The Warden of Tartarus made its rounds, as it had for eons past, and eons to come. Its was a terrible thing, a titanic suit of armor, forged from metal that fell from the stars, tempered in the flames of the mother of all dragons, and quenched in the soul stealing waters of the river Styx. Its gleaming black plates ground and rang hollow with each step, the suit powered not by mortal flesh, but by immortal magic. In its core blazed a blinding fire, spewing tongues of green through the cracks in the mighty armor, the eternal flame driving the cold steel forward. A single burning orb sat in its horned helmet, darting from cage to cage diligently, piercing the inky blackness that permeated Tartarus.
There was no other light in Tartarus. Light gave the inmates within hope, so the Warden snuffed out all the torches and blocked out the sun, so that the only light came from his terrible visage. The only light that did shine in the eternal prison came from its unwavering, merciless warden. It was a place without hope, without future. Only rows upon rows of unyielding bars and chains, imprisoning the scum of the earth under unbreakable layers of metal and stone.
There was a disturbance far, far behind the Warden, beyond the range of normal hearing. A rattling of metal against stone, most likely a prisoner’s futile attempt to shatter the manacles that chained them to the cell. The Warden swivelled about, and dozens of miles became none, as it turned to face the noise, and saw a disgusting creature, a mix between an ape and a bat, desperately grinding its bindings against the floor. Without a world, the Warden stepped forward and opened the doors to the cell.
“You…” The bat creature stared up at the Warden in wonder. “The door is open?”
The Warden said nothing, but stepped into the cell. Wonderment turned to cold dread as the bat creature looked up, and up, and up, until its beady black eyes met the unflinching orb set into the helmet of the Warden.
A single, spiked mail fist met the creature’s gut, and the blow sent the bat ape crashing into the back wall of the cell, pitting stone against bone. Stone won.
A series of sickening cracks sounded from the creature, as it fell listlessly to the ground, its limbs bent at unnatural angles, with jagged ends of broken bones jutting out of the creature’s flesh. Inky, viscous blood oozed out of the wounds, as the creature lay there unmoving. The Warden stepped back, sealing the cell shut once more. As its footsteps grew slowly distant from the cell, the creature’s body began mending itself, the blood flowing back into the body and the bone knitting itself together. Such was the punishment for violating the order of Tartarus.
The Warden’s path was long. Tartarus was expansive, reaching far under the earth, and the Warden could not be everywhere at once. Its path brought it through Tartarus, passing each cell once, ensuring the order is kept by all the inmates. There was no threat from within, the Warden ensured that, and few could ever breach the gates of Tartarus, the hound Cerberus made short work of any intruders.
Yet, the Warden felt uneasy. Or, as close to uneasy as a facsimile of intelligence could be. The Warden was a creature of law, and judgement. Drawing upon its millennia of experience, the Warden concluded that for once, it was too quiet in Tartarus. In spite of its disciplining, the prisoners here were scum even to the eyes of the worst mortal criminals. They would not lie easy, and would seize any scrap of freedom that came their way. Anything, any pain, was worth escaping an eternity in Tartarus.
“…You have come for me.” The Warden stopped in front of a set of gargantuan gates. The Warden could tower above the largest dragon, and scrape snow off of mountain peaks, but the gates stood higher still. The Warden could just barely touch the top of the gate, if it stood at its tallest. The Warden knew what dwelt beyond those gates. All of Tartarus knew. This was a creature that defied imprisonment, weakening, and control. When the legions of demon hunters descended upon it, a continent was sunken under the waves by storm and fire. When the princesses drained it of its magic, it swatted them out of the sky with its raw strength. When the elder dragons came together to wrestle it into a cell, the prisoner tore them apart limb by limb. In first years of its imprisonment, it beat the doors relentlessly, day after day, strike after strike. The door would buckle under the pressure, but when the creature tired, the metal would repair itself. After centuries of unending struggle, the creature ceased. No sounds came from the creature. No signs of life. It seemed as though the creature had succumbed to the oppressing darkness of Tartarus.
For the first time in millennia, the creature spoke.
“You can shift between the shadows, Warden. Why did you make me wait?” The Warden regarded the gates with utmost wariness. “And still you remain silent. I have parted my lips. Why stay yours? Am I truly so despicable that old friends cannot exchange words?”
“You are… no… friend.” A granite tone issued from within the armor. A grinding sound, like stone rubbing on stone.
“You foolish thing, Warden. Why must it be this way? You realize what must happen now. You realize what I must do.”
There was a shifting behind the gates. Rattling, clattering, chain against stone. Then,
CRASH.
A taloned fist smashed through the gates, between the cracks of the gates, and the two doors were forced apart by more claws, pushing the doorway open. Blind, sightless eyes peered out from the darkness, behind the four massive hands that were holding the gates open. A pair were level with the top of the Warden’s helm, and another pair sat atop those. “Leave now, Warden. I do not want to do this.”
The Warden said nothing, only reaching behind and drawing forth a massive great-sword, as long as it was tall.
“So be it.” A claw shot forward, grasping the metal of the blade. The claw balled up into a fist, and the sword crumpled, bent in half like it was flimsy wire. With a mighty tug, the great blade was wrenched out of the Warden’s grasp, disappearing into the darkness. The doors shuddered and threatened to slam shut, but still the prisoner held fast, holding the heavy metal gate open. Then there was a head, looming out of the shadows, all fangs and scales and eyes. Then a multitude more, like the first but smaller, emerging from the face of the first, out of eye sockets and nostrils and pores in the skin. More arms and heads broke through the gates, spilling out like a tide of flesh, obscuring the first head and rushing towards the Warden.
The Warden’s armor groaned in protest as the heads latched onto it, crushing down onto the metal with its uncountable fangs, the claws crumpling the steel, tendrils wrapping around and constricting the mighty guardian. Yet still the creature did not drag itself forth from the abyss, content with the Warden in its, squeezing the life out of the walking armor. Bit by bit, the metal buckled inwards, folding in on itself. With a loud groan, the left arm gave out, and the metal was crushed to little more than scrap. Limb by limb, the Warden was reduced to piles of twisted metal and a warped and broken torso.
“Do not… toy… with me… prisoner.” The Warden finally spoke, the voice rattling out from the battered armor. “You know not… what you have… done.”
“I know exactly what I have done, Warden.” The creature finally reached out with one of its primary claws, grabbing the Warden’s helmet in its grasp. “I have won my freedom.”
The claw slammed close, and the helmet crumpled in the vice like grip. The fire that burned for millennia was snuffed out.
“No…” A low, guttural voice sounded behind the withered wreck of the Warden. “You’ve won my freedom.”
The creature suddenly spasmed, its limbs writhing in pain, retreating back inside the gates. Its four limbs clung resolutely to the doors, but with a weakening grip, the gates ever so slowly started grinding shut again. “You vile centaur…”
“Ah ah ah, watch your tongue, lizard. You’re talking to the future ruler of the world, after all.” The armor was suddenly swept aside, and behind it stood a large, and still growing, centaur. It was nowhere as tall as the prisoner was before, or even the Warden, but it still struck an imposing figure to the rapidly shrinking prisoner. “Maybe, when I’ve drained all the magic in the world… I will come back and set you free.”
“Death to you, Tirek…” The prisoner growled as the centaur disappeared into the darkness, still laughing. Giving a primal roar, the creature’s first head burst open, sending flecks of bone, brain and flesh flying as a much smaller being ripped free of the massive head, clawing its way out of the shattered skull and leaping off just moments before the door ground shut for good. It landed with a crash, as though it was much smaller than before, the Warden’s husk now towering over it, the creature was still a behemoth of considerable size that as it strode after the centaur, its steps shook the earth and rattled the bars of cells he passed, rousing prisoners from their slumber. Its four muscled arms rippled with strength, and its apelike visage was twisted into a fanged snarl. Its arms were surrounded by chains, a reminder of its captivity, but they curled around it protectively as though they were alive and actively defending the creature. It still bore the metal harness and arm binders that had previously trapped it in place, but where it trapped before, it now served as armor for the titan. Spikes jutted out of the creature’s skin, row upon row of spines erupting from its chest and back.
Typhon. Typhon. Typhon. The name was repeated along the halls as the prisoner thundered past another set of prisoners, its mere presence warping the bars of the eternal prison and freeing demons and horrors of untold evil. Typhon. Typhon. Typhon. The cold mist that settled to the ground of Tartarus whipped up after eons of stagnancy, swirling around the prisoner as it tore through walls and trampled inmates in its rampage. Typhon. Typhon. Typhon. Its body was obscured now, surrounded by a whirling vortex of lightning and hail, the mist wrapping itself around the titanic thing like a personal squall.
The whispers grew to an insistent chanting, the prisoner’s warpath trailed by a following of escapees and prisoners, all chanting the name of the being that so easily beat down the Warden and broke out of its cage.
“Typhon! Typhon! Typhon!”
The chanting became a fervent roaring shout as the small army of the world’s most feared threats reached the gates of Tartarus itself. All became still as the titan at the forefront of the group raised a claw. They fell silent, suddenly attentive. They noticed sunlight, just barely leaking through the gaps in the mighty gates. They noticed a barely noticeable breeze, through those same gaps. They could smell freedom in the air.
Then they realized, Tirek was not there. He must have sealed the gates behind him in his escape. Hatred boiled, and the creatures of shadow attacked.
With a mighty roar, the doors buckled under the onslaught of flames and claws, the adamantine gates toppling outwards.
“TARTARUS FALLS!”
Celestia’s eyes snapped open when she heard someone scream. It took her a few moments to realize the pony screaming was her. She shut up, gulping down breaths of air to calm her nerves. Her bedsheets were a mess, and it seems that in her panic she had failed to maintain the ethereal mane that she always projected, resulting in her mane reverting to a messy tangle of pink.
Before Celestia could consider her dream further, her room door burst open and Luna rushed to her sister’s side, her eyes wide and her breathing laboured. “Sister, are you alright?” She asked, moving up to Celestia and allowing the larger alicorn to lean on her for support.
“I’ve just had the most terrible dream, Luna…” Celestia said, repeating the word dream in her mind. She gave a shuddering sigh and leaned into her sister, fighting to keep her emotions in check.
“Why do you think I’m here? You know as well as I that this was not a dream, but a vision.”
“No… it couldn’t have.” Celestia shook her head in a panic. “It can’t be.”
“What was your vision… I mean dream, about, sister? Perhaps we might be able to help…” Luna said, patting Celestia on the back consolingly.
“Tartarus was broken, sister. It wasn’t just one or two prisoners. It was ALL of them. Hundreds of creatures capable of world domination, released. The gates themselves were knocked down.” Celestia looked at Luna pleadingly. “That can’t be a vision. It just can’t happen. The Warden exists for that express purpose.”
Luna pursed her lips. “Sister…”
Celestia flinched, and took another deep breath. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. It’s just… What can we do? We don’t have the elements anymore, and even with two more alicorns and Discord, you know that we’re painfully outmatched.”
“Still, sister, we need to gather Cadance, Shining Armor, and Twilight and her friends. They need to know about this, maybe they’ll be able to think of something.” Luna said, looking into Celestia’s eyes. “This is bad, I know, but we must stand firm, sister.”
“Oh, what am I doing?” Celestia coughed, shaking her head firmly. “I just can’t sit here and ignore the truth. You’re right, sister. We haven’t much time, and the danger grows with every passing second.”
“Have a meeting room prepared, Luna. I shall contact the others.”
Honest Growth sighed contently as he looked over the field he just tilled. Farm work was never easy, that much he knew since he was a little colt, but dang if it wasn’t satisfying to see the fruits of his labour at the end of the day. He stretched out his back and turned towards his little cottage, ready to just take a bath and maybe get some of that carrot soup his wife was cooking.
A shadow crossed the field, and Honest Growth had the unfortunate initiative to look up.
A gargantuan silver and black hoof, to the pony seeming like a walking mountain, came down and slammed into the ground, just barely missing Honest Growth and his home, though his fields were utterly pulverised. Although, he didn’t really care much about that, as he had to contend with the massive earthquake triggered by that one step, which tore the ground apart and shook the earth around it. The hoof was easily large enough to completely crush his house, and the body attached to it scraped the skies.
“Honey…? I don’t think we’ll be eating at home tonight.”