The building is vast, possibly infinite, labyrinthine. The observer is hard-pressed to pinpoint where the building ends and the brilliant void begins. The building sits on the border between the known and the unknown, a massive sentinel keeping us disconnected from whatever lies beyond. An institution to rival the fiery Gates of Tartarus itself, an abstract concept made flesh.
In his last hours, Obsidian Obelisk wept, slowly folding beneath the agonizing pain in the pit of his stomach, wondering what awaited him after his passing. His paperwork was processed by the reviewers and stored or sent off somewhere once he arrived. But the reviewers did not remember him. He was but one soul to pass through the Bureau, one out of the countless millions upon billions. Why should he deserve special treatment? Death is the great equalizer, it comes to all without prejudice.
The corridors of the building are long, ill-lit and dreary. Many have travelled these sinister roads, but few would return to recount the experience. The sterile grays flow into one another, mixing, dulling the eye. The hallways stretch like elastics way past breaking point. This effect is amplified by the constant groaning of the building’s framework, giving the impression that the whole thing is liable to snap and collapse in on itself at any given moment. The overall atmosphere of the place is distressing, leaving one to wonder if there’s any point—
“Are you alright, Twilight? The floor’s not that interesting,” said Spike.The other two ponies looked aside to see Twilight jerking upright reflexively.
“It’s nothing,” she blurted out. “I just can’t help but feel—”
At this point they heard a number of voices engaged in conversation, coming from a distance. The four exchanged hopeful glances, and, without so much as a word, broke into a run, racing towards the sound.
***
“You know, Rainbow, you really should resolve not to break your promises to a friend,” Rarity started in a huff. “Do you know how long I’d spent waiting for you, worrying? Had the thought even crossed your mind as you abandoned me? You’ve some nerve!”
Rainbow Dash turned to Pinkie Pie, looking for help. Pinkie shrugged and tried to grin apologetically, but the effort was spoiled by the silver scales she was carrying in her teeth.
“It wasn’t my fault!” Rainbow tried, as she turned back to face Rarity’s fury. “I found an elevator but I couldn’t stop it, and it took me to the basement! It wouldn’t go back up!”
Rarity grunted irritably, resting the ornate scythe against a wall with her magic. Rainbow Dash unclenched her teeth and drew a breath. Seeing Rarity levitating the blade around them left her a little on edge, if you’ll forgive the pun.
“So, what’s with the sickle you’ve got there?” she asked.
“Given that Applejack’s not here to correct you, I suppose it falls to me to point out that this is a scythe, Rainbow, not a sickle. As for why I have it, well. I just found it and thought it looked rather striking.”
“Huh. Well, watch how you handle that thing. Don’t want you striking one of us, right?”
“Ah-ha. Ha. Sheathe that razor wit of yours, dear, lest it dull.”
Pinkie dropped the scales to make her own contribution.
“You hear that, Dashie? That one didn’t quite make the cut.”
Rainbow giggled despite herself. An unwilling smile was tugging at the corners of Rarity’s lips.
The sound of rushing hooves echoed around the halls. Rarity gasped.
“Oh my. You think that’s—”
Rainbow Dash took off running toward the sound. Pinkie took a moment to pick up the scales and followed suit. Rarity followed last, with the platinum-bearded scythe in tow.
***
They entered a large stage in front of a sizable auditorium. In this case, “they” is indicative of both parties, although the two entered through opposite sides. The wood from which the stage has been built was ancient and stained in places, but sturdy enough that it could be deemed safe to walk on. Moth-eaten burgundy curtains were drawn together, hiding whatever lay backstage. There was no audience to speak of, the red-cushioned chairs were empty. Nevertheless, the spotlights near the ceiling were active and focused on a single point in the center of the stage.
The monstrous Sheol stood there looking oddly pensive in the light, as though he was about to launch into a soliloquy. Twilight had to stifle a groan of embarrassment for the spirit. It seemed even one such as he could have a taste for pointless drama. He was without his cross; instead he was holding something else in his outstretched arms, something that shone brilliantly in the spotlight.
The seven closed in around the misshapen creature hesitantly. Although they were reunited, an unspoken agreement between them delayed their joyous greetings. Sheol’s bizarre appearance demanded their undivided attention. As he drew his arms in, they saw that he was holding a golden crown. The crown caught the spotlight and scattered it in all directions, throwing shimmering spots across the floor like rice over a newlywed couple. And although they knew not what this meant, the air was solemn.
Rainbow Dash glanced over the various items they had accumulated in their travels and broke the silence.
“What’s with this junk?”
The eye on the creature’s mamma blinked twice and rotated to look at her. A look of revulsion crossed her face for a split second before she rallied.
“You’re the one who strangled Pinkie, right? And kidnapped all of us? You lookin’ for a fight?”
Sheol did not answer. Instead, he offered her the crown.
“I don’t want your stinking crown, alright?!”
Twilight moved to try and diffuse the situation.
“Hold on a second, Rainbow—”
Rainbow Dash thought back to her mad dash against the rotmites. She and Pinkie had almost died trying to evade the loathsome creatures. She wondered if she’d be lost in this place forever, if she would ever see her friends again. And here, standing before her, was the hideous monstrosity that was responsible.
“You think you can just snatch us up and get off scot-free?! I’ll show you!”
She lunged at the monster before she even knew what she was doing. Sailing through the air, she half expected him to deflect her blow, or dodge it somehow.
An instant passed.
Her hoof was buried in Sheol’s eye.
Many creatures have evolved so that their eyes are fairly well-protected. They tend to be set inside a bony cavity in the skull, such that they are mostly out of harm’s way.
Sheol’s eye had been on a fleshy bulb hanging on the outside of his body. The damage looked severe. He recoiled violently, dropping the golden crown; his shuddering was all the more eerie for his silence. The wound began to drip something, a liquid as black as unrefined oil and as thick as tar. Rainbow looked at her stained foreleg and then at the creature, suddenly remorseful. There was no retaliation. Sheol turned away, with one four-fingered hand held to his bleeding eye. As they watched, the creature drifted away from the stage and evaporated.
As her stomach caught up with her brain, Rainbow Dash was hit with a wave of nausea. She fell to her knees, taking deep, greedy breaths in an attempt to keep the contents of her stomach where they were.
“The Princesses will not be happy about this...” Spike observed, chewing on one of his claws.
“Say what?” Rainbow turned to face the dragon, her nausea all but forgotten.
Twilight’s eyes were fixed on the drops of black on the floor in something akin to shock. When she looked up, one of her eyebrows was twitching.
“Why did you do that?” she shouted.
“Because that was a bad guy, right?” Rainbow Dash answered hesitantly.
“He wasn’t, actually!”
“Easy there, sugarcube,” Applejack interjected. “She didn’t know.”
Rainbow winced. She didn’t like it when others made excuses on her behalf.
“Didn’t know what?” she asked. “Who was it then?”
Twilight was making a concentrated effort to calm down. Her eyes were shut and her breathing sounded strained. She didn’t answer.
“That was the fellow in charge,” Applejack filled in. “Twilight says th’ Princess wanted us to help him out.”
“But, but he kidnapped us!”
“Yeah, I’m with ya. Princess Celestia shoulda warned us. But it makes no difference now, right?”
Rainbow couldn’t meet the eyes of any of her friends. Now, more than anything, she wanted to be elsewhere.
“Listen, I’m really... I...”
The words died in her throat. She hung her head, mortified. Some seconds passed, but the moment seemed to stretch to impossible lengths.
Finally, Fluttershy picked up the crown Sheol had dropped.
“Rainbow, Pinkie and Rarity have two artifacts and our group has one, so that would mean that this is the fourth, right?”
The crown rivaled Princess Celestia’s Solar Diadem in beauty. Unlike the Diadem however, this crown was a complete ring, and the goldsmith had forwent encrusting it with any jewels in favor of a more subdued, economic design. Were she more concerned with material wealth, Fluttershy might have considered keeping the radiant crown for herself.
Twilight had regained some of her composure by this point.
“That’s right. The last step of our task is to return to Equestria and give these items to Princess Luna.”
“Why?” asked Pinkie Pie. “Also, how?”
“I’ll explain on the way. Let’s head for the exit on the first floor. There’s an elevator around here somewhere.”
***
ONCE YOU HAVE ACQUIRED THE FOUR ITEMS, YOU MAY LEAVE.
“How do we do that?” Twilight asked him.
There was another brief pause as the senior reviewer gathered his thoughts.
THIS FACILITY HOUSES A NUMBER OF DEPARTMENTS, EACH SPECIALIZING IN A DIFFERENT ASPECT OF OUR BUSINESS. ONE OF THE SMALLER SUCH DEPARTMENTS IS OUR QUESTION AND ANSWER BRANCH. FEW IN YOUR WORLD ARE AWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF THE BUREAU. THOSE WHO ARE MAY FIND THAT THEY HAVE QUESTIONS CONCERNING OUR PRACTICES AND REGULATIONS. NATURALLY, WE ARE UNABLE TO PROVIDE THE ANSWERS TO MANY OF THESE QUERIES, AND THE QUESTION AND ANSWER BRANCH EXISTS TO COMMUNICATE THIS TO OUR WOULD-BE CLIENTS.
“You have an entire office dedicated to... to not answering questions?” Twilight asked, wondering if she’d misunderstood. “What’s the point of that?”
REGARDLESS, THIS SERVICE REQUIRES A WORKING PHONE LINE BETWEEN THE CHARON BUREAU AND THE LIVING WORLD, AND INDEED, ONE EXISTS. OUTSIDE, IN THE GARDEN, YOU WILL FIND A UTILITY POST. IT IS PERHAPS A COUPLE HUNDRED YARDS AWAY FROM THE MAIN EXIT. A FRUIT GROWS AT THE FOOT OF THIS POST. YOU AND YOUR ASSOCIATES MUST EACH TAKE A BITE OF THE FRUIT TO RETURN TO YOUR WORLD.
“I see. Are there any precautions we should take?”
ONE. DO NOT LEAVE THE PREMISES. IF YOU ENTER THE BRILLIANT VOID BEYOND, YOU WILL NEVER RETURN. THIS WOULD BE... UNDESIRABLE. YOUR PAPERWORK HAS NOT YET BEEN DRAFTED OR PROCESSED.
Twilight heard Spike snort. She was beginning to feel the same way.
“Goodness. I’d hate to be such a bother.”
***
After Twilight had explained what they were meant to do, the rest exchanged stories.
“None of you will be harmed unless you choose to be?” Rainbow repeated upon hearing Applejack recount her arrival to the Bureau.
“Funny, innit?” said Applejack. “Doesn’t seem to gel with your an’ Pinkie’s, ahem, encounter, eh?”
“He probably lied,” Rainbow concluded. “It sure wasn’t our choice to nearly get killed, right Pinkie?”
Pinkie nodded, causing the skull-shaped dishes hanging from the scales to ring against one another.
“Maybe he didn’t mean it literally?” said Fluttershy.
She was wearing the crown, albeit reluctantly, as Rarity had insisted that it complemented her coat. Twilight looked back at them and hissed for silence. When they complied, they all heard a distant buzz in the walls. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie tensed up visibly.
“It’s those things,” Rainbow spat out. “We gotta pick up the pace or we won’t make it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Applejack. “Hope we ain’t got much further t’ go.”
***
The receptionist had been with the Charon Bureau for the better part of two millennia. Her job title was somewhat misleading in that she didn’t actually receive anyone. Nobody used the main doors to enter the building; they were there primarily for spirits to exit it and, presumably, to proceed to wherever it was they went afterwards. The job was simple enough, and became even simpler about one thousand years back, when the volume of departing spirits began to thin rapidly. The receptionist did not question this development, nor did she question the decline of the building’s physical maintenance and sanitation. None of that was even tangentially her business.
Her studied indifference ensured that when the six horses and one baby dragon sprinted into her lobby and started pounding on the exit doors, she did not regard them with anything more than idle curiosity. After watching them for a few minutes, she took out a disinfectant wipe and began her customary cleaning of the desk.
***
The buzzing had doggedly chased them down as they moved through the building. Rarity and Fluttershy closed every door the group passed through and locked it—where there was a lock available—but their efforts weren’t slowing down their pursuers very much. And now, here they were, a hair’s breadth from escape. Unfortunately for them, the two revolving doors were stuck in place; no amount of pushing or bucking moved the stubborn doors even an inch. Meanwhile, the drone of the rotmites grew steadily in volume, its timbre becoming more and more distinct with every passing second.
Rainbow Dash and Applejack renewed their attempts at rotating the doors, kicking with an urgency that would leave most unreinforced doors in shambles. Not so for these doors; the glass was thick and heavy, almost unnaturally so. No force they had in their reserves was enough to crack it.
“What shall we do, Twilight?” asked Rarity.
Twilight considered their options.
“Let me try something.”
“Alright. Nooooo pressure.” Rainbow tried to sound casual, but there was a palpable tension in her voice that made the act less than completely convincing.
Twilight took a deep breath and concentrated. With a pop and a flash, she vanished. Before the others had time to question what she was doing, she reappeared where she stood, looking bewildered.
“What in the—” she began. “I can’t—teleportation won’t work!”
“Why?” Rarity shouted inanely.
“I don’t know!”
The first of the rotmites became visible in the hallway.
Twilight looked around the lobby and finally caught the disembodied rag sliding across the main desk in circular motions.
“Hey! You there!” she addressed the rag. “We could use a little help!”
The rag stopped. After a few agonizing moments the receptionist pulled out a battered-looking notebook, a quill and an inkwell from the recesses behind the table. The quill danced on a clean page for a couple of seconds and the notebook was held up for Twilight to see. The text was written in a flowing cursive script.
Of course. How can I help you?
“Why won’t the doors move?!”
None may exit the building without showing me the necessary papers.
Twilight looked back at the hallway to see that a number of rotmites were slowly pouring into the lobby. Her friends had given up on the doors and were crouched into combat stances, or at least something that resembled them superficially.
“We’re alive! We don’t have papers!”
The receptionist didn’t miss a beat.
Then you may not exit the building.
“Why doesn’t teleportation work?”
The rotmites drew closer as the receptionist wrote out her response. Rarity swung the platinum scythe. It was a weak, poorly balanced swing that intercepted nothing and rebounded off the marble floor upon reaching the end of its arch. By all appearances, it should have been a wasted effort, but the blade flickered almost imperceptibly as it sailed through the air. At least a dozen of the nearest rotmites shuddered slightly and disintegrated. Rarity looked at the platinum blade with her mouth comically agape.
You are no longer in your own world. This land belongs to the Bureau. While occupying it, you must abide by our rules. Thaumaturgy is not within company policy. All spells significantly more complex than levitation are either reduced or banned outright.
“We are going to die if those doors don’t open!” tried Spike.
The receptionist held up her notebook again. Her reply was short and businesslike.
Come back with the necessary papers afterwards.
Rarity continued swinging away at the incoming waves of insects, but it seemed as though there were simply too many to stamp out in their entirety.
“I don’t want to alarm anypony—” she shouted over her shoulder. “—but I don’t think we can hold these creatures back indefinitely!”
The swarm began to pool outside the range of the scythe, biding their time. The rotmites intended to overwhelm the party with a single prolonged assault. As Twilight was about to start pleading with the receptionist, Fluttershy firmly pushed her to the side. The usually demure pegasus leaned over the aging desk and fixed the empty space behind the floating notebook with a steely glare. Her quiet voice cut through the din like cannonfire.
“Let us through.”
After the fact Twilight could have sworn she saw the crown shine briefly as Fluttershy voiced the command. Was it Fluttershy’s trademark stare that compelled the receptionist, that fierce gaze that brought wild lions to heel? Or was it something else? Fluttershy herself could not say when Twilight asked.
The next moment would be silent were it not for the building drone of the rotmites around them. The receptionist wrote out one last message and held up the notebook for Fluttershy and Twilight to see.
The doors are unlocked. You may exit the building.
They turned and ran then, Twilight shouting for the other four to do the same. The rotmites, perhaps sensing that their meal was about to escape, gave chase. The doors yielded this time, rotating with ease, and the seven sprinted into the brilliant garden outside.
“Down!” one of them shouted, and they threw themselves into the tall, dew-specked grasses, fearing even to breathe. The two doors spun as the bloodthirsty insects barged through and, blinded and enraged, scattered into the heavens.