Scrounger was completely alone, looking out amongst the vast and open field he'd been left in. The air was like ice, and while he would have wanted nothing more than to find shelter from this bitterness, there was none to be had. The minutes passed as he waited here, knowing that the last of the spirits would be arriving at any moment, though he could not see it. As he kept on walking along the dry and dead grass beneath his hooves, he began to notice the changing weather. While the whole place had been grey and depressing, now there was a thick mist pouring in from every direction, almost as if it was purposely closing in on him specifically. Though, given everything else he'd been through tonight, that wouldn't have surprised him.

In mere moments, he was surrounded, nothing but impenetrable white as far as his old eyes could see. He fumbled around a bit, trying to get his bearings, but it wasn't long before the arrival of a new sound stopped him dead in his tracks. It was hoofsteps, that much was certain. But this was not the sound of hoofsteps upon the soft grass below, but almost as if it was colliding with stone, or concrete. It was a heavy sound, and one that sent shivers down Scrounger’s spine, even more so than the cold air around him. He couldn't make out exactly where the sound was coming from, so he darted his head left and right trying to see who was approaching. Eventually, his ears managed to let him know that, whoever it was, they were right behind him. He didn't want to, but he felt compelled to turn around and look.

And when he did, he felt his heart skip a beat. It was another mare, but this was no simple earth pony like the last. This was an alicorn. Her fur was as black as night, and her mane an ethereal blue, flowing without the presence of wind. Her eyes were light green and piercing, almost like the eyes of a dragon. And she was adorned in azure-coloured armour, clad over her chest, head and hooves. But it was her size that truly intimidated him. He knew alicorns were large, but he'd never been this close to one. She towered over him like a giant, looking down on him as a parent might look down upon a child. Scrounger felt smaller than he'd ever done in his life. What caught his notice most thought was her silence. She didn't say a word. No introduction or anything. But since he'd already had spirits of the past and future, there was no doubt in his mind who this mare was, as shown by his next words.

"Are...are you the Ghost of Hearth's Warming Yet-to-Come?"

The mare remained silent, only giving him his answer by way of a simple, yet foreboding nod of her head. Scrounger gulped as he took a nervous step towards her.

"Spirit. I fear you more...than any spectre I have met this night. But even so...I am prepared to walk with you, as I have the other spirits."

Like before, silence was all this mare would give the old stallion, keeping her gaze on him sternly. After a few deep breaths, Scrounger worked up the nerve to speak to her yet again.

"If I may, spirit. The night is waning fast. Please...begin your lesson."

There were no words, as always, but it was here that the dark alicorn finally moved from her stationary position. She raised a hoof and pointed to the side, towards the thick wall of fog beside them. Scrounger looked at it, and then to her, before nodding. Having received his consent, the mare lowered her hoof before walking in the direction she'd pointed, with Scrounger in tow. The stallion followed her, only to be taken aback as he saw the fog begin to part, as if it obeyed her will. After a few minutes of following her, he began to hear something up ahead. To his surprise, it was the sound of somepony talking, though he could not see whose it was. More time passed and the fog soon cleared from his view entirely, and when it did, he found himself shocked to discover that this was no longer a lonely field he stood in.

With tall skyscrapers all around, he was unmistakeably back in Manehattan, though it was still winter from the feel of the air. The sun was high in the sky and there were many ponies about, though as before, none of them could see him. One building in particular caught his interest, as it was a place he frequented on many days, The Bank of Manehattan. As a pony of finance, he'd spent much time here on matters of investment, though it confused him as to why the spirit would bring him to a place like this. His attention was then drawn to the sound of talking once more. Looking ahead, he saw that there, just outside the front doors of the bank, were a trio of stallions. Scrounger knew their faces from his many visits here, as all were notable names in the business world. There was Filthy Rich, a business-owner from Ponyville with dealings here in the city. Fancy Pants, a noble from Canterlot. And finally, there was perhaps the least reputable of them, Prince Blueblood. Although a member of the royal family, the Prince had never endeared himself to anypony, Scrounger or otherwise. But there was no denying that he often rubbed elbows with business types.

As Scrounger approached, he heard the three of them talking, starting with Fancy.

"So, when did he die, exactly?"

That caused Scrounger’s ears to prick up considerably, as he leaned in closer for a better listen when Filthy spoke up.

"Er...sometime last night, I think. Honestly, I'm as surprised as you. I thought he'd never go, the stubborn old stallion."

Blueblood chuckled at that.

"Well, I don't really care how or why he died. I just want to know what he's done with his money."

Fancy shot him a dark look at the Prince's remark.

"I'm sure you would. Regardless, I have no idea what he's done with it. All I know is that his is likely to be a cheap funeral. Though I can't imagine a single pony who'd go to it."

Blueblood raised an eyebrow at that before speaking up again.

"Well...I wouldn't mind going..."

The Prince took a moment to enjoy the look of surprise on the other two stallions' faces before finishing that sentence.

"...if lunch is provided of course."

In spite of their earlier animosity towards each other, the other two stallions couldn't help but share a laugh at that rather dark joke. Scrounger watched the three as they parted ways from each other, feeling some sense of dread deep down inside him over what he'd just heard, though he could not understand why. Turning, he looked upon the spirit, who had been standing there and watching him stoically the whole time.

"I know some of those stallions, spirit. Tell me...what poor soul do they speak of?"

The only response the spirit gave was to raise her hoof again, pointing away from the bank and towards what Scrounger saw to be a dirty back-alley on the other side of the street. He gave the spirit a look of confusion briefly, but knew at this point that it was foolish to question to actions of these beings. So, rather hesitantly, he walked over to the alleyway, and as he did so, another pony began to catch his eye. It was another earth pony, a mare, with light brown fur and a somewhat greying mane, looking around with some nervousness as she carried a large saddle-bag on her back. As she too began to make her way into the alleyway, Scrounger pointed towards her, speaking to the spirit who was walking beside him.

"I...I know her! That’s Dusty, the cleaning mare who works at my apartment block. But...what's she doing here?"

Curiosity began to grip Scrounger as he quickened his pace, following the mare down the alleyway. He tailed her for many minutes, until finally she stopped at a disused side-door. Looking around, Dusty tried to see if anypony was near to see her, still unaware of Scrounger observing her every movement. She gripped onto the knob of the door and turned, entering the building, with Scrounger soon behind her. Squinting his eyes somewhat, Scrounger saw that this was a fairly disused and run-down place, with chipped paintwork and broken furniture about. But what caught his interest most was that Dusty was not alone here. There, on the other side of the room, was a face Scrounger knew well from several headlines in local newspapers. Dr Caballeron, a noted thief of priceless artefacts from a number of exotic, far-away places. Scrounger couldn't imagine why Dusty would be meeting with a criminal like this, but all soon became clear as the Doctor began to speak.

"Ah, my dear Dusty. Back from collecting your...donations, I presume?"

The stallion's voice was like a snake, and Scrounger didn’t like it one bit. But he kept his gaze on Dusty as she nodded and began to speak.

"I am. I've brought everything I could. Nopony around to stop me after all."

The mare dropped her saddle bags before starting to rummage around them. Scrounger craned his neck, trying to get a good look of what she was getting out. It wasn't long before he saw what it was. It was a fine suit of some sort, dark in it's colour. But there was something familiar about it that Scrounger couldn't place. Regardless, it wasn't long before the Doctor took the suit from Dusty and began to examine it.

"Hmmm...yes, good quality. Should fetch a decent price. Where'd you find it?"

Dusty chuckled a bit before answering him.

"Well, if you must know...he was put in it to be buried in."

Both Scrounger and Caballeron looked more than a little taken aback by what the mare had just said, though Scrounger was far more horrified. As he looked at the suit in Caballeron's hooves, he watched as the latter began to chuckle.

"Ha! A bold move, my dear. I like the way you think. But don't think I'll be upping the price just for your daring."

Dusty scoffed at that before getting back to her bag, after which she pulled out what was unmistakeably a set of blankets for a bed. Yet again, Scrounger found himself feeling something familiar about these items, though it frustrated him that he couldn't put his hoof on why. As Dusty handed the blankets to her fence, she chuckled a little more.

"I suppose it's sad to think of it. He drove everypony away when he lived. And now that he's gone, it turns out that the only good he ever did was in benefitting people like us who rob him when he's cold."

Both Dusty and Caballeron shared a dark laugh over that remark, though Scrounger remained horrified by this entire exchange. He found that he couldn't bear to be a witness to this any long, and so he spun around and ran out as fast as he could from that old building. Once outside in the sun, he took a moment to collect himself and take a few deep breaths, after which he turned his head to see the steely gaze of his companion spirit. Taking a gulp, he approached her meekly and began to speak up to her.

"Spirit...I understand what it is that you're trying to tell me. This lonesome stallion, the one those vultures had their way with after his death...that fate might well be mine one day if I don't change. That is what you're lesson is, right spirit?"

The dark alicorn said nothing, as always, but before Scrounger could ask anything further, he was caught off-guard by the fact that the light around him was beginning to fade rapidly. It was as if the sun had all but vanished. Buildings, streets, ponies. All of them faded from view for him, until the only thing he could see was the tall mare before him. He opened his mouth to say something, but was soon stopped as the spirit raised a hoof once more. She was pointing to something behind him, though he felt himself yet again terrified to see what it was. Nevertheless, he turned, and when he did, he backed away in horror. There was a single lit spot before him, in which was a simple large wooden table. Atop the table was a large white tarp, though something was clearly beneath it. Scrounger was no fool. He knew what lay beneath that sheet. It was the same shape and size of a pony. What the spirit was showing him was one who had passed on, though he could not understand why.

"Wha...what is this?!"

As if to try and answer him, the spirit began to walk slowly around the table, so that she was now standing on the other side of it. Scrounger watched her as she pointed a hoof to the unmoving form beneath the white sheet. Burt Scrounger shook his head.

"I...I can't spirit."

The spirit narrowed her eyes at that, before placing a hoof on the edge of the sheet where the lifeless pony's head was. A slow movement of her hoof and the sheet began to pull away, revealing only the top of the head, and some familiar-looking grey mane. Scrounger shook his head, far more frantically than before, before turning away from this unpleasant display and shutting his eyes tightly.

"Spirit, I...I can't do what you ask of me! Just...please! Show me something warm about this future! Something loving and tender...or this place will haunt me forever!"

He heard no response from the spirit behind him, but instead, a new sound came to his attention. It was the sound of a fire. And as he opened his eyes, he saw that this was exactly that. A small fireplace, and one he knew he'd seen before. Glancing around, he found that his suspicions were confirmed. This was none other than the home of Bobbing Apples, his clerk. A small smile came to his face as he considered this. Finally, he thought to himself, a place where he knew that there is some love and affection, even in this grim future the spirit had shown him. He looked around, trying to see one of the ponies who lived here. It was not long before he caught sight of Bob's wife, sitting quietly by the fireplace. He began to approach her, but stopped immediately as he saw the look on her face.

It was a look of utter devastation. Her cheeks were still soaking from what must have been a long time of crying, as also evidenced by the fact that her eyes were quite puffy. She sniffed every once in a while, though never took her gaze off the fire. Scrounger was confused, not knowing what could have caused her such distress, but he soon had other things to think about, as the door of their home opened, revealing Bob himself, slowly entering. Scrounger saw that his too was an expression of sadness, as he looked upon his wife, and she at her, before he slowly closed the door behind him. The distraught mare got up from her seat to approach her husband, speaking softly as she wiped away what remained of her tears.

"Honey. How...how was it?"

Bob tried to smile, but Scrounger knew it was a forced one.

"It looks great, dear. The trees are in full bloom now and...and I think he'd love it there."

A moment of confusion came to Scrounger as he tried thinking of what was going on. But the silence that covered this place suddenly made him very aware of something. There were only two ponies here, not three. The old stallion darted his head left and right, trying to see the young and energetic colt he'd seen before. But he was nowhere to be found. And then, it all fell into place for him. The tears, the hushed tones, all of it. Horror came to his face, causing him to take a step backwards as he spoke.

"No...not Pip! Oh spirits, please...don't let it be true!"

His worst fears were soon confirmed as he looked upon the two parents, who were both looking at each other with tears forming in their eyes. It was not long before they finally broke down, embracing each other and weeping uncontrollably, even collapsing to their knees as they held each other. Scrounger couldn't bear to watch this tragedy unfold before him, and so he backed away more and more. But when he did, he found himself colliding with something. Spinning around, he saw that he'd backed into a door. At first, he thought nothing of it. But his collision had caused the door to slowly creep open, and as it did, his eyes widened as he saw what lay beyond. It was a small bedroom. And on top of the bed was yet another white sheet. But this time, it was not an adult that was beneath. No, this form was smaller, though no less dead. And as Scrounger looked upon it, as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew what young colt lay beneath.

He found himself almost gasping for breath at everything that was happening around him. He wanted to run, or to shut his eyes and pray that it all went away. But he could no longer deny this grim future. As he looked upon this tragedy around him, he knew deep down what he had to do. He'd been avoiding something very important since the moment he first came upon this future world, but now, he could no longer escape it. Turning, he looked upon the face of the spirit, who had been quietly waiting for him, before speaking softly to her.

"Spirit. I find I can no longer avoid this. So tell me. Who...who was the stallion who died?"

The spirit narrowed her eyes, though no answer was given. Scrounger was about to insist that she answer him, but was soon taken aback by a sudden blast of cold air from behind him. Turning, he found himself no longer in the home of Bob, but in an even more grim scene. Covered in snow and totally deserted, Scrounger looked upon an old graveyard. Many of the headstones were crumbling or overgrown, with surrounding trees bereft of their leaves. It was the kind of sight nopony would want to be a part of. But as Scrounger grimaced at this sight, he saw the hoof of the spirit point right past him. Following where she was pointing, Scrounger now looked upon a solitary gravestone, so covered in snow that the words upon it were hidden from him. He began to approach it, but hesitated as he felt the urge to ask yet another question.

"Before I look at that stone, tell me something. These things you’ve shown me. Are they what will be...or only what might be? Can these events still be changed?"

The mare said nothing, but kept on pointing at the stone. It was a response Scrounger should have expected. The old stallion instead began to take nervous steps towards the lonely stone before him. It was not long before he finally reached it, dropping to his knees and raising a hoof. He hesitated, for deep down he knew what he would find here. It was the one thing he'd feared through this entire journey. But now that he was here, he could not stop now. So, taking a final breath, he placed his hoof upon the snow and began to wipe it away. And when he did, his face became even more pale as he read the words before him.

Here lies Scrounger.

The old stallion got back to his hooves, backing away from the stone as he spoke.

"No! Oh please, no!"

He spun around and looked upon the dark mare, tears now forming in his eyes.

"Spirit! I...I am not the stallion I was! Wh..why would you show me this if I am past all hope?"

He approached the mare, his voice now wobbling from the sheer emotional weight he was feeling.

"I promise you, I will live my life in the past, present and future! I will not shut out the lessons you and the others have taught me."

As he gazed upon the still-silent spirit, he finally dropped to his knees.

"Please...tell me I can sponge away the writing on that stone!"

The mare said nothing, just as she always did. But before Scrounger could say anymore, he was shocked to find that the ground he was standing upon, still beside the gravestone, was giving away. The snow fell down into what he saw was a massive gaping hole, the grave itself. His old hooves quickly managed to grab hold into the edge of the hole before he fell, though now he was hanging precariously, not knowing if he could hold on much longer. Glancing over his shoulder, Scrounger looked down the far hole. To his utter horror, there was no coffin there, no body. Instead, there were only flames, licking higher and higher. He could feel the heat, even this far up, and his heart began to race with terror at looking upon that hellish scene below. Gripping as tightly as he could, he looked instead at the spirit, who was still standing where she was before.

"Spirit! Help me!"

But she said nothing, and instead, to Scrounger's shock, began to solemnly turn away and walk. Scrounger’s eyes widened as he saw this, continuing to shout out.

"Spirit! I promise! I'll change!"

But still she kept on walking, even in spite of the heartfelt pleas she was hearing. Time and again he called, and time and again she ignored him. Eventually, Scrounger found that the edge he held onto could support him no longer, and the cold soil finally broke away, causing him to fall. He screamed as loud as he'd ever done in his entire life, as he plummeted down, seeing the flames below get closer and closer with every passing moment. In mere moments, he saw himself finally plunge into the terrifying inferno.

And when he did, all he knew afterwards was darkness.