Chapter 12
Abyss

Through here thee passes into the city of woe.
Through here thee passes into eternal pain.
Through here thee passes into everlasting sorrow.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
- Inscription on the Gates of Tartarus

Twilight Sparkle leaned back into the armchair and momentarily panicked as she sank so far into the cushions she thought she would be swallowed by it. Such luxury was unknown to a pony that spent half her nights curled up on a desk in the laboratory. The airship was huge, lavishly decorated with royal purple and golden spirals meant to be reminiscent of pre-Discord Canterlot. Twilight had wasted a good hour just exploring. Blacknote evidently wanted to spare no expense in impressing the Tartarian ambassador. A hall fit for a Princess, Twilight thought, glancing uncomfortably at Starswirl, who was seated next to her. The other unicorn seemed at home, humming to herself happily as she flipped through the newspaper.

The Tartarians were on the other side of the extravagant dining room. The ambassador herself had retired to one of the private bedrooms—Twilight wondered what kind of sleep cycle Tartarians had, if any. The two pegasi, who Twilight assumed were bodyguards, were seated by the window, eyes glued to the glass. One was reclining on a couch, while the other with the bell around his neck seemed to consider comfort radioactive, and was sitting on the least soft bit of carpet he could find.

Starswirl put down the newspaper and leaned over secretly. “Hey,” she whispered, “do you know anything about Tartarus?”

“Other than that it’s full of evil monsters?” Twilight shook her head. “Do you?”

Starswirl’s gaze grew distant. “Well, I know it has a gate guarded by the giant three-headed dog Cerberus. And that it’s old. Very old. It was already old when ponies first came to Equestria. Princess Celestia said even she knew only myths about the place...”

That name again. The way it found purchase on Starswirl’s lips, it might have been holy. Every time she spoke about that pony, it was with such loving adoration, and it made Twilight feel...

She didn’t know how it made her feel. It certainly stirred something in her, but she didn’t know how to describe it. A kind of wistful longing, perhaps, to meet the mare her twin seemed to regard as an adoptive mother, but there was something else to the feeling, something darker, visceral. She didn’t understand it, and it frightened her.

Starswirl grinned embarrassedly. “It sounds silly when you put it that way, I suppose...” She told her about a time when Cerberus left Tartarus and came to Ponyville, only to be lured back by with a ball.

Twilight looked at her queerly. It was too crazy to be true. Epic, yet harmless adventures of that sort just didn’t happen. The kind of world where you could tame an ancient monster older than Equestria, run all the way to Tartarus and be back to the next day... that was the stuff of dreams, not reality.

And so deep down in some subconscious crevice of her mind, a childish part of her, like a foal that had yet to learn to recognize the pony in the mirror as something other than a new playmate, thought, She can’t be Twilight Sparkle. After all, I’m Twilight Sparkle.

But even that childish part of her was defensive, as all liars are when reality hangs over their heads by a thread, threatening at any point to strike down the flimsy foundations of their false reality...

There was a chortle from the far side of the room. Starswirl glanced over, then leaned back in. “That pony with the bell keeps looking at you.”

Twilight turned her head. The black pegasus quickly snapped back to looking out the window. She looked back at Starswirl, but saw out of the corner of the eye that the pegasus was looking at her again. She tried to sink further down into the chair. When she looked again, the stallion again quickly turned his head. Then the other pegasus poked his head from around the couch, grinning, and called out, “He is fond your color.”

Twilight prayed desperately for the chair to swallow her. Starswirl giggled, and a moment of infantile how dare you! twinged through her.

So apparently Tartarians had a sense of humor. Twilight filed this away for future reference. She got up out of the chair and locked eyes with Void, who was just slightly taller. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this is my... sister, Starswirl.” ‘Starswirl’ waved. The other black pegasus approached at a distance, as though he had only come to watch Void.

“It is our pleasure to meet you,” Void said, bowing. Twilight noted the usage of the word our. “We are most grateful for your aid. It shames us to impose upon you. You must understand, our desperation is great, to look to the outside world for help...”

Twilight glanced at Starswirl for a moment. “What, uh, exactly do you need help with?”

Void’s eyes flickered in introspection. “Perhaps it would be best to explain once you have seen it for yourself.”

Twilight coughed. “Well, you know, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be of any help. I’ll try, of course,” she added hastily, “but if I can’t make any promises without knowing what I’m supposed to be doing.” Try as she might, her eyes could just not avoid glancing back at her “sister”.

Void nodded. “That is, of course, entirely within our expectation.” There was a long, awkward pause.

Void glanced at Null, who was looking down at the ground. “We are the Shadow Guard, sworn to protect our tribe against all foes at the cost of our lives.”

“Ah.” It was the kind of “ah” a pony used when they didn’t know what else to say, Twilight noted with some tiny degree of pleasure. “Umm, so you said you were brothers?”

Starswirl and Twilight nodded at the same time. So it wasn’t just some kind of appearance spell that rendered the two pegasi identical in appearance. With their cutie marks obscured by their indistinguishable gray armor, the only way to tell the difference between the two was the bell Null wore. “So, is that why you wear the bell? So that we can tell you two apart?” Twilight asked.

The two ponies seemed to shrink back. “It is... not a thing he speaks of with strangers,” Void finally said, looking at his brother.

“He doesn’t seem to speak much at all,” Twilight noted. Starswirl glanced at her as though she had said something rude. Twilight happily ignored her.

“Yes...” Void said uncertainly. “Please forgive him. He has given more than his share in the duty of the Shadow Guard.”

More than his life? Twilight opened her mouth to ask, but Starswirl elbowed her in the side. She glared at her, but was fortunately spared the effort of making a response by the intercom.

Twilight noted the roiling crimson clouds outside. Odd, chaos zones hadn’t really worked their way into this part of Equestria. A map would have shown the corrupted landscape radiating out from Ground Zero, yet inexplicably parting around this area, leaving it a pristine green zone.

A thought occurred to her, and her eyebrows drew together. Perhaps it was Tartarus itself that had kept the chaos magic at bay? If that was so, then the sudden presence of chaos storms would mean...

Shining Armor finished rolling around in the dirt and stood before Crystalline. “Well, how do I look?”

Crystalline inspected the unicorn. He was entirely filthy, the normal white sheen of his coat now rather yellowish-brown, like old paper. His mane was ragged and unkempt, looking as though it had been cut by a small foal armed with safety scissors. But his teeth...

“Open your mouth,” Crystalline ordered. Shining Armor raised an eyebrow but obliged, then swiftly dodged the incoming hoof-ful of dirt.

Crystalline sighed. “Your teeth are too clean.” She tried unsuccessfully to shove the dirt into the stallion’s mouth some more. “Hold still!”

“I can do it myself, thank you very much.” Good grief, we haven’t even gotten into the prison and I already want to punch her in the throat. He gently scooped up some dirt, put it in his mouth, and chewed.

“Good, now show me those pearly whites.” Shining Armor smiled, and Crystalline made a suitably disgusted expression.

Shining Armor scanned the mare. Her coat was unkempt, ragged, and filthy, her mane was frazzled with stray hairs everywhere, and the curls at the bottom now were more akin to hairballs than the swirled candy they once resembled. Yet she retained some essential elegance, something fundamentally Crystalline about her that made her still look pretty, and that annoyed him to no end.

“Never mind.” If he could just get through this one mission without strangling her, then he’d never have to see her face ever again. Shining Armor turned, but Crystalline stepped back in front of him.

His eyebrows furrowed. He looked closely at the mare’s face. Her expression was nothing but genuine, as if she honestly cared about his opinion. But like hell he would admit that she was still attractive even when looking like she had spent a week living in a cave.

“Because being pretty in prison is about the worst thing a mare can wish for,” she muttered at his retreating back.

Shining Armor climbed to the top of the boulder and gazed out over the windswept badlands. A single dirt road wound its way across the landscape, the lonely route used by Manehattan to maintain their underground prison of Pitchblende.The reddish-brown dust did not extend very far—in one direction he could see verdant green fields, in another the dark, tortured landscape of a red zone. Behind him stood the foreboding black cliffs of the Chaos Mountains, and hidden beyond them, the Palatium fields and the ruins of the Chaos Capital.

He found Captain Thunderstone not too far from his position. Thunderstone, a large, burly Earth pony, was the head of an special operations group of about a dozen ponies that had been roaming the area near the Manehattan side of the Chaos Mountains for some time now, keeping an eye on troop movements. Pitchblende was not a particularly secret facility. It was inescapable enough already.

Thunderstone, who had been scanning the horizon with his binoculars, shook his head.

Shining Armor glanced over to the rest of the soldiers, who were occupying themselves by gambling. It was a common pastime in yellow zones: flipping a coin and betting whether it’d come down or not. So far, the results had been tails, edge, heads, butterfly, edge, six minutes, last Tuesday, and a research paper titled Prospects for Making a Bose-Einstein-Condensed Positronium Annihilation Gamma Ray Laser. Then a coin zoomed off into the upper atmosphere, leaving a small sonic boom echoing across the badlands.

Three long hours later, a moving cloud of dust appeared on the horizon. “Get up, you maggots!” Thunderstone shouted.

They took up ambush positions. Shining Armor handed Crystalline a golden cylinder with a hole and straps. She eyed the device warily. “Magic sink?”

“It’s a fake one,” Shining Armor said, affixing an identical device to his horn. “Only the outer layer is made of lightstone, you can overload it easily.”

Crystalline didn’t seem satisfied, but she took the magic sink anyways. They were a mandatory feature wherever unicorns were imprisoned—the lightstone cylinder would absorb any magic that tried to leave the horn, and release it as harmless light.

The convoy, consisting of three trucks and and two IFVs, approached. The ambush began when a column of green flames erupted from underneath the first IFV, lifting it bodily into the air and flipping it upside down as a heap of twisted steel. Then a wall of pure force hit the first truck as six unicorns working in concert sent the vehicle tumbling off the road and landing on its side. As though emerging from the land itself, a small army rose from the rocks and bushes and swarmed the convoy.

The response was immediate. Flares leaped into the air from the remaining trucks and exploded in brilliant scarlet displays. Guards leaped from the trucks hefting heavy spears as cyan beams lanced out from the guns of the IFV. These weren’t run-of-the-mill grunts—their speed and ferocity belied combat experience. But even they had their hooves full, for the prisoners were taking every advantage of the confusion to make their escape. Chains suddenly found use as weapons, striking like heavy whips while legs linked by heavy hoof-cuffs were effective hammers, bashing heads and breaking limbs. Overwhelmed, the guards soon found themselves prisoners, and like dust the ponies dispersed into the wild.

But the badlands were vast and empty. Mere minutes after the battle, chariots from Pitchblende took to the sky. Some went to help the remains of the prisoner convoy, while others hunted down the escapees. Only about half would evade the shadows of soaring wings and piercing light of stun bolts.

In all the confusion, not a single guard noticed that two of the prisoners hadn’t been there before.

It might have merely been the cold, for they were close to the top of the colossal mountain. The ground was unnaturally smooth, a sign that the plateau had not been hewn from the stone by nature, and indeed a long, crawling staircase descended the entire length of the cliff, carved roughly from the rock itself and then rounded by weather. The air was eerily still, and so clear one could have seen the horizon in perfect clarity were it not for the massive crimson storm clouds that broiled in every direction like the wall of some great thunder giant. Surely there was magic at work here, keeping the chaos storms at bay.

Before her rose Avernus, the Outer Hall. Built like a rectangular temple that extended deep into the core of the mountain, massive columns of gray marble, large enough to have been considered towers in their own right, soared to support the entablature, on which rested a triangular pediment so high above her head she could scarcely see the roof. The architecture was reminiscent of old Cloudsdale—or rather, old Cloudsdale was reminiscent of this architecture, for there was no question which of the two were older.

“I’ve only ever gotten as far as the base of the mountain,” Starswirl whispered. “It’s... a lot bigger close up.”

“This way, please.” Light Unseen lead the way down the center of the hall, Twilight and Starswirl trailing close after, while Null and Void hung back, pulling carts of various instruments and mechanisms Twilight had brought along just in case. Darkness descended swiftly as they left the sun outside, and Twilight quickly became unable to tell whether her eyes were open or closed. A single hoofstep could echo a dozen times in the silence.

“Can’t... can’t tell if you’re still there,” she called into the dark.

A hoof brushed against her side. “Hold on to me,” Null said, or was it Void? Twilight reached out and touched what felt like his mane.

Soon they had passed through Avernus and were standing on the rocky shore of a river. By now her eyes had adjusted, and she could make out the black water gushing from rocks on their left high above, sliding down a waterfall and then smoothly gliding out in flat planes across the width of the cavern.

On the river’s other shore there was an immense rectangular aperture in the cave wall, closed off by the largest door Twilight had ever seen, a titanic wall of black steel and gray stone, studded with spires and spikes. The Gates of Tartarus may not have been built by evil, but they certainly looked the part.

“Come,” Light Unseen said, motioning to a small boat tied to a rock. Twilight didn’t think they would all fit, but surprisingly there was room to spare. She brushed a hoof over the wood, feeling the centuries ingrained deep within the timber, and stared at her reflection in the water. The river was supernaturally smooth—water was not supposed to flow this way. For that matter, where was the water coming from? There was no way snowmelt could produce this much.

As they neared the other shore, her ears picked up a deep rumbling noise. She stared at the gate. It took a while, but eventually her eyes were able to pick out a great black shape in front of it, rising and falling in sync with the rumbling.

They passed by Cerberus without trouble. “Not very good, for a guard dog,” Twilight muttered.

“They’ve got a magical lyre,” Starswirl pointed out. Twilight squinted—indeed, there was a small golden frame right in front of one of the beast’s three heads, its strings plucking away. Twilight hadn’t heard the sound over the snoring, but now that she was listening for it she could just make out the lullaby.

The Gate was ever so slightly open, one of the great doors just barely ajar. White light streamed through the crack, just barely wide enough for a pony. Light Unseen disappeared through the crack, followed by Void. With Null nudging them onwards, Twilight swallowed, and stepped through.

Surely... surely a cavern this large could not possibly fit within the mountain. The walls seemed to stretch out forever such that they gave a much better idea of infinity than infinity did, darkness dancing within the recesses like a living thing, streaming from pool to pool with such fluidity that the waters of the River Styx seemed like mud by comparison. Stalagmites like mountains stretched from the floor, while equally colossal stalactites stretched down towards them.

But whereas the floor and ceiling might have been merely the stuff of nature magnified beyond imagination, the walls were clearly artificial. Erebus, City of Darkness, covered the walls with its architecture in the form of great massive slabs that jutted from the walls, huge towers that reached that rivaled anything in the greatest cities of Equestria, structures of hexagons suspended from gigantic chains fit to imprison a giant. It was like a reverse Canterlot, for where Canterlot was a city built onto the side of a mountain, Erebus was a city built onto the inside of a mountain. The comparison even extended into the design, for while Canterlot was a vivid city of golden spirals and white circles and purple swirls, Erebus was all jagged lines and harsh angles, and so colorless as to be indistinguishable from a monochrome image.

Yet all of this paled in comparison to what stood at the center of the cavern. A tree of white crystal or perhaps frozen lightning dominated, larger than worlds, its branches seemingly extended both outwards and inwards into an infinity of impossible geometries. It was the source of the brilliant white light, a pillar of awesome radiance that pushed back the dark, sending it fleeing into its manifold coves. It gushed magic, a reservoir as limitless and ancient as the sea.

Finally, irresistibly, her eyes were drawn along the length of its trunk, down, down into its roots, embedded in the sides of an immense pit, the Pit, whose darkness made all else seem bright by comparison, a yawning aperture into the void on the far shores of reality.

Twilight looked. Yes, now that she mentioned it, there was something wrong. The entire thing should have been pure white, incorruptible in its majesty. And yet there were regions of... of darkness, a yellowish taint upon some edges, as though the tree were diseased.

Light Unseen turned towards them. “You see now, why we asked for your help.”

Starswirl, having more familiarity with saving the world, stepped up the challenge. “We’ll get started as soon as possible. If you can show us to a place to set up, we can begin taking measurements immediately.”

The heck with that, Twilight thought bitterly. Not about getting started as soon as possible—she had no trouble with that idea—but with the idea of letting Starswirl take the lead. “Somewhere with a good line of sight would be ideal,” she said commandingly, “like a tall tower without much in the way. Normally, the closer we could get the better, but that tree is so magical I think my instruments will be overwhelmed if we’re too close, so something further away would be perfect.”

Light Unseen nodded. “I believe we can oblige. But, as your kind says, first things first, yes? You must proceed to our village; it is not safe here. To my great sorrow, it is here we must part ways.” She bowed deeply. “Fear not, for I assure you that Null and Void shall protect and guide. I must go.”

“Uh, bye?” Twilight watched the ambassador descend a thin staircase into Erebus. She glanced nervously at the Shadow Guards. “What now?”

“The wait shall not be lengthy,” Void said. “Look, Butter Pie approaches.”

Butter Pie? Twilight mouthed the words, trying it as one would try an unfamiliar dish.

A tiny splotch of darkness seemed to detach itself from Erebus and grow. Soon Twilight could make out the silhouette of a pony pulling a chariot. As it approached, spikes and spirals of dark steel and a pair of huge bat wings distinguished themselves. Then when it landed, her mouth dropped.

It wasn’t a pony pulling a chariot. It was half a pony pulling a chariot. Where the rear half of Butter Pie’s body should have been there was a cradle of black metal, not merely affixed to the scarred stump but conjoined with the flesh. And the enormous bat wings didn’t belong to Butter Pie, who was an Earth pony, but rather the chariot itself, flapping like some living thing.

Staring is rude, Twilight, her mother said in her head. She tried to smile. “Hello...”

Butter Pie nodded. Her coat was caramel, but only just, as though someone had sucked all the color out of it and just left a tint behind. “Greetings to you, outsiders. And to you as well, Null, Void.”

The two unicorns piled into the chariot with their luggage. Butter Pie’s wings unfurled, and with a single flap they soared out over the edge into Tartarus.

The Tartarian ponies had made their home on a series of large hexagonal platforms, each big enough to fit several city blocks. Gray bridges of stone and iron linked the platforms to each other and to the rest of Erebus. The buildings themselves were crude things of stone, and judging by the lack of spikes, had not been part of the original construction.

They called it a village, but it was easily big enough to qualify as a large town. Butter Pie touched down before a foreboding iron gate, manned by two dozen guards that looked at the new arrivals with guarded curiosity. “Welcome, to Elysium,” she said, as the unicorns left her... back. The stone felt like ice beneath Twilight’s hooves.

The gate creaked open. Twilight was vaguely familiar with the myth of Elysium, a paradise-like part of the afterlife for heroes favored by the gods. Paradise this was place was not. Everything here was shades of ashen gray. The ponies, when they had any color at all, were like Butter Pie, possessing just a bare tint. Twilight and Starswirl couldn’t have stood out more if they glowed.

Bauxite glanced at the two outsiders warily, but when he turned to Void his face was grim. “Your wife, she gave birth not six hours ago.”

Happiness seemed to struggle with Void’s features briefly, but then Bauxite’s grim tone set in. When he spoke, his voice was controlled, prepared for bad news. “What happened?”

A long breath left Void’s chest. He turned to Twilight and Starswirl. “My deepest apologies, but I must go.” He paused. “My brother shall be your guide. Trust in him; he shall not lead you astray.”

He flew off. Bauxite gave the outsiders one more glance and returned to the gate. Twilight and Starswirl exchanged glances while Null took the lead. “Come.”

“Void’s wife has been pregnant for some time now,” Null explained. “She must have given birth whilst we were Outside.”

Null shrugged, not even bothering to face her. “Death is a fact of life. You will scarcely find a pony here who has not lost friend or family. If we stopped to mourn everypony, then we would never have a chance to live.”

Ponies were streaming into the streets now to watch them, but despite the multitude the air remained eerily quiet. They must all walk like cats, Twilight thought, meeting their gazes. There were myriad emotions in the crowd: fascination, fear, joy, caution. We’re the monsters here.

Null lead them to an impressively large home with a tall tower, built on top of what might have been an artificial escarpment on the highest platform. The house was made of plain gray stone like the others, but unlike most of the houses here, this one looked as though the residents had attempted to decorate it, though they had been none too skilled in architectural design.

“Great view,” Twilight said, looking out over the cliff. The platforms of Elysium stretched out below, and beyond, the rest of Tartarus.

“Yes. It belonged to my family, once, but after Void married, I am all that remains.”

Null nodded. You will scarcely find a pony here who has not lost friend or family.

The inside of the house, though spacious, felt little more homey than the outside. The few doors were made of metal and most of the furniture was made of stone, with the occasional cushion. Twilight and Starswirl each got their own bedroom. The beds were plush, at least, the blankets made of some unidentifiable cloth and the bed filled with mysterious stuffing.

“You may find the stairs to the tower at the end of the hallway to your left. I hope it is suitable for your tests. Do you require sustenance?’

Twilight wondered what exactly Tartarians ate. She couldn’t imagine it being tasty. Or healthy. “Um, not hungry.”

“Very well. There is to be a great festival later, as the bell strikes six after the Second Tremor. You shall be as guests of honor.”

“To celebrate your arrival. You are the first ponies from Outside since our ancestors first came here. If there is anything you require, ask it of me and if it is possible, I shall ensure that you receive it. I shall be downstairs. The Guarding Dark protect thee.”

Twilight shook her head as Null’s hoofsteps faded away. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how desperate those ponies centuries ago must have been, to have thought settling here was better than whatever fate befell them in the outside world. She grit her teeth. Discord, you corrupt, evil bastard, may you rot forever in Ground Zero.

“Mmhmm.” Twilight levitated her luggage into her room. Most of it was magical instrumentation; what few personal effects she had was in the dainty little flower-print chest on rollers that had been given to her by her mother. That took little time to unpack, but she wasn’t even close to being done with the equipment when Starswirl walked in.

“I’m fine,” Twilight said, having some difficulty trying to snap the lightstone capacitor into a heavy-grade thaumometer. “C’mon you little…”

“Yeah I’m—” The capacitor slipped off a spring, launching itself across the room before being caught by Starswirl.

Twilight glared. “I don’t need your help. You don’t even know what any of this stuff is, anyways.”

Starswirl sighed, her ears flopping downwards. “Why won’t you just let me help you?”

“Alright, go assemble the sixteen gauge diametric optical hexmeter, connect it to the thaum ray tube oscilloscope and set it to an amplitude of two megaprimes.”

Starswirl blinked and looked around helplessly. Twilight smiled in self-satisfaction. “Right, well, if you can’t do that then leave me be.”

The other unicorn sighed and slinked away. Twilight felt a twinge of guilt. Why had she just done that? Starswirl had only been trying to help. She stared at her hooves. Why was she so afraid of letting her help? What was this twisting feeling deep in her heart?

Null stood on his hind legs, striking the stone slab repeatedly with his front two. Thump, thump, thump.

His hooves chipped at the gray stone, causing it to buckle and crack beneath his strikes. Thump, thump, thump. Nothing more than punches strong enough to break rocks. No skill, no finesse.

“You’re really strong,” a voice said from behind him. “Are all Tartarians that strong?”

Null pulled away from his training to look at the blue unicorn standing in the doorway. Starswirl, he thought her name was. “No. Most ponies would only hurt their hooves.”

Null paused. “A friend of mine, named Tear, could lift a house off its foundations and throw it.”

“Oh.” Starswirl paused and looked at him. “Is… that a thing that can happen?”

“I have seen stranger.” Null resumed hitting the slab. Thump, thump, thump.

“Your bell doesn’t seem to ring,” Starswirl said, looking at the ornate red and gray metal instrument around his neck. “Is it broken?”

“That’s an unusual stance. Most ponies would kick with their front legs. You punch, like a… a creature that stands on two legs.”

Null returned to standing on fours. He turned to look at Starswirl. Her eyes were wide, inquisitive. He didn’t detect any fear or malice in them.

“Oh, nothing,” Starswirl said, shaking her head. “I just wanted to learn more about you.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you like, um, Twilight?”

Null looked away. “She is… beautiful. Both of you are. Your color…” He looked back at her. “You have probably noticed that few of us have much color. It is a most valued trait here. It is said that a pony with color still has life and hope in her, and that that joy will carry down her line. Color is life. Color is beauty.”

He looked down for a long time. “I am beyond hope. However, I do not think my brother is.”

Null didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the wall. This training room was the only room in the building that he had made an attempt at decorating. Rough sheets of paper adorned the walls, each covered in intricate sketches of ancient Tartarian scenes. “When I first went Outside, I would have thought I was dreaming, if it were not for the fact that it was more colorful than my wildest imaginings. I stared at the great light in the sky until I hurt my eyes. I didn’t dare look away, because I was afraid I would never see it again if I did. And I thought to myself, ‘How can one so undeserving see such beauty as this?’ Then I saw your Solarium. It was more frightening than any monster I have ever fought. So much light, so much color, so much life. I understood at once why you fight each other. Who would not battle to claim such beauty for themselves? What I fight for seems so hopeless in comparison.”

It wasn’t even close to an answer to Starswirl’s question, and the unicorn knew it. She didn’t seem happy with the response. “But fighting each other is wrong,” she said. “They—we should accept our differences and try to help each other. There’s nothing ponies can’t do when we work together.” Null merely stared at the wall. “Why do you stay here?” Starswirl asked. “Not just you. Your whole tribe. Your ancestors came running away from Discord. But Discord died a long time ago. Why stay?”

Null closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I… I do not know. I have never thought about it before.” He looked up. “Perhaps it is because we are afraid of what lies beyond our walls.”

“Then why aren’t you afraid of getting involved in a war that isn’t your own?”

He shrugged. “Death and combat are old friends to us. Every day the Shadow Guard stops countless horrors from destroying Elysium.”

Starswirl chewed her tongue. “Fear of the unknown is very common, but I don’t think it should control us.” She looked at the sketches on the wall. “These are very nice. Did you draw them?”

She looked at his cutie mark. “Ah, I see. That’s a graphite stick, isn’t it? So your special talent is drawing? Why are you a Shadow Guard then?”

Null did not answer. The two of them stared at the sketches for a long time. Eventually Null noticed that the unicorn seemed to be moving her lips.

Starswirl looked at him. “Oh, yeah! The symbols on these walls are an old Classical Era script. The dialect is different, but it’s not impossible to work out.” She brought up a hoof to her mouth and cleared her throat. “‘Beyond these doors lies the prison of Domitian the Harvester, Necromancer King of the Minotaurs, Sovereign of Steel, Master of Murder…” She stopped and looked at him sheepishly. “The titles go on for a while.”

She looked at Null, and realized the pegasus was staring at her with mouth agape. “You mean… you can’t read these?”

Starswirl smiled. “Well, if you get me some more of these sketches, I can write up a translation in a jiffy!”

“Yes,” Null said, almost to himself. “Yes. You must. Wait right here.” He disappeared so fast he might have teleported, returning a few minutes later with a large stack of sketches, graphite sticks, and blank sheets.

“That’s… a lot of paper!” Starswirl said, feeling like she had taken on a bit much. “But, umm…” she added upon seeing the look on Null’s face, “We’re probably going to be here awhile, so I’ll get started!”

Null nodded wordlessly and dropped it on the floor. “You can use the study,” he said, before flying out the door of the house into the wild gray yonder.

Twilight Sparkle sat on top of the tower, staring furiously as the oscilloscope screen as a bright purple dot ran across the screen repeatedly, running up and down. Furrowing her brows, she quickly grabbed a roll of paper being printed out from another machine and inspected it. Grumbling, she peered back at the oscilloscope and gave it a few good thumps with her hoof. The purple dot resolutely refused to change.

As if on cue, the ground began to shake. A great rumbling issued out from far below, filling the entire cavernous void of Tartarus, while a huge wind sucked her papers out towards the giant tree. The chains attaching the platforms of Elysium rattled as the entire place shook. Then it stopped, as suddenly as it began.

Moments later, Null’s voice floated up from the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Sparkle!”

“It was the Second Tremor.” Null was dressed in ceremonial black armor with white trimmings, and even had a gilded sword strapped to his side. Starswirl was standing close behind him. “The monster imprisoned at the bottom of the Pit breathes once per day. Its inhalation is the First Tremor, its exhalation, the Second. We use it to set the day and night.”

Twilight was still stuck on the word “monster”. She briefly tried to envision a creature large enough to make all of Tartarus shake by breathing. She failed miserably.

“You are beautiful as you are.” Null blinked, seemed to realize what he had said, and then hastily added, “I mean, garments are not necessary. I wear the ceremonial armor for reasons of my own.”

Twilight’s eye twitched. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or creeped out, and felt a small worry about what this pegasus might get up to when she was asleep. “Well then, let’s get going shall we…?”

Elysium had transformed. Banners and flags were draped from buildings, streamers hung across streets. Glowing white ribbons dangled from post to post like little streams of light, while luminescent balloons drifted through the air. As they walked down, one came close to Twilight; she reached for its string, only for it to turn, smile at her, and flap away. The quiet somberness that had draped over the city like a heavy blanket had vanished, and the air was filled with joyous raucous. Ponies were out in the streets wearing fancy clothing and armor and masks, dancing and playing beneath the stalactites. Even in monochrome, it was worthy of the finest celebrations in Canterlot.

Ponies that saw the two unicorns would point and look, waving and smiling enthusiastically. Twilight even found herself waving in response.

“These ponies sure know how to party,” Starswirl commented. Null made a noise. “You don’t like it?”

Null shook his head. “I used to enjoy it, long ago. Not anymore. Now I merely attend out of respect for the Hostess.”

The crowd continued to swell as they neared a large platform prevented only by lengths of gargantuan chain from plummeting into the abyss. Every pony in the city seemed to be heading for it. It would have been hard to move, but the streets parted like water at the approach of Null. It was then Twilight noted that some of the ponies weren’t focused on her and Starswirl; instead, they seemed to be regarding Null with a strange kind of respect, even fear.

It was all so different from what she was used to. Ponies in Canterlot wouldn’t point and wave. It was beneath the prissy manners of the city that regarded itself as the most proper in all of Equestria. Canterlot ponies walked around with their necks straight and their noses lifted slightly in the air, giving off an air of supremacy over the world around them. And Solarium ponies tended less to walk than slink, always trying to look submissive and non-threatening, looking around as though they were always being watched. She wondered what ponies were like in Manehattan, or Fillydelphia, or Cloudsdale. Would they, too, have some unique air to them?

A small ocean of ponies had gathered in the central plaza. Null and the unicorns skirted around the edge towards a large, raised platform off the side. The plaza was filled with vendors selling all manner of what Twilight assumed was food—it certainly didn’t resemble anything edible she had ever seen.

Null looked at her, then walked over to a nearby vendor. After exchanging a few words, he came back with two long wooden rods impaled with… things. Some of them glowed. Twilight could have sworn she saw one of them wriggle.

“Um, thanks.” Starswirl levitated one over. Null offered the other one to Twilight, who eyed it carefully before floating it towards her mouth.

Twilight stared at the kebab. It looked more like a plastic children’s toy than food. She watched Starswirl sniff it, then cautiously take a bite.

Dubious, Twilight nibbled the edge of one of the glowing mushrooms. It was… delicious. She couldn’t describe it any other way. The flavor was utterly unlike anything she had ever tasted before, but it was incredible. She could feel warm energy running down her throat and spreading throughout the rest of her body. She devoured the rest of the kebab with gusto. Wow, with food like this, I can understand why somepony would decide to stay here.

“No exchange required of our esteemed guests of honor!” piped the vendor, who had been watching from his booth.

Null grabbed two more kebabs and handed them to the unicorns, and they proceeded up a set of stairs. At the top of the stairs was a wide viewing area, filled with fancy chairs and important-looking ponies.

“Ah, Miss Sparkle and Miss Starswirl,” Light Unseen greeted them, bowing. “Welcome to our festival. I trust that you have found our hospitality to have not been wanting?”

Starswirl took the lead. “Your hospitality has been most gracious,” she said, bowing in turn. “We thank you for your kindness.”

“You are most welcome. Now if I may introduce you…” Light Unseen gestured to an old, pale unicorn. “This is Zero, Princeps of Elysium and chief of our tribe. Zero, this is Miss Twilight Sparkle and Miss Starswirl.”

Zero staggered forward. Despite his advanced age and clumsy movement, there was a purpose to his gait that belied his strength and wisdom. One did not grow to be old in Tartarus without learning to be very good at survival. “You need not bow in my presence, esteemed guests. I am merely the first amongst equals. Great things shall come of the alliance of our nations, I am certain.” He handed over two glasses of reddish-black liquid to the two unicorns and raised one of his own. “To the future.”

“To the future,” Twilight and Starswirl said together. Twilight toasted her glass, eyed the liquid, and took a sip. It tasted like a mixture of grapes and raspberries, and smelled slightly of alcohol.

A small gray Earth pony dressed in black armor and wearing a cape bounded towards them. “Null!” She leapt onto the pegasus, swinging around his neck with a hoof.

“Oh, it’s been ages, Null!” She kissed him on the cheek. “How have you been? How was the Outside?”

“Fine. I would take you to see it next time, Tear, if you could be spared from the defense of Elysium.”

“Ah, defense, defense.” Tear waved a hoof dismissively. “Always so busy. We could have used you, Null, about two days ago when the ice giants were being restless.”

“Broke them like glass,” Tear said with a wink. “I had to work overtime to make it to the festival. I’m the temporary master of ceremonies, you know.”

Tear smile vanished. “She and Void are performing the last rites for their child’s burial. She will arrive at the end of the festival to meet our esteemed guests… and give her greetings to you, Null.”

Null nodded. There was a loud tolling of a bell from above. “Ah, the time is here.” Tear said. “Where is the Magnifier…?” She looked around, grabbed a fancy cone-shaped object from a chair, and put it to her mouth. “Testing, testing!” The artifact not only amplified her voice, but gave it a screaming demonic reverb effect. She grinned, gave a salute, and then jumped.

The unicorns gaped as the Earth pony rocketed off the balcony and landed on the stage a few hundred feet away and several stories below, cape fluttering in the rushing wind of her wake. Then the music started, and the din of the crowd quieted.

“ELYSIUM! WELCOME TO THE FESTIVAL OF FIRST CONTACT, TO HONOR OUR ESTEEMED GUESTS FROM THE OUTSIDE, TWILIGHT SPARKLE AND STARSWIRL!”

A huge mirror swung around behind a bonfire to direct a beam of light squarely onto the two unicorns. Twilight blinked, dazzled by the sudden light, while Starswirl waved cheerfully.

“OUR FIRST PERFORMANCE TONIGHT SHALL BE THE PLAY ‘WALPURGIS NIGHT’ BY THE ACTORS GUILD!”

Again Tear leapt off the stage in that astounding way. A troupe of ponies dressed in outlandish costumes and masks trotted onstage. “Hear ye, hear ye!” one began, “This tale tells the great Walpurgis, and her great adventures amidst the twilight days at world’s end…”

The play involved a lot of dramatic speeches and some singing and dancing. Constant references to things Twilight had no clue about made the plot difficult to understand, but as best she could tell it was about a unicorn witch who had made a deal with a monster for power and was hunting for an artifact that would let her avoid paying her soul. There were some other ponies involved somehow, and a lot of betrayals and monologues about trust and pony nature. Three times she thought it was over, but then the play had continued on. By the time it actually ended she was quite confused.

This Twilight fared no better in understanding, and she spent most of the time focused on sipping her Tartarian wine. She had never been one for alcohol, but this stuff was quite good. After the poetry came a small orchestra with some dancers. Twilight was impressed by how coordinated the dancing ponies were, making all sorts of shapes and symbols with their bodies, moving as one across the stage. The next group of dancers twirled about with glowing white streamers, and made beautiful swirling patterns. The groups after that were less impressive. The music wasn’t quite to Twilight’s taste, but it was a far cry better than what came after…

“The Band of Rocks” took the stage, so called because all their instruments were made of… rocks. The cheers from the crowd were ecstatic. Twilight couldn’t figure out why for the life of her, because the music sounded like they were playing the wails of dying cats. But the crowd loved it, stomping in time with the beat until the ground began to shake.

Then the acrobatics started. Stunt fliers took the air, streams of white light trailing behind them as they danced above the crowd. Ponies leapt across the stage, doing cartwheels and jumping on each other’s heads. There were a pair of fire-breathers, the gouts of flame soaring dozens of feet into the air before dissipating. Then Tear jumped onto the stage, and Twilight watched as two spherical boulders the size of a Timberwolf tank were rolled down a pair of chutes above the stage.

“She’s going to be crushed!” she shouted, standing up as the boulders fell down towards her. Then her eyes grew wide as dinner plates, and slowly, she sat back down.

Tear caught the boulders as easily as if they were made of paper mache. More boulders rolled down the gutter, and she began to juggle.

The crowd roared, stomping even harder until the entire platform began swinging on its chains. With the ground beneath her now swaying like the deck of a ship, Tear rolled over onto her back to juggle with all four legs, then lifted herself off on one front leg and juggled with the other three. Starswirl clapped her hooves together. “These ponies definitely know how to party!”

Then there was a roar that was most certainly not the crowd. It came from above; an immense skeletal dragon, pegasi swarming around it like ants, flew in from Treewards. It cruised above the streets, and freezing everything beneath it with its breath.

The Tartarians screamed. “Get down!” Null shouted, jumping on top of the two unicorns and drawing his sword.

But Tear, not missing a beat, turned around and bucked her boulders one by one into the air. The dragon swerved, trying to dodge, but it was far too large to be agile. The first two missed, the third dealt a glancing blow, the fourth hit it right in the center, and the fifth sailed through its chest, causing it to explode in a shower of bones.

Twilight peeked up. “Was that a part of the show?” she shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“No!” Null shouted. He turned to Zero. “Princeps! The lower Clockwise-Edgewards watch must have been broken! Allow me to go—”

Zero shook his head. “No, Null. The crisis is already over. As our greatest warrior, you must continue to protect our guests above all else. Tear shall go.” He turned towards the balcony and signaled to the stage.

“SORRY, MY FRIENDS! IT SEEMS OUR FESTIVAL SHALL BE CURTAILED TONIGHT! FEAR NOT AND SLEEP SOUNDLY, FOR NO MONSTERS SHALL TROUBLE THEE TONIGHT!”

Slowly, the crowd began to calm down, and gradually streamed out towards the rest of the city. Swarms of pegasi took to the air to collect the bones of the skeletal dragon before they reassembled.

Null and the unicorns walked back to his house in silence. Twilight was still stunned from how suddenly the dragon had appeared and how suddenly it had been destroyed. She had trouble processing her thoughts. Maybe it was the alcohol; she did feel a little tipsy. She couldn’t help but keep looking at Null. The look on Starswirl’s face told her she was thinking the same thing. “Our greatest warrior”? So he’s stronger than a pony that can jump hundreds of feet and juggle boulders like nothing?

When they got back to Null’s house, there were two ponies waving from the escarpment. One was Void, the other an Earth pony mare who Twilight assumed was the wife she had heard about. The trio proceeded up the stairs onto the escarpment, where the other two ponies met her.

“Null,” the Hostess said wearily. She was an average-sized pony, gray like the rest of the Tartarians but tinged slightly pink, with long straight hair that fell to her shoulders. “When can you at last return to using my name?”

Void smiled and gestured with his hoof. “Twilight Sparkle, Starswirl, this is my wife—”

“I can introduce myself perfectly fine, dear,” the Hostess interrupted, smiling widely. She turned and bowed.

Fragment

by Heliostorm

Chapter 12: Abyss