Several years ago…
“Princess Celestia? What’s Tartarus?”
Princess Celestia perked up, taken aback by Twilight Sparkle’s abrupt question. The little unicorn filly, having only been her student for a couple of months now, looked back up at her from the floor with those wide, inquisitive, innocent purple eyes. The two were situated in the princess’ chambers. It was getting late in the evening, allowing rays of golden sunlight to filter in through the window.
Celestia frowned. The question had come out so suddenly, and she wasn’t sure how to answer for a moment. She stared into the flames of her hearth, the embers reflected in her eyes. “...Where did you learn that word?” she asked after a moment. There was no accusation or disapproval in her voice. Just genuine curiosity.
All the same, Twilight shifted on her haunches. Her keen mind instantly picked up the severe connotations of Celestia’s delayed response. “Rainbow said it earlier,” she snitched without even a moment of hesitation. “She blurted it out when we were playing hide and seek. She said ‘how in Tartarus did you find me so fast?’ I’ve heard the word a few times, but nopony’s told me what it means.”
Celestia had to fight the urge to sigh in disbelief. She knew Rainbow had a hard time containing her impulses, and her life before Canterlot had not been one of etiquette or proper manners. But for her to drop the word with such reckless abandon was a little more than Celestia had expected of her new daughter. A moment later, she affixed Twilight with a warm smile. “And you chose to come to me instead of a book?” she asked.
Twilight nodded. “Uh-huh! You’ve been around longer than everypony else, and you know everything! I figure you could tell me better than anypony else!” she declared with truly staggering confidence. “Even a book!”
This time, Celestia resisted the urge to laugh. She bit her tongue to stop herself from swiftly dismissing Twilight’s claims that she ‘knew everything.’ Instead, she just pulled Twilight closer to her side with her wing. “I suppose that is true. Well… Tartarus is a difficult place to describe,” she began softly, her eyes once again lingering on the flames.
“It’s a place?” Twilight’s eyes widened with fascination. She leaned in, listening to Celestia’s every word with bated breath.
“It is. Deep beneath our hooves,” Celestia explained slowly. “An entire world beneath the surface of Equestria. Endlessly wandering tunnels and cavernous chambers, each one as large as Canterlot, and filled with spires of stone and illuminated by frightening ghostlight. Many dark and dangerous beasts lurked there when it was first discovered over a thousand years ago. Hungering creatures that could eat a pony up in one gulp. It all bore a striking, and terrible resemblance to the afterlife of evildoers in pre-equestrian Earth Pony mythology. For this reason, the caves were given the same name. Tartarus. The prison of evil.”
Twilight nodded along slowly, her eyes wide. “Woah… it was filled with evil monsters?” she asked quietly, curling up a little in fear. “Like… like the windigos? From the hearths warming stories?”
Celestia shook her head. “No. Those were spirits conjured forth by senseless hatred. Abstractions of emotion, given form and life by generations of mistakes from our ancestors. The horrors of Tartarus were more… tangible. And when you were in their domain, they were never far.”
Twilight let off a tiny whimper, curling closer to Celestia’s side for her protection. “Will the evil monsters come out of there?” she asked quietly.
Again, Celestia shook her head. “No. Not long after it was discovered, I led an expedition into Tartarus to end the threat. The monsters within were bound, sealed by powerful magics that infused them into the very stone, never to escape. But just to be sure, magical wards were placed at every entrance in the form of frightening gates, and a mighty gatekeeper was created to guard them. Following the theme of the earth pony legends, we dubbed the beast Cerberus. The guardian of the underworld.”
Of course, what Celestia did not disclose was that Luna had accompanied her on that expedition and that it was only by the power of the Elements of Harmony that the monsters of the deep were spirited away. And even then, Celestia could never be sure if they had gotten all of them…
Still, her recounting of the events gave Twilight a measure of comfort. She visibly relaxed against Celestia as the fear fled from her eyes. “Good… But, doesn’t that mean it’s empty, now?”
Celestia’s smile faded. “...Far from it. You need to understand, my faithful student, that those days were… darker. Harder. Even with the beasts no longer a threat, our world was still victim to dark forces. Terrible monsters warped by untamed magic. Ponies and other creatures who invoked dark magic for their own selfish ends. In the discovery of Tartarus, however, we found a suitable place to contain those evil beings that we could not… or would not destroy. It is now a prison, the largest prison in all the world, filled with evil spirits, dark magical beasts, and the worst villains in the history of Equestria. So fearful is the place, that to utter its name is something akin to profanity - especially among more traditionally minded earth ponies.”
At that, Twilight gasped, slapping her hooves over her mouth. “So- so- Rainbow swore?!” she bellowed, latching into that tidbit instead of anything else Celestia had said.
The princess rolled her eyes. Of course, Twilight would be the most interested in the youngest royal’s impropriety. Celestia couldn’t find it in herself to redirect Twilight’s attention back to the more important parts. Not right now. The filly still had so much of her foalhood ahead of her. She didn’t need to be burdened with the knowledge of what lurked beneath the surface of the world just yet. There would be a day for that, but not today.
Not today.
Present day.
The fire pleased him.
In the hills of central Equestria, along the edge of a dark and grisly forest, a lone figure sat by a blazing campfire. A pitched tent sat nearby, its cloth faintly rustling in the gentle breeze. The sun had just set, leaving only a rapidly diminishing crimson glow on the horizon. Soon, the stars would come out to play, and the moon would rise.
A cloaked figure sat before the flame. His every breath was labored, bubbling and crackling with frailty and age. It had been so long since he had looked into a fire. So, so long. The warmth of it, the light. It warmed his face, and it rekindled his hope. His ambition. His drive. Even if, within his mind, he could not put words to any of them.
A single, shriveled red hand reached out from beneath the worn, tattered black fabric of his cloak as if to touch the fire. It drew short, just as the heat of the fire became painful against his palm. The ancient, knobbly fingers trembled and twitched, and his breaths came harder and faster.
The figure licked his ancient cracked lips, coarse as sandpaper. He worked his jaw, searching for words that had long since abandoned him. How long had he gone without speaking? Centuries? Millenia? In the cold darkness of the underworld, in the solitude of his eternal prison, there was no concept of time. There was no concept of anything. Nothing but chains, the distant wails of his fellow forsaken, and the ever-present cold.
He wasn’t even sure how he had escaped. It was all a blur to him. A flash and a rush of instinct when he saw the sliver of sunlight from the gates. He had heard the shattering of chains and felt a searing pain in his hooves and wrists. His limbs, ancient and atrophied, had somehow found the strength to carry him. He had half expected to hear the thunderous roar of Cerberus, expected to feel the feral mutt’s fangs tearing into him to haul him, screaming and begging back to his chains.
But the beast had gone. If only for a moment, Cerberus had abandoned his post. And in that moment of absence, the prisoner found his escape.
And now, here he sat. Free, at last. But where would he go? What would he do? He could barely speak. He couldn’t even remember his own name properly. He licked his lips again, conscious of a white, wiry beard that had not been there before his imprisonment, and attempted to speak. “I… I… I a-a-a-am… T…T…T-t…”
“Hello?! Who’s that?!”
The figure lurched at the sudden call. He tried to rise, but his crooked legs buckled beneath him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a croak of pain. He heard hooves approaching. And not hooves like his. He felt a surge of emotion in his heaving chest, like fire and brimstone and all the things his punishment proved not to be.
Helpless, the prisoner lifted his head to see the one who was approaching. His eyes picked out details, and words long buried resurfaced with a flash of inspiration. Earth pony. Stallion. Adult.
The stallion was taller than the frail creature by more than a head, his deep blue eyes wide with shock. His fur was a deep, dark brown, while a short, messy head of dusty brown hair adorned the top of his head. Similar colored hairs worked along his jawline to surround his lips in a thick mustache and bushy beard. He wore heavy boots and a warm blue vest, wet with sweat and covered in dirt and grime. Leather saddlebags straddled his withers, loaded with chunks of wood. A woodcutter’s axe was hooked into the side of the bags.
The stallion took a cautious step forward, his eyes lingering on the prisoner. “Woah… hello? Sir? You alright?” he called out, his voice now laced with concern.
Pity. The prisoner knew that tone of voice, and his fiery emotion redoubled in strength. The word for it was on the edge of his thoughts, brimming, bubbling like a boiling cauldron of water, but the words still eluded him, and he was too tired to act on the impulses it inspired.
The creature lifted his head to speak. “I… Live…” he rased out dryly.
The stallion blinked and stepped closer. “Sweet Celestia… what in Tartarus happened to ya?” he asked as he set down his saddlebags.
The phrasing of the question sparked a withering laugh from the prisoner. Upon seeing the confused look the pony was giving him, he merely flashed him a large, toothy grin. “Tartarus,” was his only answer.
The stallion furrowed his brow, not quite sure what to say in response to that. A moment later, though he was clearly unsettled by the old creature, he stepped closer. “Well, uh… D-do ya need help? I’ve got food and water in the tent. Some blankets, a pillow, first aid kit if yer hurt.”
The prisoner blinked, turning back to the tent. He remembered, now. He had not made this campsite. He had discovered it after endless wandering, barely sustaining himself on puddles after rainfall and the meat of squirrels, rabbits, and rats that dared to cross his path.
Hearing another creature speak was slowly reminding the prisoner of his words. “Y-yes… Water. Give me water,” he said, his weak voice slowly growing in volume.
The stallion smirked, setting down his saddlebags before strolling for the tent. “Couldn’t hurt ya to say please,” he teased lightly. There was levity in his voice, burying his clear suspicion, that made the prisoner want to puke. He very well might have, if there had been anything in his stomach.
A moment later, the stallion came back from his tent, setting a metal flask filled with water and a bar of dried vegetable matter next to the prisoner. “It’s nothin’ special, I know,” the stallion said with a shrug on seeing the prisoner looking back up at him. “Wasn’t expectin’ company. If I was, I’da made up some soup. Lemme tell ya, I make the best darn bowl of soup you ever did see.”
“Soup…” The prisoner repeated the word, rolling it over on his tongue. Memories of meals in a massive hall, side by side with his brother, and receiving the disimpassioned glare of one who resembled him, his… father… clawed through his mind. “I remember soup…”
The stallion’s smile faded. He sat down across the fire from the prisoner, and it didn’t take a genius to see that the position was defensively chosen. Still, there was compassion in the pony’s eyes. Pity. “Ya ‘remember’ soup? My stars, man, how long have ya been out here on your own?”
“Not long enough,” the prisoner replied. He reached down to the flask, fumbling only for a moment with the cap before prying it free and greedily guzzling the water within. His throat burned from the sudden influx, but he did not care. He was starving. He was thirsty. He needed to drink. He needed to eat. He needed more.
When he lowered the flask, he saw the stallion’s eyes latched onto his hand, wide with surprise. A moment later, he looked up under the prisoner’s hood, unable to see his face through the cast shadows. “Hands?” the stallion asked in surprise. “If ya don’t mind me askin’, what are ya? Ponies don’t come with hands.”
The prisoner paused. The word came to him more quickly this time, the water having done wonders to wash the cobwebs from his mind as thoroughly as it had cleared the crackle in his voice. “Centaur,” he replied a moment later. “I’m a centaur.”
The stallion let out an impressed whistle. The noise hurt the centaur’s ears. “Don’t get many of yer kind ‘round Equestria these days,” he said after a moment. He offered a smile and thumped a hoof to his chest. “I’m Lumberjack, by the by. What can I call ya?”
The centaur paused, looking back down at the now empty flask. His fingers twitched and clawed across the metal canister, his unkempt nails biting into it with a painful scraping noise. A name. What was his name…?
The fireplace spat a spark of embers at him as if repulsed by his presence. The centaur leaned back, scrunching up his wrinkled old face.
“...Tirek,” he whispered at length, the word leaving his lips as if it were a reverent prayer.
Lumberjack nodded. “Pleasure to meet ya, Tirek. If ya need a place to rest up for the night, I don’t mind lettin’ ya stick ‘round my camp. It can be dangerous to wander at night, especially this close to the Everfree. It’s a primal zone, ya know. All kindsa nasty little critters what’ll chomp you up, and surprise storms that can ruin yer day.”
Tirek was not listening. The moment his name had left his lips, it had brought with it a flurry of memories that his solitude had left buried. Memories of a barren wasteland, his useless father’s magnificent domain. The loving smile of his brother as they set off into the world. The refusal of his teachers to share what they knew. The pitiful ponies that groveled at his hooves. The sweet taste of their essence as he gorged himself. The swelling of his body as he ate. The hateful sting as his own brother turned his back on him. And the years spent screaming and howling, his mind eroding into that of an animal, bound in chains, as the madness of Tartarus claimed him, body, mind, and indeed, his very soul.
Oblivious to Tirek’s revelations, Lumberjack continued. “Course, livin’ near the Everfree ain’t stopped the ponies of Ponyville. Nice little town. I can lead ya there in the morning if I ya like. Plenty of folks there’d be more than happy to give ya a hand, I think.”
Lumberjack’s words slowed to an uneasy end as Tirek spoke, repeating his own name aloud. “Tirek… Tirek… Tirek…” he rasped again and again, a hand finding its way to his head.
Lumberjack leaned back slightly, his brow furrowing with concern. “You, uh… you alright?” he asked again.
Tirek began to laugh. A sickly, sickening cackle. “It had been so long. I had almost forgotten…” he wheezed before descending into a violent coughing fit. He slowly lifted his head a moment later, his lips parting into a wicked grin, while his eyes flared with firey yellow light. “Lord Tirek. I am Lord Tirek.”
Lumberjack slid back on his haunches, and Tirek did not miss how his hoof was drifting over towards the axe strapped to his deposited saddlebags. “Er… that doesn’t sound egotistical at all,” he said with a voice that was clearly strained with sudden nerves.
Tirek chuckled, ignoring the peasant’s impropriety. He was a stupid pony. How could he be expected to know any better? “You mentioned a town called Ponyville?” he asked after a moment. “Where is it?”
Lumberjack swallowed heavily and jerked his head to the south and west. “Th-that way. I told ya I could help ya there in the morning,” he said uneasily.
Tirek shook his head. “In the morning? Oh, no no no. That won’t be necessary, my little pony,” he rasped before pushing himself slowly back to stand at his full height. His body groaned, cracked, and popped in protest, but it nonetheless obeyed. “You shall help me there tonight.”
Lumberjack frowned, inching closer still to his axe. “I, er… that’s a bit of a trek, and it’s dark out,” he tried to reason. “And I’m tuckered out. I wouldn’t be a very good guide like this…”
Tirek took a threatening step forward. Lumberjack’s hoof found his axe. Tirek grinned wider. “Oh, you misunderstand me,” he stated matter of factly. “I don’t need a guide.”
The act came back to him with effortless ease. Lumberjack became frozen in place. The pony’s eyes peeled wide open, his mouth stretching in a silent scream as tendrils of fiery magic ensnared his form and held him in place. His eyes darted frantically about as black wisps swirled threateningly around his body, and Tirek could see his muscles twitching and spasming in a futile effort to break free.
With no horn, there was no easy way to get what he needed from this pony. But it mattered little. He had been foolish enough to let his guard down for too long. And now, it was too late to fight back. With a cackle, Tirek stalked around the fire to Lumberjack’s side, stretched open wide his own mouth, and bit down on Lumberjack’s shoulder.
If Lumberjack had been able to give voice to his agony at that moment, he would have. The aura around him twisted and convulsed as tendrils began sinking into his very skin. His body spasmed in unnatural ways, trying to fight off the intruding presence, but he had not been prepared for such an attack.
Bit by bit, the stallion’s body began to shrivel and wither, much like Tirek’s own. And with every bit of muscle that the stallion lost to those probing, devouring tendrils, Tirek’s own mass began to regrow. He had to fight the urge to scream with triumphant joy as he felt strength returning to his body, his bones, and even to his mind. The rush of his powers at work was a perfect reminder of his purpose, and the word that had danced at the edges of his mind ever since this pony stumbled upon him came surging back into his mind. The final flash of the revival of Lord Tirek.
The word was hate.
When there was nothing left to draw from the stallion, Tirek pulled away, letting Lumberjack crumple to the ground. He released his magical hold on the poor fool, and Lumberjack immediately began to cry and whimper with a hoof clutching at his shoulder, squirming on the ground like the earthworm he was.
Tirek admired his handiwork. The stallion’s body was shriveled, now, though not in the manner of one who failed to eat well. His muscles had fled him, leaving his skin wrinkled and folded against his weakened body. His eyes, staring up at Tirek in absolute terror, had dulled to pools of lightless gray. On his flank, the cutie mark that Tirek had never even bothered to memorize had disappeared.
In turn, Tirek looked down at himself. Still far from his prime, perhaps, but stronger than he had been a moment before. He could stand strong, now. Strong enough to make the journey he needed to make. He grinned down at Lumberjack, his eyes flaring with delight, and his throat rumbling with a victorious growl. “Thank you for the help… and the meal,” he said in a low, mocking whisper.
“W-what are you?” Lumberjack wheezed, his trembling voice reminding Tirek of himself only a few minutes prior.
Tirek’s grin widened, and he looked up to the distant city of Canterlot, barely visible against the last fading light of the and the darkness of the night. “I am Lord Tirek,” he proclaimed matter-of-factly. “And I will take what should have been mine long ago.”
“Monster!” Lumberjack moaned, trying to roll over and lift his axe. He let out a terrified whimper as Tirek’s iron-clad hoof smashed down into his back between his shoulder blades, pinning him in place. A firey glow stole his axe away from him and cast it lazily into the fire.
“Did you not hear me?” Tirek snarled. “I am Lord Tirek! Address me properly, pony.”
Lumberjack, in stubborn defiance, snapped a glare back at the centaur lord. “Demon,” he growled. “Go to Tartarus!”
There was a pause as the words washed over Tirek. He looked down, his hood hiding his face from view. He couldn’t help it. He began to laugh. A horrid, wretched sound that made Lumberjack realize the error in his choice of words. He only had time to let out a squawk of panic as Tirek’s hand found his throat and squeezed, lifting him breathlessly to the centaur’s eye level.
Tirek grinned at him as his hood fell away, revealing the two horns growing out of the sides of his head. They began to glow with a fiery light.
“Not today.”
Lumberjack’s fire burned brighter for only a moment and then went dark.