Author's Notes:

Since Febuary 4th, 2015 21:30 p.m. GMT, this first chapter had 343 likes.

"What is this? What is going on?" a voice called out in pure darkness.

"Sombra...The 'king' of the Crystal Kingdom. Seems like you weren't much square with light, eh?"

"Who is it? Show yourself!"

"The Angel of Rebirth caves not to the panicked demands of a darkened fool. You should have heeded the signs and changed your ways. Now you'll pay for them by getting lynched and flayed in the burning fires of the Abyss, savvy?"

Flashes of purple and green dimly illuminated the darkness in front of Sombra. Although this served no purpose other than to lighten the face of this tainted soul. It was panicking and looking quickly in all directions while its chest heaved up and down.

"That little light show ain't gonna serve you more than your dealings during your twisted vita."

"I refuse to let you send me down to the Abyss! I have other tasks that I must adhere to in the land of the living!"

"Too bad, mate. Ain't gonna serve you much, but I'm generous during this day of the century. You'll be revived...but I'll wipe your memories and everything you ever knew about here. I'll send you through into the future. Make things quicker. Oh! And you'll have quite a little surprise when you see the light of day or the darkness of the night. Have. Fun," the voice screeched.

"No! Noooooooooooooo!"

Screams of agony and anguish filled the hospital's maternity ward walls. The doctors and nurses had often dealt with the screams of a birthing mother. They even had to deal with a few dangerous encounters with the Reaper itself, but they shooed it off, and both mother and child got to see time flow together. This time, it was something else. It was a scent of blood mixed with rust and darkness.

"Is she awake again?"

"Yes. She seemed to have passed out during birth."

"I've never such a horrendous birth process. It's like the very Creator is against this mare and her young soon-to-be foal."

The room the birthing mare and the doctors were in was being engulfed by shadows despite the large lamp hanging from the ceiling, and there were additional candles that were brought in as well to aid in the lighting, but it didn't seem to be enough. The shadows that still roamed the kingdom seemed to be congregating in this very spot. Perhaps the father spoke the truth of a cursed birth. Surgeon trays were flung about as the nurses and assistants did the best they could to get the medication and tools to keep the mare stable and the baby safe from a stillbirth.

Outside the maternity ward, a young stallion sat nervously on his seat. His dark brown, nutmeg-colored mane and tail were in shambles. Even his reddened coat, similar in color to a nutmeg's seed, was in a terrible state. He couldn't stop sweating in a thick panic. The best he could do was twiddle his hooves together and look left to right.

The corridor of this infernal place seemed to lengthen and widen. The long bars embedded in the ceiling tiles did naught but dampen the blue walls and white floors, and this stressed the stallion. Much to a slight bit of comfort and relief, the soon-to-be father saw a pony coming from his left. This one was wearing a black cowl that covered their whole body, but it seemed to be dripping with water. Was it raining outside? Unable to be left to his thoughts, the newcomer sat right next to the stallion, easing out more tension.

"Um, what--"

"Wife giving birth to a foal?"

"Y-yes. Why else would I be sitting here?"

"No need to be snappy. I believe I have not introduced myself properly as befits anypony. I am Gray Rapier. And you are?"

The stallion skeptically eyed the pony top to bottom and answered:

"Nutmeg Butter."

"Ah. A 'chewy' name, I would say," Gray chuckled.

"Hey! My name is not funny! And I would ask that you not agitate me more. I'm already under a lot of stress."

"No need to panic," the pony gestured with his fore hooves. "I have often come here to check up on the foals of a couple per their demands and made note of their health. Often have I heard a birth process seem awry at the end, but the baby always made it."

"R-really?"

The father began to calm down and a glimmer of hope began to sparkle in his eyes.

"Oh yes. Why, there was a couple a few months back in Manehatten that nearly lost the child, but it made it through with the help of the doctors and, perhaps, a little 'divine intervention' just to ensure success."

"Huh. I didn't think I would be taken out of my streak of panic, but thank you for your encouraging words. Gray, was it?"

"Aye."

"You went to Manehatten?"

"Oh yes. I travel all around the world. It is quite fun to see how everything evolves in both social standards and technology. Those bars in the ceiling, for example, never existed thirty years ago."

The Rapier pointed to the bars, a sickle serving as a finger. This obviously attracted the father's attention in a strange way. He gave a nervous chuckle in response.

"Say, what did you say your job was?"

"I didn't," Gray answered as he put the sickle upright on the floor.

"What's with the sickle?"

"Oh, this? It's the tool for my job."

"A-a-a-and wh-what job is that?"

"You do the math," the pony baited.

He was cloaked and wielding a sickle, but that was just legend and was impossible. Besides, it would never have manifested itself like this, but wait. Gray Rapier. Gray. Rapier. Gray...Graym...Grim...Grim Rapier...The stallion's pupils shrunk and he removed his hoof from his mouth the split second his head shot to face the cowled pony. 'Gray' was looking directly at Nutmeg, and his face was clear as crystal now. It was a skull with two bright white dots in the sockets. A shadowy mist emanating from below the cloak and the sides of the cowl.

"B-b-but...This isn't..."

"You ponies always take so long to figure out who I am no matter how obvious I make it."

"But you said that every birth you went to turned out perfectly!"

"I said that they turned out perfectly for the foal," Gray tilted his head and waved his hoof from left to right. "I never said anything about the mare," it mused.

"You can't do this to us! To her!"

"Pish. Sure I can!" the Reaper answered matter-of-factly.

"I was awaiting this birth for so long! I didn't know--"

"Weren't you the one who called it a 'curse' and wished to see the foal removed from the womb of your wife?"

The Reaper's tone became darker and more sinister, and the white lights began to intensify.

"I--"

"Ah! Listen. The screams have stopped. You should go check it out," Gray said with a head gesture towards the double doors.

The stallion's greatest fear were starting to take ahold of his heart in its cold vice. His gaze kept darting back and forth from the doors to Rapier, but he made his decision and charged into the maternity ward. The doors clanged open, knocking some equipments and containers off the shelves and furniture near the doors. With each breath, Nutmeg had a horrid stench violate his nostrils. It was the worst thing he had ever smelled, but worse still was what he was seeing. All the doctors and nurses were staring at the bed, their mouths agape. The stallion could feel time slow and his body become heavier as he looked at the motherly smile of his wife. She was holding something small and frail in a blanket of red. The mare looked at the foal, then to Nutmeg. Her eyes glimmered with joy, and this prompted the stallion to go to her.

Every step took a great effort, and every sound became louder and louder as he looked the mare on the now-covered bed shine like a light in this dim darkness. The closer he went towards the tiny package, the tighter he could feel the vice grip around his heart and throat.

"Look," the mare said with exhaustion.

Nutmeg took a gulp and watched as the mare turned the foal towards him. The tiny foal was sound asleep, but the horror in the room became all too obvious. The foal was pitch black in mane and fur. She even had the a tiny version of the same horn with a faint shading of red near the tip. The mare's smile was starting to fade as she began to insist with movements that the father hold it. He did it after a few quick glances and gently held the package in his right foreleg.

"This is a curse. How?" he thought to himself.

"I think we should call her Stellar Shadowrette. What do you think?"

"Wha--"

"I know. I've never been good with names, but I really want this. It fits her."

The little foal produced a cute little yawn as she awoke from her short nap. Her little forelegs were bobbing a bit and her eyes fluttered tiredly. Her eyes. The horror. They were red with black, reptilian slits. Just like his. Yet...they seemed so innocent. So full of love. She was even giggling and looking at the horrified stallion with a big smile and a small chuckle. The stallion gave her back to her mother, who cuddled her and nuzzled her with her muzzle.

"I can feel myself getting weaker. Nutmeg, I need you to promise that you will look after her."

"You're not going to die. DON'T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!"

"PROMISE ME!" the mare shouted.

The foal began to cry and the mare cooed it gently back into a calm state.

"But-but...look at her. It's that horrid beast we were told about. Even they admit it!" the stallion gestured to the doctors.

"No! She just has a unique appearance. Most likely it's just the shadows that did this. You know how they are."

"I know, but the changes were never this drastic!"

"Just promise me that you will take care of her when I'm gone. That you will not lay a hoof on her so long as you breathe. That you will care for her just as you said you would your own foal, that she is. She is no more a tyrant than a lily growing in a field of roses."

"But the lily sticks out much more."

"I..."

The mare began to gasp for air and her eyes started to roll back.

"Lilyanne? LILYANNE!" Nutmeg shook her by the shoulders. "HELP HER! You're doctors! DO SOMETHING!"

The doctors just stared at him and a few shook their heads in pain.

"Come on! Just do something! Help her! Grab a syringe! Inject her with something. You can do it!" the stallion wept. "You...can do it..."

Tears began to form in the eyes of the stallion. His voice was starting to crack and his mouth was trembling more so than the syringe he grabbed which dropped limply onto the ground. He could only watch as his beloved's life signs began to shorten on the monitors next to her bed. The ever so panicking 'beep' following his own heartbeat.

"Ah. She is due."

"What? You! Help her! You have to do something! You're the only one who can do something! Please..."

The stallion tugged and tugged at the Reaper's cloak, but he started to cave in and slid slowly down the cloth, tears making it soggy.

"I am sorry, but this is how it is. Many like you have begged and pleaded, but one does not bribe or move Death with emotions and charades."

"N...Nutmeg," a weak voice whispered.

The stallion hurried to his wife and held her hoof.

"What? What is it?"

"I...love you."

"I love you too."

"I just...wanted to tell you that...a bo...A bo..."

"A ba? A ba? A what? A what?! Tell me! You're going to make it! Don't let up on me now!"

But these orders were for naught, as the beeping of the machine cemented the truth. It was now flat lining. Heartbroken and filled with contempt, the stallion wallowed in the soiled sheets where the mare now laid.

"A body remade never has the same soul."

"What?" the stallion asked.

"That is what she was going to say. A body remade never has the same soul. I will guide her soul to the afterlife. As for you, you should know that, were you to keep that foal, you will be going through some serious hardships."

"Then I should kill her. Nopony will know."

"Except, you know, the doctors around you." Death shrugged. "You can still do that if you wish. It will give me more to do, but you gave your wife a promise. You would take care of the foal no matter what, and I frown on those who do not execute a death wish let alone a death promise."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Will you keep to your promise or will you, under the virulent and judgmental gaze of these doctors and nurses around you, take the foal to have her 'disappear' somewhere? Granted, if you just abandon her somewhere, you will never raise a hoof against her, but you will violate the 'protect' part."

The stallion thought a while. He picked up the foal and looked longly at it. After a moment of personal debate, he said:

"Yes."

"Yes? Yes to what?"

"I will keep to my promise."

"Ah! Good stallion."

"But, mark my words. When my time comes, I won't go without a fight," Nutmeg glared at the Reaper.

Death's light demeanor immediately led way to a more sinister one. His form became engulfed in black mist that raised itself up over the stallion. They revealed another form of the Reaper. This one was more bipedal, and the sickle was much longer and adorned with all manner of decorated bones and teeth.

"Best watch your words. I am also given the right to torture a soul should they defy me through petty choices, such as revenge."

The mist immediately dissipated, and the Reaper disappeared. The world returned to how it was before Gray's appearance. One last look at the resting mare and the filly, and Nutmeg said, with contempt:

"Yes, I will keep my promise, but for how long will I be able to hold to protecting the murderer of my beloved?"