PaP: Bedtime Stories

by Starscribe

Prices Paid

Kira arrived in Las Plumas on the last train that day, packed in with hundreds of other ponies. She probably should’ve realized something was wrong from how many were dressed in costumes: bright red dresses, masks of bone, and every monstrous and mythical creature that had ever been speculated or imagined. Some were even fictional.

She’d planned to make things easy for herself by blending in with the locals, making casual conversation on the way to her destination, and learning everything she needed to know about the local cult. Instead, all she managed to learn was that coming to Las Plumas on All Souls Day without a costume was akin to walking in on two human legs and pretending to be a pony.

She couldn’t have done the latter even if she wanted, of course. Kira had learned much in her century of labor for the creature she called Death. But she was still a bat. She was no Alicorn protecting the universe from the corruption of the Void. No, the ones she fought weren’t so mighty.

When Kira finally clambered off the train at the back of the crowd, she ignored all those staring eyes and found her way to the first costume shop she could. Bits and gold didn’t mean much to her anymore, given what Athena shared with her, so she didn’t so much as haggle the price.

“Lost your suitcase on the way…” the dressmaker repeated. The local language that still bore many familiar traces of Spanish, injected afresh from each new refugee. “Terrible time to lose something so important. Wouldn’t want to anger your ancestors.”

Not a soul in all the city walked around without a costume, even a dressmaker in her own shop. She had dropped everything when Kira walked in and explained her plight. Well, invented it. “I don’t want that,” she said. “I should have known something would go wrong. Always does when you can least afford it. Murphy’s Law.”

The mare nodded, though there was no comprehension on her face. “No Murphy in our village. But we do have these. A few choices for the young mare. Only the most common are left this late before the festivities.”

“Which do you recommend?” Kira asked, glancing between the two folded piles. Each came with a mask, and the cut would hardly be flattering. But her experience with pony romance didn’t exactly leave her eager for more.

“This one,” the dressmaker said, levitating the darker outfit in her magic. “Dark colors match you better as a bat, I think. Plus, Starwatcher is a favorite this year. Honor him, or scare him… depends on who you’re talking to. Either way, can’t go wrong.”

Kira tried it on—a set of several gray robes in different colors, with lace on top to expose some parts of the body and stretch when she moved. A mask too, which turned her face into a frightening demon with fangs extended. Yet for as hideous as the details were, the dressmaker had tried to make the demon seem friendly.

“Here,” Kira said, settling twice their agreed-upon price on the counter, as soon as she was done. “For your help on such short notice. And…” She lowered her voice, leaning a little closer. As though she were embarrassed about something. “Maybe you could give me some directions as well?”

“Directions?” The unicorn raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the pile of gold. “You must be very lost to need such expensive directions.”

She nodded. “I haven’t been back for a long time. But before I moved away, I used to go to the Starwatchers’ sermons. Are they still meeting?”

All of the pudgy mare’s kindness vanished from her face, and she shoved the extra coins back towards Kira. “Can’t pay for what I don’t have, child. Starwatchers have been gone for years now. Nothing like them in Las Plumas anymore. Nor should there be. We’re all honest ponies. Best thing for you to do if you had anything to do with the likes of them is to forget and go home.”

Kira smiled anyway, ignoring the gold. “For your discretion then,” she said, turning to go. “Thank you for the help with my costume.”

She emerged on the crowded streets a few moments later, and suddenly the ponies and other creatures weren’t parting fearfully around her as though they expected her to get struck by lightning. She could walk between the worn adobe houses, smelling the heady mixture of ancient human treats and unknown pony iterations.

The sun wasn’t down quite yet, which was good for her. All her information pointed to having only until sunrise to find what she was looking for, or else she’d have an entire year to listen to Death berate her failure before she’d get another shot.

As the sun began to sink, more and more lanterns began to glow. Gourds weren’t as common here, but hollow cactus was a favorite—not carved so much as crudely opened with silly smiling faces. But there were just as many detailed murals painted on flat adobe walls, depicting frightening demons devouring or offering gifts to ponies. It was hard to tell which sacred her more.

But despite waking thousands of years in the future, Las Plumas might as well be two hundred years in her past. There were no electric lights, and several public wells served as the nexus points for crooked homes, each one unlike every other.

Kira had to be careful about the way she removed her headset from a pocket. She wandered for a bit until she found somewhere she could get a little privacy to talk and not look like a pony who had lost her mind. A patch of empty ground behind an ancient building, with only misshapen stones lying overgrown and no other sign of what it had been.

But it was far enough from the largest concession stands, and the gate was unlocked, so that was good enough for her. Kira slipped inside, settled the door shut behind her, and clipped the plastic headset onto her ear. The actual communicator was still in her pocket, though most ponies in Las Plumas wouldn’t have known what it was even if they looked right at it. For a city of half a million, there might only be a handful of actual refugees.

“Survivor Kira O’Conner,” said Athena’s voice, the instant she flicked it on. “I wasn’t expecting a call so soon. Didn’t you say your hallucination ordered you to track down a cult?”

One day Death is going to come for you, and you’re going to wish you’d been nicer to me about that. “I am,” she said. “But my usual methods are a bust. Most of these insane people are eager to vomit their religion all over you, but not here. I don’t have time to make friends for a few months to get them to cooperate. I think I’ll have to rely on one of yours.”

As she spoke, Kira froze, glancing to the side. Something had moved near the edge of her vision, though she couldn’t have said what it was. Was she not alone in this empty lot after all? But once she turned in that direction, there was nothing there.

Kira still imagined that she could hear that program sigh with frustration. “My contacts are not an infinite well for you to draw upon, Kira. I employ them to search for evidence of void corruption throughout this planet. Using them to gather information for the… master you imagine you serve… drains their viability. I do not care if creatures believe they can develop immortality or not.”

Neither do I. But Death did. The instant Kira stopped obeying her, the creature that had returned her to life would revoke her mercy. She would be dead in the ocean, the way an uncaring universe had meant her to be.

“I don’t ruin your contacts,” Kira insisted. “I’m just going to ask about the cult, that’s all. There’s a possibility my goals and yours are connected. Your best play is to let me finish digging things up and see what I can find.”

There was a pause. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument, and as far as she could remember, Athena hadn’t ever refused her in the end. Either the AI couldn’t, or maybe she just liked hearing stories of what Kira had found. “His name is Chocolate Churro—baker near the riverfront. Refugee, so speaking real Spanish is a good way to get his trust. I send him chocolate every month in exchange for reports.”

“You won’t regret this,” she promised, sliding the communicator away. There were no formal farewells when speaking to a program. Besides, she had to investigate whatever the buck she was hearing.

A cold breeze blew about her forelegs, lifting her wings as it spun around her and up the hill. Kira could’ve sworn she could hear voices in that wind, a dozen different words all blending together. She couldn’t actually make sense of what they were telling her. It felt like something didn’t want her there, though.

Death hasn’t been wrong yet. If she thinks there’s something in Las Plumas, there’s something here. Maybe the cult is in hiding.

“If you’re here…” she said, spinning around and keeping her voice low. Low enough that she hoped whatever creature had been sent to find her would be able to hear her, without her voice carrying down to the celebrations to make her look insane. “I’m not giving up. You’re better off just coming clean with me and letting me get my work done. I’ll be quick and clean, I promise.”

The wind died down around her, as though in response to her words. Kira felt those eyes on her back for another moment, before it faded. She took the mask under her wing, lifted the gate, and returned to the town.

It wasn’t hard to find Churro; his stall was one of the busiest on the riverside. No mystery about why: he was the only one in the whole town to be advertising their chocolate. Even Kira, with her extremely narrow tastes for food, found the smells getting to her.

She waited in line, then settled an entire pile of coins between them instead of the little silver chips it should’ve cost. “A friend sent me,” she said, grabbing the churro in one wing and taking a bite. Warm and cinnamon, with a gooey chocolate center. It tasted too good for the shallow imitation world she was supposed to live in now.

Her Spanish wasn’t good, but it didn’t matter much. Death was supposed to be familiar when it came, so it usually spoke the language you knew best. Kira didn’t really know how it worked.

“What does this friend look like?” he answered, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Shiny,” Kira answered. “And she’s good at making chocolate.”

That was enough to get his attention. Churro grew suddenly agitated, calling a string of expletives at the line and drawing a curtain closed over the front of his shop. No actual doors, since it was more of a cart with a little dining area just past it for ponies to enjoy their sweets.

“I haven’t missed a report,” he said. “She didn’t need to assassinate me. Could just stop sending the chocolate if I made her upset.”

“Assassinate…” She rolled her eyes. “Athena didn’t send me to kill you. I’m just here for information. I’m here to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”

“Oh.” He slumped behind the stand, running one hoof through his cinnamon-brown mane. At least she knew what had inspired his pony name. Well, that and his cutie mark. He really was going all in on the baking. “Ask away.”

She polished off her churro with a few last bites. She almost asked for another one, but that would probably have been rude. “I’m here looking for a… local religion. It used to be isolated to this town, but I’ve heard it’s spreading around Mexico… or whatever this place is calling itself now.”

“Nueva Mexico,” he said. “Not like the state.”

Of course. That makes perfect sense. “I don’t know a lot. They’re called the Starwatchers, or they were at one point. Because their… god came from the stars, and they were convinced that more would arrive. And the more that did, the purer Earth would become. Something something eternal life, drink the Flavor Aid, you know the rest.”

Churro blinked, his face twitching once. He wasn’t as easy to read as plenty of the other ponies she’d seen since arriving here. But he sounded confident enough by the time he answered. “I watched them a year or so ago. Crazies… dancing out at night. Waste of time. If there was a god waiting for us, the Event proves He’s dead. No blessed virgin, no holy spirit.”

But there’s a spirit of some kind waiting for us when we die. And sometimes you can make deals with her. “Used to be? You’re sure they’re not still in town?”

He shrugged, removing another few churros from his pot of steaming oil and clipping them up to drip dry. “Nothing is certain. But used to be ponies went missing in the night. That all stopped. I assume they moved on.”

She nodded, even though she found herself taking him less and less seriously. Maybe Athena got here first. Maybe she’s making this difficult on purpose. “Before they left, were they worshiping north of town? Up on the hill? Cults love hills, right?”

“No,” he snapped, much too quickly. “They, uh… old church. East. Burned down last month.”

“Thanks for your help.” Kira turned to go, but hesitated near the exit. She bounded back in a few easy leaps, snatching another churro from the rack. “Have a nice Soul’s Day, Churro. Your cooking is fantastic. I’ll tell Athena she should import some of these for Bountiful.”

She left.

Kira wasn’t the sort of creature who could just ask Death for help whenever she ran into a dead-end. The spirit, or goddess, or whatever she was, only spoke with her when she had a new assignment. There was an understanding between them, that Kira would do everything within her power to accomplish what she was given. And if she stopped, then her work would end as well.

She made her way through the busy streets of Las Plumas, conscious of the weight of eyes on her back as she left the dessert stand. Why doesn’t your contact want to tell me the truth, Athena?

She wanted to walk right out of town and follow her gut about the mountain. She had a dark feeling about the place, from just how conspicuously creatures had been avoiding it. Like a poorly-kept secret, always on the edge of everyone’s minds.

She dodged down an alley, slipping into the shadows as only a bat could manage. She vanished from one side of the town, appearing on the other behind an old church. Kira panted for a moment, catching her breath from the bit of magic. She remained in the shadows, letting ponies flock past her just outside the edge of the alley, unaware of her presence for a little longer.

Then she saw it—an outline making its way towards her from the direction she’d come. For a moment, she thought she was seeing through the magic of another bat, but no. It wasn’t shaped like a pony at all, but stood on only two legs. She couldn’t make out a face, just a distorted outline of magic and attention.

It had followed her. More than that, it could see her, even away from any firelight that would’ve poked holes in her stealth.

Kira turned to face it, extending one of her hooves as she began to summon the Soulshear. She took a few deep breaths as the power built, though there was nothing she could do to rush it. The sword would be here when it was ready.

“I’m here to put an end to the one promising false immortality to the creatures of Earth,” she said. Her voice came away from her in wisps, stolen by the strange magic of this shadow-place. “You can’t stop me.”

The human outline stretched and distorted as it got closer, its face extending into a wide, multijointed jaw. “Away,” it seemed to say. “You are… unwelcome. Be devoured.”

“I won’t be!” she countered. The Soulshear appeared in her hoof, utterly weightless. Its magic broke her stealth at once, drawing stares and pointed hooves in her direction as she swung it at the demon.

It dissolved into mist around her, not blood and torn magic or roars of anger. So weak that it can’t even die properly. A few moments later and the outline was gone completely, without so much as tearing up her flesh on its way. This cult is weaker than I thought. It can’t even send proper monsters to kill me.

She froze then, realizing just how many ponies were staring into the alley at her. The Soulshear in her hoof burned brighter than any of their holiday candles, a spell so powerful that they were only sung about.

Kira dismissed it, letting the magic holding it in place fade. She set her hoof back down, pulling the mask over her face. “That’s, uh… happy Soul’s Day!” she yelled, jumping back into the shadow before anypony could get too close.

At least there were plenty of shadows in such a primitive town. But then, not many settlements still had electricity outside of Bountiful, and its ancient technology rotting away by the sea.

---

She meant to reappear far from anypony, where the shadows were thickest and the eyes would be less likely to notice her. But there was something in the shadows with her. Another bat?

Whatever it was, it was so much faster that she didn’t stand a chance of getting away. Something latched onto her, dragging her violently out of the shadows and onto a dusty road.

Los Plumas was far away now, a dimly glowing speck on the horizon. She could still see well enough to make out the shapes of ponies, all in costume. All demon costumes, and all better than hers. “Hey! You the one that sent spirits to hunt me? You found me fast.”

“No one is hunting you yet,” said Churro’s voice from under a mask. “Whoever you are, you don’t belong here in Plumas. Go back where you came from.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes away from the unicorn. His horn glowed under his mask. But she didn’t have to look to hear the half-dozen others surrounding her. They might think they were being quiet, but not nearly quiet enough for a bat. “You sure organized fast,” she said conversationally. “But I think you should probably reconsider. I’m not what you think I am.”

The circle closed in around her. She heard ponies shuffle about in their robes, probably drawing weapons. she wouldn’t have much time.

“We understand fine,” Churro said. “We understand you’re here to take away our immortality. The Starwatcher wants to share it with everypony, but Athena disapproves. Why should we care what she thinks?”

Something clicked behind her, the mechanical loading mechanism of a crossbow. Kira leapt for the shadows at her hooves—only to find them completely solid. She smacked into the ground, rolling sideways with a groan. Worse, the magical backlash completely stunned her, banishing any chance of quickly retrieving the Soulshear.

“Doesn’t matter what you are,” Churro said. “I have power now. Enough to put down a bat who asks too many questions. Do it, Paco.”

Kira winced, opening one eye in the dirt. She nearly screamed as she saw it—a figure lay beside her, one she’d seen before. With only the stars above to light them instead of the many different streetlights, they didn’t seem so much like a twisted monster. More like… a girl. A human girl, with dark eyes and a worried face. “Told you,” she whispered.

You were the demon sent to hunt me? Kira winced with effort, but it wouldn’t matter regardless. Soon she’d be a ghost.

The crossbow clicked again, with a grinding mechanical sound that showered her with splinters of shredded wood. “There,” the figure seemed to whisper. “Fight.”

Kira rolled onto her back, shaking away the disorientation of her interrupted magic. They might’ve taken her escape, but it wasn’t like Death sent an assassin who couldn’t do her job.

There were seven of them in all, mostly thickly-built earth ponies with clubs and farm implements. “Get her!” Churro yelled.

They lunged at her, with pichforks and threshing sticks and just their hooves.

Kira rolled, passing under a set of legs and smacking the underside of one pony with a hoof. She caught a pitchfork with both wings as it swung at her, pivoting it to the left into one of the attacker’s companions. He screamed as it sunk into his face, falling limply as the others lurched after her.

It wouldn’t have been a long fight regardless. When Death brought her back, it was with tireless strength beyond even what most earth ponies could produce. Athena had tempered that strength with years of training. These might be murderous thugs, but they were really just farmers.

Not only that, but something seemed to be working against them. They struggled to draw daggers, they tripped, their swings fell short. It was as though she fought beside an invisible partner.

Churro fled as the last of his companions finally fell, or at least he tried to. Kira scooped up a fallen dagger, took aim, and threw. It struck the unicorn square in the back, and he flopped to the side, bleeding out into the dirt.

“Are you, uh… are you still there?” she asked the empty night, glancing around wildly. “Whoever… whatever you are.”

“Paula,” said a voice, reedy and indistinct on the wind. “My home is filthy. Something… terrible has… to devour.”

That’s what you meant! You weren’t threatening me at all! That explained why the Soulshear hadn’t killed her. The weapon could slice through the inanimate and the flesh of beings tainted by the Void, but natives of their reality would not be affected. Even dead ones, apparently.

“What are you, Paula?”

The voice didn’t answer. The dust picked up around her, past the dead and bleeding who had just tried to kill her. “You can see me. You can… help. Together, can… stop.”

“You did save my life,” Kira said, her wings shifting uneasily at her sides. “I think we can work together. Some…how. Unfortunately that was my only source.”

“High,” answered the figure, her outline almost visible in the dust and wind a second before it settled. “Temple in the mountains. Hurry.”

---

Kira found her way to a trail she suspected led up the mountain. Little yellow lanterns already hung, and every now and then a pony darted up. Each one wore similar costumes—demons, a little like her. All she had to do was make a few quick cuts to the dress, making it more revealing, and smear some dirt on her mask, and she’d blend right in.

She lurked behind a patch of large yuccas, waiting for the trail to be clear—then she slipped onto it, walking as confidently as though she belonged there.

Death wouldn’t be happy if the cult escaped to set up somewhere else.

There was a time when a climb up somewhere so steep would’ve been hard on her body, poorly suited to physical labor. That was why she’d loved scuba diving, since the sport was so relaxing. Not so much anymore, though. She’d outright refused both jobs Death tried to give her underwater.

Eventually she began to crest the hill, and she saw her first signs of a real destination. There was old mining equipment here, quietly rusting away in the sun. Too small to be for humans, so this must be a pony creation. Civilization had risen and fallen so many times since she vanished that she couldn’t keep track of it all.

But not much further, a large building rose from the scrubland, stone pillars supporting a roof of arches and other simple engineering. Like a miniature version of something the Greeks might’ve built. It was a church, with many pews packed in close, many already full.

Kira hurried forward towards the group ahead of her, ears pivoting as they reached the gate outside and the costumed ponies that seemed to be guarding it. They weren’t holding spears or other primitive weapons, but they did seem bulky enough to be earth ponies under all that cloth.

“What do the stars say, brother?” one asked.

“Listen and live,” he answered. Each pony ahead of her answered in kind, and before too long she had reached the gate herself.

At least their silly costumes counted for something—they wouldn’t be seeing her face through this. She felt as though the eyes she saw squinting out from the guard’s costume seemed skeptical. Maybe the “dirt as dye” wasn’t as convincing as she thought.

“What do the stars say, sister?”

“Listen and live,” she answered, trying to match the pony’s tone.

“Listen well tonight,” the guard said, pushing the rusty gate open for her. “There are many secrets waiting for us.”

She slipped in, settling into an open seat near the wall. She got a few curious looks from ponies—maybe that seat was already taken? But nopony stopped her, and at least she could be sure she wouldn’t be stabbed through a pillar.

If I fail tonight, will Death let me die for real? Or will she keep bringing me back until she’s satisfied? If she finished, she could ask. Or if she failed, then she’d probably be asking a little sooner than she would’ve planned.

For a good long while, ponies continued to trickle in. She did her best to seem as unobtrusive as possible, listening to the conversations and taking in the details of the cult. At first glance, it seemed a little like one of the Event-addled forms of Christianity, with the familiar altar at the front of the room and paths leading up towards it, and a few doors leading away.

But apparently this particular church had been twisted more than some, because instead of a cross or effigy of the Christ (pony or otherwise), this one had itself a demon. One that looked very much like the one she was dressed as. The carving was of solid gold, depicting a creature that stood on its hindlegs with arms spread in welcome. The face was twisted and carnivorous, with two sets of jaws, and eyes leading upward in little spots.

It made her stomach churn just to look at, like the body just didn’t quite belong here.

The church had no proper roof, though there were several uneven windows of post-Event glass held over the pulpit. Though they seemed so strangely shaped and colored that she suspected they were lenses more than windows. So not just a luxury of staying dry in the rain given to the priest.

Unfortunately there was little to overhear in the conversations of the other worshipers. They whispered to one another in praise for the “Starwatcher,” eager for the “sight of beyond” that waited for them. Somehow, Kira didn’t think they’d be too open to explain their beliefs to her.

I hope this is the right cult. This might just be a weird church, and Death is going to be pissed.

But she’d come too far to give up now. She was going to see this though.

As the hour grew later and the cold of the desert finally reached through her costume to make her shiver, a much larger group of worshipers all filed in at once. She didn’t have to turn around to hear their heavy hooffalls, each one lumbering and probably twice as strong as she was. They moved with purpose along the edges of the room, each one carrying… swords? Yes, those were definitely swords, glittering in the faint starlight.

Their arrival seemed to signal the beginning of the meeting, because chatter throughout the room gradually fell away. Kira clutched her mask closer to her, lowering her head and scooting over slightly, so she was beside the other ponies in her row.

Nopony attacked her. A few burly ponies filed past her, settling down onto their haunches along the far wall. They didn’t have their weapons drawn, or seem terribly interested in the church’s occupants at all.

They’re not looking for me. They’re here to keep us in.

The door behind the pulpit finally opened, and a pony emerged from behind. They wore a full costume just like everypony else, though she could still see their bat wings emerging from a robe. Of course it would be a bat—give ponies more reason for all their stupid stereotypes.

“Brothers and sisters,” he said, settling his forelegs on the altar. “Months have passed since you heard the secrets of the stars. Now at last we come together to consummate that knowledge.”

Cheers went up from around her, and Kira joined in only a few seconds late. She kept going a little too long, wincing slightly at the look she got from the front of the room. The eyes inside that mask were as sharp as knives.

“The stars make promises to us,” the bat went on. “Some of you have seen those promises kept. Some of you have only heard from your friends and neighbors. Let me assure you that all your sacrifices will now be made worthy. No longer will we live in fear for the end, no more reason to envy what the ancients had. Ascension waits for each of us, immortality that we should’ve been given long ago. The end of pain, and the solidification of meaning.”

Maybe I’m not in the wrong place after all.

As the crowd cheered again, Kira became conscious of light building in those strange lenses. They weren’t just for show—the faint starlight overhead was concentrating down, fractured through one layer and then another, until it shone directly on the alter.

The crystal bowl resting there caught that light, shining it back upward. A figure seemed to be growing there, like they were gradually tuning into a specific frequency for a TV broadcast. Even from its suggestions, she knew it would eventually match the horrible sculpture set beside it.

“The stars have been watching us this last year, and seen our suffering. They know the pain of our losses, as our loved ones are torn away by needless death. They offer us an end in exchange for our worship. Do we think the deal is worthwhile?”

Kira remained in her seat. Maybe Death would be upset that she didn’t just get started destroying everything. But she was curious, and she’d never seen anything quite like these strange promises before. To truly destroy it, she needed to know what she was tearing down.

More cheering, jubilant now. A few cultists rose to their hooves, pressing towards the front of the room. Whatever was coming, they seemed to expect it—be eager for it.

She watched, feeling herself grow slightly sicker the longer she remained in its presence.

There was nothing inherently evil about wanting immortality, nothing that should make her feel this way. Death was just another powerful creature on the stage, who fought for her goals just as others fought for theirs. But this—this was what Athena hunted at the same time. The touch of the unmade.

“Please, remain where you are,” the stallion said. “Your loyalty and love is more than warranted, but the time has not come yet. Wait a little longer, until the stars are right.”

Be ready, she heard, or thought she heard. They know you are different.

Paula? She couldn’t see the spirit’s outline, but that was certainly her voice. Quieter than a whisper.

“I see that some of you tonight are unworthy. I offer this warning—that those who haven’t completed their oaths will not be accepted into the endless nebulae that wait beyond the frail bonds of physical form. They will be destroyed in wrath by the god they tried to trick.”

She felt his eyes firmly on her as he said it. Her disguise had fooled many—but not him. “The Starwatcher gives this last chance to any who wish to return again after more time to prepare. Walk away now, unpunished. Or stay, and face the wrath you deserve.”

It wouldn’t be long now until the image was solid.

Death had told her that she had only one chance to do this every year. She should’ve realized that the Void was implicated in all this—it often had a confusing tangle of rules and conditions required to bring it gnawing into the real world, and no two creatures were alike.

This one was apparently offering eternal life one night out of the year. Or maybe just an agonizing death.

She didn’t move from her seat. A few ponies did, backing up towards the exit. The goons got out of their way, almost reluctantly. She could hear their whispers. “Shame, shame.”

She didn’t move, though. She kept one hoof extended, her breathing careful. The sword took concentration, so she kept herself as close to ready for it as possible. Just a few seconds of focus should put it back into her hooves when she needed it.

“Are there no others?” the leader asked. Ponies looked around, and none of the worshipers seemed able to single her out the way he could. After a few seconds of silence, he went on. “Then the time has come. Those who are worthy will travel to the Starwatcher’s court. Those who have failed will face the final death mortal, as they deserve.”

One hoof jerked out, and he pointed at her. “You, with the clumsy mask. I can taste the Starwatcher’s hunger for you. Come and join me, sister.”

She rose to her hooves, ignoring the persistent whispers urging her to flee. She probably could’ve found a patch of shadow large enough if she looked—but she hadn’t come all this way to run from danger, either.

Thugs yanked on her costume, almost hard enough to tear it. But they weren’t trying to rip it off, just make sure she obeyed. They crowded around her much too close to flee, pushing her up towards the platform.

Kira didn’t fight back, putting on her most frightened performance she could. Her hooves shook a little under her, and the emptiness in the pit of her stomach was no act.

With each step towards the altar, time seemed to slow. It wasn’t just thugs around her now, but another outline, a pale green pony transparent in the moonlight. And beyond her, another set of eyes watching through the open sides of the building.

“The boldest promises contain the greatest lies,” Death said, her face completely obscured in the foggy swirls of her cloak. “These creatures face an eternity of misery, their souls turned to extraplanar currency in their inscrutable games. I should have noticed this last year.”

Death didn’t care much about time. Maybe that meant she was really an immensely powerful unicorn, using a fairy glade spell to compress it around them. Kira knew at least one pony who could do magic like that.

But she didn’t feel like just another pony. Her presence was the same as the itching on her neck in that empty field, where shadows of unseen things were always lurking nearby. “Can I beat it?”

“Not a chance,” Death answered. “Ignore the altar.”

Her companion vanished, and sound rushed in around her. The crowd of ponies had started singing an unearthly hymn. Despite her knack for most languages, this one remained confusing to her. She felt only a malevolence, growing more and more pronounced the louder the singing got.

Thanks for not being stupidly mysterious again. Sometimes it felt like Death didn’t actually care if she won or not, but only wanted to see a pony struggle with her riddles.

The thugs shoved her down roughly at the base of the altar. Despite the new moon, all those lenses overhead made it feel like she was standing under a spotlight. A spotlight of deep purples and reds that no star unaided eyes could see actually produced.

They’re shining through from somewhere else, she realized. I wonder if Death even can help me here. Maybe that’s why she left.

Ignore the altar? How was she supposed to ignore the increasingly lifelike monster reflected in the glass, appearing to glide towards her. Its eyes grew darker, and in them she could see the stars stretching back into infinity. She started measuring her breath, one hoof extended to her side as she focused her concentration on the one weapon she was sure could make a difference.

“The watcher’s judgement is harsh for all those who fail to obey its precepts,” the priest said. “Let this pony’s suffering be the example to all who—”

The Soulshear exploded into the air beside her, its ordinarily pale light seeming like a bonfire compared to the false stars that lit the church. Ponies screamed, though there were several guards near her, and those lurched into action.

She swung, slicing through one guard while she spread her wings and glided out of the patch of light. He fell limply to the ground, skin losing all its color as he flopped to the floor.

At least I know they’re tainted. Athena should’ve paid better than chocolate.

She landed behind the altar, spinning the blade around towards the priest. But he was ready for her—while the crowd screamed, he had drawn a crossbow from behind the altar. “I will not allow you to tear down what we’ve built!” he yelled.

Kira froze, lifting the sword as best she could. But the chance of him actually hitting it was slim.

But as he pulled the trigger, the pony jerked to one side, sending the metal bolt whizzing out the open celling and out into the sky.

Kira hadn’t seen what had distracted him—she didn’t have the time to search. The alien presence grew stronger by the moment, its projection larger in the star-lens. It was growing harder to move, her own thoughts becoming sluggish. If it actually arrived, there was nothing she could do.

Kira didn’t attack the altar and the crystal bowl upon it—instead she lifted her sword towards the celling, extending it all the way through the lenses.

It pierced them just as easily as it tore flesh corrupted by the touch of the outside. Glass screamed like it had been rapidly cooled and heated, shattering in a flare of brilliant light.

The priest dropped to the ground, screaming in agony, along with several of the guards. The projection vanished instantly, and the bowl exploded, sending shards of glass around the room in all directions.

Kira watched ponies scatter. She didn’t chase after the townsponies, though in some parts of the world even being tempted by the void would be punishable by execution. Archive would’ve probably burned this church and everyone in it without a second thought.

But Death didn’t actually care who lived and died, so long as the promises of immortality were ended.

While ponies fled, Kira made her way around the church to those whose flesh was so corrupt that they now struggled to move. Probably they’d been graced with all kinds of unholy powers—before they could recover, she cut their throats. Over a dozen this time, left to bleed out on the stone floor. It was exhausting, thankless work… but eventually she was done.

She couldn’t burn the whole church, so she just collected everything that looked like books or records of the cult, soaked them in lantern oil, and set them ablaze using a novelty pumpkin.

Finally she settled back onto her haunches, watching the first faint rays of dawn begin to crest the horizon.

“Your work is satisfactory,” Death said, standing beside her in the desert. “Though we cannot be certain if its consequences will endure. Some who escaped remember the secrets of the Starwatcher. They may bring it back.”

“You could tell me sooner next time,” Kira said, a little bitterness in her voice. “Aren’t you a god? Warn me before they actually kill anyone.”

“Not a god,” Death answered. “A liminary. No creature should face death alone.”

Was something still watching her? Kira turned suddenly back towards the church, preparing to summon her sword again. Maybe she hadn’t finished her work, maybe the demon wasn’t as banished as she thought.

A shadowy outline seemed to be watching her from inside, with a single set of pale eyes. “Paula, this is Death. Or… the liminary of death? I don’t know what that means, but I hope you’re satisfied.”

Death smiled. “Sometimes the dead care for the living, instead of the other way around.” She vanished. So apparently not interested in conversing with whatever force had saved Kira tonight.

“Gone,” the spirit said, crossing through the church like mists blowing between the pews. “Finished. Rest now.”

“I’m sorry for swinging my sword at you earlier,” she said. “That was my bad. I would’ve been screwed without your help.”

The breeze about her hooves lifted a little column of dust and pebbles, blowing past her towards the edge of the cliff then down towards Las Plumas. Was it just her imagination, or did it sound like laughter?

There was nothing in the wreckage of the church when she finally looked back—just bodies, and a cult that wasn’t anymore.

Comments

[NeirdaE]

Spoopy

[FanOfMostEverything]

You know you're in an interesting line of work when you think to yourself "I hope this is the right cult."

In any case, brilliant bit of seasonal creepiness. Thank you for it.

[Cedric Bale]

Costumes, ghosts, murder... yep, this is a Spooky Scary chapter.
So I think most of us assumed from the previous chapter with this character that "Death", being a green mare who knew secret codes for Athena, was Alex. But this chapter has Kira specifically mention Archive as a separate entity from Death, so now I'm wondering if we're wrong or if Kira is wrong. Probably us.

[Edit] Or Death-Alex is a tiiiime traaaaveler~ derpicdn.net/img/2015/4/7/868255/full.gif

[Yami Vizzini]

Nice to see some things stay the same even after centuries.
9919031
Huh, I thought the same but then thought I'd just misremembered that chapter.