Tartarus was full of the dead.

There were almost too many to count. All around him, Rookwood saw flickering figures connected to bonepiles. Some distance quite away, Hades and the Fates sat on a balcony, observing this theatre of the damned. Death sat on his throne, looking somehow annoyed, bored, and perturbed. And there was Rookwood, lost in the middle of it all, overwhelmed, confused, and attempting to restore some sense of order.

“What is the meaning of all of this?” Rookwood asked, his voice echoing through the impossibly large space. Other voices echoed his. Other Reapers were arriving now. Some walking in, others manifesting. This was a spectacle, a rare sight, and no one was going to miss this.

“Are you prepared to do your task Rookwood? Death asked, his heads speaking in unison, raising one hoof high in a gesture of everything around him.

“I am prepared to deal with the soul I have collected from the death of Gibbous Moon, but I do not know what to make of all of this!” Rookwood replied.

“And what of all of these that perished under Gibbous Moon, and these faithful dead who fell helping you to capture him? These are yours to deal with as well,” Death said with a solemn sense of finality.

“I must judge those who have served me faithfully and condemn them to their fates?” Rookwood asked, his voice finally faltering slightly.

“Yes, Reaper of Lost Foals. These good ponies served you well and fought under your Princess’ command. They died doing your work. And you will send them to whatever punishment they deserve in their afterlife,” Death announced.

For a moment, Rookwood slumped, looking defeated, but only for a moment. He resumed his stature, regained his composure, and held his head high. “Do I have free reign to work as I see fit?” asked Rookwood, his voice still nervous even though he stood tall.

“Within reason,” replied Hades, his voice thundering from the balcony.

Licking his lips nervously, Rookwood extended his will towards a pile of lunar pegasus bones, ignoring Gibbous Moon for now. They floated through the air, clinking together faintly, each of them landing in the scales near Death’s throne. The scale dropped on one side, and a shaggy lunar pegasus took form on the scales. He looked very surprised.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You are dead, this is Tartarus,” Rookwood said gently.

“Oh bugger,” he said, hearing Rookwood’s words. “I haven’t been a good pony.”

“I know,” Rookwood answered. “Would you like to make up for that?”

“I’m dead, isn’t it a little late for that?” the flickering form of the lunar pegasus asked.

“Never too late for redemption,” Rookwood said.

“Ah,” the condemned soul sighed, looking somewhat relieved.

“You are looking at some serious time contemplating your many failures,” Rookwood announced, his mind filling with knowledge of the fallen dead. “Time under the gentle mercies of the punishers followed by some time as bonepile. You will not enjoy this experience. After your required time, you will be free to go into Elysium and seek whatever happiness you find there,” Rookwood assured.

“I’ve never been the sunshine and rainbows sort,” the fallen guard confessed. “Elysium sounds boring actually.”

There were gasps from the gathered Reapers.

“Good, that makes what I am about to do easier,” Rookwood said, raising his head as high as possible and trying to look commanding. “Serve me. I cannot give you life, but I can give you unlife. You will be little more than a moldering corpse in the land of the living, but I require an army. I require soldiers for the tough times coming ahead. I require undying loyalty from those who serve me. Serve me and be spared the unspeakable horrors that await you, and the eternal boredom of the endless green pastures beyond the gate,” Rookwood promised.

“So… I get to spend my afterlife, fighting? Destroying worthy enemies? Locked into combat forever? I dunno,” the fallen guard replied.

There were low murmurs from the collected Reapers, and a commotion from the balcony where the Fates and Hades rested.

“One hundred years then, at the end of which, you can decide to keep serving or you can go to your eternal rest, having earned your final peace, free to go without torment,” Rookwood bargained.

“You will not get a better deal!” Hades thundered through the immense cavern.

“I accept,” the fallen guard whispered and vanished.

He reformed, standing in flickering form next to Rookwood. He blinked, looking very surprised, and began to study his spectral form.

“You have made a wise choice Rolling Bones. Your gambling hurt so many more than you know,” Rookwood said, smiling. “You are my first, I shall place you in command. I am sure there will be more.”

“This is still a gamble,” Rolling Bones said, looking at his cutie mark, which was a pair of dice.

With a sigh, Rookwood summoned forth the next bones of the fallen guard.

The grim theatre seemed endless. Of the fallen guards, almost all chose service, with only one choosing to cast his fate to time spent with the punishers and some time spent as a bone pile. Rookwood’s army grew. Both male and female lunar pegasi had fallen, and now, stood again, standing around in spectral form, talking to one another, some of them looking very pleased with themselves.

One had offered eternal service…which Rookwood seriously pondered. At the end of one hundred years, the choice of another hundred years could always be offered. And again. Certainly, at some point, eternity would become tedious.

The task had only begun, there were still thousands of bonepiles, all giving off a lot of heat, some of them actually burning, some of them giving off faint cries.

Rookwood regarded them next, pondering all those who must have died in the wicker pony. These were tormented souls, having suffered a terrible fate in life, now awaiting a terrible fate in death.

Rookwood could not bear to place them in the scales. He stomped his hoof, and suddenly, the cavern was filled with the keening and wailing of the damned, those burnt in the wicker pony, many of them still burning in their afterlife.

More strange magic at work.

They were ponies of all tribes, pegasus ponies, earth ponies, unicorn ponies, and all of them had died horribly, placed inside the wicker pony and set on fire. They screeched and gibbered, their lives stolen.

Rookwood was glad that Violet was off with Celestia during all of this, but knew the sun would rise upon her location soon. She would need to be here for Gibbous Moon, and he hesitated to call her.

Rookwood gazed into the depths of Tartarus, and the dead of Tartarus gazed back at him, so many eyes gazed upon him and waited for him to do something.

“I cannot give you back what was taken from you!” Rookwood said to the gathered dead. “But I can give you a chance to push back the darkness and help to protect those who would do what was done to you to others!” Rookwood cried.

The burning dead shrieked in response, making a truly awful wail.

“Serve me. Become my messengers. I will soon become the Lord of Nightmares. I offer you the same deal I offered my undead guard. One hundred years of service and you will go into Elysium without having to pay penance. Help me deliver nightmares, and I will release you from your torment,” Rookwood promised.

A unified cry rose up from the dead, and one by one, the flames and the burning began to cease, the fires finally ending. Nopony refused. After some time, Rookwood realised that he had himself a much needed army, both soldiers and messengers. It was small, but it was a start.

Rookwood waited, knowing that Violet would arrive soon.

The scales fell with a clack, and Gibbous Moon cried out. The surrounding dead called and jeered, and this had somehow become a gross public spectacle. Violet stood nearby, oddly silent, and Hades had come down off of the balcony to stand near.

Before Rookwood could even begin to summon shadow, Gibbous Moon began to plead for forgiveness and mercy.

“I did wrong, I hurt others, I brought dark foul magic back into the world that had been forgotten. I wanted power. I wanted to rule, and Nightmare Moon promised me my own kingdom, and that I would have all the wealth and power I ever wanted, and that she would show me the secrets of ages long past, including the magic of one called Sombra. I read about his works, they intrigued me. I made deals with fell forces, Lords of dark things here in Tartarus. I have brought my self to ruination,” he admitted, dropping his head.

Rookwood did not extend his shadow tendrils. He felt no need. Violet looked at him curiously, then nodded her agreement. Hades stood nearby, tapping one claw on the floor, looking at Rookwood and then at the Reaper of Ponies.

“One hundred years of punishment under the tormentors, one hundred years as a bone pile,” Rookwood announced. “As a special punishment, the tormentors are to bisect your soul using paper,” Rookwood added.

An anguished wail came from Gibbous Moon as he collapsed upon the scales.

“It was paper that brought you to this end. Paper from which you gained the black knowledge that you did. And it is by paper that you will atone for your actions,” Rookwood said to the sobbing figure.

“Poetic justice,” muttered Hades.

Violet said nothing but stared up at Rookwood, silent, blinking slowly, looking somewhat bothered. She sat down with a sigh of resignation.

The crowds parted as the tormentors came to claim the condemned unicorn, who did not go quietly, screaming and gibbering about “paper.”

“You did good out there,” Hades complimented, looking down at Rookwood. “I think you’ve earned something for your work.” The undead draconequus reached down and touched Rookwood, pressing one claw carefully on top of Rookwood’s skull, not doing any harm, just touching.

“There,” Hades announced, “that should serve well. You serve a unique living capacity, so I have taken the liberty of crafting you a new living body. Something beyond mere shadow and a bit more than a skeletal form for the realm of the living. The body will be weak to start out, but will gain strength over time.”

“I can’t tell any difference,” Rookwood said, trying to look at himself.

“Wait, you’ll see the difference soon enough,” Hades promised.

“Thank you,” Rookwood said, his tone warm and grateful.

“Been a long time since I’ve enjoyed doing my job. Or looked forward to my task,” Hades confessed. “Been feeling a renewed interest lately.”

“I suppose things have been exciting,” Rookwood admitted.

“More than that. I’ve missed the living. Some of them. Celestia. Luna. Practically family. And now you. Being immortal makes it hard to keep friends. If you are not careful, you will drift away and go into bad places. After a few hundred years, you can run out of things to talk about, things to do, no matter how much you love someone, and then you are in danger of drifting away. I love Celestia and Luna a great deal, and yet I drifted away from them. I stopped talking to them. I ran out of things to say. I ran out of reasons to drop in and say hello. Don’t make this mistake with Luna,” Hades warned.

“It is a sobering thought,” Rookwood replied.

“Every day became exactly the same,” Hades confessed. “Sure, now you have days like this one, these are great days, but at some point, this will become a grind. It will become your job, your career, and you will go home to Luna at some point, and you will begin to feel bored. Avoid that at all costs,” Hades said.

“How?” Rookwood asked.

“I don’t know,” Hades said, shrugging.

“You have me a bit worried Hades,” Rookwood confessed.

“You should be a bit worried. Find a way to avoid the pitfall,” Hades said.

“I wish I understood more of what you are saying,” Rookwood said.

“Lodestar will help out a lot I’m sure,” Hades said. He winced. “Damnit, I don’t think I should have said that!” Hades swore.

“Who is Lodestar?” Rookwood asked, looking uncertain.

“Your first foal. You and Luna are going to have a LOT of foals,” Hades said. “Damnit, I just did it again, the Fates are going to rip me a new one,” Hades muttered.

“Foals?” Rookwood asked.

“Never mind, forget I said anything,” Hades said.

“Making foals endlessly isn’t a bad way to spend eternity… “ Rookwood said thoughtfully.

“Maybe that’s the trick,” Hades said. “Maybe I should ask the Fates if she wants to get fleshy with me,” Hades said, shuddering with disgust.

“Lodestar?” Rookwood asked.

“She is going to ruin your afterlife,” Hades slowly admitted.

“That bad huh?” Rookwood said.

“The Fates say she is going to be one of the most problematic foals ever in existence,” Hades said.

“Oh… oh no,” Rookwood said, his voice dropping low.

“Go to her Rookwood, Luna I mean, keep her happy, she deserves that,” Hades commanded. “Balance out all of this death, spend some time with the living.”

“As soon as the dark arrives in her location, I plan to go,” Rookwood said.

“Good. I am going to go visit Celestia and see what sort of mischief I can stir up with her,” Hades said, his tail swishing.

Author's Notes:

This chapter suffered some major rework. I don't know if I like it. It dragged horribly.

I cut so much away. I hope it wasn't too deep.