Luna stood, surrounded by the dead and the dying.

She stood in the old world, searching for the Tomb of Nightmares. This is the land where the founders of Equestria had came from. Ponies still lived here, but they were so very different from ponykind in Equestria.

The different tribes lived at war with one another, and the fight had gone on for centuries.

The only unifying force in the region was the cult, the Shroud of Nightmares, who brought control and order as they settled through the region, spreading the faith of Nightmare Moon. She who would rise from the dead and shroud the world in darkness, saving only those who faithfully served her, and her alone.

None of Luna’s own guard had perished in the conflict, but there had been injuries. The day would end soon, Luna’s sister still in control of the sun, even on the other side of the world.

Rookwood could not manifest in the daylight, not yet, so Luna had made her beloved proud, sending many souls to meet Rookwood and his masters.

Luna carefully stepped through the battlefield, looking for survivors suitable for gathering intelligence from. A unicorn called out to her, moaning, one leg twitching, begging for mercy. Luna obliged, planting one shod hoof upon his skull delicately, bidding him goodbye, and then pressing downward with a sickening crunch.

Even on the battlefield, the Moon Goddess was delicate and dainty.

The lunar pegasi had a disadvantage attacking in the day, weakened, but even with their weakness, a few hundred had killed well over a thousand. And the survivors would die soon enough, Luna was not taking prisoners.

“Mistress, we have a captured commander,” Ragebellow grunted, stomping down upon a squirming pegasus that was feebly kicking at him. “Unicorn. Now subdued. Also, hornless. The prisoner is hornless. There was a bit of an accident. He accidently cast spells at me.”

Luna gave a grim laugh and looked her own trusted commander in the eye. “I shall have to have a discussion with him I suppose,” she said, her voice more than a little haughty.

It felt good to be back in battle, fighting something. Peace was pleasant, but boring. Luna was content to let her sister handle peaceful endeavours. War was brewing, above and below, and Luna worried that her foal would be born in a world torn by war, but it was also something she subconsciously desired. Luna was at her best when she was at her worst. Her best personality traits manifested when she was acting as a protector. Luna needed to be needed.

A massive swarm of flying death soared above the treeline, Luna’s Legion swiftly approaching their destination. The massive swarm of lunar pegasi also contained a few unicorns, pulled along in chariots, along with Luna, who was also riding in a chariot.

Somewhere, on the horizon, the Tomb of Nightmares awaited them. It had once been an actual tomb, and the tomb was still there, but now, it was a library, a place of operations for the cult, and a school of magic for those who found favour.

Tonight, it would be plundered, the inhabitants slaughtered, and, if all went well, Gibbous Moon would be sent to Tartarus to answer for his crimes. Luna’s loyal guard cackled like crows, eager for another fight. The lunar pegasi lived for war, this was their bread and butter. Sitting around the castle doing nothing had driven them to distraction. They were spoiling for a good fight, and the conflict earlier today had merely whetted their appetites. Teeth were bared as they flew, tongues lolled, and guttural grunts came from overly excited guards, both male and female, the much larger females dwarfing the males.

Excited slobber rained down from the flapping swarm, all of them hungry for battle.

“Before you depart for your task there is something you should know,” Death said to Rookwood, who stood before his throne, waiting patiently, a new to Rookwood relaxed stance. Undeath had been good for Rookwood, he had gained a great deal of confidence that he lacked in life.

“Yes Death?” Rookwood replied, looking up at the two headed pony upon the throne, doing so without fear, looking up, not at his master, but his mentor, and now a trusted friend as well, or so Rookwood believed. What Rookwood did not know was that the feeling was indeed mutual. A bond of trust had formed, and now steadily grew between the two.

“You are scheduled to reap the soul of one Gibbous Moon, his time is nearly up. His soul is scheduled for examination, and his final hour has been called by the Fates,” Death said with a furious tone, his agitation evident with the way one hoof tapped upon the arm of his throne.

Rookwood nodded, realising this was a sign that he would be successful tonight. There was no chance for failure, and Rookwood was silently thankful for this assurance of completion for his task ahead.

“We are going to become quite busy,” sighed Death, looking down at his faithful servant.

Another nod came from Rookwood, who stood looking pensive, Violet rubbing up against his leg, her face beaming with happiness at the news. Rookwood realised there were an unusual number of bone golems standing around, waiting and watching, twitching occasionally from impatience. “Busy? So I take it that Gibbous Moon will not be coming alone,” Rookwood reasoned, reaching up and rubbing his chin, his fetlock rubbing up against his avocado coloured hide thoughtfully.

“I do not know what is about to happen actually, the Fates refused to tell me. They commanded me to be prepared for a grand spectacle and then said no more. The Fates can be slightly annoying at times,” Death said in a low whisper, knowing that Tartarus was full of ears. They could be found everywhere, usually torn free from the damned and left littering the ground.

Somepony really should spend more time cleaning this place up.

Rookwood nodded in agreement, having met the Fates several times already. She unnerved him. The Fates were an undead chimera, with the heads of an equine, a griffon, and a dragon, all attached to the long serpentine body of a draconequus.

The Fates had once told Rookwood that he would only find happiness in slavery.

Luna’s Legions devoured the sky, rushing towards the ever distant horizon. A flock of pegasi had flown up to attempt to intercept them, slowing them down only briefly, they had been dealt with swiftly and surely, no match for the battle starved lunar pegasi.

Luna felt like it was the bad old days all over again, the days of Discord and Sombra. Back when there were real threats. The sun loomed on the horizon as they traveled, leaving them in near perpetual twilight as they traveled west towards the setting sun.

The unknown lay before them, and Luna rushed to greet it.

Luna could see lights in the distance, a settlement was ahead of them, and Luna knew this is what they sought. She could see a few buildings in the distance. And something else. Something large loomed in the distance. Luna could not see what it was, but it stood as tall as a tower, as large as fortress.

Enemy pegasi were rising up to greet them now, and a wing detached from the Legion to intercept them, the Mistress’ Marauders delighting in their bloody task. The air filled with screams and it began to rain blood as the enemy pegasi were eviscerated midair, wings torn from their bodies, heads and limbs torn free from writhing torsos left to plummet to the earth.

Luna watched from her chariot, feeling joyful, her eyes wide with excitement, her heart pounding in her barrel, her ears filled with the screams of those who were victorious… and those who were not.

At last, the sun finally slipped below the horizon, and darkness slowly began to shroud the land. In the last dying glow of twilight, Luna saw that the enormous figure in the distance was shaped like a pony. It was close now, close enough to see in detail, and it horrified Luna.

It was a massive structure, made of wicker, and it was full of ponies. She could see them, all different colours and hues, all packed in and compressed inside the wicker cage in the shape of giant wicker pony. As the sounds of death filled the air all around her, Luna’s blood nearly froze in her veins as she realised what she saw in the dim and dying remains of the day, her superiour night vision showing her everything in perfect detail.

There had to be over a thousand ponies trapped inside the wicker cage.

Those in the center of the writhing mass had already likely suffocated, or so Luna hoped. As the night began to darken, the sun finally moving on to light other lands, flames began to lap at the giant wicker pony’s hooves.

Terrible screams filled the air, horrid panicked screams of burning equines.

Luna’s heart ached at the tragedy.

Suddenly the night was almost as bright as day again, the wicker pony steadily igniting, the burning ponies creating a wick effect as their flesh melted and their fat rendered into oil, trickling down to feed the flames, flames fueled by the combustible grease created by the burning writhing masses trapped inside the vast wicker structure. Black smoke began to rise from the burning pony, and the agonised screams filled the air.

Battle was joined. The air were filled now with enemy pegasi and unicorns fired spells upward from the ground. Luna had flown from her chariot, and circled overhead, high above the melee, a few trusted guard circling with her. Luna carefully fired spells through the chaotic mess, peppering the ground with spellfire.

The air around her grew cold, and she knew Rookwood was near.

He manifested a moment later, a translucent figure, a glowing spectre in the night, struggling to take form as the flames from the wicker pony illuminated the night sky. The look on his face when he saw the burning wicker pony mirrored Luna’s own face when she had realised what it was, and the fate of those inside of it. His insubstantial body floated, drifting in the swirling currents, no need for wings, his legs merely trailing wisps of black shadow.

The air was filled with the terrible and gag inducing smell of roasted pony flesh.

Rookwood’s form shimmered and became that of a large black avian, looking somehow skeletal, and he plunged, Luna watched him go, sweeping down towards the ground, death on black wings, a frightening terror to all those who opposed them. Luna saw that some of the enemy pegasi died from fright as Rookwood blew past them, eyes going wide, faces seizing in terror, wings failing to keep flapping, their bodies frozen in fear and plummeting to the earth, bursting and popping as they struck the ground, giblets and innards splattering everywhere. The lucky ones died at the sight of the terror inducing spectre. The unlucky ones died at the fangs and hooves of the lunar pegasi, ripped to pieces midair, savaged by creatures who thirsted for death and had found it, now locked in a frenzy, an orgy of blood and dismemberment. Long dormant instincts had been revived.

Luna knew that these guard would never be fit to be allowed near their gentle kinfolk ever again, this battle forever changing their fundamental natures and reawakening their inner monstrous desires. They had tasted blood… and pony flesh. They would never be able to be trusted in the civilised lands ever again and would have to go to the island colonies, free to hunt and be the savage creatures they had always been deep inside.

It was a small price to pay. Luna understood the checks and balances of working towards the greater good. As she watched the scene of horror playing itself out below, the battle illuminated by the ghastly light of the still burning wicker pony, Luna felt a movement inside of her belly, something lived in there, something she had to protect, something she had to keep from this darkness. She resolved to sweep this threat from the world for the sake of her foal, steeling herself to make whatever sacrifices necessary.

The wicker pony finally collapsed, burning bodies spilling forth, some still somehow alive, but not for long as they ran around on the ground, ablaze, burning, their frantic movements jerky and in pain as the fires consumed their flesh.

Luna’s forces attacked the library in earnest, breaching the doors, crashing through windows, shadow diving into insubstantial clouds, creeping in, and then reforming into the very stuff of nightmares. The barracks and other buildings suffered similar fates. Many buildings were on fire now. The unicorns were being herded into groups and making last stands.

Luna watched as Rookwood fled the battle, moving off towards the distant treeline, still in the form of a large somewhat skeletal avian, leaving a trail of terror behind him, causing some to die and others to faint, which was still a death sentence in the swirling chaos.

Paper cuts!

Gibbous Moon ran, fleeing the battle he had been so certain of winning, his mind flooded with terror. The glorious wicker pony full of victims offered up to his Goddess had done nothing, and the illumination it had offered could not keep him away. Him!

Gibbous Moon could almost feel the sting of the paper’s edge sliding over his various body parts even as he ran, fleeing the horrendous spectre that was his tormentor. His pucker clenched violently as he ran, the memory still fresh in his mind, terrible memories that he could not be rid of.

He whimpered and gibbered as he ran, panicked pleading noises hitching in his throat.

Rookwood had scared him, terrified him, horrified him in a way that Nightmare Moon never had. Rookwood understood that it was the little things that scared a pony. Nightmare Moon tended towards the over the top things. Gibbous Moon screeched in terror of the flood of nightmarish images that flooded his brain as he ran through the woods.

Behind him, Rookwood prowled the woods, Gibbous Moon could sense him, it made his horn tingle with alarm and panic. He kept running, his breathing now ragged, panting, his heart near bursting.

Ahead of him, he saw two flickering blue lights hovering in the distance.

And then, he saw it.

Something new that would haunt his mind.

A skeleton, at least a hundred feet long, standing before him, looming alarmingly in the darkness, blue flames dancing in its eye sockets.

“Hello Gibbous Moon.” the giant skeleton said cheerfully.

Gibbous Moon skidded to a halt, his breath prisoner in his throat.

“The good news is you can stop running now. The bad news is, you ran. Rookwood tried to help you, and this is the thanks you give him?” asked the bony figure.

There was no reply from Gibbous Moon.

“I almost showed up to bring Rookwood a supply of fresh lemons,” commented the skeletal figure, drumming his claws rhythmically on the ground. “But that would have been a little theatrical and maybe even slightly cruel. Rookwood is many things, but real true cruelty really isn’t a part of his marrow, which is a pity. You deserve to suffer so much for the indignities you have caused and the sins you have committed. The corruption you have created. The innocent soul you have forever blackened.”

“Y-you,” whimpered Gibbous Moon, pissing himself suddenly.

“Yes, me. Me being Hades. Even now, my devoted servant seeks you. I am here to end you. I am not supposed to interfere in these affairs, but I have never been one to follow the rules. And for you, for you I felt a need to speak to you personally while you still had flesh. You’ve been a very naughty pony. You have so much to answer for,” Hades said in a sulfurous whisper.

“No…” begged Gibbous Moon. “Paper cuts!”

“Still going on about that are you? I’ll have a word with Rookwood about the job well done. Any last witty parting words?” asked Hades.

Gibbous Moon fell silent, not moving, barely breathing, no sounds coming from his tightened throat, his legs no longer able to move to allow him to run to safety.

“Well then, this is it then,” said Hades, reaching backwards and absentmindedly scratching his ribs with a claw, making infernal screeching noises as he did so.

“Boo!”

Gibbous Moon let out a strangled gasp before falling to the ground.

Rookwood saw the body ahead of him, the corpse of Gibbous Moon. His senses tingled. He was meant to be here, he had a distinct feeling that he was on time, a brief feeling of pleasure somewhere deep within him knowing that he was performing his task, rather than the nagging dread that he was failing.

The afterlife had its own checks and balances.

Gibbous Moon’s translucent spectral form stood over his corpse, looking very frightened and scared, connected to his body by a short silver strand. He could not run, he could not flee, and he stared at Rookwood as he approached.

“Gibbous Moon,” greeted Rookwood.

Gibbous Moon said nothing, but continued to stare at Rookwood, who was now in pony form. Rookwood had no horn, he was simply a pony, nothing less, nothing more, a faint green figure glowing in the night.

Another figure approached in the darkness, this one dark blue, bringing with her a circle of radiance, her wings making no noise as she swooped between the trees, two shaggy panting lunar pegasi at her sides. They landed, but did not approach too closely.

“Well, I am not sure what killed you, I suppose your heart must have gave out in the chase,” Rookwood said, looking down at the corpse. “But I am here to collect you and bring you to your judgment. I ask you now… do you submit? Will you go willingly?”

Gibbous Moon offered no answer, he merely stood there, now looking defiant.

Rookwood looked genuinely sad for a moment, sorrow settling over his features. “Very well then, your defiance is noted,” Rookwood said as the silver thread connecting Gibbous Moon to his corpse was severed by an unseen force. “Now I will take you to Tartarus and you will begin the slow torturous process to your own redemption,” he added, his words cold and almost unfeeling. Only Luna could detect the faint hint of anger and grief in Rookwood’s words.

Rookwood touched the form of Gibbous Moon and the two spectral ponies vanished, leaving Luna alone with her guard. Luna took wing again, returning to the scene of battle, knowing that the night’s labours had only just begun.

Author's Notes:

Next chapter...

Much ado about Tartarus. There are many dead to be accounted for.