//------------------------------//
// Ragnarok's Dark Cradle 
// Story: Metempsychosis 
// by BlackRoseRaven 
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Chapter Twelve: Ragnarok's Dark Cradle
~BlackRoseRaven

Luna sketched while Scrivener slept until she got bored and kicked him awake, after giving him some fifty minutes of rest. The earth pony had been surly, blinking sleep tiredly from his eyes and mumbling grouchily as Luna went about the task of cooking the last of their fish. They took their time with the meal, eating slowly as Scrivener finally came around to full wakefulness, his body a little sore, muscles tired but loosening up as he and Luna rested side-by-side, backs heated by the sapphire flames behind them as they looked at the frozen-shut doors and passed thoughts of planning and strategy back and forth.
Not that there was a whole lot of strategy about what they planned to do: get to the Black Baroque, perhaps dare to delve into its haunted depths, and then begin summoning and leading on the Pales. Of course, calling the spirits to them would also have the nasty side effect of possibly getting the attention of demons and other wicked things… but as long as they didn’t attract anything that could injure the ghosts as well, Luna and Scrivener were confident in their ability to fight off whatever dared to try and attack them.
The two traded looks, trading thoughts… and then the winged unicorn nodded slowly, saying quietly: “Alright Scrivener Blooms. Thou may wear it this time, but only because we do not know what lays ahead. And if something begins to happen… do not worry for the relic. We can lead the Pales on with my horn, we have done it before even though it is… tiring, and will make the journey back rougher on us both. But our comforts and luxury can be sacrificed if it means protecting our, and the spirits within our care.”
“I know, Luna. But if something does happen, I’m going to try and protect both.” The male replied softly, glancing towards where the open satchel sat, and Luna sighed but nodded grudgingly as she turned her own gaze towards the saddlebag with a grumble as her horn glowed quiet blue.
A moment later, a cloth-wrapped object rose quietly out of the bag, and Scrivener smiled a bit as the blanket padding it carefully extracted itself from around the strange, long shape, revealing a thick collar made of segmented plates of pale-green painted bone: runes gleamed over it, etchings that were painted with the bright crimson of supernatural blood, and a single, tiny bell hung from the bottom of the collar, ringing softly as it floated towards Scrivener before he bowed his head forwards.
It slipped around his neck and locked tightly into place, a complex, cold iron buckle fastening and holding it tight as the male rolled his shoulders with a wince, the runes that covered the strange choker glinting brightly. The bell jingled softly, and Scrivener gave another grimace as he looked up… and was unsurprised to see several Pales standing and looking silently down at them, drawn by the quiet chime of the bell alone. The Khlōros: a collar said to belong to Grim Steed himself, and which even without being activated tended to draw out Pales… but once empowered with Luna’s magic, would emit a phantasmal call that soothed and drew out the spirits of the dead, letting them form a vast herd of souls who would follow them anywhere they went for as long as the collar stayed active.
But it was also fragile: a single good blow to it would crack the collar or halt its spectral song, and then the Pales would quickly lose their focus and become disoriented, wandering away unless Luna replicated the collar’s effects with a spell… a spell that was particularly draining and required both Scrivener and Luna to pour their concentration into it, severely weakening them both over the course of even a short march. It also left them almost defenseless… and worse, if they did get in a fight, Luna would have to drop the enchantment, and after the battle most likely rest… which in other words, would mean losing most, if not all, of the herd of Pales they would have gathered up to that point on top of everything else.
The collar had been broken more than once over the last decade, and then they had to give it to Odin for him to take it to be repaired. Whether he was a god or not, he still had a long line of discreet contacts he often put to use… but was also always careful to never mention any of them by name. They were likely other gods or entities from who knew where… and despite her past life, not even Luna was able to put forwards many guesses as to how and why and where and when Odin had befriended these other entities: Valkyries, after all, had essentially been soldiers and bodyguards, spending much of their time keeping the Warrior’s Heaven in order and the rest running errands for the Aesir. They had only ever done what they had been told to do, and not asked questions or made judgments… although that was probably part of the reason why Odin had been so furious when his advances upon then-Brynhild had been refused.
Luna smiled a bit as Scrivener reached up and absently rubbed along the segmented collar, and then she leaned forwards and said quietly: “We shall activate it once we reach the Black Baroque… after perhaps scouting the accursed area. But for now, wear it proudly as the warrior poet thou hast become, Scrivener Blooms. Only remember… thine life comes first. Even should this break, we shall find another way to gather these lost and sad souls… it is important to save them, but we cannot save anypony if we ourselves die.”
“No self-destructing, I understand.” Scrivener replied with a bit of a smile, and Luna laughed quietly and gave him an entertained look before her horn glowed as she winked at him, lifting Sleipnir’s helm and firmly shoving it down over the equine’s head, making him snort in entertainment as his glasses half-fell down his face before he pushed them quickly back up. “But first we need to get past those Elementals and out of North Neigh, if you’re so eager to go.”
“I am not eager to travel into the Gray Mountains, and less eager to reach the Black Baroque… but I am admittedly very eager to be out of this awful frozen city of bad memories.” Luna replied with a grimace, shaking her head slowly before she glanced moodily towards the door, even as her horn glowed and a similar aura surrounded the satchel bag sitting on the ground. She tilted her head to the side, and it lifted off the ground, floating over and firmly dropping into place over Scrivener as she shook her head briskly out, her own helm floating up from the ground a moment later and slipping carefully into place over her skull as she muttered: “Let us go the direct route. If the Elementals still wish for a battle, then a battle they shall receive.”
“Oh wonderful.” Scrivener remarked dryly, as he glanced around the area, and then paused as his eyes settled on the burning wreckage… but then only smiled a little. Even if the fires spread… what was there to lose here any longer? He shook his head slowly at this thought, then turned and hurried after Luna as she strode imperiously forwards in her cloak, her horn still glowing… but not with telekinesis this time, as he felt her focusing and concentrating her magic. “Uh, Luna, you know-”
The winged unicorn ignored him as she suddenly flicked her head forwards, however, sending a blue fireball rocketing towards the frozen barrier of the once-doors, and it exploded in an echoing bang that sent icy shrapnel and chunks of wood flying in all directions as blue flames obscured the doorway for a moment before whiffing out of existence, revealing three Ice Elementals that seemed to be staring at them from their featureless faces as Scrivener gaped and Luna strode nonchalantly forwards and out of the doorway, cracking her neck with a grin as she said calmly: “Hast thou been waiting for us this entire time? My most sincere apologies.”
Slowly, one of the Ice Elementals creaked as it climbed slowly to a standing position from where it had been sitting on the stairs, turning around and lumbering forwards as the other two flanked the imposing creature, and then it leaned forwards and roared, vibrating as cold wind and snow burst forwards and blew past Luna and Scrivy, icy flecks dotting Luna’s cheeks and frost spreading through her ephemeral mane as it sailed backwards and she leaned away with a grimace of distaste.
Then it halted, still leaning forwards aggressively, clawed, frozen hands twitching as it growled low in its throat… and Luna looked slowly over her shoulder at Scrivener Blooms, who winced and dropped flat on his stomach, covering his head with his forelegs before Luna’s glare snapped back forwards and she cleared her throat loudly.
Then she leaned forwards and roared in return, her voice booming and rough, the very stone around them cracking as the Ice Elemental was sent skidding backwards several feet from the raw waves of sound alone, the creature directly in front of her vibrating violently from the terrible reverberations before it simply exploded backwards in a hail of frost and snow, fragments of Ice Elemental flying in all directions as the arm of one of the flanking Elementals burst apart and cracks ripped through the body of the second creature, the living ice falling dumbly backwards on its rear as Luna’s voice finally sharply cut off.
She spat to the side, then glared balefully back and forth… and then the one-armed Elemental slowly tottered over and fell on its side with what sounded almost like a groan. The other Elemental only sat dazedly back against the wall as Scrivener winced and stood up, adjusting his glasses and rubbing awkwardly at one ear as Luna glanced over her shoulder, saying imperiously: “I believe the Royal Canterlot Voice has finally found its true purpose, Scrivener Blooms. Shall we move on?”
“I really don’t like you sometimes.” Scrivener replied dryly, and Luna threw her head back and laughed as she walked through the archway, the earth pony wincing as he followed after her, glancing nervously at the Elementals… but both of the creatures still seemed stunned as they made their way down the steps of City Hall, the male adding mildly: “I also really hope that didn’t get the attention of any dragons or anything. You’re really going to have to learn the art of subtlety at some point, Luna.”
“I can be plenty subtle when I choose to be, Scrivener Blooms, but there is little fun and point in it.” Luna retorted, glaring over her shoulder at him with a huff, and Scrivy smiled amusedly at her as they paused on the road, the winged unicorn opening her mouth… but then instead softening, glancing down the snow-covered street and saying softly: “Come. It occurs to me that we should follow… an old route.”
Scrivener softened himself as he caught her thoughts, as memories of his own rose up and mixed with them… memories of a chase of awful horrors through the frosty streets, and of the trap they had been lured to… and the male bowed his head forwards as a flash of later memory caught in his mind like a fishhook, a snarling, grinning, demonic face rasping: We shall show you the true meaning of the Black Verses.
And then the visions he had seen, the memories forced into his mind, the eons of evil that had torn through him… but Luna reached up and shook his shoulder gently, and the male smiled awkwardly as he glanced up at her, murmuring: “Sorry, Luna. I’m ready, let’s go.”
“Assertive and bold, yet. Perhaps the closer we come to Helheim, the more masculine thou becomes.” Luna replied ironically, and Scrivener looked at her for a moment… then a smile twitched at his muzzle before he threw his head back and laughed, and Luna looked at him oddly for a few moments before she couldn’t help but join in his strange merriment.
Finally, the two quieted awkwardly and gazed at one another with small smiles, husband and wife studying each other as they traded thoughts back and forth. Then Luna tilted her head to the side, saying softly, a small smile playing around her features. “Come then, husband. Let us continue to move forwards… we shall see if thou becomes a hulking mass of machismo muscle as we near the Black Baroque. ‘Twill be fun.”
“Only if it doesn’t affect you too, Luna. Heaven’s Horses know the last thing I need is a mighty Valkyrie such as yourself turning into an Amazonian hulk on top of everything else.” Scrivener quipped, and when Luna gave him a flat look, he added seriously: “That’s what Nightmare Moon is there for.”
“Oh I hate thee so much sometimes, Scrivy. Go back to being miserable. Wallow in it. Thou deserves it.” Luna retorted, leaning towards him and glaring at him as they paced slowly down the snowy road, the winged unicorn drawing her eyes grouchily along him. “Mare.”
“You’re a mare.” Scrivener grumbled, and the two firmly bumped their sides together as they continued through the snowy streets, trying to keep themselves as relaxed as possible despite the unease and tenseness traveling through their bodies, and the flickers of memory that kept threatening to spill through their minds.
Yet Luna and Scrivener both felt determined to see this through, to push forwards and to ensure that everything that had gone wrong was righted, that they saved as much as they possibly could… and around them, Pales lingered and watched silently, emerging here and there from shattered buildings and thin air as the two turned down a street that ended at a ripped gap in the mostly-collapsed wall surrounding the city.
Two Ice Elementals looked up from where they calmly sat on one side of the road as they walked towards this, but neither of the strange, slow-to-anger creatures moved: it was becoming more and more apparent that as long as there were no major bursts of heat or energy nearby, they were more than content to leave them well enough alone, even if they seemed exceptionally-curious about the living creatures in their midst. Luna and Scrivener only gave the two a passing glance, however, and neither of the Elementals seemed inclined to get to their feet, only watching with their featureless, jagged faces.
But as they looked ahead, a Pale flickered into existence in front of them… and Scrivener staggered to a halt as Luna frowned… then caught Scrivener’s memories, saw through Scrivener’s eyes, and she shot a sharp, surprised look at him before gazing at the Pale ahead, as it glimmered with frost… but in Scrivy’s vision, looked at him with a mix of almost impossible-to-define emotions, chief amongst which seemed to be… sorrow.
The unicorn mare had a charcoal coat and gray mane, features vainly-beautiful, her eyes sharp, blue-tinged silver. Upon her flank was a vine of grapes, and she and Scrivener studied each other for a long, silent time before a second unicorn Pale appeared, striding up beside her but staying a few feet away, the distance between them like a tangible wall.
The newcomer had a paler coat and a black mane and tail both streaked with gray, his features disbelieving and angry and pleading all at once. His dark eyes stared almost stupidly at Scrivener Blooms as the symbol of brambles upon his flank seemed to writhe, the Pale shaking his head before he yelled silently, out of fear more than anger… but Scrivener only smiled faintly, shaking his own head slowly and saying quietly: “Bramblethorn. Tia Belle. I’d like to ask you both to get out of my way, okay? You’re ghosts. You’re less dangerous to me than my own memories now. I’m…”
He fell silent, looking down quietly at the snowy street and pawing a hoof at the ground as Luna gazed towards him quietly, and then the earth pony looked up, closing his eyes as he murmured: “Mom, Dad. I can’t say that I love you. I also can’t say that I never… tried to love you, that despite everything… once I was your son, once… I was… I always thought that you were right. I was a failure for not being a unicorn, and… well… anyway. What I’m trying to say is that after everything that happened, I have to move forwards. And you two are going to have to move out of my way.”
He stopped, opening his eyes as Bramblethorn stepped forwards, yelling silently, his features terrified as the Pale stomped his hooves madly, but he was barely able to affect the snow and the temper tantrum only made Scrivener shake his head. Tia Belle, meanwhile, looked at him silently, and Scrivener felt his heart wrench in his chest as he hesitated, then looked at Luna.
Luna looked back… and then she smiled faintly, whispering: “Thou art too kind, daydreamer. It will be the death of thee one day… but… I do not see why not. We never discussed… this occurrence. Pales usually fade away after so long, but the rules of the world are… changed here, in this toxic place. Your memories of her are not good… but I suppose that while Bramblethorn made a nuisance of himself, the mare was dead. If thou… art sure…”
“Tia Belle.” Scrivener Blooms looked towards the unicorn mare, and she glanced up silently, the male stepping forwards towards her decisively as Luna watched quietly, respectfully. “You mostly ignored me… you always went along with Bramblethorn, and you were elitist and nasty but… it was always Bramblethorn who threw me around, who used me in the shop, who spent his time taking his moods out on me.” He stopped, then laughed a little, glancing down and adding quietly: “But at least now… I see you looking at me a little differently, while Bramblethorn…”
He paused, then winced when the Pale of his father strode suddenly forwards, reaching up to slam his icy but almost-incorporeal hooves into Scrivener’s shoulders, making him wince back as he leaned forwards and shouted silently, desperately into his face… but Scrivener only responded by bringing his own front hooves up and grasping the semisolid Pale, a shiver running through him as he held Bramblethorn’s shoulders almost gently, the ghost flickering as it looked surprised at the fact that Scrivener could make contact with it. But what Bramblethorn likely didn’t know was that any Pale that worked itself up enough to touch something in the physical world… could be grasped back in return.
Scrivener leaned forwards, closing his eyes, and Luna clenched her own shut, her horn giving a faint glow before the earth pony whispered in his father’s ear, in words that made terrible images twist through his mind for all the gentleness he spoke the awful language with: “Your bed awaits; return to sleep.”
Luna’s horn glowed, her magic fueling Scrivener’s short quote, and black lines ripped through Bramblethorn’s Pale body as he shoved himself violently backwards, gasping as the sparkling frost around the ghost faded. The unicorn specter shook his head wildly, his eyes turning ivory in his sockets as shocks of darkness writhed back and forth through his body, and Scrivener Blooms smiled faintly, sadly, as Bramblethorn stiffened… then slowly slumped, the Pale falling forwards and sparking out of existence as Scrivy lowered his head and closed his eyes.
The Pale of his mother stared at him with shock, with fear, but Scrivener only sighed softly as he murmured: “I’m sorry I had to resort to that, but I know Bramblethorn would have haunted us the whole way otherwise… he’s not… destroyed. He’s just gone for now… the Black Verses target the soul, but usually they’re diluted by the mind, by the body. But a Pale is pure soul…”
Scrivener paused, reaching up to absently wipe a trail of bloody tears from one cheek, and he looked quietly down at this for a moment before returning his eyes to Tia Belle, saying quietly: “You can cross the Bifrost, Tia Belle. But then I don’t want to ever see you again. I don’t know why you’re still here, why you’re a Pale, what unfinished business you could have possibly had on this world, but… you can cross the Bifrost and get a second chance. Just stay away from me.”
The mare looked at him silently… then she walked forwards, sitting on her haunches in front of Scrivener , and Scrivy gazed curiously back as he rose up a bit before the Pale awkwardly rose her front limb, hesitating, and Scrivener winced, leaning slightly away… but then the unicorn leaned forwards and hugged him carefully, slowly, and the male looked shocked as he leaned back before a voice whispered in his ear: “I’m sorry.”
Then, slowly, Tia Belle drew away, and gave him a faint smile… before the ghost quietly began to fade from existence, white motes floating up from it as she looked suddenly peaceful and relieved, and Scrivener felt tears forming in his eyes as a shudder ran through him, watching silently as the ghost of his mother vanished bit-by-bit from sight. He could only stare, even as Luna stepped forwards and wrapped a foreleg around him, as tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, before the winged unicorn said quietly: “Perhaps she never loved thee, Scrivener Blooms… but all the same, it seems she knew on some level… what she did was not right. It seems her unfinished business… it had been thee. Perhaps she did die because thou left North Neigh… perhaps she died of regret, for never speaking in life…”
Luna trailed off, lowering her head, but the words strangely seemed to help as Scrivy bowed his head forwards with a faint smile, more tears leaking from his eyes as a shudder ran through him before he whispered: “Life is so much goddamn easier when you can just… pretend there’s good, and evil, and that bad ponies are bad and irredeemable and have no reasons for what they do and… oh, Luna…”
He clenched his eyes shut, grinding his teeth together painfully before the winged unicorn hugged him fiercely, and he sighed quietly as he let himself rest against her for a few moments before they both looked up with a wince and over their shoulders to stare at the sight of an Ice Elemental standing only a few feet away, leaning curiously over them. It studied the two, then slowly opened its arms, as if inviting them in for a hug… and Scrivy and Luna both awkwardly cleared her throats before the male hurriedly wiped at his eyes and adjusted his glasses, mumbling: “Thank you, but we. We have to be somewhere.”
With that, Scrivener turned and hurried embarrassedly towards the broken fencing as Luna sat for a moment longer, staring at the still-standing, still-open-armed Ice Elemental before she gave a short, embarrassed giggle, then turned around and hurried after Scrivy, darting through the hole in the fencing and following the earth pony into the snowy fields beyond as they headed towards the Gray Mountains and hurried away from the strange ice-city of North Neigh.

Several hours later found the two ponies striding slowly down a valley between looming, shadowy cliffs and grim, blade-like peaks that stretched towards the mangled purple sky above, dark clouds ominously slowly across the violated ceiling of the Hell-invaded world like looming, malformed dragons. The weather here was strange and alien, the rubble-strewn earth beneath their feet blackened and burnt with frost as geysers of icy mist vented up every now and then from deep cracks in the fetid earth.
Worse were the visions, as Scrivener and Luna stuck side-by-side: the visions of flesh and death and chains as they walked forwards, the sights and sounds that invaded Scrivy’s mind as he gritted his teeth, but forced onwards. Beside them walked Pales and ghosts of every shape and size… and here and there slithered Grimm, watching eagerly as they made their way forwards. And worst of all, the visions of Valthrudnir, sometimes whispering poison into Scrivener’s mind, other times walking beside him as he played with his coins or cards or other tokens from games of strategy and fortune.
The echo seemed to have more power here… but that was understandable. The Gray Mountains had always been a place where reality was thin, in which terrible things lurked and were made all the worse by the way shadows were given a substance and reality all their own here. And now that it was further warped with Helheim’s energies inundating the air so thickly… it was no surprise that even the echo of Valthrudnir was able to reach out of his mind and into the folds of reality as the Jötnar said pleasantly: “I think it’s time for me to unveil the second card of this tarot reading I’ve done for you and pretty Brynhild, Scrivener Blooms.”
“There is no such thing as prophecy.” Luna muttered, glancing in the direction the voice seemed to come from… but while she could see Scrivener glaring at something, to her it only looked like a formless, twisted mist, and the voice spoke more inside her mind than in reality… yet it was disturbing all the same. For the echo to be able to enter reality even as much as it did without her concentrating on using Scrivener’s senses to see what he saw, hear what he heard… “Such cards are meant for games and carnivals, and in rare case to seek guidance not from forces without but within. Thou art a fool.”
“Oh Brynhild, so critical and pushy.” Valthrudnir mocked, the enormous, bipedal dragon leaning over them with a teasing grin, and Scrivener grunted but refused to take the bait as he and Luna only looked ahead down the path leading through the rocky mountains. The Jötnar echo glowered at this, and then he held up a fan of four tarot cards before plucking one up and looking at it meditatively as the other cards vanished. “Oh my, though. I wonder if this is good for you… or bad for me.”
Scrivener frowned a bit at this, even as Luna looked over her shoulder at him… but the earth pony finally sighed and turned towards Valthrudnir as the dragon looked at him seriously… yet there was a dark gleam of gleeful malice in his eye all the same, and Scrivener stood for a moment, hesitant. Luna was ahead, looking back at him almost pleadingly, and Valthrudnir stood behind him with that single card in hand a few feet away… before, just as Scrivener began to force himself to turn forwards, to avoid the dragon’s trap despite all his curiosity and hesitance, the Jötnar spun the card around, the illustration showing Luna and Scrivener both snarling in fury, pressed back-to-back and with three enormous, terrible black swords ripped through their bodies. “The Third Card of the Suit of Swords… known in some circles as the Lord of Sorrow. War and arguments, violence and strife… but I have to wonder. Is it going to be between you and your precious? Because it’s no divination to say that you two and myself are already at war… or is there someone else, lurking on the horizons, sniffing the air?”
Valthrudnir grinned at them as he tipped them a wink, and Scrivener shook his head in disgust as he turned away, Luna nodding firmly in approval to the earth pony as they two began to walk on… but even as the echo of the Jötnar faded away to nothing behind them, he threw his head back and laughed. “After all… Odin’s always been a warmonger, hasn’t he, and you’re a mortal with his worst enemy inside him and the Valkyrie who betrayed him!”
Scrivy and Luna both only forced themselves to continue to walk forwards, however, as the last of the Jötnar’s laughter and awful presence faded out… and then the winged unicorn gritted her teeth, muttering in disgust: “Foul, manipulative, endlessly-prattling monster. Worry not, Scrivy… one way or another, we shall pummel it out of thy mind and back into the grave.”
Scrivener only grimaced in response, however, and Luna smiled faintly as she glanced towards him, but she could feel his anxiety… and knew that he could feel her own, the worries that the echo of Valthrudnir had stirred up through her soul. After all, it was hard to say when Odin was watching… a single eye or not, that eye could and did gaze far and wide over a myriad of events, and Luna knew all too well how fortunate it was that the once-god no longer had the reserves of energy and powers he once did… otherwise, by now he would have known all their secrets, and taken events into his own hands.
As it was, the winged unicorn knew that part of why Odin was hesitant to bring up certain subjects with them wasn’t just because he had mellowed over the years spent with his pride broken and his powers lost… it was because he knew that trying to control or push them too much would result in a nasty backlash, and once-god or not, Luna would likely pummel him until he was nothing more than a blotch of broken bruise.
It was one of the things that made their alliance uncomfortable: Luna still didn’t trust the old once-god, and thought that he was still too immersed in the old ways, likely only respecting them because of power. Not that Scrivy could blame her, or even was entirely sure himself what to think of Odin… and after his experiences with Valthrudnir, who was supposed to have been ‘beyond godlike,’ he had developed a distinct wariness for anything that thought it was from ‘a higher plane of existence.’
“I just realized that I really don’t want to go to Valhalla when I die.” Scrivener muttered, and Luna shot him a look… then grinned a little despite herself as the male gave her a moody glance. “Seriously. The choices sound pretty crappy to me now… I can go to once-burnt-out paradise and hang out with a bunch of smelly hulking warriors and possibly the handful of ‘friends’ Odin’s enlisted to help him out. Or, I can go down to frozen Helheim and Niflheim, where there’s demons, torture, and worst of all, a possible Jötnar or two, unless Valthrudnir and Odin were both telling the truth and all the Frost Giants really did die.”
“Aye, Scrivener Blooms, the choice is a foul one. Whilst I do not mind the presence of ‘smelly warriors,’ to be around Odin and his cohorts again ‘twould be less than pleasant. Valhalla… no longer holds many pleasant memories.” Luna quieted, glancing thoughtfully towards the sky as they paused for a moment at a steep incline down into a deep gorge: they would have to carefully journey down the slope to reach the bottom, then make their way through the stony vale to a northern pass and once more find their path ahead.
Before Scrivy could begin to move down the path, however, Luna reached out and gently grasped his shoulder, halting him as she said quietly: “Bide thy time a moment, Scrivener Blooms, we have made good progress. This is a safe enough place to rest… the cliffs flanking us are sheer and the path behind us straight and visible, and there are few things that could ambush us from up this wall. Let us take this rare moment of safety.”
“Good, because I have something for you, anyway.” Scrivener smiled a bit, and Luna cocked her head curiously as the male turned and reached into the saddlebag, mumbling to himself as he unzipped an inner pocket and added dryly: “You know how hard it was to not think about this the whole way here?”
Luna brightened as Scrivener pulled out two chocolate bars, tossing one to her, and she caught it and greedily pushed the still-wrapped candy bar against her nose with a laugh. “Exquisite! Such sweets are a fine way to lighten any mood… Scrivener Blooms, wretched beetle, thou went into our candy stash?”
“Well, I figured you’d need something to perk you up once we got here. Besides, what’s the point of having a hoard of candy when you never eat any of it? You’re not a chocolate dragon, Luna, and I’m sure even dragons sample some of their treasure every now and then.” Scrivener replied dryly, and Luna huffed at him as the candy bar glowed faintly, floating upwards before the wrapper shredded itself from around the chocolate. Then a large piece broke off and floated into the winged unicorn’s mouth, and she chewed slowly as she smiled and closed her eyes, Scrivener rolling his own in entertainment.
They ate and relaxed in comfort on the top of the slope, doing their best to push back against the oppressive atmosphere of the Gray Mountains as Scrivy kept his gaze focused down into the rocky valley, grimacing a bit every now and then at the visions of spirits and other things that lurked and skulked through the dark trench. Luna, meanwhile, watched both her husband and gazed every so often skywards to survey the mountain peaks, knowing how fortunate they were to have not encountered anything… wondering, in some cynical part of her psyche, whether or not it was only because the Black Wolves of Hell had already torn through this place and likely made even the mightiest destroyers nothing more than their prey.
Scrivy offered Luna the last of his chocolate after she had finished hers, and the winged unicorn smiled at him and took it gladly, tossing it into her mouth and chewing slowly as she gazed over him affectionately. Luna favored sweets and baked good, and Scrivener’s favorites were salty foods… but like everything else, they still managed to find a way to get along all the same. They still indulged each other’s habits and eccentricities and preferences… and the two gazed at each other as they stood up before the winged unicorn bowed her head forwards and said softly: “Foolish beetle. And think not I do not know about thou sneaking other candies from my stash.”
“Oh come on, I take the ones you never eat anyway.” Scrivener replied flatly, and Luna huffed a bit before she stepped forwards, bringing her head back as the male winced… but then she only smiled, and instead leaned towards him and kissed his lips chastely, and the earth pony blinked in surprise. “Well, that was a nice change of pace.”
“Aye, but I cannot be predictable now, can I?” Luna asked kindly, and then she smacked him lightly with her horn, making him wince and stumble backwards as his glasses fell askew before she grinned and winked as he glared up at her. “Now, onwards, Scrivy. And let us hope that fortune continues to favor our boldness and we are able to push to the Black Baroque with little trouble on the way.”
Scrivener nodded after a moment with a grimace, and Luna gave him a softer look before she took the lead down the slope, the male focusing on her more than on the incline and mimicking her movements and instincts. Still, he skidded awkwardly near the bottom when some shale broke loose due to his heavier weight, but he managed to leap down to safety with a wince, crumbled stone bouncing down the ridge behind and around his hooves as Luna gave him an amused look over one shoulder.
They pushed onwards into the mountains, as the dark clouds continued to swirl through the sky and lightning flashed silently here and there behind the wall of shadowy vapors. A faint black-tinged rain began to fall, and Scrivener grimaced a bit and lowered his head as Luna frowned curiously at him… and it was only after a few minutes of confusion that Scrivy realized it was a rain only he and the Pales could see and feel, making him shiver as the ethereal downpour spilled through his very soul and Luna murmured: “Hold fast, daydreamer… that which is not there cannot harm thee.”
“I know, Luna. I wish it was that simple, though…” Scrivener murmured, looking back and forth and watching the way the Pales reacted to the dark rain, before he laughed faintly and shook his head slowly, closing his eyes tightly. “Horses of Heaven…”
Luna slipped a bit closer to him, and for a while, they strode onwards with their sides almost pressing together as Scrivy did his best to keep his eyes down… but even that helped little as the ground beneath them flickered on occasion, becoming fleshy, dark, pulsating… but as the dark rain finally halted, the visions lost some of their strength as well.
Only a few hours later, they finally emerged in an enormous valley, black, cracked ice covering the floor of the rocky waste, the bent and looming mountains to either side made of desolate, lonely rock. And all throughout this valley of the dead, bones that were polished to an ivory gleam here and laid in blackened ruin there were scattered, like countless people had died here… and the terrible truth was that countless had.
Even if Luna felt no pity for the bones of the Nibelung and other soldiers of Niflheim… she mourned the terrible losses that had occurred here. Where the heart and soul of the Starlit Knights had died… where countless friends had fallen into shadow, as Ragnarok had come to pass with the shattering of the Gates of Helheim and the awakening of the Black Wolves. Luna and Scrivener traded looks as they made their way slowly forwards, and the winged unicorn laughed faintly as she whispered: “Aleksandr… hardy, noble minotaur. I shall miss him, but hope that he at least found peace in wherever the minotaurs go once their spiritual pilgrimage is complete… Scrivy, how… how bad is it?”
“I don’t know if I should answer that question, Luna…” Scrivener looked silently back and forth: for every skeleton – no, it seemed almost that for every bone that laid over the floor of the enormous valley – there was a Pale, staring and lost and confused, and among them slithered Grimm and other spirits of the ether, drawn by the congregation of ghosts. “How long have the Pales been unable to move on? How many of them clung to this… not-life for all those years? The answer’s right here and it’s not a pretty one…”
Luna gritted her teeth and nodded, muttering: “Aye, of course. Pales drawn towards this place, this twisted fold of reality that is not higher, but lower towards that which lurks both inside and beyond the bowels of our broken world… all they knew was that they were being drawn towards flickering light. And worse, Pales, countless souls were released from Helheim, those who survived one way or another in Niflheim… and the rest? The rest have perhaps faded away to nothingness… now sitting silently in ghostly limbo, beyond our far-grasping reach, or wandering the other empty worlds with the Vale of Valhalla burnt and destroyed.
“Does thou see any demons? And if so, what kind are they?” Luna asked quietly, as they halted halfway through the valley, and Scrivener smiled a bit at the calmness of her inquiry before he began to look up… but found his eyes drawn to the Black Baroque for a moment as the visions flickered out, only staring silently at the monolithic front of the awful fortress as Luna opened her mouth… then slowly closed it and only followed his gaze as they surveyed the terrible place in silence.
It was built into the face of a massive mountain that had once been shaped like a wolf, but now was only a deluded crumble of shattered and broken rock. Yet all the same both Luna and Scrivy knew only by looking at it that the fortress itself was intact… the ancient, scarred black stone that made up the windowless walls of its faceless front were ashen and dark, but they looked the exact same as when they had first blown the doors of the fortress open… just as the shattered archway was rougher around the edges, but all the same held as fast and gaped as unwelcomingly as it had in the past.
Then Scrivener shook his head before he moodily looked over at Luna, asking dryly: “Do you think if I shout the Black Verses in the ear of one of the Black Wolves, it’ll make it explode? Or would it have the opposite effect? And why is it again that while you and Celestia and Sleipnir could all speak them to bar out the Tyrant Wyrms, when I say them they can actually do damage?”
Luna looked back at him cynical entertainment in her eyes as she retorted: “Be not so obnoxious, poet. There is a time and place for making such awful jokes and ‘twas very rude of thee not to permit me to make the first.” She paused, then added in a softer voice: “But it is because of the corruption of the Tyrant Wyrm inside thee… because of what the Wyrm filled thy empty skull with.”
She smiled faintly, reaching up and knocking quietly on Scrivener’s helmed head, and the male laughed a bit despite himself before they looked silently ahead as she said quietly: “The Black Wolves are terrible creatures, Scrivener Blooms. They warp and bend reality… but thou remembers Fenrir bore the scars of battle with my brother. The wolves shall bleed when cut, and I believe the wolves shall die, too, once they have bled enough… I only hope that we do not have to test thy theory.”
She fell silent, and Scrivener glanced slowly back and forth before he finally replied quietly: “There’s… three or four demon spirits, but they’re not hostile. They look like scavengers… probably feeding off the despair of the Pales.”
“Aye, the air is so rife with it even I can feel it.” Luna muttered in agreement, nodding after a moment as she surveyed the valley slowly, and then she started ahead and Scrivener grimaced as he fell in step behind her, the winged unicorn’s eyes narrowing as they flicked back and forth and she caught the occasional tremble in reality as the lost souls milled silently around them, Scrivener wincing whenever he and Luna accidentally passed through the shades here and there.
They halted in front of the Black Baroque… and then Scrivener’s head snapped to the side at the sound of a dry chuckle, and Luna looked over at him with surprise as the earth pony gritted his teeth, staring at what looked only like a pile of broken rubble with horror… but when Luna concentrated, when she gazed through Scrivener’s eyes, felt with Scrivener’s senses, she saw not a jumble of rocks… but a misshapen pile of warped and broken metal, a single arm and an ugly, flexing claw reaching up out of this and a broken half of head laying and grinning insanely, one horrible insect-eye glittering in a socket of half-ant, half-dragon features. “Oh look… the little ponies are… back…”
“Do you hear it?” Scrivy asked quietly, and Luna nodded, gritting her teeth. The voice was clearer, closer to reality, the rocks trembling when the voice spoke… the petrified remains of the destroyed demigod, as it giggled with terrible glee despite the fact it lay in countless broken, dying pieces. “How the hell is it still alive?”
“You can’t… destroy destruction… silly pony…” rasped the monster that had barred the way into the Black Baroque, that was responsible for the first of the many deaths that had taken place in this awful dungeon. “Silly, silly, silly ponies… oh, my magic ring doesn’t matter anymore… no-no-no, not no more… now the whole world’s magic. Now I’m happy. The whole world is destroyed, and me too, and it’s so beautiful, more beautiful than Asgard ever was…”
“Sick and depraved wretch, then stay here alone and enjoy thy sufferance.” Luna muttered, shaking her head in disgust and storming forwards into the Black Baroque, and Scrivener shuddered a bit as the head of the demigod tried to roll towards him, the rocks stirring visibly as its torn-asunder remains weakly shuddered.
“Oh don’t worry, Valkyrie… there’s plenty of pain for you to enjoy too… because no matter where you go, there you are, and you always carry that hatred, that rage, that suffering with you!” the creature crowed after them, and then it laughed insanely, voice reaching new levels of glee and echoing into the fortress behind them as it shrieked: “Goodbye, little ponies!”
“To think, the likes of Fafnir still exist…” Luna muttered moodily, as they strode over the scarred, broken tiles of the floor and through a shattered portcullis to enter into a hall with a gaping pit halfway down it… and both Scrivy and Luna closed their eyes, shudders rolling through their bodies as Celestia’s voice shouted in memory: We have no time!
“We were fools.” Luna whispered, lowering her head… and Scrivener gazed at her silently before he slowly looked up, over the black, dark stone walls and through the empty halls of the Black Baroque… the fortress between worlds they had striven boldly into, and which seemed emptier than either of them had expected.
They looked awkwardly at each other after a moment, knowing they shouldn’t’ve allowed the mockery of the insane, in-pieces demigod to drive them forwards like it had… but then they both only smiled hesitantly before Luna carefully took the lead, her eyes flicking apprehensively down into the pit as they made their way around the shallow hole and she muttered: “We must be careful, Scrivener Blooms. This place… even were there nothing here but us, it is still… dangerous to us. It is a place of… wrongness.”
Scrivener nodded slowly as he followed the winged unicorn closely, and they passed into what had once been an enormous library… but now, was merely an enormous, circular room that was splattered with wreckage and broken husks, and the two ponies both forced themselves to look away from the broken bones that lay here and there and instead towards a shattered stone archway, a twisted hulk of a ruined metal gate laying in pieces near this as Scrivener whispered: “Rainbow Dash would have been proud of you, Spike… and you too, AJ…”
“And Pinkamena… aye, she showed that she truly was among the worthiest of friends.” Luna murmured quietly, as they carefully strode around a shattered bookcase that had fallen upon a splintered table… before the winged unicorn winced and stepped backwards, swinging her foreleg up and catching Scrivener Blooms as a shape stirred and creaked loudly on the other side of the shelf, before metal screamed against concrete as it slowly began to lift itself up.
It was made of blackened steel, its eyes cracked gemstones and warped and broken plates jittering against its frame as it tried to pull itself forwards on its one remaining limb. It had been mangled and torn apart, but yet the clockwork golem still moved as gears clanked inside it and sparks of electricity fizzled over its metallic frame, and Scrivener shook his head in disgust before Luna stepped forwards and stomped a hoof down, crushing in the weakened metal plating over its skull and knocking the creature flat as it spasmed, before a second hard stomp stilled the golem completely. “Damned, soulless machines…”
Scrivener muttered in agreement as he looked back and forth with a nod, his eyes settling on the hulk of another golem… but this one was clearly no longer functional, its mangled head connected only by a thin sheet of black metal to its shoulders, but the rest of its metal body laid in ripped-apart tatters, chunks of metal and crystal forming a scattered, dusty trail through the wreckage of the torn-apart room. “We were here for… literally minutes. And this already has brought back…”
He shook his head slowly, and Luna laughed faintly before she and Scrivener both turned ahead… then winced and snarled, setting themselves as they saw Valthrudnir standing there, the dragon smiling mockingly at them as he riffled a deck of cards in his hands, leaning forwards with a wink towards Luna as he said kindly: “Just a head’s up, Brynhild… it’s almost time for a new game. One that I think is much more suited to you than it is Scrivener Blooms, cheater and so-called ‘writer’ that he is… then again, I suppose between the two of you someone has to put the ‘hack’ in hack-and-slash, yes?”
Valthrudnir laughed at his own joke, grinning widely as he tucked the deck of cards back into his suit jacket as his eyes flashed, and Scrivy and Luna both glared at him before the dragon flicked his wrist and three tarot cards appeared. The Jötnar continued to grin, amber eyes all-but-glowing before he made the cards dance through his fingers, giving them flashes of what was on the other side of each as they spun dexterously in his grip before he halted one in mid-turn and leaned his head to the side with a slow lick of his lips.
The image was of a simple but magnificent battle horn of bone, surrounded by the nine runes for the nine worlds, and beneath the horn roared terrible, scarred Fenrir, as Valthrudnir pronounced softly: “Judgment. Which has already come to pass in the literal sense… but do keep in mind this is metaphor, both of you. I don’t know if it’s a very good sign though, Brynhild… the cards are forming such a strange and sordid tale, and these last two, well, if they’re right… we’re only just getting started.”
The Jötnar’s eyes flashed as he grinned wider, but then he vanished from existence as suddenly as he’d appeared, flickering out of reality as his voice whispered mockingly around them and Scrivener shuddered as he swore he felt something brush against his side: “This is proving so much fun… yes, I don’t think I’m going to kill either of you after all. This is just far too delightful, far too entertaining… and soon, so soon, you’ll be nothing more than puppets at my mercy… sooner perhaps than you can even imagine…”
“We overcame thy plans, we defeated thee in thine own wretched games, and we shall not back down to an echoing illusion, creature!” Luna snapped, looking back and forth with a snarl before she shook her head, saying fiercely: “If thou art so powerful and determined to make toys of us, pray tell, why continue to slither and hide?”
But there was no answer… and Luna cursed under her breath as Scrivener closed his eyes and bowed his head forwards… before wincing when the winged unicorn punched him firmly in the shoulder, knocking him stumbling dumbly to the side before she looked at him and said quietly: “And do not even think it, Scrivener Blooms. Thou does not need to apologize… this is not thy fault. If anything, I am only glad that… the creature seems incapable of actually doing harm to us, for all the rage his blustering words provoke. So do not ever apologize, or ever think thyself weak, or I shall smite thee with all the fierceness I wish to smite Valthrudnir.”
“Remember that time you hit me so hard you knocked us both out?” Scrivener asked mildly, and Luna cleared her throat as she glanced embarrassedly away as the male rubbed absently at his shoulder. “After you did that, I realized that it was definitely in my best interests to keep from making you angry. Especially since it seems like ever since we became soul-bound you’ve been far less concerned about the effects of bashing me to make me listen to you.”
Luna grunted a bit at this, but then she became a bit more serious as she turned towards the portcullis, responding quietly: “Aye, but for now, I feel we should save our energy for whatever lay ahead. For Valthrudnir seems to be spelling out an ominous prophecy to us, Scrivener Blooms… and whilst I do not believe in divination, a self-fulfilling prophecy that the Jötnar perhaps somehow works to see through to completion… now that is a different matter.”
Scrivener grimaced and nodded as he followed after the winged unicorn, shuddering a bit as a vision sparked in front of his eyes for a moment, the floor like bones, the walls burning with unholy flames that were terribly, awfully cold, and screams echoed in his ears before they cut out the moment the vision faded from his face… and Luna shivered a bit, catching the tail end of the vision as it fled from their minds and she murmured: “And below us waits Hell’s gaping jaws…”
“And here we are, ready to walk down into that maw even though we could probably just turn around and leave.” Scrivener said quietly, and Luna gave him a wry smile and a nod before the two silently strode side-by-side towards the shattered portcullis, entering the archway and making their way calmly, quietly down a sloping, dark corridor. Scrivener winced a bit as he looked back and forth at the dark stone walls, the way they seemed to writhe unnaturally, thick roots and what could almost be bones jutting through here and there. It reminded him all too well of his own nightmares… and worse yet, he knew this was no mere vision. This was reality, as Luna winced away from a drip of black ooze from the ceiling, then shook her head in disgust as they continued forwards.
They were living the nightmare now, as they descended through this dark passage, towards the borders of where corrupted world met even-worse reality, and what truly filled Scrivener Blooms with terror was the fact that he was almost excited,, in some twisted and tortured part of him. Just as he could feel Luna’s anticipation mixed into her apprehension: it was not that they were eager to see the dead and the damned, it was not that they thought Hell was some tourist trap for them to drool over… it was a cold acknowledgment of the power of the place they were striding towards. It was awe for the fact that for the second time, they were walking towards the very jaws of Hell, to stand before the realm of demons and monsters, to rest in the portal between worlds to wrestle as many souls as they could from the grips of the darkest of worlds and bring them to a new life.
Neither of them could describe it, both of them could understand it… and as the two ponies walked side-by-side down the corridor that seemed grotesquely, unfathomably alive around them, neither could deny the fact they were almost looking forwards to seeing what waited for them below, no matter how eager they both were in the same breath to escape the Black Baroque and even more, all the terrible memories that made this unwholesome place all the more unwelcoming to their hearts, minds and souls.
They were excited, though, oh yes… and they traded grim smiles before they looked forwards again down the dank passage, as they walked towards the birthing chamber of Ragnarok and the place where everything had gone wrong, together, ready to ensure that this time they would not only leave alive… they would leave triumphant.