//------------------------------// // The Grimme // Story: Reaper of Eventide // by Shadowed Rainbow //------------------------------// For several nights after returning Cerberus to Tartarus, my days and nights were restful. Nothing was too out of the ordinary. Everything was fine. Until the third night occurred. My sleep was interrupted by a pounding I felt in the back of my head, like somepony had slammed a hoog on my head to jolt me awake. But nopony was present, and Spike was still sleeping peacefully. "Twilight..." I sat up more, frowning at the voice that sounded almost like it was coming from inside my head. And it wasn't my voice, or anyone I had ever heard. It was soft, almost like a gentle whisper. But the underlying tone of it was't quite as comforting. I was about to turn to Spike and ask if he had heard that, but hearing the voice in my head once more killed the words in my mouth before they could escape. "Come out," I heard it say. It tugged me forward almost unwillingly as I rose to my hooves, silently trotting down the stairs and heading into the cold night air. Luna's moon shone in the sky like a search light, though clouds were beginning to pass over to blot out its light. The voice's whisper turned my gaze forward again. Something was calling me, and I was drawn to listen. My trek took me away from Ponyville, managing to turn my gaze back only occasionally. I wanted to run, to get out of whatever this pull was, but I couldn't even teleport. My limbs were moving of their own accord. The grassy environment of my home city was left behind, fading into the rocky landscape that held Tartarus's gates. What vegetation there was, nothing more than shriveled branches, stretched their feeble limbs in my direction. Whether it was just my imagination of they wanted to be freed of this place as well, I didn't know. I took step after step closer to the forbidden entrance point, the force pulling my hooves along the ground uncontrollably as if by invisible chains. Running, or even looking away, proved to be physically impossible for me. It was as if every limb, bone, and muscle in my body possessed a mind of their own in that moment. Whatever will I had maintained back in Ponyville had left me. The Pull wasn't letting me go that time. I shut my eyes tightly, briefly giving myself to the darkness and praying that this was a dream. That I would wake up in my bed at the library at any moment. But it wasn't a dream. Not even my eyes could be fully under my control. No sooner had I closed them that an unseen force pried them open, preventing me from escaping into my own mind where I could momentarily hold onto the illusion of safety. As my hoofsteps echoed along the stone tunnel, I began to hear voices. Screams and snarls and wails, faint at first, then louder. The caterwaul of noise seemed to echo down from the pathway ahead, then creep into my own mind and brush my thoughts away as if they were scattered fragments of dust. I dimly heard the curious panting of Cerberus's three heads from behind me, as if he—they?—were questioning what I was doing. After all, he was the one who guarded Tartarus itself, making sure that no being, whether monster, demon, or malevolent pony who had done great harm in their lifetime, got out. Never had I heard it implied, however, that he ever stopped anypony from going in. And as my hooves propelled me forward against my will, I realized that I had no choice. I did the one thing that I could do at the time. The one thing that I had been warned since my filly days to never do. The action that, with no will of my own, I was being forced to do. My eyes were fully opened by force. My dark violet gaze met the deadly, all-consuming abyss. And I looked. Not just a glance that caused the Pull to steadily creep into my head like before. I really looked. Just as I had been warned against doing. Feeling as if the presence of the darkest of souls were creeping into my body. The sensations from them appeared to attack the very organs that were keeping me alive. My lungs seemed to be restricted in their efforts to expand and contract, a weight compressing my chest. The blood flow to my heart appeared to cease. The very neurons of my brain caused evil thoughts to surface—thoughts of fear and pain and murder, my own voice joined by others. The acids of my stomach churned in a turmoil that cased me to feel like I was about to vomit. I was unable to regain the control I desperately yearned for. A few short moments after my gaze directly met the darkness, the faint noises of screams and snarls became deafening in my mind, so close that it seemed they could have been coming from me. To my horror, some of the caterwauls distorted themselves into my voice. Destroy... maim... murder... I attempted to cover my ears, to block out my own voice whispering those horrible commands in my mind. I tried to break into a full gallop, or scream, anything, but only a strangled gasp was permitted to escape me just as the demonic thoughts in my brain became invasive and encase what perception remained. Their thoughts were becoming my thoughts. I attempted to put my hooves on my ears and block the shrieks, or cry out for help, or run without looking back. Something, anything to jolt me out of this state and free myself. But no relief came, nothing happened to release me. If I was screaming, my cries went unheard by anypony. Even Cerberus paid me no heed. I could feel the gaze of three pairs of eyes, staring, watching my forced movements but doing nothing to stop them. Before I could react, an invisible grip, cold as ice, latched firmly onto my chest and pulled me toward the cavernous hole, sending me propelling forward, screaming, into the darkness. And thus my last view of the mortal world that day vanished into a rush of shadow. The complete blackness of my surroundings, combined with the paralyzing fear I was experiencing, caused me to feel faint and disoriented as my perception spun. I attempted to focus, to teleport my way out, or at least stop the unseen force tightly gripping my chest. But just as at the entrance, the only occurrence was a weak spark of magic from my horn. And even that only provided a dim light on my skin, revealing nothing of my surroundings. Velocity propelled me forward before a sharp decline caused another scream to erupt from my throat, the echo of my own terrified voice signifying that I was being forced through some sort of labyrinth of tunnels, the void unyielding to any form of illumination. As much as I hated to admit it, I was completely helpless, at the mercy—or, rather, lack thereof—of the presence whose freezing touch began to seep into my insides and claw its way into my heart, which seemed to pound ever harder in a desperate attempt to keep me alive and give me the adrenaline I'd need to escape. The evil presences that had invaded my insides had been simply holding my heart's blood flow in place before this thing could have its way with it. A furnace-like heat surrounded me, an invisible fire so close that I felt as if flames would lick my coat at any moment, my imagination conjuring mental images of flames of varying colors and degrees engulfing me in their agonizing embrace. Much to my relief, no flames shot out in jet streams from the heated walls as I had expected. But that wasn't enough to calm my psyche. I was only aware of the ever-encompassing blackness, the dark aura itself threatening to suffocate me as a burning sensation arose in my lungs to contrast my freezing heart, the stifling carbon-dioxide of an internal smoke smothering the oxygen from my deprived respiratory system. Suddenly, I was thrown into complete darkness, the constant blows disorienting me still further. My muddled brain was in a whirl of panic, attempting to get some bearing on where I was now and where I was going. I knew that I was heading straight to Tartarus's pits - where else could I be going? - but I was unsure what would be there when I finally did arrive at the destination to which I was being pulled along. Finally, the darkness lifted it's veil from my eyes as I landed with a hard thump on the ground below - well, what seemed to pass for ground. It was a broken, dusty-looking landing spot, with faint cracks filled with a magma-like substance. Dazed, I forced myself to look up at my surroundings, intrigued despite my fear. Some said that Tartarus is a place of fire and brimstone. Some say it's a place of cold and ice. Still others say it is a void of loneliness. Now that I am here, I can confirm that, while it appears that the "fire-and-brimstone" interpretation is the most correct of the Lower Tier, it contains elements of all three. All of which are terrible to see, let alone endure. I've managed to avoid most of the torments—maybe it's because I came here alive with a clean conscience? Am I even alive anymore? Through a few words I've picked up from some others here, be they monster, demon, or pony, I've learned that the lake which I now lay beside is known as the Lake of Extremes. It defies just about every law of science to me, appearing to alternate between boiling point and absolute zero. The worst part is that sometimes the lake doesn't explicitly show which state it happens to be in at the time. In those times, no bubbles rise to the surface as it boils, not is the surface frozen over as the temperature reaches absolute zero. If you dare to drink from it, you have to hope that you make the attempt in one of those rare moments where the pool of water is at a temperature that's safe to drink without the drinker being injured. I'm curled up on the ground now, away from the heated terrain underhoof and the Lake of Extremes, no longer wishing to feel the alternating hot and cold sensations that seep into my body and cloud my head. My hooves curl tightly around my body, as I'm trying to get comfortable, only for my hooves to instinctively come over my ears as a loud scream resounds through the Sector where I've found myself. A moment later, it's silenced. I lay down beside the linked chain in close proximity to the pool of liquid, seeing as it was currenty unoccupied by any prisoner subjected to the Lake's ever-changing inconsistency. I find the chain a comfort, as it is one of the few things in this place that has a smooth and cool feel to it, a lone medium in this terrible land. Some sense of normalcy. I cling to it like a frightened foal grasps their blanket to comfort them from a nightmare. Except for me, I'm living the nightmare. My hooves close tightly around the metal coil as I shut my eyes, attempting to block out the screams and snarls and flickering flames. To recall memories of my former life. Ponyville, my friends, the Princesses... All beginning to fade, all steadily vanishing from the forefront of my mind as the fires creep into my mind and consume them. What parts of my mind aren't focused on the thought spell I'm using are intent on keeping the memories that remain. Even so, they're starting to slip... I've learned that that's what this place does to you. No matter how hard you try to hold on to your former life, those you cared about... it all slips away like sand in an hourglass. That's why am using all that is left of my magic power to carry out this message, to attempt to reach anypony outside who might wonder where I am. To detail what it is that they'd face if they come here. To hope that someday, somehow, I'll learn of a way to escape and return to the Equestria that I know. Even so, I'm losing hope... I'm struggling to hold on to my memories. Hold onto them and find a way out of this place. Even if it takes me a lifetime, a hundred lifetimes, I'll find some way out. Or maybe somepony will find me in here first and— Twilight... I'm lifting my head at the sound of my name. The source doesn't carry the tone or inflection of one of the demons or murderous ponies from before, nor is it anypony I know. It doesn't seem to be directly along the energy lines of this spell, so it's not another unicorn picking this up... It's ethereal, distant, and unfamiliar, but the low voice doesn't sound like it's threatening me. More curious than anything else. Maybe I— no, I have to keep sending this message through my magic, just in case. Twiiiiiiliiiiigggghhhhtttt..... I'm perking my ears up to focus on the direction of the voice, attempting to focus on the source of the distant call. Come here, Twilight... The voice said similar words to what I had heard from The Pull, yet the voice is not the same. My other senses are becoming dulled to me, only the voice remaining. It's taking every ounce of willpower I have to continue to send this to the outside world. I'm standing and beginning to walk, hoofstep by trembling hoofstep, across the ground of fissures and fire. My eyes are staring at the sight straight ahead of me, at what appears to be a rusty-red mountain encircled by a ring of fire near the apex. I'm passing thin gray spires on either side of me, similar to those near the Gates where I came in— Aaggghhhh! Agh, no—co—me o-n, work, work! Okay, okay, good. Sorry... I accidentally broke the connection for a moment and thought I lost you—whoever's receiving this, if anyone. I was caught off guard by the thing that rose out of the ground in front of me. It appears to be a wraith-like shadow-being in the shape of a pony, but one even taller than Celestia and with no features save for its piercing yellow eyes. The bright eyes look almost like those of a owl, the pupils nothing more than a small hole in the center that almost appear to draw in energy to them, as if it's draining me of my strength. It's getting harder for me to keep up my spell. I'm comfortable around owls for the most part, having one as a pet, but it's unnerving to me to see another being with the eyes of one - especially on a pony body. To make it worse, something in its gaze appears to be preventing me from running... at least my magic isn't neutralized and I can still send this... "You are alive," I hear him whisper now, still in that low ethereal tone. "You were not meant to come here." "It was the P-Pull," I stammer. "The Pull dragged me in—" The being draws his face close to me, his owl-eyes burrowing into my gaze. "The living always blame the Pull. Did you try to escape? Did you use every ounce of power you could to get away?" "Y-Yes, I did!" I glare sternly at him. "You're saying I wouldn't try to get away?" "I'm saying that perhaps an inner part of your mind dragged you here." I recall the Pull whispering in my mind, but there's no way I'll tell him that. He doesn't need to know anything. Unless he can read my mind... I have to ignore that thought. "Who are you?" "Of course," the equine spectre is moving around me now in a circle, smoky wisps trailing behind each step, "that is often a question that sapient creatures such as ourselves ask one another, isn't it? As if a name makes them salient, more prominent compared to others. Not to mention, a name is merely given by a pony's parents at their birth, with no consent as to what the foal would choose because they cannot comprehend such things. So though you ask who I am, I could ask you the same thing." I'm stepping back slightly, and yet I'm intrigued by his words. For his terrifying appearance, the creature seems a lot more conversational than openly hostile. "You already seem to know who I am." "On several levels," the spectre affirms. "I know that your name is Twilight Sparkle. I understand that you harbor the essence of the Element of Magic. That you are the protege of Princess Celestia. Your greatest fear is of failure and disappointment... One might think you fear more for your own well-being in that case, caring more for satisfaction than the lives of your friends-" "That's not true!" I demand, stomping my hoof and breaking out of my trance that his eyes seemed to envelop me in. "Did I ever say it was? I said that's what one might assume, not what is true." This creature is beginning to irritate me—I need to find a way out, not be tricked into mind-game riddles. "You're avoiding my question! Who are you?" The pupils of his yellow eyes are widening, and his wispy right hoof seems to be gesturing to the whole of Tartarus around us. But somehow, I feel as a presence in my head, even at the very thought-path my magic is sending this along to the outside world, that he is in fact gesturing not just to Tartarus, but the entire world. "If we're talking on the subject of names, fine—you may refer to me as Grimme." Grimme? But—no, connection, don't break! Ugh, this is getting harder, I need to maintain control of this spell. But that resolve is becoming difficult to hold onto, especially because I think I realize what the being is. "You mean you're the Grim Reaper?" Grimme's laughing now, a chuckle that isn't so much cruel but more amused. He's standing in front of me. "That is what I am known as by many in your world. But I suppose you could say it's a matter of opinion. I am neither a reaper nor a demon. Merely a guide" I remember that interpretation from the stories I've read about him. There were so many different interpretations of who and what he was that I had given up believing he even existed long ago. And yet, here's here now... "You know," Grimme says thoughtfully. "I could potentially free you from here... on one condition. I don't like the sound of that, but I don't see any other choice I have. "What?" "... You must abandon your old life, and become a Grimme like me."