last bug had disappeared? Why did Sly return? Why had the town persisted long after the kingdom fell to ruin? What hope was there?
Sunset realized she had her answer.
“Hope,” she said, “Hope can overcome regret.”
“Oh? And what lead you to this idea?” Grimm asked.
“Iselda hopes for her husband to return safely, and that one day his atlas of Hallownest will be complete,” Sunset answered. “Sly hopes his wares will aid travelers and keep them alive.” She drew her pin, showing the weapon to Grimm. “He won’t settle for anything less than the best he can give.”
Stowing the pin back within her cloak, Sunset turned to look back at Dirtmouth. “Elderbug, in spite of everything that has happened, still holds on to the hope that his home will not disappear.”
“Well said, my little moth,” Grimm said with a bow. “But what of you? What is it you hope for?”
Sunset was taken aback. She hadn’t even considered herself in her answer. However, it did not take her long to figure out why.
“I left everything behind,” she admitted. Sunset sank till she was sitting on the ground. “Everything I wanted had been taken out of my reach, and when I thought I could get it all back, I wound up here before I even knew what was happening.”
Grimm knelt down and lifted Sunset’s face by her mask, making her look him in the eyes.
“Now now, my little moth. Surely that can not be all,” said Grimm. With a shudder, Sunset brushed aside his claw, though this did not seem to bother him. “The bugs of this village, though you’ve been here for only a brief while, have placed their hopes in you. Hope for good news, hope that you live, hope that you return.” Grimm stood up once more and turned to look at the well. “ Hope for the ritual’s completion, hope for the flame.”
Sunset stood up. “I guess there is no point in keeping everybug waiting then,” she said.
The Grimmchild floated over to her side as Sunset finally made her way to the old well. Together they began their decent into the caverns below under Grimm’s watchful eye.
“Hold on to their hopes tightly, my little moth,” He whispered, even though Grimm knew Sunset could not hear. “Least your fire consume you from within, as it did to her.”