Out of all creatures in Equestria, Griffons have the most ambivalent relationship with death. Little care was given to burying the deceased, instead preferring the simplicity of sky burials. But when a child gets trapped inside the forgotten crypts in the ruins of Griffonstone castle, Gilda feels obliged to help.
What Gilda doesn't know, however, is that there was a very good reason the crypts had been abandoned. After all, some things are better left forgotten...
Content Warnings: Death, Gaslighting, Moderate Gore
Funerals were the worst. Even before Griffonstone had accepted friendship magic into their culture, Gilda never understood their purpose. Every griff knew that death was life’s inevitable end. It was far better to make the most of living than ruminating about it.
This death, however, felt different. Grandpa Gruff wasn’t what you’d call a ‘nice’ griffon, but he had still become a big pillar in the Griffonstone community. It was from him that she’d learnt life’s hardest lessons; how to survive, how to seize an opportunity. Were it not for him, Gilda would have never gotten to go to Jr. Flight Camp. She wouldn’t have survived long enough to do so.
She hated how he made her feel. She hated how she was never good enough for him, always needing to be more – more self-sufficient, more ambitious, tougher. She knew it came from a place of love, so perhaps that was why it hurt so much to lose him.
Gilda clutched tightly at her chest feathers. Was this the price of friendship? For all the warm joy it brought her, would it all come crashing down when final goodbyes are said? Her cheeks were wet, her eyes stinging. She hadn’t felt this way since Rainbow Dash rejected her, favouring instead her newfound pony friends.
That was a long time ago, a conflict she was supposed to have reconciled with. Dash had forgiven her, so why did Gilda still hurt like she hadn’t?
“Does anyone wish to say some final words before we put our dearest Grandpa Gruff to rest?” the priest asked, gesturing over the coffin window.
Silence. What was wrong with everyone? She hated being here as much as anyone else, but it still felt wrong to let Grandpa Gruff’s deeds go unrecognised. The least they could do was to honour his contribution to Griffonstone’s survival, long after the old empire collapsed.
She supposed it was up to her to carry on his legacy.
Wiping her face with the back of her talon, Gilda cleared her throat. “I do.”
The priest stepped down from the podium, gesturing for Gilda to take his place.
Climbing up, Gilda studied the crowd for a moment. No one looked at her, everyone keeping their heads down. It was hard to tell if anyone felt genuinely sad, besides her.
“Grandpa Gruff… was not a nice griffon,” she began, shooting a sour look at those who scoffed at her introduction. “But he was exactly the kind of Griffon we needed. When times got tough, he taught us to be tougher. When the Griffon Monarchy abandoned us, he taught us to rely on ourselves, fighting to keep us all alive instead of waiting for some creature to swoop down and save us. I know it’s ironic, coming from me, but without Grandpa Gruff’s help, we never would’ve made it until Twilight Sparkle and her friends got involved.”
Uttering the name of the Friendship Princess sparked a wave of audible groans and bitter chatter. Gilda had expected this. After spending so long in relative isolation, accepting help – particularly from those once seen as beneath them – was paramount to submission.
Gilda, of course, knew better. In time, perhaps they all would, too.
“Grandpa Gruff was never an easy griffon to get along with. But as abrasive as his personality could be, it was all for the best. So, thanks, Grandpa Gruff. Thanks for keeping Griffonstone strong. We’ll take it from here.”
Nodding to the priest, Gilda stepped down, returning to the crowd as a small handful of griffons clapped softly. As much as she wished for more enthusiasm, she supposed a lukewarm reception was better than none.
“We now close out the proceedings by returning the departed to the earth,” the priest said. “Pallbearers, if you please.”
As one, the pallbearers lifted the coffin, slowly walking over to the edge of the Abysmal Abyss. On the count of three, they tossed the coffin over, sending it plummeting into the darkness below.
See ya later, Old Geezer, Gilda grumbled internally. As she turned to leave, a small voice caught her ear.
“Mom, why does Grandpa Gruff have to go into the Abysmal Abyss?”
“Because that’s where we all go when we pass away,” the child’s mother replied.
“But why can’t they all go to the big place beneath the castle ruins?”
The question gave Gilda pause. She knew other creatures tended to bury or cremate their dead, yet Griffons always went for the method of sky burial. She’d assumed it was to do with the ground being difficult to dig into, but if what the child said was true, there was an entire underground crypt dug out beneath the old castle. There was no way that would be practical if the ground was unstable.
“Gwendoline!” The mother snapped, looking down at her daughter with a furious glare. “What have I told you about playing in the castle?!”
“We didn’t go behind the railings or anything!” she protested, cringing at the force of her mother’s voice. “We just wanted to know—”
“It’s none of your concern!” the mother slapped her talon across Gwendoline’s face, leaving a bright red mark below her tawny feathers. Yet her scolding was still vocalised in a hushed whisper. Most of the other funeral attendees were already gone, and those who remained didn’t seem to care about the two. “You don’t ask questions about the castle. If there was something to be discovered, it would’ve been found already.”
“But mom-”
“No buts! You’re grounded until you learn to listen to your elders. There’s nothing below the castle, and there never was.”
Gilda opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. She knew well enough how unstable the castle ruins could be. No creature was permitted inside without specialist protection equipment. Though the mother’s attitude was harsh, Gilda recognised the necessity of it. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what the child had been referring to. Maybe I’ll investigate it for myself sometime, Gilda thought, letting out a long yawn. If there was one thing she hated more than funerals, it was early mornings.
Gilda opened her eyes, finding herself flying over the castle. No, not flying, floating. Her wings were spread, but they weren’t moving. The thick clouds obscured the moonlight, but she could see perfectly where she was going.
Down.
Down through the castle’s collapsed roof. Down through the floor. What was down there? She had to know. She had to find out.
Two heavy double doors opened, leading Gilda further down.
“Help me,” the voice said again. “Please help me. No, don’t! Get off me! Help! Help! Hel-”
Gilda bolted upright in her bed, drenched in cold sweat.
A bad dream, nothing more, she thought after a while, head in talons as her heartbeat calmed down.
It had been a full week since the funeral, and still Gilda found herself obsessing over the castle’s potential secrets. Every other waking moment, the chub’s queries echoed in her mind, as if they were begging her to provide the answers her mother wouldn’t give.
What she couldn’t understand was why. Why had that kid’s question rattled her so? As the mother had said, with Griffon culture’s propensity towards hoarding wealth, anything noteworthy would have long since been plundered.
“Stupid castle…” Gilda grumbled as she kicked off the covers. “This is so lame. Why do I have to play archaeologist?”
Rolling out of bed, she headed down the stairs. This idea had attached itself to her mind like a parasite, and she could think of only one way to get rid of it. She reasoned that the dead of night was the best time to explore, when no Griffon would pester her about it.
She didn’t bother locking the door behind her. She had nothing worth taking, and besides, she didn’t plan on being away long. The old ruins were just a short flight away, as dull and decrepit as ever, granting her entry through the rubble of a demolished wall. The safety rails were barely a token barrier to entry, as no one cared enough to go there.
Gilda focused on exploring the main atrium first, the most immediately accessible area. She didn’t know much about Griffonstone’s history beyond the basics, but the little she did know made this the best place to search for old grave sites. From the rusted pieces of long-abandoned church organs, to the shattered tiles of the mosaic floor, this had to be a place of worship back in the kingdom’s prime – though to whom or what, she had no idea.
The full moon and the stars granted her some visibility, but with all the years of accumulated dirt, dust and eroded stone, Gilda knew she’d never find anything without a better light source. She considered finding materials for a makeshift torch, but a long yawn escaping her beak shut down that idea.
Wha the buck am I doing? She chastised herself. This is so lame. I’m never gonna find anything. I should just go back to bed.
Gilda was just about to turn around when a small sound caught her ear. At first, she dismissed it as falling rubble, but the sound persisted – a constant, almost rhythmic tapping.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is anybody here?”
No answer… save for the continued tapping just within hearing range.
Groaning, she fumbled around for a loose piece of wood, sparking two stones against it to strike up a flame. If she didn’t find out where this noise was coming from, she knew it’d keep bugging her for ages.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Gilda tried to focus on the direction the sound was coming from. It was faint, barely audible even in the late night mountain silence, but if she was right, then it would be echoing from somewhere behind her. Sure enough, the closer she got to the atrium’s rear, the louder the sound was, but no sight of its origins still.
Unless…
No, that was silly. Grandpa Gruff was always regaling her with historical folktales from Griffonstone’s glory days, and not a single one mentioned any passages below the castle itself. Even the infamous dungeons were constructed inside the highest towers, watched over day and night by Griffon guards.
Yet, the sound persisted. It had to be coming from somewhere. Perhaps it was just an insect or some other mundane thing after all?
“Help!”
Gilda jumped back a foot, wings flaring. What in Tartarus was going on here? If this was some kind of prank, it sure was elaborate; she didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed.
“Help me, please!” the voice cried out again. Somehow, she knew she’d heard this voice before, a high-pitched cry strained with terrified desperation. Perhaps in years past, Gilda would’ve been content to dismiss it and move on, but she was a different gryphon now. She couldn’t stand idly by while some creature, much less a child, remained trapped in such a hazardous place.
“I hear ya, kiddo,” she said, scraping away what rubble she could while listening for the voice's source. “I’ll getcha out.”
“Thank the Princesses!” the child said, their strained voice relaxing a little. “The doors are stuck. Please, can you get me out?”
“I will if I can find it. How the heck did you get in there?”
“The doors are below the busted pedestal. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just please, get me out of here!”
Wedging her torch between the crack of a ruined pillar, Gilda set to work heaving each piece of shattered marble and chiselled stone out of the way. Indeed, the more she uncovered, the more she realised how easy the trapdoor was to miss. Despite centuries of fading from lack of maintenance, the metal edges still retained the same off-white colour as the mosaic marble it was built into. Whoever its architect was, they must have taken the doors’ secret to their grave.
It took no small effort to clear the rubble, but when she finally revealed the trapdoor in full, Gilda came face to face with yet another obstacle. There were no handles to open the doors with, instead relying on tiny hooks pressed into shallow-cut grooves within the door’s face. How a child had managed to get these things open was just another mystery to add to her growing pile of frustrations.
“Sit tight, kiddo. I'm almost done.”
Cracking her knuckles, Gilda dug her sharp talons into the trapdoor’s mechanism, pinching the top as she wriggled the metal hooks back and forth. At last, she heard a click. Wrenching it backwards with all her might, she kicked up a thick cloud of dust as she yanked the left door open.
GIlda barely had time to stop coughing when the trapped child leapt from their confines to hug her tight about her neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” they gushed, nuzzling her face into Gilda’s chest feathers.
Now Gilda understood why the kid’s voice had sounded so familiar. “Oh, goodness! You’re the griffon who gave a speech at Grandpa Gruff’s funeral, aren’t you? You’re my hero! Your name is Gilda, right?”
“No, that name belongs to another griff who looks and sounds exactly like me,” Gilda droned sarcastically. “Now, enough with the mushy stuff. You’ve got some serious explaining to do, kiddo.”
Her lips quivering, Gwendoline’s wide eyes moistened with tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Miss Gilda!” she bawled, her voice cracking.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Gilda’s stalwart expression remained unchanged. She wasn’t stupid. She’d been young once, pulling the same old weepy-eyed trick on adults twice her age in an attempt to leverage their sympathies. The other thing she’d learnt was how rarely it worked. “Get your sob stories out of your system and gimme the facts already – before I have to drag you home.”
“It wasn’t my idea, I swear!” Gwendoline protested. “It was my friend, a Pegasus filly from the School of Friendship. She’s still in there, we have to help her. Please!”
“Woah, woah, woah, time out.” Gilda narrowed her eyes at the griffon child. “Am I supposed to believe a filly came all the way from the School of Friendship, just so they could dare you to explore some crummy old ruins? That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”
“It’s the truth! Really! We just wanted a quick look. We thought we could use it for a book report. We didn’t mean to get trapped inside!”
“And where is this Pegasus filly now? Shouldn’t she still be with you?”
“She would, but…” Gwendoline averted her gaze, crossing her hind paws. “Honey Twist went deeper into the crypts, trying to find another way out. I know it sounds like I’m making her up, but she’s still down there, I know she is! Please, I know I’m asking a lot, but I can’t leave her down there. It’s not what Princess Twilight would want.”
Gilda rolled her eyes, grumbling out a disgruntled sigh. This kid just had to invoke the name of Twilight Sparkle to tug on her heartstrings yet again. As much as she wanted to say no and deliver the chub directly to her parents, there was still that small itch of curiosity, tantalisingly close from being satiated. If this was an excuse, carefully woven to make Gwendoline look innocent, then what would she have to gain through such lies?
“Fine,” Gilda said. “But you’re coming with me. When we get out of here, I’d better get a full explanation from you both, ‘cause if you wanna avoid grounding, I’m not the one you’ll have to convince.”
“I swear on the four princesses, everything I’ve told you is true!” Dropping to her knees, Gwendoline bowed herself low, so low that she was practically bathing her headfeathers in the gravel. “I’ll tell mom everything. I don’t care how long I’m grounded for. Just, please, save my friend. Save Honey Twist!”
“Then get your sorry butt in gear and show me the way. If these crypts are as big as you say they are, then we’re gonna need to find her quick. No telling for how long she’ll be lost down there.”
Gwendoline took the advice in her stride, and then some. Gilda barely had time to grab her torch before the kid had gone scurrying off back down the stairs. How had her dream become so prophetic? Was Princess Luna trying to guide her into doing more good deeds? If so, this was an oddly specific encouragement.
Gilda let out a frustrated sigh. She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
Despite Gwendoline’s haste, Gilda insisted they take their time in descending the long, spiral staircase. There was no telling how far down this place went, or how much of it was still structurally sound. It would do no one any good for the rescuers to end up trapped or injured themselves.
Gwendoline said she had no idea how long ago Honey Twist had left. She had apparently taken the only torch between them, leaving Gwen to sit in total darkness, hoping against all odds that she’d manage to find a way out. It was a stroke of luck that Gilda went to explore the castle.
Though Gilda didn’t say it out loud, the length of their descent didn’t offer much hope. Were it not for the steepness and tight turns, she would’ve sworn she was being led around in circles. This crypt – or crypts, since Gwendoline seemed to have explored a little before finding herself trapped – had been dug much further down than should have been practical, if even completed at all. It wouldn’t have surprised Gilda if they ended up at the bottom of the Abysmal Abyss.
She had only just learnt of this place’s existence, and her mind was practically bursting with questions. Why go to such lengths to hide a burial crypt, if this was its purpose? And why dig so far underground?
Though she didn’t want to admit it out loud, Gilda had found herself hooked on the mystery; she needed to know more.
Eventually, after what felt like hours descending, the two gryphons finally made it to the bottom. The entrance wasn’t sealed off, instead greeting the would-be visitors with a simple stone archway. As Gilda held up her torch, she noticed an inscription carved above the keystone.
“Here they lie, the dreamers eternal. Disturb not their peace, their souls’ rest final.”
Amongst the many things Griffons had been known for over the years, their poetry skills weren’t one of them. Though out of all the artistic endeavours Gilda had seen her kind attempt over the years, this by comparison wasn’t especially terrible. She supposed it could have been a pony-inspired eulogy, but there was one word which struck her as unusual.
Why did they describe the dead as ‘dreamers’?
“Gilda!” Gwendaline whined, looking back from beyond the threshold. “What’s the hold up?”
“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Gilda snapped. This was why she didn’t like children. They were always so demanding, pushing and pushing until the adults were on their last nerve until they gave in or snapped.
Brushing back the cobwebs, Gilda kept her eyes peeled for any additional torches in the room. With a place as tinder dry as this, she had to be careful where she held her fire, lest the whole area go up in a blaze. Sure enough, an iron torch hung on the wall beside her, right at the eye level. The leftover fuel ignited the second her own flame touched it.
Her heart almost leapt out of her chest as she came face to face with a dead gryphon’s skull.
“Gilda? Is everything okay?” Gwendoline asked, tilting her head.
“I should be the one asking that,” Gilda grumbled under her breath. Louder, she said, “I’m fine. Just keep moving so we can find where your buddy went.”
“There’s only one tunnel, as far as I’ve seen. She can’t have gotten far.” Gwendoline’s tone was calm and to the point, much more composed than the scared child who’d been begging for Gilda to let her out before. She couldn’t imagine greeting dead bodies as a pleasant sight for someone like her, especially without the means to light her way.
Gilda pursed her beak, clenching her free talon hard over the stick of her makeshift torch. This was ridiculous. She’d not been down here five minutes and already she was getting spooked by the dead. What was she expecting? A Pinkie Pie-style festival?
“Alright,” she said, composing herself. “But let’s take our time. There could be branching paths later on.”
Lighting another torch hanging from a central pillar in the room, Gilda revealed that the skull wasn’t a one-off loose bone. Hundreds, if not thousands of skulls and assorted bones lined the walls, wedged in tight against each other. Constructing this place must have been a grisly task indeed. How long had this place been under construction for? Certainly long enough to amass such a vast amount of dead.
There were several gaps in the walls that held coffins, though these were a paltry quantity in comparison to all the bones surrounding it. She supposed old Griffonstone only offered full burial as a luxury. It’d explain why sky burial had caught on – much less work, with no special privileges offered.
Holding her torch to the darker edges, she noticed that these skulls had been fashioned in-between evenly cut stone tiles, tessellating in a way that covered the entire surrounding rock. It sounded like a waste of time to her, though it could be considered further evidence toward her theory of rich griffon’s burial rights.
These tiles were harder to see in the gloom, but from what Gilda could make out, each one was adorned with a small pattern, two mirrored humps with a dot in the centre, representing an eye.
Gilda felt a chill breeze rustle through her feathers. This whole place was the definition of creepy. It was strange how no griffon had thought to renovate the place; it would make the perfect Nightmare Night attraction for tourists. She made a mental note to pitch the idea to the griffon high council tomorrow, as this was a potential boon to their local economy just waiting to be exploited.
Holding the torch low, Gilda swayed it back and forth as she walked, keeping an eye out for any potential trip hazards. This came with an unfortunate side effect, however. From the corner of her vision, she could almost swear the eye-tiles were watching her, following her as she walked past.
It was a ridiculous notion, of course. They were just decorations. Any magic that Griffons possessed was passive, aiding in their strength and ability to fly. There was nothing for them to make enchantments with, much less cast them.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of just how eerie it was. No matter how many times she looked back, the tiles were always the same, as if they were taunting her with a childish game of ‘red-light, green-light’.
Gilda made a good pace in crossing the room, walking at a steady trot. With her gaze focused mostly on the floor, she relied on the chub ahead of her to avoid bumping into anything unpleasant. Every few paces, she did look back up, keeping an eye out for any more hidden doors or unstable structures. Every time she looked back, however, she appeared to be no closer to leaving the room.
Like everything that had come before it, this, too, had its own justification. As with the stairs, the darkness and confined space messed with her depth perception. So why, after the fifth time in so many minutes, had she not left the chamber?
Had she left the chamber after all, only to come into another? Each crypt could look the same, but there had to be some differences – she was certainly looking for them. After the fifth time she spotted the same lit torches in the corner and centre, then she knew something was off.
She didn’t think she’d been turned around. Unless…
“Hold it right there, kiddo,” Gilda scowled, but Gwendoline just kept on walking, a small cloud of dust kicking up from her hind hooves “Hey, Gwendoline, hold up already! I don’t know what kind of game you think this is, but knock it off!”
No answer, still. Had she gone deaf all of a sudden? Gilda opened her beak to speak again, only to be cut off by a sudden rattling sound. A pile of bones collapsed to the floor just to the left of her.
More threads of spider silk fluttered past her, yet she felt no breeze. The contradictions of this crypt were piling up fast. She looked back down, noticing too late the skull rolling underfoot. The old bone crunched beneath her talon, but there was more than that. She felt a thick squelch, too. She hoped that wasn’t what she thought it was.
“Dreamers, awaken….”
“Gwendoline, what–”
She felt it. A sudden, cold exhalation blowing on the back of her neck.
Dropping her torch, Gilda grabbed Gwendoline and threw her on her back, bolting away with no concern for what she broke. Finally, the door came up to greet her, torches already lit as she skidded round the corner.
This missing filly had to be somewhere. One way or another, she was going to find her and drag her out. The sooner she left this damn creepy place behind, the better.
Gilda ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, charging through corridor after corridor until her muscles burned from exhaustion. When she finally came to a screeching halt, it was to avoid running face-first into a dead end.
“Miss Gilda?!” Gwendoline asked, her voice strained as if she’d been shouting – though Gilda hadn’t heard a word. “Please, talk to me! What’s going on?”
“Uh…” Gilda blanked. Why had she run so suddenly? Something must have spooked her good, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was. “I… thought I saw your filly friend run past. That little dweeb must’ve heard us coming. I almost had her, but I guess I took a wrong turn at the last second.”
The young chub studied Gilda for a moment, her brow creased. It wouldn’t have surprised Gilda if she saw right through her blatant lie; it was the best she could come up with on the spot. She only hoped the plea to Gwendoline’s motivations would be convincing enough to let her off the hook.
“Okay,” Gwendoline said with a defeated sigh. “I didn’t see her at all, but if you did, I guess she can’t have gotten far.”
Gilda wiped the sweat from her brow. She’d always considered herself an honest griffon – brutally so – but sometimes, a lie was the best way to defuse an awkward situation. Besides, she hadn’t lied in the truest sense of the word; she genuinely couldn’t remember what had scared her. She also knew how dangerous it was to crush a child’s dream in this situation.
Now that she had that out of the way, she noticed something different about her current location. The tunnel’s bare rock wasn’t lined with stone tiles like the crypt before, leaving no room for hanging torches. Yet the area was dimly lit regardless, bathed in a soft, blue light that emanated from nowhere in particular.
Gilda squinted her eyes, trying to identify the glow’s source. It had to be some bioluminescent moss or fungus, hidden away in the crevices. She’d had more than enough mysteries for one day, and she was determined to squeeze some answers out one way or another.
“I don’t think she’ll fit in there.”
Gilda snapped around, glaring down at Gwendoline. “Don’t take that tone with me, kid.”
Gwendoline recoiled. “But I didn’t say anything!”
Gilda didn’t break eye contact. Even when caught, kids rarely admitted to their wrongdoings, but she expected to see some level of shame from the chub’s expression. Except… there was none. She met her gaze in equal measure, her cheeks displaying not the slightest amount of red. In fact, her upper beak was quivering.
Was she afraid of her?
Gilda shook her head, dismissing the idea with a harrumph. Old or young, any griffon could mask their emotions if they knew how. If this kid wanted her help, she’d better start treating her with some respect. She needed to learn that all relationships were a give and take; there was no point cooperating with the uncooperative. That would be the first thing Twilight would teach her at the Friendship School, so she’d better internalise it now instead of facing potential consequences later.
“Let’s get going,” Gilda said, turning her back to Gwendoline. “After a run like that, Honey Twist can’t have gotten far.”
To Gilda’s relief, the last fork they’d passed wasn’t far, taking no more than a minute or two to reach. She would’ve wondered why that dead end was there to begin with, but those questions could come later. She needed to focus on the task at hand, lest her head start drowning her in unanswered queries. Whoever built this place was irrelevant. All that mattered was finding the stupid child who thought dusty old ruins were the perfect playground.
Taking the next passage down, Gilda felt a small sense of relief at the sight of more skulls lining the tunnel walls. Creepy as they were, they served as a landmark, indicating this path as part of the crypts. There had to be a way out eventually.
The two griffons walked together in silence, trying not to make excess noise and risk spooking the child they’d come to find – if she existed at all.
Gilda wanted to believe Honey Twist was real. She wanted to believe that, for all their faults, this new generation of kids would grow up to be better than the previous ones. She needed to believe that all of Twilight’s efforts in saving Equestria, time and time again, were worth something. The tunnel wound on, turning this way and that, but still no filly revealed herself. Gilda hoped that she hadn’t been caught in a loop like in the first room, as here there were fewer distinctions to make such a trap obvious. Morbid as they were, all these skulls looked the same, save for the occasional pony or yak skull from long before her time.
Then, suddenly, GIlda stopped, with Gwendoline nearly crashing into her.
“Miss Gilda? What’s–” she asked, but was quickly shushed.
Gilda cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear… what?”
It was hard to pinpoint, but ever since they’d started down this tunnel of skulls, a noise had grown gradually louder. It was hard to describe, but it was something akin to crinkling gravel beneath hooves and talons scraping against stone. It couldn’t have been caused by either of them, as otherwise, she would’ve noticed it the moment she started walking.
“Are you making that noise?” Gilda asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gwendoline replied, shrugging. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine. How can you not hear this? Y’know what? Let’s move on. I’m sure you’ll hear it then.”
As Gilda predicted, the sound did indeed grow louder the further down they went, yet she could still find no source for it. This was starting to get on her nerves. If it wasn’t Gwendoline pranking her, then maybe it was this mysterious friend of hers?
I swear, when I get my talons on that little brat… Gilda sucked in a sharp breath, holding it until she felt her heart rate slow. Where the heck did that thought come from? She’d been a rude, pushy bully before, but never had she even considered physically hurting someone, much less a child.
“Stupid griffon.” Gilda snapped her head to the right. Someone had just whispered in her ear, but Gwendoline was standing to her left.
“Stupid griffon,” the voice said again. All at once, the skulls changed, their jaws draping open as their eyes lit up with a sickly green glow. This had to be an illusion. There was no way the skulls could be laughing at her. “Always the same. You don’t get it, do you? Stupid, stupid. Haha, haha, haha.” Gilda’s eye twitched. Who did this voice think they were? They didn’t know her. They didn’t know how much she’d changed.
“Haha, haha. You? Changed? That’s rich. Nothing ever changes, least of all, you. Haha, haha.” “Shut up.”
“Some friend you are. Haha, haha.” “I said, shut up!”
“Haha, haha, haha!” Rearing up on her hind legs, Gilda slammed her fist into one of the skulls, shattering it on impact. “Will you be quiet?!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs – only to realise who she had bellowed at.
Gwendoline was backing away from her, quivering and on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but I’m sorry. I’m not trying to prank you, I swear.”
Gilda straightened her posture, closing her eyes for a minute. She had to regain some form of composure, lest she scare away the very child she’d come here to help. Holding her talon to her chest, she took a moment to focus on the breathing exercise Twilight taught her.
“Look, Gwendoline, I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “I’ll be honest, this place is giving me the creeps. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m crankier than usual. But that doesn’t mean I should be taking it out on you.”
“Maybe… this was a mistake,” Gwendoline said hesitantly. “Maybe Honey Twist already found her way out. She is a clever filly, after all.”
“I can’t answer that.” Gilda reached out with her talon, gently placing it on Gwendoline’s shoulder. The chub clinched, but stood firm. “Maybe we’ll find her, maybe we won’t. But I said I’d help you, so that’s what I’m gonna do. We’re gonna see this through to the end, one way or another. That’s a promise.”
For a brief moment, Gilda saw a spark light up behind Gwendoline’s eyes, her mouth twitching a tiny smile. “Pinkie Promise?”
Ugh, the things I do for friendship, Gilda groaned internally. She hated this dorky rhyme. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Gwendoline chuckled and swayed side to side a little. Considering everything that had happened, she considered that a small victory in and of itself.
No matter how long and winding the tunnels were, Gilda took solace that there were no more forks or dead ends. The noise died down too, sounding like a vaguely disembodied laughter once again.
These were just small reprieves, but after everything she went through tonight, she wasn’t about to look a gift dragon in the mouth. Her feet were burning from the constant walking, and her head throbbed like no tomorrow. Once she got out of here, she swore she would never give into curiosity-fuelled exploration again.
Gwendoline, by contrast, didn’t seem bothered. Gilda was no fitness expert, though she was still surprised by the sheer lack of complaints coming from the little chub. Any other kid her age would’ve asked for a piggy-back ride by now, but she just kept walking, effortlessly keeping pace.
This, however, wasn’t one of tonight’s mysteries Gilda wanted to question.
She’d lost track of time when she finally spotted a light at the end of the tunnel. At last, her creepy ordeal would be over. She’d return a hero, but more than that, a model griffon for their new society.
“Just a little further, kid,” she said, pointing toward the light. “Then we’ll be home free.”
Gwendoline smiled, but didn’t say a word. Whatever, Gilda thought. So long as she gets out alive, she’ll learn her lesson.
With bated breath, Gilda marched up the last few metres to the tunnel’s threshold.
The sight made her jaw drop.
She’d left the tunnel, but not at ground level. Instead, she had come to a long bridge, bathed in the trickling rays of sunlight and spanning the Abysmal Abyss. At the other end, yet another tunnel beckoned her with its darkness.
No, no, no! Gilda’s mind reeled. Don’t you dare take this away from me! I swear to Celestia, I will tear every damn brick from this goddess-forsaken crypt if it means getting me out!
A strong gust of freezing air rushed past her, her thick coat of feathers doing little to protect her from it. She had to dig her talons into the stone just to keep herself steady.
Downdrafts like these were a feature of the Abysmal Abyss. Few creatures had successfully scaled its walls and lived to tell the tale, much less fly up from it.
But there was a first for everything, and right now, Gilda was more than desperate enough to try.
“Alright, Gwendoline,” she said, turning around. “I need you to trust me from this poi–”
Gilda’s blood ran cold. Gwendoline wasn’t there.
She couldn’t have been blown over the edge. She just couldn’t have. But where else could she have gone?
The sound of clopping hooves answered her questions. Turning back, Gilda saw Gwendoline ahead of her, charging head first into the dark tunnel beyond.
Shit! What was she supposed to do now? As much as she wanted – no, needed – to escape, she couldn’t just let the child she’d rescued leave without her. Even if no one would know about it, the guilt she’d carry would tear her insides to shreds.
Gritting her beak, Gilda threw herself into a gallop, chasing after the chub as fast as her legs could carry her. “Wait up, Gwendoline!”
Once more, she plunged herself into darkness, only to emerge back where she started.
Screeching to a halt, she looked back the way she came. Had she somehow gotten turned around in the darkness? She barely had time to blink before she’d emerged back into the light. Now that she thought about it, she’d assumed she was in daylight, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was more of the glowing moss?
A child’s giggle snapped her back to attention. Gwendoline. Now Gilda was certain. Everything had been some elaborate prank. Well, no more. It was time to end this. She was going to grab that stupid brat and drag her out of here, no matter how long it took.
Around and around she went, throwing herself headlong into the tunnel with no care for where she ended up. Gwendoline would be stuck in the same trap as she was. She’d catch up to her eventually.
It was around her tenth rotation that Gilda noticed how her environment had changed. There wasn’t just one bridge, but many, both above and below her as far as the eye could see. She was no closer to the surface, and yet somehow she’d gone up several feet.
“That does it!” Gilda stamped her feet, yelling loud enough for her voice to echo. “I’m done playing games. Gwendoline, if you’re not out here by the count of ten, I’m leaving you behind. Do you hear me?! One…” she spread her wings to their maximum span, bending her knees in preparation for launch. But the second she looked up, any further counting died in her throat.
She saw herself, standing upside down on the bridge above her. And the one beyond that. And the one beyond that. It was like a hall of mirrors, stretching on in an infinite regress, each more distorted than the last. Many bridges gave way to staircases, connected by towering stone arches constructed at impossible angles.
The reflection above her met her gaze, then the next, then the next after that, staring down at her with a lifeless, wide-eyed glare. Some were chimeric, swapping body parts for those of other creatures, while others looked misshapen and broken.
More than that, they all shared the same lifeless expression, glaring at her with pupil-less eyes as their slack-beaked jaws hung open.
Gilda felt her heart thumping in her chest. Every instinct told her to run, but her muscles wouldn’t respond. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything beyond staring at the segmented doll-like parodies of her.
Then they screamed. It was an ear-piercing, glass-shattering screech, all pointing their claws accusingly at Gilda. It was all she could do to throw her talons over her ears, desperately trying to drown out the noise with her own humming. Sweat soaked her feathers and fur as she began to shake uncontrollably, dropping to the ground and curling up in the foetal position.
She still couldn’t look away from the copies. It felt like her eyes were fixed open, forcing her to watch as her reflections began to decay. Feathers fell out, skin melted off the bones, guts bloated and rotted.
“Such is the way of all things, my eternal dreamers…” the voice returned, no louder than a hushed whisper. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, flesh to rot, rot to bones.”
“Gilda!”
Gilda’s head snapped around, revealing to her the one sight in all of Griffonstone she’d hoped never to see.
“Gilda, help me, please!” Gwendoline reached out for her, clawing at the stone beneath her as the rotting, zombified Gilda clones dug their bacteria-tinted talons into her hide. “No, please, I don’t want to die! I’m sorry! Please, Gilda, help me!”
Gilda tried to get up, tried to crawl, tried to move in any capacity to help the little griffon whom she had dedicated herself to protect. She rose to her feet, fighting tooth and talon to get herself moving. Yet no matter how she pushed herself, she never got any closer. It was as if the ground was stretching beneath her, keeping the chub forever out of reach.
“Destiny. Inevitable. Born to die, like all the rest.”
Gilda’s ghoulish reflections drew blood. It was a small gash at first, but enough to whip her predators into a frenzy. One after the other, they clawed, bit and pecked at her, ripping off large chunks and pulling limbs from sockets. Gwendoline screamed, her eyes rolling back into her head as her face drained of colour. The undead were all over her now, tearing her limb from limb and consuming her flesh.
“This isn’t real!” Gilda screamed, willing with all her might to close her eyes and look away. “This has to be a dream. Wake up, Gilda. Wake up!”
She could not.
She wanted to be sick. Looking down at her talons, she found they were covered in blood, scraps of skin skewered at the end of each finger. “No!”She screamed. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real. I didn’t touch her. I tried to save her, I tried…”
“BE STILL!!!”
At once, the rotting ghouls vanished, replaced instead by the stern visage of Princess Luna. In that moment, GIlda could have kissed her hooves. Of course! It was all just a terrible dream. Her earlier awakening had been false, and all she needed now was for the Princess of the Night to comfort her and snap her out of it.
“Oh, Princess Luna,” Gilda said, her voice ragged. “Thank goodness you’re here. I can’t take much more of this stupid dream. I figure I’ve got a lesson to learn from all this, right?”
“SILENCE!” Luna boomed, still using the royal Canterlot voice. “BEGONE, FOUL DAEMON! WHEREVER YOU CAME FROM, YOU SHALL PLAGUE THESE CREATURES’ MINDS NO MORE!”
“See what they think of you? They see what you are. Accept the inevitable.”
No, that was impossible. Gilda had done nothing wrong. She’d been a jerk, for sure, but not a daemon.
“What are you talking about, Princess Luna? I’m not the–”
“I SAID SILENCE!” Luna sparked her horn to life, grabbing Gilda in her aura and lifting her up to her feet. Luna’s eyes glowed white, her face twisted in a ferocious sneer. “I CAST YE BACK TO THE SHADOWS FROM WHICH YE SPAWNED! BEGONE FROM THESE LANDS AND NEVER RETURN!”
Binding Gilda’s wings, Luna raised her high above her head and threw her over the edge of the bridge, sending her plummeting down into the depths of the Abysmal Abyss.
Gilda awoke with a heavy cough, sputtering blood. Somehow, she had survived the fall. There could be no doubt about the reality of her situation now. She could only speculate as to why Luna had mistaken her for a daemon.
Slowly, her muscles aching and her broken ribs stabbing her abdomen, Gilda rolled to her feet. How had she ended up like this? All she wanted was to do the right thing. She wanted to be a better griffon, to lead by example, despite her misgivings.
But she’d failed. Gwendoline was dead, all because she hadn’t trusted her. She thought she was just another bratty kid, playing pranks on adults thanks to a lack of proper discipline. Now, that same child had paid the price, butchered right in front of her.
Looking around, a tiny trickle of light shone down from above, partially revealing the bodies of the dead that littered the abyssal floor. She shuddered at the sheer disregard for their burial rights. Most were just bones, their flesh long since rotted away.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” the voice inside Gilda’s head remarked. “They found no dignity in death. At least those who lined the hallways were useful to me.”
Sooner or later, Gilda knew she would join them. Her wings were broken, crushed by Princess Luna’s spell, and she had no other means of getting out. Whether through blood loss, disease or starvation, she was finished. She shivered heavily, the abyss’ downdraft carrying all the mountain’s accumulated chill.
But still, she walked. For what reason, she did not know. She just did. If she squinted hard, she could see a vaguely Pegasus-shaped outline – an outline that looked vaguely familiar.
The visage of Princess Twilight Sparkle loomed over Gilda, her expression unreadable. Her lanky build and long, flowing mane resembled Princess Celestia more than the young alicorn Gilda knew.
She wasn’t alone.
From under the shade of her wing, a Pegasus stepped out, her distinctive, multi-coloured mane being instantly recognisable to all who knew her.
“Ah, here they are, at last. As I knew they would.”
“R-Rainbow Dash?” she croaked through her ragged, sore throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Rainbow Dash snapped. Was she angry? Why would she be angry? “I can’t believe you! I thought you’d changed!”
That last word struck Gilda like a lightning bolt. Through pained wheezing, she asked, “What… what are you talking… about?”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know.” Dash flared her wings, dragging her hoof across the ground like she was ready to charge. “I knew you were a jerk, but I never pegged you for a murderer!”
“Well, I for one knew it all along.”
From the corner of her eye, another pony manifested. Gilda hadn’t spoken much with this white unicorn, but she knew it was one of Rainbow Dash’s friends. “Rarity?”
“Keep your filthy name out of my mouth!” Rarity turned her nose up at Gilda in disgust. “I’m glad you never came back to Ponyville. Your kind are the last sort of creature we should deal with.”
“This can’t be happening.” Gilda slumped back to her haunches, a pain far greater than her physical injuries washing over her. “Princess Luna? Twilight? Anyone? Please, I know I’m no saint, but I’m not a killer. You have to believe me!”
“Oh no, you are not beggin’ for help from Princess Twilight,” Applejack said, morphing from the image of Rainbow Dash. The shadow of her stetson obscured part of her face, but Gilda knew what she was feeling from voice alone. “She ain’t gonna be bailin’ out a thing as evil as you. Not this time.”
“I knew you were cruel, but this is too much,” Fluttershy cried, appearing next to Applejack. She looked pale, deathly so, as if she were about to die from fright. “Stay away from me!”
Out of all of Twilight’s friends, there was one Gilda dreaded seeing the most. She had been a massive handful, both in Ponyville and during her first visit to Griffonstone, and that was when she was happy.
Emerging from between Applejack and Fluttershy, a pink earth pony emerged, her once poofy hair now falling flat across her face. Her head was bowed.
“You’ve been naughty, Gilda,” Pinkie Pie said, her voice reverberating as her neck bones creaked with her twisting head. “You’ve been very very naughty.”
“Stay away from me!” Gilda forced herself to move, all but crawling backwards. With each step, magic emanated from Pinkie Pie’s hooves, reconstructing the bones into an army of griffon skeletons.
“You broke a Pinkie Promise,” Pinkie said in a sing-song voice. Slowly, she looked up, revealing her broad, twisted grin as her head continued to spin right around. “Liar, liar, hooves on fire. You know what happens to liars?”
“I didn’t…” Tears streamed down Gilda’s face, soaking her already damp, matted feathers. She would’ve gladly taken death on impact over torture like this. “I didn’t…”
One hoof at time, Twilight and her friends crept forward, their jaws unhinging and their faces twisting in an almost serpentine manner. Two red glowing eyes merged into one across Pinkie Pie’s face, a long, scorpion-like tail with a serrated point bursting from her hindquarters.
“Liar, liar, liar!” they all chanted, flesh slowly melting from their bones. “Break her bones, smash her face! Kill, kill, kill the liar!”
“I’m not a liar…” Gilda said through her gritted beak.
“Liar! Liar! Kill the liar!”
“I am not a liar!” Gilda forced herself to her feet, yelling back louder.
“Liar! Liar! Kill the Liar!”
“I. AM. NOT. A. LIAR!!!” Closing her eyes, Gilda took in a deep breath and bellowed a ferocious roar, one she had not used since tormenting Fluttershy on her first visit to Ponyville. The skeleton army crumbled, with Twilight and her friends recoiling from her thunderous voice.
“Ah, at last.”
Breathing heavily, Gilda opened her eyes. The ponies who bore the Elements of Harmony were no longer hurling accusations at her; they were bowing.
“Now do you understand?” the strange voice said, speaking not with a tone of mockery, but one of comfort – like a mother reassuring their bullied child. “Now you see their true colours. For all their sweet platitudes of friendship being magic, their judgement is absolute.”
“They… hate me,” Gilda said. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. It was as true as the fact of Gwendoline’s death. “They’ve always hated me.”
“They have, but not I. I merely held up the mirror, revealing those who would stab you in the back. That is what they did to my dreamers.”
“You were trying to help me?”
“Aha, now you understand. They’re not so judgemental now that you refused to bow to their will. See, here? I have a present for you.”
Behind Twilight, a stone stairway had risen, leading to the last thing Gilda expected to see in a graveyard. A throne. A throne made of bones, bound in the decaying, maggot-infested flesh of the recently deceased.
“Here, sit. Take your throne, my new Rot Queen. Accept my power, and show them who's boss. Show the Griffons what they threw away so carelessly.”
Gilda smiled. The time had long since passed for trying to please the unpleasable. Ambling forward as fast as she could manage, she ascended the stairs, taking her place on the throne.
The moment she sat down, six bony arms burst free from their fleshy bindings, digging their talons into her flesh. A green magic aura flared around them, the channelled dark power rotting Gilda from the inside out.
Now, at last, she saw everything; images flashed in her mind's eye revealing all points in space and time, past, present and future. She saw the rise of Equestria, the fall of Griffonstone. She saw the sealing of magic from the ponykind in the distant future, reviving the hostile prejudices that, in an age long ago, had divided the three pony tribes and summoned the Windigoes.
“Time is a circle. All that is and ever was shall always be, bowing to but one eternal force: that of decay.”
Gilda smiled. The voice was right. It had always been right. She knew this was the end. She didn’t care. Anything was better than subjugating herself to those pompous ponies who thought themselves better. Now, she would no longer feel the pain of loss, nor the guilt imposed by her supposed superiors.
“Dear Princess Luna. Please meet me in Griffonstone post-haste. We must discuss a matter of utmost urgency.”
Of all the creatures Princess Luna had expected to receive a letter from, Discord wasn’t one of them. If she were honest, she still felt somewhat uneasy being around him, given their history. In her mind, she had accepted Discord’s reformation, but her heart still clung to the same old scraps of resentment, no matter how much she rationalised it.
She would have dismissed this as another of Discord’s pranks, were it not for the straightforward and frank nature of the letter. Rarely, if ever, did he ever get right to the point – no riddles, no jokes, just the straight facts.
But why Griffonstone, of all places? Aside from the trouble the education regulators had given Twilight’s school, the griffons were peaceful allies, keeping themselves to themselves beyond the occasional friendship student.
Still, she did as Discord asked. She doubted he would ask her to come all the way to Griffonstone without a very good reason. So, she organised a private train to take her most of the way, leaving the night after she received the letter. It took her a few hours to fly from the nearest station, but accounted for it, arriving in Griffonstone just before Sunrise.
Upon her arrival, Discord manifested himself in front of the old castle ruins. Already, a small crowd was gathering, curious to see what business the Princess of the Night had with the legendary Draconequs.
“Discord. It’s been a while,” Luna greeted him, a little out of breath from the long flight. “I got your letter. I take it that the news you wish to discuss is not a pleasant matter.”
“Perceptive as ever, Princess Luna,” Discord said with a bow, his expression uncharacteristically grim. “Tell me, have you encountered anything strange in Griffon dreams lately?”
Luna thought about that for a moment. She visited hundreds, if not thousands of dreams every night, with only a fraction of those being spread across all of Equestria’s allies. All dreams could be categorised into simple trends, and those of Griffons was no exception. “Other than some recurring nightmares of monsters, I cannot say any were noteworthy.”
Discord sighed. “As much as I wished we could meet under better circumstances, I have sensed something terrible coming from Griffonstone’s old castle ruins. Something older and far more dangerous than even me. I suspect it’s tied to the dreams.”
“I don’t understand.” Luna cocked an eyebrow. “I was already one hundred years old when my sister and I first encountered you. Other than Tirek, what danger could be so ancient that not even I know about it? And invading dreams, no less?”
“With all due respects, the fact that you are ignorant is precisely the reason I have never brought it up before. I am not the only creature of chaos, my dear Luna. It seems I was too fixated on distracting ponies, exclusively, and not other races.”
Luna knew all too well how dangerous a rogue deity could be. Though she never considered herself to be of such a status, her nature as an Alicorn had already brought Equestria – and, by extension, the planet – to the brink of ruin. Her Tantabus was keen to remind her of that.
Before Discord could explain any further, a series of loud bangs echoed out from the castle ruins. Listening carefully, it sounded like some creature thumping against wooden doors.
“Help! Help!” The distorted voice of Gilda called. “Let me out of here! Let me out!”
