T H E L E G E N D of E C H O
T H E ~ D I A M O N D ~ D O G
An MLP:FIM fanfiction written by: R U S T
with editing and proofreading by: Nathan Traveler, RaiderRy4n and Flame Runner
cover art and illustrations by: stupidyou3
ACT THE SECOND, CHAPTER THE FOURTH
In which Love transcends the White Knight’s shattered heart...
The Lost One
Snow had begun to fall.
Trudging through the shadowy underworld, the weary soul felt the first of the flakes land upon the tip of his nose. He licked it off with his small pink tongue, so parched that he was willing to slake his thirst from the most insignificant sources. It tasted bitter and acrid. Was this what snow was supposed to be like?
His gaze roved the upper reaches, vainly trying to pierce the misty veil. He was underground. And yet, small wispy flakes continued to flutter down from above.
He decided that he hated caves.
They had been traveling for what seemed days, eternally marching in this one direction, only deviating when a mighty stone pillar loomed out of the dark mists. The stone they marched upon was cold and wet, here and there splattered with sickly phosphorescent mosses. He did not avoid stepping on these, though they left an unpleasant burn on his hooves.
He did not mind the pain.
It was the only thing keeping him from shattering. The one anchor to normality he had left, the single sensation that cemented the fact into his brain; I am here.
He was not floating away on the heavenly wind, or burning in the fires of the core, or even dissolving into the earth and rocks and trees. He was very much a dead pony, but the pain reminded him he still existed. His soul still thrummed within his chest, alongside his cold, silent heart. That was comfort enough to press forward, following the strange beast that led him ever onwards.
“Where are we going?” he asked his guide. His words felt thick and slurred, and they dragged on his throat like sandpaper as he rasped them out.
The hulking figure didn’t even turn around. “To seek an audience with the Warden.”
“And that would be...?”
“She who holds dominion over this plane. All souls must pass through Tartarus to reach their final destination as she Judges them; be it further down to the lower depths, another cycle of rebirth, or to the stars — where their fate is unknown even to me.” Ahuitzotl chuckled darkly. “And for good reason.”
The unicorn slogged on, head drooping low. “Oh.”
He let the sounds of conversation fade away into the ebon emptiness, letting himself be absorbed by the sound of hooves and claws scratching against stone and moss.
The faint little spark of heat inside him gave off a weak shiver. Scowling, he blinked and let the dim glow of his magic sputter and die. He didn’t bother to try re-igniting it; the moss shed enough light to see by.
Soon they came to a wall, looming out of the mists with the sudden presence that only something large and stealthy could deliver. There was a jagged gash running up from the bottom, wide enough for Ahuitzotl to squeeze into with little difficulty. The guide vanished into the gloom of the passage.
He stood on the threshold, unsure. A hoof nervously scratched at the ground.
Ahuitzotl’s head popped back out. “Come, little pony. We’re not far now.” It vanished again, trailing an echo behind it, “Mind your steps, to fall from here and not even your Princess would dare venture down after your scrawny soul!”
The unicorn peered into the gap beneath the stone. It was narrow, with rough walls that were also stained here and there with luminescent growth, which lit up the faint mist that seemed to permeate everything down here.
He scoffed at himself for being so cowardly. He hated feeling weak. The passage swallowed him whole as he stepped inside, but he could not resist a look back to the vast cavern of stone trees.
For a split second, he could have sworn he’d seen a faint streak of... of something, ducking out of view. Nothing more than a flash of scarlet and fire in the dark.
His mind grasped at straws. That thing, whatever it had been, struck him as uncomfortably familiar. On the very tip of his tongue...
He made to step forward, squinting in the half-light.
“Hurry it up!” came the receding roar of the blue beast.
He shook his head irritatedly, then spun about and cantered in after.
The narrow channel through the rock had led them quite a distance, before the suffocating walls peeled away as they entered yet another cavern. The path before them continued forwards, though, as a thin strip of stone spanning an empty void.
By the entrance was a natural balcony, where they had stopped to rest briefly before traversing the perilous gap. Ahuitzotl was busy kneading his claws on the rock, each clench causing the stone to wretchedly rasp, as if the earth itself were whimpering with pain from his presence inside it.
“Once we gain the bridge, it is important to move with haste and stealth,” the beast grunted.
The unicorn peered over the edge, a cold breeze wafting up from below to tickle the fur on his face. Spindly, crooked towers of rock held the crumbling bridge on high, though for how much longer he could not guess. “Why?” he quietly asked.
“Down there is the Pit. There, it is the coldest... the blackest... and farthest from the light. Such creatures whom call that cursed place home are far older and more dangerous than I.” Ahuitzotl actually seemed uncomfortable by this admission, the first actual expression he’d ever seen on the guide’s face. “And to disturb their slumber would be most unwise.”
“I see.” He gave another glance at the dizzying drop, before taking a firm step backwards.
Ahuitzotl narrowed his predatory eyes. “No. You haven’t. And be grateful for that mercy.”
“I don’t want your mercy.” He stared right back, unflinching.
They locked gazes with the other, a crackle of tension almost palpable in the space between the two. Finally, Ahuitzotl’s lip curled up with distaste, and he blinked. “Fall behind, and get left behind.”
The beast lurched into motion, brushing past him and onto the bridge.
Snorting to himself, the unicorn crept after, moving slowly so as not to create the characteristic clip-clop of hooves on stone.
The path was even narrower than before, so much so that he felt he’d have some difficulty just turning himself around, should the need ever arise. His tail swished nervously, but his doubts were buried under an iron resolve.
Just one step after the other, he thought.
Easier said than done.
He tried not to look down. He really did. The void seemed to swell up on either side of him, forcing him to stare at everything but where he was going. He felt himself slow to a stop. Shuddering, the unicorn fought off a wave of vertigo-induced nausea.
A trembling hoof was raised, but quickly sank back down along with its owner as he pressed himself to the ground.
“Nggghh...” he suppressed the urge to whimper.
Not like this.
Not here.
Death hadn’t stopped him.
But this?
There was nothing but stone and blackness as far as the eye could see. Encompassing him, surrounding him, choking him with the presence of shadow. His pupils narrowed to pinpricks, breath racing shallowly through his cold lungs. If he’d a heartbeat, it probably would have been racing.
This was hell.
He hated caves. He hated the deep, dark places of the world, and the secrets its shadows hid even more so. He could tell it was a furious dislike born of fear, a sickening churning in his gut that made him want to turn and bolt, here, there, anywhere but here. What was it that made him so afraid? Why could he remember nothing from... before?
Ahead, Ahuitzotl was nearly halfway across, his long, decapitated tail twitching occasionally as he slunk with a feline grace that belied his impressive size.
“W-wait...” he whispered as loudly as he dared.
The guide made no such move, or even indicated the message had been received.
The unicorn gritted his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and through sheer willpower, forced himself to take another step.
At that instant, a wet, fetid gust of wind howled up from the depths, accompanied by a distant thunder. He staggered, buffeted about by the sudden breeze.
His hoof met empty air.
The void opened wide to swallow him whole as he pitched forwards off the edge, teeth of stone ready to snap shut and seal him away forever.
No.
Not like this!
A cold rage spread from within his chest, a tidal wave of frozen magma that surged upwards. He viciously twisted himself mid-air, throwing out a desperate grab for the bridge.
His hoof locked into the stone, and he nearly screamed with agony from the wrenching of his shoulder as he came to a screeching halt. His breath caught in his chest, gasping weakly as he tried his damndest not to look down. If he looked down he was done for.
He dangled by a weakening grip, swinging gently back and forth over the stygian chasm.
“Ahuitzotl,” he hissed. “Help me!”
The blue beast looked back, this time, eyebrow raised, upper lip curled upwards into a sneer. That great head shook from side to side. “Help yourself,” the creature hissed back. With that, he turned away and continued over the treacherous spar of rock.
The unicorn stared, open-mouthed, as his companion vanished into the mists.
Another rumbling of thunder from down below. It sounded like it was getting closer. He was in no particular hurry to find out what was making it.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
He had to save himself, and he needed to do it yesterday.
“Hhhgh!” With monumental effort, a second hoof joined its brother on the edge. He pulled and heaved, back legs kicking wildly. Inch by inch, he squirmed and dragged himself up onto the narrow bridge. He had almost gotten his chest halfway up when something inside of him exploded.
A terrible, frigid ache, from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his stomach, like he was being ripped in half with a blade of jagged glacier ice.
Something slithered across his lower leg.
He screamed, all pretenses of stealth and secrecy forgotten in the face of such incredible pain and terror.
The grip on his leg tightened, hungrily dragging him back from the edge. His hooves skidded across the stone, eating up the distance he’d fought so hard to win. A savage yank, and he was all but pitched into the void yet again.
He scrabbled desperately, seeking to lay a hold onto something, anything. But the Pit wanted him. The thing dragging him down, sensed his desperation, and redoubled its efforts.
What could he do?
What could he do!?
Summoning the the last reserve of strength he had left, he whipped his head around, squeezed his eyes shut, and ignited the little spark from before, a sudden harsh glare spewing forth from his horn.
For the first time in all of creation, a single, wavering light shone down upon the deepest, blackest, coldest Pit of Tartarus.
A terrible screech emanated forth, the monster within defiled by the flickering grace. He did not look, he did not dare to look, only hold on for dear life and pour everything he had into and out of his horn.
Slithering and hissing, something big thrashing about. A choking, predatory roar, hot spittle spraying his undersides.
His tired, burnt hooves, simply lacking the strength to do anything but hold on.
Rancid breath on the nape of his neck. The Pit’s stony teeth, rising out of the darkness to drag him back down.
His spark finally sputtered out and died, the darkness all around rushing back in to meet him within and without.
Something cold and wet ran down his cheeks.
“Don’t you dare give up on me!”
Time seemed to slow. His eyes opened. He looked up.
Twin pools of spring gazed fiercely back from behind a curtain of wild, electric orange, softly glowing in the gloom. Their owner was hunched on the ledge before him, almost translucent, her ghostly body stained all over the color of deepest blood. On her side was a horrible scar, where the ribs seemed to have indented from some ghastly impact.
“I never gave up on you. Not then, not now, not ever. Phfft!” She blew out of the corner of her mouth, blowing away a wayward strand of mane from her face. “So don’t you even think about it!”
There was something in those eyes and in her velvet voice that he couldn’t place. Some glimmer of knowing that filled him with a gentle warmth, perfectly filling up a gaping hole inside him he hadn’t even known was empty.
“I... I know you,” he realised with a weak gasp, still gently swaying over his doom. “But I don’t remember. Why!?”
“Time for that later!” She responded by leaning over him and grabbing him by the scruff of his neck with her mouth. She smelled like smoke, sweat, and summer. “Ho’ om an’ puph!” she said through a mouthful of him.
He did as she asked, finding a new strength pumping through his veins, a something roaring in his ears. The Pit slithered up him once again, but he beat it back with wild kicks. Pain blossomed in his chest again, but this time she was there to help him.
They rolled back over the edge, panting and gasping. She pulled herself on top of him and put him into an encompassing embrace. “Keep going,” she told him with a whisper in his ear, “I’ll be waiting for you at the end.”
“Who... are you?” he wheezed.
“Somepony who loves you.” Her weight vanished, and suddenly he was alone again.
“No, wait! I have to know! I have to remember!” He scrambled up, nearly falling off once again. But she had gone, vanishing as suddenly as she had appeared. The fading sensation on his coat where she had touched him was all that was left. “Please...”
He was alone.
A roar of anger sounded from below.
Well, not entirely alone.
He sniffed and wiped at his face, giving one last glance around, before turning tail and galloping as fast as he dared after Ahuitzotl.
“You left me,” he said tersely once he had caught up to his wayward guide.
The path had led through another jagged cleft in the rock, winding and twisting through the fungus-lit darkness like a thunderbolt carved out of the stone. This time, though, it had opened into a large tunnel... and something... unexpected.
Deep beneath the surface, another world had taken root to bloom
Strange, phosphorescent plants covered every surface of the cave they traveled. Enormous mushrooms stretched high above like trees, a constant sprinkling of shining dust raining down from these, making the air itself seem to glow. Here and there a skittering in the underbrush — odd little crab creatures darted underhoof, snipping and clacking at each other and the intruders to their realm. They followed another river of light down the center of the tunnel, this one filled with playful fish whose bones could be seen through their scales, and the banks were soft and less abusive to his burning hooves.
The path soon led them across the river, to the other side of the wide tunnel. After a time, Ahuitzotl made an abrupt turn, following an offshoot of the waters and delving into one of the many passages that spiderwebbed every which way. Some boulders had fallen to block the way, but he dug his paws into the earth and shouldered them aside.
Crystals began to appear in the walls as they traveled down this new path, tiny little dew drops of color in the black rock. Some blue, some red, some green; there were even colors he had no name for, ones that made him grasp at straws for the lost knowledge.
The burning in his hooves had dulled to an ache, the mossy ground they trod upon no longer paining him as much as before. He wished otherwise. The reprieve let his mind drift to other, darker things, things that began to weigh heavily upon him.
The air had become warm and moist, humming with the activity of the small things of life. Harsh, shrill cries would warble down from the ceiling from time to time. He could not see what made them, the mushroom tops blocked his view.
“I did,” Ahuitzotl simply replied. “What of it?”
The tunnel they traveled followed no particular path, and had even crossed here and there with other passages, connecting from all angles, each with their own tiny forest within. The blue beast seemed to know his way, though, and the unicorn was loathe to anger his only key to this strange puzzle.
“You should have helped. I could have —”
“Fallen? You’ve already done that.” Ahuitzotl chuckled darkly. “Best accept it; you’re scum, pony. Like me.”
He bristled. “So then why didn’t you help?!”
The beast ducked under an overhanging vine. “Only the strong survive. If you could not face the Pit alone, you would be of no use to me, or her. I do not tolerate weaklings.”
It was probably a good idea to keep mum about the one who had helped him. Her. He felt a strange tickle in his stomach whenever he relieved to moment.
“Strength in numbers,” he retorted irritably.
“A herd is made of individuals, pony,” was the calculated reply.
“You should have helped me,” he insisted.
“You helped yourself, despite the fear you still reek of. Even cowards can show some gumption, I suppose.”
That did it.
He broke into a gallop, sprinting around the lumbering giant and planted himself in the path, blocking the way with a scowl and stomp of frustration.
“You can’t be serious.” Ahuitzotl raised an eyebrow.
An angry hoof scored through the earth, its owner snorting twin tendrils of cold vapor out his nose. “Take. That. Back.”
“Stars above, you’re serious. You stupid, stupid fool.” Ahuitzotl dropped into a hunting crouch, his huge bulk tensing like a coiled spring. “I killed you once, don’t make me do it again.”
An eerie silence descended over the subterranean thicket, aside from the echoing burbles of the river and the measured breaths of the cat lord.
“W-what?” the unicorn stammered, taking a step back. “You...” he glanced down at his chest, the horrible scar running from groin to neck. “You did this!?”
Ahuitzotl slid forward, teeth bared. “Aye, that be the work of my claw. It was easy, too, like cutting through soft, newborn flesh.” He began to circle, the stump at the end of his tail flicking to and fro.
“Would you like to know how you died?”
He did not answer. There was no way to describe the hollowness that had come upon him.
“I’ll tell you, you sniveling, pathetic waste of my time. You squealed. Afraid of your own sins to the last. Even your blood tasted like fear.” Ahuitzotl licked his fangs with a forked tongue, eyes flashing with evil intent. “Even now...”
“No...”
The unicorn stumbled, falling back onto his haunches, rapid breaths hitching in his throat. Ahuitzotl loomed over him, and he was helpless in his shadow. A single, massive blue paw closed around his throat and pulled, lifting him straight off the ground as he twitched weakly in the vice-like grip.
“You are here for a reason. Only those with business unfinished or possession of souls warped and sickly linger here for long. And you, little pony, have little more than a broken chip left of yours.”
He was slammed brutally down onto his back, the breath leaving his lungs in an instant as another blue paw reaching over to shove his head over the riverbank. Water closed in, cold and tingling to the touch. Bubbles poured out through the gaps between fingers as he struggled for air.
His throat convulsed as he sucked in a heave of water. It spilled over his tongue, searing his teeth and dragging claws all the way down his gullet. Darkness closed in, his limbs began to still their thrashing.
His mind whirled. Why did the water taste so familiar?
Then, relief.
Ahuitzotl wrenched him out of the river and held him high again, now dripping and gagging on the foul taste in his mouth. “You made one too many deals with the River, pony,” growled the beast. “The Styx shattered you from the inside out. You broke your soul for power, for hatred, and for a fool’s dream. Now, so little you have, there is nothing left to break. You are an echo of a whisper in the wind. You. Are. Nothing.”
“Bite me,” he rasped.
The stallion was cast clear across the cave, hitting the opposite wall and leaving a trail of grime and water as he slid down to a whimpering heap, back to the stone.
Ahuitzotl wasn't done with him yet.
An enormous blue fist cratered his skull into the rock wall behind him. His eyes rolled, his cheek shattered, teeth splintered in their gums. The pain was overwhelming, he felt himself pushed almost to the brink of what his mind could take. When it pulled back, fragments of bone and gristle dribbled from his mouth.
“C-call that a p-unch...?”
He wasn’t sure why he said it. Crazy from the pain, maybe some maddened part of him that had been left behind was finally surfacing. He was just tired of it all, he couldn’t even die in peace.
“No,” drawled Ahuitzotl.
An azure meteor hammered him in the chest, knocking all the dust off him with the sheer force. His chest crumpled, his breath was blown clean out of him yet again as he rolled and bounced away, every jolt sending explosions of agony through him. He felt the little spark inside him shudder as he rolled to his hooves, gasping.
And it hurt. Ye gods above, did it hurt. The beast descended upon him again, raining pain and suffering down with wanton abandon, fists striking like sledgehammers. He felt one of his legs give way, and before he could fall he had been punted down the tunnel once again, leaving a bloody streak as he slid to a halt.
His shattered face pressed painfully onto the floor. Somehow, hooves planted itself down, struggling to raise their owner.
They never had the chance.
The final blow took his spine with it. Something akin to a bullet train landed squarely below his shoulder blades. There was no pain this time, only the sudden deadening of everything past his stomach. The rancid smell of bile and waste filled the air as his bowels loosed.
He cracked open an eye, blinking away tears of salt and blood. The great blue monster stood over him, poised to deliver a killing blow.
Just past his shoulder, a shade of crimson could be seen through the glowing plants. She was there, watching, unreadable and incredibly beautiful all at once.
Don’t you give up on me.
As if he had a choice.
He let out a ragged yell. Every fiber of his what was left of his being rushed through broken bones and out his horn.
A cone of magic surrounded the spire, then another ignited on top of it, followed by another, and still more, the layers of overglow piling up and compounding their effect tenfold.
Ahuitzotl's fist visibly thundered down upon the pale auras not an inch away, a ripple of energy spreading outwards across these like water on a pond, before they dissolved away into the air. The beast rebounded back, holding his stinging paw.
Despite everything, the unicorn smiled dazedly. Something was stirring deep inside and it felt... warm.
Ahuitzotl unsheathed his claws, ready to smite the stallion for his arrogance, when he realized the gaze was not directed at him. The beast spun, but saw nothing. When he turned again to finish it, he saw that he was not alone.
An alicorn sat calmly next to the broken pony splattered across the cave floor. She was tall and willowy, her coat incredibly pale beneath a heavy robe the color of smoke, the mane pouring from underneath her hood dark and translucent, like ink poured underwater. A shattered spire of a horn glistened in the half-light of the subterranean forest, snapped off near the base. Hazel eyes glared evenly at him from under this, unfathomable, all-knowing.
Ahuitzotl uttered a profane curse, before kneeling down before her.
The alicorn gave him a stern glare. “What have I told you about playing with your food?”
“Apologies, Warden.”
The stallion on the floor gargled, passing from something that looked like a punctured lung from out his throat. He was past feeling pain, there was only the comfort of the closing darkness.
Warden looked down upon him pityingly. She lowered a pale wing, weak and withered from lack of use, the feathers fading from sight towards the tips. This she brushed across his form, and dull cracking noises filled the air as bones were shunted back into place, organs re-inflating and the blood ceasing to pour. The unicorn spasmed senselessly as feeling returned to his lower body.
His eye not pressed to the ground roved, ignoring the alicorn and the kneeling hulk of a monster. He searched across the river, desperately hoping to glean just another flash of scarlet. Where had she gone?
Warden followed his gaze, a soft smirk upon her muzzle, before rising. “Come, Ahuitzotl. Bring our guest,” said she, the elegant alicorn stalking gracefully down the path.
The last thing he recalled was being thrown across the beast’s back like a sack of potatoes, still sore and aching from his beating, and then passing out.
Black and gray.
Those were her colors, the one called Warden, whom had brought him here. They flew from the banners outside, embodied the somber castle upon which those hung, and even graced the creature herself.
He found it somewhat funny, that when he woke up in her abode, the first thing he could think was that somepony had taken all the color out of the world. He had been cleaned and bandaged, though, so that was a relief.
It was a small room, made of the midnight crystals that the castle itself seemed to be built of, with the softest bed he had ever slept upon — had he ever slept on a bed? — a thick gray woolen rug, and a small fireplace on the far wall. There was no fire lit, and it was rather chilly.
The door was sturdy, barred from the outside.
Everything hurt. He still felt as though every piece of him had been ripped in half, before being haphazardly glued back together. When he dared venture out of the bed, either to gaze out the window or try and knock the door down, his entire body sang out in protest.
He had, he supposed with dark humor, been beaten to within an inch of his life.
The view outside his room — perhaps more accurately described as a cell — presented a landscape of that gave an air of ancient dignity. The cavern the castle inhabited was column-shaped, roughly one hundred meters from the walls to the rock itself, and the fortress rising through the darkness like a jagged sculpture of frozen ice.
But it was the light show that took the breath away.
Pale little wisps of all colors of the rainbow, no bigger than his hoof, would seep out of the stone and the crystal. Sometimes they passed through him, and he would shudder in discomfort as the little spark inside him brushed up against it. The wisps would make for the tallest tower of the keep, where the one he knew as Warden made her lair. There, they swirled about the spire, faster and faster until they launched themselves straight upwards. A great pillar of light always pulsed above the castle, stretching higher and higher into the strange cavern until it vanished somewhere far above.
He reasoned that the passage of time could be gleaned from this spectacular display, as it seemed to go through periods of increased activity on a regular basis. He dubbed the times when the lights were few as the night, and the times where the pillar became so frantic he could no longer view it as the day.
Three days and three nights had passed before something came a-knocking at his door.
He had to raise his eyebrow at this. It was locked from the outside; he’d tried breaking it down with his weak hooves, to no avail. If somepony wanted access, why bother asking? Nevertheless, he turned from where he had been in bed, staring at the dark walls, grunting, “Enter.”
Enter she did. The hearth erupted into black flame the second her pale hoof crossed the threshold. Warden was more imposing than he remembered, her sunken countenance tempered ghastly by her withered wings and broken horn. There was something special about having both at once, he thought.
Warden was silent at first, settling down atop the thick rug. “I know you have many questions for me, though my time here is short, and we have much to discuss.”
Oh, that they did. But where to begin?
“Who am I?” he blurted.
A soft smile from the recesses of her hood. “That remains to be seen.” Warden shuffled in place, getting comfortable. “You are nothing, at least for the moment. But as for what you were...
“His name was Frost, of the Snap clan, a family of unicorn ponies known for their magical prowess and unique connection to the natural world. He was the elected leader of a town located in Equestria’s Great Southern Rainforest, called Wethoof. He had a wife, whom perished before his time was over, and is survived by a daughter. He was killed in battle by my pet Ahuitzotl, whom inflicted a mortal wound upon him, though a gryphon mercenary granted a quicker end by beheading. Frost was one-hundred and sixty-six seasons, fourteen days, and eighteen hours of age upon the day of his death. I know this because I harvested what was left of him, just as I sowed the seed of his birth.”
He stayed silent, numbly absorbing what she said.
“Upon death, his eternal soul made the journey to Tartarus, as all souls do, to make the journey to the Fount and pass on to their next life.” Warden frowned. The black flames in the hearth flickered ominously. “However, Frost had almost no soul left to give back to the cycle, having shattered his and bartered the pieces away for alliances and unholy power. Those fragments are forever lost to us, eternally swirling in the chill of the Dead Waters, the River Styx. You are all that is left. A sliver of a shard of a soul.
“Does that answer your question?” her hazel eyes blinked at him.
“...No,” he eventually grunted. “You speak of this pony, Frost, as if he is no longer with us, though you also claim I am he, or at least a piece of him.”
“Aye, the one piece he would not part with, though what that entails I do not know. You are he, and he is you, but you are you, and he is he.”
The unicorn chose to slowly nod and pretend he understood. He licked his lips. “What am I doing here, then?”
Her frown intensified, though her voice was neutral. “Frost committed acts of grievous betrayal, upon his own kin, no less. Firstly to his own blood, a clan of diamond dogs —” he suddenly stiffened, a knot of anxiety ripening within his stomach, “ — who called him one of their own, and secondly to his charges, the ponies of Wethoof, whom as Mayor he was sworn to protect but instead was willing to sacrifice for personal gain. For these great sins, and other lesser ones, his soul was damned to roam this place, his soul denied access to the fount and the next life until his debts against life were paid in full.”
“I... suppose I would be that soul, then,” he realized with growing unease. Was he to be punished for the crimes of a pony he did not even know? Frost Snap; the name wasn’t even familiar!
“As I have said, that remains to be seen. You are not the soul of a wicked pony. You are the embodiment of everything that was the exact opposite of what he became, shoved into a smaller and smaller space until you became an entity unto yourself.”
He bristled, standing up on the bed, looking down at her. “What is my purpose here, then? Why am I being kept here against my will? Why sic your... pet,” he spat the word with distaste, “on me?”
“Tell me what you remember,” she softly asked of him.
He coughed in surprise at the sudden turn of conversation. “N-nothing.”
“Did you know who you were? What you did? Who you knew?”
Her.
He remembered her. The scarlet from the caves, who had helped him conquer the Pit, who had inspired him to resist being completely broken by his guide. The name was on the tip of his tongue, the burbling fuzzy feeling in his chest that he got whenever he thought about her.
Keep going. I’ll be waiting for you at the end.
“No,” he lied.
Warden scrutinized him for a moment, then shrugged. “That is it. You are a blank slate, a soul wiped clean, though you are too small to pass through the Fount. A shard your size would fall clean through the filters and pass away into oblivion, never to be reborn, never to continue the cycle.” She smoothly stood again, towering over him even though he was perched on the bed. Her broken horn was slowly leaking from the tip, a dark, smoky ichor. When had that begun? “You are here to be offered a chance at your rebirth into the cycle. If you can atone for the sins of your true soul, you may yet redeem the pony you once were, and stand a chance to become a true spirit in your own right.”
He sat down again, hard.
“I... don’t even know what it means to live again. All I know is... here,” he finally said.
“Think upon it. I shall return soon. Once I have left, I shall have Ahuitzotl grant you leave to roam the inner sanctum of Greyguard. I must ask that you do not leave these walls — those who tread outside in the lights without my blessing are... treated rather harshly.” She made to leave, her long, thin legs delicately carrying her away.
“Wait,” he called, hopping down from the bed. “If I am to be my own, do I get a name of my own?”
“Name yourself.” She looked back once as she closed the door behind her. “I did.”
That night, he lay awake in his soft bed, the dark flickering of the hearth long since extinguished. His body still ached, crying out for rest, but his mind was a whirlpool of activity.
Just who was he?
A piece of a stallion now long dead... or something more? The path before him was slippery and every new question a splotch of ice. Was he truly the last bit of a good pony, as Warden had claimed? He didn’t think so. He had felt hate and rage and fear, just in the time he had spent down here, travelling through Tartarus. Good ponies didn’t think like that, he guessed.
How were good ponies even supposed to think? He rubbed his temples.
He decided to sleep on it.
It seemed fate had other plans, though, when he became aware of another presence in the room. He rolled over in his bed, finding himself staring into stunning emerald eyes.
“Phffft.”
She was poised with one hoof on the edge of the bed, as if caught in the act of climbing up with him. He admired her blood-red figure from the tip of her horn to the last curl of her pumpkin tail. She was well-muscled for a mare, especially in the forelegs, indicating that she worked hard for a living, but had a plumpness to her that bespoke health and good harvests. And yet, her entire body seemed unclear, flickering, and he fancied he could see the hearth straight through her.
But she had a smile on her face that said she wanted to be seen.
That smile. Where had he seen that before?
Unconsciously, he found himself making room for her, to which she did, curling up into a ball beside him. Warmth, fuzzy, delirious heat washed through his body as she pressed against his side.
“Who are you?” he asked her, but this time, the name was there, finally unsealed from its casket.
“Somepony who loves you very much.”
“Ruby,” he murmured, “your name is Ruby Glow.”
She hummed drowsily. He could feel it through their brushing coats, almost tickling. “And I haven’t given up on you.”
He wrapped himself around her, burying his nose in her mane, taking in her delicious scent that made him shiver a little; smoke and steel and sweet mare-sweat. It was so familiar, they fit together so naturally, he wondered if this is what it truly felt like to be a whole pony. “Who are you?” she whispered.
“I don’t know yet,” he said.
“That’s okay. We can find out together.”
He decided to leave it at that, unwilling to interrupt the sacred sound of her steady breaths in the still, chilly air. He drifted off to sleep, breathing her in, a genuine smile on his face.
When he woke, he was alone.
Achievement Earned: "Bring Out Yer Dead!"
Level up! - ??
-Perk Unlocked: Frozen Solid: (+10 stamina, +10 endurance) Iron Will would be proud. You never give in. You never surrender. You are made of the tough stuff; unbreakable and strong. You always get the job done... no matter how much you have to scream to do it.
-Perk Unlocked: Deadbeat: (Disease Immunity, Back from the Brink) There's a mysterious lack of noise coming from the old ticker there. No, you aren't a zombie, but you're pretty close. Still, it has it's benefits. Sickness no longer affects you. Any hit that would normally outright kill a living being now only brings you to 1% health.
-New Spell: Lover's Light: (+5 perception, +10 magic) There's something lurking in the darkness. But you aren't afraid. Keep her close to your heart and your light will never waver.