Two gold bits. That was what everlasting peace in the afterlife cost. Paid in full to Thanatos, the harbinger of death, for travel to Elysium. Even the most poor amongst the populace could afford such a price. A modest sum for the right to rest amongst the poppy fields.
Those that could not received no mercy from the harbinger. They were told to take the long way. A path laden with horrors and hardship, where one’s hooves bled and tears flowed freely. A torturous trot through Tartarus to the ornate gates.
Only to be cut down by Thanatos himself, protector and toll keeper of the fields, with a reminder of the cost to enter.
Thanatos, wings dark as night, eyes bright as stars, always made it clear that only those with payment could enter. There was no other way through. Despite this clear instruction, many would plead, beg, bargain, and cry for entry, but Thanatos never cared. There were clear rules to follow, and it was not his fault when a soul was incapable of doing so.
Besides, he despised life. The gods. Nearly everything that the wide world had to offer.
Though, it was only nearly.
There was one thing Thanatos loved. One thing that pierced through the walls of his cold, dead heart. An indescribable thing that made him feel like his immortality was worth living. But only one in a million could achieve it.
“Was it worth it?” Thanatos whispered into Somnambula’s ear. “Is it everything you wanted?”
“Do not taunt me, Thanatos,” Somnambula replied. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose this path. This is exactly as I expected, no more, no less. I have no regrets.”
“None? Not a single one?” Thanatos asked.
“None,” Somnambula reiterated.
“That’s what I like about you, Som.” Despite not physically seeing him, she could hear the grin in his voice. “No matter how reckless or impulsive you act, you never look back. It is both admirable and stupid in equal measure.”
“And what does that say about you?”
He cackled. “It says that I have good taste.”
Somnambula sniffed dismissively. “Do you not have something better to do with your time than pester me? Perhaps finding some poor foal to scare and butcher?”
“I’m afraid I can’t leave your side, Som. We’re bound, you and I.” Thanatos said. “We’ll be together for a long while to come.”
She scowled. “That is acceptable, so long as—”
“My people go free,” Thanatos finished. “You are quite repetitive sometimes.”
“... Indeed.”
“Well, the key to their cell is in your hooves. Raise the spear, and then you and your so-called people will be free.”
“Then if you shall be stuck with me, I shall endeavor to relish your company.”
He laughed. A hollow sound.
Somnambula rolled the staff between her hooves. A macabre scepter of bone with the skull of some unknown entity on its head. The dead, her people, swelled underneath her, a sea of rotting corpses howling for their release.
“... Thank you for this,” Somnambula said. “I should have said so sooner.”
“I assure you that I should be the one thanking you.” Somnambula heard the faint hint of amusement in his tone. “I have gotten far more from this partnership than you have.”
“And what might that be? You never specified.”
“A lot, dear Som, and not something I’m willing to share.” She felt the phantom of his breath tickle her ear. “Do you not have something more pressing to attend to then interrogating me?”
“I do. Thank you again, Thanatos. To our long, unliving partnership.”
Somnambula raised the spear. It shined with dark light, illuminating the cavernous room she was in. A crack appeared in the glittering diamond ceiling above. Another appeared followed by many more. Thin hairline cracks became thick as fissures, burrowing into the stone.
The spear glowed brighter. The pressure underneath her grew. They were almost out. Somnambula could feel it.
Crack. The ceiling began to crumble. Bright sunlight flooded into the chamber. A victorious yell echoed amongst the corpses. Somnambula and her horde burst through the opening.
Somnambula and her undead horde of thousands had finally become free.
Somnambula opened her eyes. Her vision was treated to a gorgeous sunny sky filled with fluffy white clouds. There was the sensation of rough wood underneath her back. She was lying prone in something.
Confused, she lifted herself into a sitting position, then observed the rest of her surroundings. She was situated inside of a coffin surrounded by a field of white poppies, which stretched off into the distance with no end in sight. Only the occasional willow tree broke the monotony of the idyllic landscape.
This did nothing to clear her bewilderment. She could not recall any place that looked like the one she’d now found herself in, nor how she had ended up there in the first place. Any attempt at remembrance caused a sharp pain to stab her mind, further frustrating her at the potentially precarious situation she was in.
Hoping to find some clue to her predicament, she ran her hoof alongside the inside of the coffin. It brushed against two pieces of cold metal. Curious, she picked up the offending objects.
Two gold bits. Circular disks embossed with the head of the pharaoh on one side and a sphinx on the other.
“I see you have payment.”
Somnambula whipped her head toward the deep voice. A massive pegasus stallion greeted her. He had pitch-black wings and fur that seemed to eat the light around him. His face was painted gray, framed by a heavy black mane. Bright white eyes stared down at her in boredom.
All at once, context snapped into place. Her mind provided a name to the one that greeted her.
“Thanatos,” Somnambula said.
“In the death,” He replied.
Another piece fell into place. “I died.”
“You did.”
“How?” Somnambula demanded.
“Miserably. Like everyone else.”
She scowled. “You’re rather unhelpful.”
“And you’re proving to be predictable.”
A snort of frustration. “Would it truly be so hard—”
“Patience. It will come to you momentarily.” He snorted. “Mortals.”
Somnambula wanted to retort, but bit back her response. Angering the harbinger of death was unwise and likely to only worsen her predicament. Instead, she closed her eyes and waited. After some time passed, it came to her. The war. The plague. The death. Her village. Her people. Gone.
She opened her eyes. Tears flowed down her face.
“Are you ready to go?” Thanatos asked. His tone matched the apathy he looked at Somnambula with.
“Are we not already in the fields of Elysium?”
“We are in a part of it. Specifically, the boring part.”
“... You preside over the domain of death, do you not?”
“Yes, though I have limits.”
“Can you tell what happened to my people?”
“Scattered across Tartarus on a trot that will lead them nowhere. Unlike you, they didn’t have the benefit of being a national hero and dozens of people to ensure they had their toll.”
“Is there a way to set them free? Take them back to the land of the living?”
Thanatos snorted. “No.”
“Truly?” Somnambula asked.
“Not unless you want to kill Hades and steal his staff.”
“And where might he be?”
“Who, Hades?” He laughed. A manic gleam drowned out the boredom in his eyes. “You can’t kill a god.”
“Legends within my priesthood beg to differ,” Somnambula retorted. “A mortal can perform the deed should they have the assistance of another god.”
“And where will you find another god willing to help you?”
She stared at Thanatos with her tear-stricken face, a fire of determination in her eyes. “Our texts claimed that you despise the other gods.”
“Those texts are correct,” Thanatos replied, bemused.
“What must I do to garner your help?”
A moment to absorb the statement, before Thanatos grinned. A malicious thing. “I can think of something you could do.”
“I have been told there are dark murmurings from the neighbouring Princedom,” Prince Hisan remarked. “Our diplomats are concerned.”
Somnambula trotted faster to keep stride with the Prince. They were walking about the palace gardens, a beautiful place containing all manner of flora gifted to the royal family from their various allies and neighbours.
“Oh? What manner of murmurings would those be?” Somnambula asked.
“They are readying to go to war against us.”
“What?!” Somnambula exclaimed. “We have been at peace for years now. What possible reason could there be for such hostility?“
“They have been beset by a horrible plague with no known cure.”
“How awful. I hope they will recover soon. Though, I am confused of its relevance to these rumours.”
“They claim that we have a remedy and are hoarding it for ourselves.”
Somnambula stopped. Hisan continued forward for a while before turning back to face her. She could feel the intense expression on her face, could see as it bored into Hisan’s.
“We do not have a cure, do we, Prince?” She asked, a dangerous undertone to her voice. “Tell me that we are not keeping such an important thing to ourselves while they suffer?”
“I promise on the Styx itself, that we do not have a way to heal what ails them,” Hisan swore. “You have my word, Somnambula.”
She stared intently at him for a moment more before she exhaled. “Apologies, Prince. Your father has left a dark mark upon us, and it is still difficult to trust in your kinder nature.”
“You are right to be wary.” A dark pall crossed Hisan’s features. “My father was a monster, and I question myself everyday whether I am not like him.” The pall passed, his easygoing expression returned. “Still, this leaves us in an unfortunate position. I am loath to go to war with an ally, but I will not let them simply ravage us without defending ourselves.”
“Then we shall place our hopes in the talented diplomats at our disposal to make our neighbours see sense.”
“You and that word again.” Hisan chuckled. “You’re as consistent as the sun that rises in the morning.”
“Of course, Prince. It is a powerful word.” Somnambula smiled. “Hope is capable of anything when one has it.”
The sickly green water of the Styx lapped against the gondola as Somnambula rowed toward Hades’ palace. Tormented souls moaned and writhed just underneath the surface. Charon, the cloaked and skeletal boatstallion, was bound in chains on the other side of the boat. Thanatos hovered nearby, grinning madly at the bound god.
“Serves you right, you old fart,” Thanatos teased. He flew over to Somnambula. “I admit that I find myself in awe of your skill with chains.”
Somnabula kept her eyes looking ahead as she replied. “As both a priestess and medic, being proficient in using rope is very useful, and chains are simply rope made of metal. My thanks for providing the means to bind Charon.”
“You're welcome.” Thanatos regarded Charon with a malicious grin. Heated flames spewed from Charon’s empty eye sockets at Thanatos. “I take no small amount of pleasure seeing the jerk bested.”
“Do you hold a grudge against him?” Somnambula asked. “More than your usual ire against the gods?”
“Yes. He was the one who forced me into this role without asking about what I wanted. Useless brother.” Bitterness tinged his voice.
“You had other plans?”
“Many. I was going to take a few centuries to really find something I wanted to do for an eternity, but the family wouldn’t have it.” His expression turned sour. “Charon was the one who coerced me into my current role. I never had time to try anything else.”
“At least you have proven capable in your position.” Memories of her failure to stop the epidemic rose to her mind.
“I still resent it.”
“Because you never had a choice?”
“Yeah. What I would do for the entirety of my immortal life was determined at my birth.” Bitterness was joined by an undercurrent of anger. “You mortals have it so much better. You can make your own bad decisions, get into your own trouble, and never have to answer to three old hags with a spinning wheel.”
“Do the Spinning Mares not preside over the fate of mortals as well?”
“Not to the same extent. They only interfere and enforce destiny for the big stuff. Most mortals, they let make their own mistakes.”
“...I’m sorry you didn’t have a choice.”
An unreadable expression crossed Thanatos’ face. After a moment, he flew to the other side of the boat and looked out across the Styx. They continued in silence for a while, with only the lapping of the water and moaning of souls interrupting the quiet.
“Is that why you hate the other gods? Because they didn’t give you a choice?” Somnambula asked, breaking the silence.
“... No,” Thanatos replied. “I hate them for much more petty reasons.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No,” Thanatos said, a dark tone to his voice.
“Then how about more details about this so-called plan of yours?”
“Also, no.” She could hear the mischievous grin in his voice, the darker edges gone instantly.
“Your secrecy in regards to how we will kill Hades leaves me in a place of doubt toward your capabilities of doing so.”
“I can assure you they are unfounded. I know how to pull this off. You just need to get close enough to him for me to make my move. Besides—” He zipped across the boat, hovering in place next to Somnambula “—Shouldn’t you just hope this all goes well? Isn’t that your thing?”
“You confuse hope with faith and stupidity with devotion,” Somnambula replied. “I have hope that I may save my people, but no faith in your ability to keep your promise. I’m also not stupid enough to believe this won’t come at a great cost to myself.”
Thanatos cackled. “And yet you continue to row toward the palace.”
She looked at Thanatos, the fires of determination still burning in her eyes. An unbreakable resolve. It made Thanatos grin wider.
“The mere chance that I may save my people through your assistance is enough to push me forward. Even if this goes poorly for me, I would be happier to have at least tried.”
“I like your resolve, Som. I have high hopes that you’ll manage to keep it.”
Somnambula ignored the obvious barb and continued to row. In the distance, spires of stone and diamond rose above the horizon, glittering in the ghastly light emanating from below.
Somnambula stared out across the battlefield. Ponies, both allies and enemies alike, appeared to move in slow motion. Weapons cut into flesh. Gore and blood splattered and spurt in a graphic display that could be considered artistic. She had never expected to feel so disjointed from what happened around her.
It was horrible, but what made it tragic was how one-sided the battle was. Her people mercilessly slaughtered the enemy, their blood dying the sands red. Her forces had suffered few, if any, casualties. The military of her home were strong and honed warriors. Their enemy was… emancipated.
They had come to call them Corpse Walkers. The ponies that charged helplessly against the blades of her people were barely ponies at all. Fur all but fallen out, skin taut against bone. Ghastly, skeletal specters with pink-tinged eyes that wept openly as they met their demise on the end of steel.
The plague had ravaged them, leaving behind only a desperate need to find a cure that didn’t exist.
She turned away from the battlefield and to the dying soldier cradled in her hooves. One of the Corpse Walkers. Blood from the pony’s wounds stained her fur as the soldier looked up at her, tears in their eyes.
They were mouthing words too quiet for her to hear. She leaned down to better catch the sound.
“—Shouldn’t have come. We’ve—” A ragged breath “—doomed you. It’s here now. We did what it wanted. I’m so…”
A final pained wheeze. Somnambula gently let the soldier’s head fall to the sand. She looked out at the battlefield once more. New information allowed her to peel back the horror and see this event for what it was.
It was not a war. It was an epidemic.
She looked up at the sky. Tears fell from her eyes. She prayed, hoping against logic that her people will survive the coming storm that had been inflicted upon them.
Hisan and Somnambula trotted side-by-side through the palace, past scenic views of the village through open windows. A few days had passed since Somnambula had rescued Hisan from the Sphinx and she had been invited to keep him company.
“I cannot thank you enough, Somnambula,” Hisan said with admiration in his voice. “I can’t bear to think what would have transpired without your timely intervention.”
“Presumably, you would have found yourself at the bottom of the Sphinx’s stomach, Prince,” Somnambula replied, bemused.
Hisan chuckled. “Well, thankfully that is not the case.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “Would you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Not at all.”
“When you made that leap of faith, did you doubt my words?”
“No,” Somnambula replied without hesitation.
“Why?”
“Because of the hope I had for you.”
Hisan looked at Somnambula with an intense look. “Explain,” he commanded.
“What is there to explain?” She stopped. Hisan followed suit shortly afterward. “I had always hoped that, when you ascended to the throne after your father’s passing, you would be greater than him. I allowed that hope to guide my actions, and have been rewarded with knowledge of your better nature.”
“Truly?” Hisan asked. Somnambula nodded. “You really had no doubts at all?”
“None.”
He furrowed his brow in thought once more. “May I ask another question, Somnambula?”
Somnambula stopped before the doors to Hades’ chambers. She had managed to slip past the palace guards with some invisibility help from Thanatos and a serving of sleeping herbs from the kitchen for Cereberus. They had reached their destination, and soon Somnambula would achieve her goals.
“So, Hades is beyond these doors?” Somnambula asked the hovering pegasus next to her.
“Yes,” Thanatos replied. “Once we’re ready, all we need to do is burst through these doors and Hades goes kaput. Well, temporarily at least.”
“Will he revive?”
“It’ll take him a while, but yes.” He waved a wing. “Don’t worry though. This happens somewhat infrequently due to his jerkish brothers. Frankly, he’ll probably thank us for the vacation.”
“Very well, then.” Somnambula nodded. “You will be taking over my body now?”
Thanatos nearly dropped from the air in surprise. He looked at Somnambula with a look similar to a foal with their hoof stuck in the cookie jar.
“How did you—”
“I am a priestess,” Somnambula interrupted. “I have access to all the scrolls of our temple, and they are well aware of the gods’ ways. It's why you only assisted me, never dealing with our troubles directly. The gods cannot interfere with each other unless they are one of the Three, have the assistance of a mortal, or—” she narrowed her eyes “—occupy the body of a mortal.”
“And you still agreed to all of this?” Thanatos asked incredulously. “Even knowing the cost?”
“I want to free my people,” Somnambula said. “Those wants do not need to include my well-being.”
He landed on the tiled floor. She could see thoughts race through his head. She was a puzzle to him that he was trying to solve. After a moment, his eyes blazed brighter, a solution found.
“I have a proposal.” Thanatos held up a feather to stop the immediate reply. “This will still achieve your goals.”
“Then what is your proposal?” Somnambula asked.
“Allow me to make you my avatar.”
Somnambula furrowed her brow. “I am unfamiliar with the term.”
“Unsurprising, as many gods don’t like to share this particular piece of information. Basically, I will bind my fate to yours. I tag along in your body, and you gain full access to my power while retaining your autonomy,” Thanatos explained.
“... This bargain feels too skewed to me.”
“I assure you, it isn’t.” His wings cocooned them both, a barrier of black against the outside world. “You interest me, Som. You seem like a pony worth sticking to, and one better suited to making her own decisions.”
“Then I accept.”
He laughed. “Just like that? No further questions?”
“Any path you have provided to me will fulfill my wishes. Forestalling the conclusion is just wasting time for the sake of it.”
“See, this is why I like you, Som.” Blue flames enveloped Thanatos’s body. His eyes glowing brighter within the cold flames. “You’re just. So. Reckless.”
The flames consumed Somnambula. She burned, cold fire burrowing into her very being. A cloak of shredded pale skin settled around her. A horn of bone erupted from her forehead. Her eyes shone with ghostly flames. Her fur and skin became transparent, revealing the bone underneath.
She opened the door, her wings spread around her in a halo of feathers. Standing within the room was an entity wrapped in shadows wearing armour made of bone.
Before Hades could react, Somnambula formed a scythe of arcane magic and swung for his neck.
Somnambula was infected with the disease. She knew it.
Having the disease was like feeling exhausted after running for hours in the hot desert sun, but with no way to recover from it. It was like slowly sinking into the sand, with each attempt to escape just pulling you further down. Down until you drowned in it.
She looked around the packed emergency room. It had been built in the palace shortly after the epidemic had infected more than half the village. Normally, it would be considered sacrilegious to create a hospice in such a sacred place without the Prince’s permission, but… well, there was no one left to ask.
Brushing away a tear, Somnambula clutched the jug of water she held in her hooves tight to her chest as medics raced about the room. A number of patients inhabited the narrow makeshift beds that were becoming filled more and more as the days went on. She would join them soon.
A nurse spread a yellowed cloth over the hollowed body of a patient. She took in the taut skin and sunken eyes, feeling numb to their death. They had once been a neighbour, a face in the village. Now, they were just a statistic. Somnambula mourned the loss of her ability to see them as more than that.
This disease felt more like a curse as time went on. Some karmic justice toward an unspoken crime. Though, Somnambula suspected she just needed to believe that there was some purpose to the horror that surrounded her.
Someone touched her shoulder gently. She looked at the smiling face of a nurse. “I can take that for you, Somnambula.”
She wordlessly hooved over the jug.
“Your help is greatly appreciated. Especially after—” the nurse bit back her response “—Well, it doesn’t matter. We are glad to have you here.”
Somnambula said nothing as she stared blankly at the nurse. She could feel the exhaustion becoming worse by the second.
“Somnambula? Is everything alright?” The nurse asked, concerned. “If you need to rest, you can. It is more important for the people to see the symbol of their hope strong than for me to have another pair of hooves to help.”
Somnambula smiled bitterly. A tear came unbidden to her eye. “Then I’m afraid that the people will soon have no hope.”
The exhaustion finally overtook her. She collapsed to the floor.
It pulsed against her. Their Will. Her people. A sea of pure emotion. Their hopes. Their devotion. Their adoration. She felt their hooves wrap around her, pushing her forward. The ocean swelled, it grew. Their Will was all encompassing.
She was enshrouded by Thanatos. Ever present as a specter, wings bound tightly around like chains. A welcome burden. She could handle the weight.
Hades was dead. His head lay nearby, severed from his neck. He would come back. She felt no ill will from him. Just bemusement at her plan. The staff, taken from his personal treasury, was heavy in her hooves. A thing of bone and cold and magic. It pulsated with power, whispering dark secrets in her soul.
Another pulse. From her people. From Thanatos. From the staff. A need to be free. A need to move forward. A need to be used. It swelled. It drowned her. They demanded action.
She could handle the weight, the burden, the Will.
She would bring them back to the land of the living.
Somnambula looked out over the golden desert, the sunlight harsh against the sands. She stood on a rocky edifice, her people below gathering materials from the wreckage of a settlement taken by the disease. Their skeletal forms were in stark contrast to their surroundings.
“A beautiful sight,” Thanatos remarked. His ghostly form hovered near her, a recent ability of his.
“It is,” Somnambula agreed. She turned her attention toward the horizon. A black mass could be seen coming toward them. “What is that?”
“You have magic,” Thanatos replied. “See for yourself.”
Her horn of bone glowed brightly, pale yellow in colour. A small arcane telescope appeared before her. Looking through it, she saw the mass as an army of armoured knights marching forward. They wore heraldry of gray and green, a symbol of an open book upon a black sun.
Thanatos snorted. “The nerd seems to have sent his lackeys again.”
“Perhaps this group can be reasoned with,” Somnambula said.
“And if they can’t?”
She dispelled her magic. With one hoof, she gestured toward the heap of corpses below her. Her people harvested them. Pulling fur, skin, muscle, and bone from their bodies and using it to construct her eventual moving fortress.
“Then I hope they will provide us with more high quality materials,” Somnambula declared.
Somnambula thought hard about the question. Hisan waited patiently. After a moment, she answered.
“It is one of the most powerful emotions. Hope starts wars and brings peace. Hope pushes ponies to change and improve. Hope convinces ponies of a better future. It can be unshakeable. Unconquerable. Impossible to overcome.
“Hope can tell lies. It can turn fantasy into reality. It can turn a pony into a monster. It can give someone the determination to overcome any obstacle, to conquer any task for a single poisonous glimmer of the intoxicating ambrosia that is hope.
“To me, hope is what allows me to push past my limits. To do things that no pony would ever dream of doing. To go beyond what the ordinary would deem impossible. To overcome anything that the world may cruelly decide to serve me.”
“Hope is everything, Prince.”
A moment of silence.
“You’re a terrifying mare, Somnambula,” Hisan finally said. “I fear that even death itself couldn’t stop you.”
“Well, thankfully for death, I will never have to test that.”
