The creature that approached him was so tall it seemed as though she (Grogar thought it was a she, such was the precedent set by the preceding spirits) scraped her long, gnarled horn against the roof of the world. Her chitin was black, and her eyes glowed a sickly green that pierced the gloom of the fog. Her body was covered in holes, and were the circumstances not so dread it would have been almost comical, a Changeling that looked like a piece of Swiss cheese. Her back was covered in a green shell, and her face held no expression.
Grogar looked up fearfully. "Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Hearth's Warming Yet to Come?"
The ghost didn't answer, but merely pointed her horn.
"Ghost of the Future!" Grogar exclaimed. "I fear you more than any other being I have ever seen. But I know that your lesson intents to do me good, and as I hope to live as a ram different to what I was, I am prepared to give you company. Will you not speak?"
The spectre stayed silent.
"Lead on! Lead on! The night is waning fast, and 'tis precious time to me, Spirit!"
They entered into a great room, filled with creatures talking and working on money and banking. At the side of the room, two stallions (whom Grogar recognised as the ones who had tried to collect for charity) were talking, and the Changeling indicated to listen to them speaking.
"I know very little about it, to be honest," said the moustached one, now even more impressive and monstrous than before. "I only know he's dead."
"When did he die?" asked his compatriot. "And what of?"
"Only last night. I don't know why he died, and I don't care either. Nocreature does."
"And his money? He had squirelled away a great deal of it over the years," the one with no moustache enquired.
"He hasn't given it to me, mostly to his company. Buyouts for the firm have started, and it's going pretty cheap. The funeral will be pretty cheap as well."
Grogar did not know why this trivial conversation was of such importance, but it must somehow have some bearing upon him, as they could scarcely be discussing the death of Tirek. This was the future, after all.
No sooner had they observed this, they appeared in a shop of many things, a place where old items such as windows, mirrors, bottles, doors, and many other random items were sold for the most trivial of prices in exchange for bits, the crucial currency of life. At the desk sat an old grey unicorn in a red cloak, as he observed two mares step forward into the shop, dragging two large sacks behind them.
"Let me be the first!" said the first, in an Austrneighian accent. "Then Holliday next, and finally anybody else who wants to dispense this rubbish. Look here, Neighsay! There's a real bargain here under your nose!"
"So I see," the unicorn sighed. "You couldn't have met in a better place, as we're not strangers. What do you have to sell?"
"Only the stuff that Lofty described," said the other mare, whom Grogar established was Holliday. "After all, who's the worst for losing a few things? The dead most certainly aren't."
"If the old screw had wanted to keep them after his death, why wasn't he more natural when he was alive?" Lofty asked rhetorically. "Let's open this lot up, and see what we've got."
Inside was an entire tangle of things, ranging from pokers to...
"Bed curtains? I had no clue he had such a thing."
"He kept them in his loft," Holliday explained. "He was too cheap to install them."
Moments later, they saw an empty, unfurnished room, empty, devoid of life, and with a sheet over the occupant of the bed, seemingly deceased.
Grogar's jaw dropped in horror. "The case of this unfortunate being might be my own! Is this true, Spirit?"
The Changeling motioned for him to be quiet, and before long they were somewhere else again. This time, they were back in the home of Sandbar and Ocellus, only to see three creatures sitting around the table, not four. In the centre of the table was a tapestry, a depiction of a Half Changeling, with the words In loving memory of Lakeheart.
Ocellus looked to be on the verge of tears. "I can scarcely believe it," she whispered. "Our dear Lakeheart, gone."
Labrum looked up to her mother. "I know father said to be strong," she said, "but he does seem to trot a little slower than he used to, and takes his time in the streets."
Just then, the door opened, and a tired, dishevelled, broken Sandbar stepped in. His eyes were red and bleary, and he closed the door behind him and took a seat. "This looks like a fine piece of work," he said. "You will be done long before the funeral."
"Is there a date?" Ocellus asked Sandbar.
Her husband nodded. "I've picked out a spot upon the mountains overlooking Canterlot. He always wanted to travel and see the world, and he can see it all from up there. I suppose now, he'll be free to travel as he wishes, separated from his bonds." Sandbar broke down in that instant. No creature would condemn him for doing so. If he hadn't, he and his son would have been further apart than they would have been.
A chill went up Grogar's spine. "I sense our time is nearly passed," he said to the Spirit. "What do you have to show me?"
In that moment, they were once more elsewhere, and they were in amongst the tombstones of an old, decrepid graveyard, filled with tombstones that were so faded and broken that nobody could see what was written upon them. The spirit pointed to one.
"Before I look," asked Grogar, "are these shadows you have shown me the shadows of what will be, or what might be?"
There was, as before, no reply.
"These events can be changed," the ram continued, his voice desparate. "Tell me it is so with what you show me!"
As usual, there was no reply. Grogar edged forward, and looking at the tombstone, he read his own name.
GROGAR
Grogar let out a cry of despair. "Am I the one whose death they were discussing? No, no! I am not the ram I once was but for this intercourse! Why would you show me this if I was past all hope?"
He moved closer to the Spirit, his voice shaking as tears leaked from his eyes. "I swear I will honour Hearth's Warming with all my heart, and honour it each and every day. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future, and will keep the Spirit of Hearth's Warming within me. I will not shut out the lessons they teach! Oh tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"
As he reached forward with his hoof to take the hoof of the spirit, he suddenly went clean through her.