A cold breeze swirled around the town. It swept through streets, over rooftops and rustled leaves still remaining on soon-to-be-bare trees. It dislodged a single, browning maple leaf from the branch of a particularly large one, which drifted down in slow swirls to the crowd of ponies below. The snips of air that managed to slip between the fur on their pelts caused them to flinch, but not a single emotion graced their faces as they stared forward, standing close together for warmth and support. In stark contrast to the norm around Equestria, they were not there to celebrate or socialize.
The body laying above a hole in the ground was why they were there.
It lay still on his back, the muscles beneath the vermilion stiff and rigid. A tired and wrinkled face remained motionless as the breeze tousled the salt-and-pepper colored mane that hung above it. Its eyes were squeezed firmly shut. His forehooves were crossed above his barrel, giving him an almost ethereal look. To his right stood another pony wearing a black cloak over his honey colored body. He was a unicorn, young and spry with ruby colored eyes. In his magical cerulean aura, a sheet of parchment levitated before him, words scrawled across it. There were not many of them, but they said all that needed to be.
“It was my father's final wish—” the unicorn paused to look at the crowd for a second “—to be buried here, among the trees that provided his livelihood. In the shade of the first tree he ever tended, the tree where he shared his first kiss with his future wife and where... where he taught his foals to value nature. There was no other place he wanted to spend the rest of eternity.”
The crowd watched on in complete silence as the unicorn tried to compose himself, wiping away a stray tear before continuing with his eulogy. Despite the chill, the stallion shivered more from the sadness of his words than the weather. Above them, dark gray clouds were gathering, complementing the mood. Some sniffles left the group as mares dabbed their eyes while the lower lips of the stallions quivered.
Behind the mass, nopony noticed as a lone figure dressed in a black cloak with a hat pulled down over its face strode into their ranks. The pony was tall: not much bigger than any one of them, but enough that it should have drawn looks. The figure slowly weaved its way to the front and took a place between two other ponies dressed in the same way. There they stood, while the grass and leaves on the ground made small noises as a slow drizzle of rain began to fall.
Glancing away from his paper, the unicorn looked up with derision before returning to it. The rain would only get harder as time went on, so he had to improvise.
“Before his death, my father asked that a special ceremony be performed for him. He always believed in the Rite of the Roses: the tradition of asking for safe passage to a soul’s resting place. In accordance with his wishes, I ask that the bearers of the roses begin the ritual.”
Before another word could be spoken, the three figures began to walk forward, each perfectly in time with the others. The tall one in the center neared the body and stopped before it while the other two flanked it. As one, the shorter pair reached into their cloaks and brought out a small white bag, untying them slowly as the unicorn continued with his speech.
“The Rite of the Roses is an ancient tradition dating back a thousand years. In those times, ponies believed that the rose was a ward against evil and that its petals could be used to pay for safe voyage to the next life.”
As he spoke, the two mares began to gently spread fresh red rose petals from the bags over the sides of the deceased pony with meticulous care. They fell to the gurney the body lay on, becoming a bed of crimson around him. The third pony stayed still as the other two worked; it stood as rigid as the corpse before it lay.
“Today, though, the Rite has taken on a more physical than spiritual meaning. Venerated Royal Guards, nobility and those of great importance are given the ritual at their funerals as a sign of respect. Princess Celestia herself once performed the Rite for a beloved friend of hers, as a prayer for safety and a thank you for all they did for her.”
With an awkward sigh, the stallion looked skyward and said, “We ask a peaceful journey for this soul to find his well-deserved rest and present the finest roses to pay for the voyage.”
By the time the unicorn had finished, the rainfall had thickened. The Bearers stood still as the rainwater ran down their cloaks. A thick layer of petals lined the body below, making a bed for him to rest in. Above them, a low rumble of thunder echoed across the sky, signaling the bearers to move back to the group. The two slowly turned and walked past the taller one, striding as smoothly as if they were on ice.
Instead of joining the fellow bearers, the taller one remained in front of the corpse.
“On behalf of my family, thank you all for showing up today. If my father were alive, he would be so happy to see all of you here.”
The unicorn spoke with finality. The rain had drenched his light purple mane, making his frown seem more pointed. After rolling up his parchment, the stallion walked off to the crowd as a loud and slow song began to play, drowning out the noises from the rain.
At the body, the tall pony stayed rooted in its spot even as the body was lowered into the ground. From behind, a couple of short sobs carried over the song, causing the pony to turn its head.
Behind it stood the unicorn speaker, staring sadly at the body while a light pink mare hugged close to him, her lime green eyes watering up more than the gentle rain falling around them could produce. At their hooves stood three small fillies, each one looking more devastated than the next. Together, the powder-blue unicorn, the sandy-colored earth pony and the pink unicorn held each other, trying to not break down into uncontrollable tears.
From beneath the bearer’s black hat, a glittering, crystal-blue eye watched the small group. Silence filled the air as the sound of the rain and music faded away into the background.
How nice it must be to be remembered.
The pony turned back to the body. It had descended about halfway down into the hole before a soft scarlet glow began to shine through the back hat. A much brighter version of the light enveloped the body, remaining in a fixed place while the body passed through it. It took a couple of seconds to see the results of the aura, but eventually the pony smiled beneath her hat as a bright and pulsing orb of white light emerged from the body, housed by the aura. With as much care as a pony handling an antique porcelain teapot, the aura lifted from the hole with the orb inside.
The rain had picked up considerably by the time the body was finally laid to rest, forcing all but the small family and the tall bearer to leave in search of shelter. The music eventually stopped as well, leaving only the dull drumming of the rain to fill the void. Narrowing her eyes, the taller pony began to bring the orb to itself.
“Bye bye, Grampy,” a small filly said, her voice cutting through the rain like a crack of thunder. Curious, the bearer turned to see the small trio of fillies take a step closer to the site.
“We love you,” the second one spoke.
“An we weally wish you were here wight now,” the third one finished, tears running down her cheeks faster than the rain could.
Almost immediately, the white orb reacted to their words, changing to a vibrant lemon yellow color in seconds. It quivered slightly in the aura, drawing the bearer's attention away from the trio. Looking back at it, a cold stab of fear began to grow in the bearer’s chest. Instead of becoming spooked by it, though, the bearer merely watched the orb as if it were an interesting curio.
“Come along, girls,” came a mare's voice that sounded on the verge of cracking. “Let's let Grampy sleep for a bit. We can visit him later, okay?”
The orb pulsed brightly at those words and it shot out small beams of pointed yellow light into the aura. The bearer remained silent as the sounds of the family walking faded away into the rain. Alone with the orb, the bearer reached a hoof up and pushed the hat back, revealing a bushy rose-colored mane that seemed implausible to have been kept in the hat. She shook her head, allowing it to puff out into a comfortable size, which revealed a long black horn enveloped by the same aura that held the orb. She raised her head, revealing a black muzzle and ears from beneath the bushy mane. When she opened her eyes, only one crystal blue iris shone in the rain. In the other eye, a twinkling golden iris stared back at the orb. When the feeling of fear heightened in her chest, she allowed a smile to grace her muzzle.
“Shush, little one,” she cooed. “There is no need to fear the darkness. I will guide you through it.”
The orb’s violent shade seemed to lessen slightly, but it remained predominantly lemon-colored. Her smile widened more, revealing two long canines on either side of her mouth.
“I am a friend to you, though you have never met me before. Fear not, for you are in my most capable hooves now.”
The color lessened even more, revealing a hint of that familiar, silvery white it had when she obtained it. Closing her eyes, the mare took a deep breath. When she reopened them, they glowing the brightest of whites.
“Charmane will see you to safety.”
She spoke with a tone of both sternness and care. Closing her eyes once more, she turned and began to walk away from the grave. The orb slowly pulsed with each step she took. As she strode, her form became more transparent, fading slowly into the cold early autumn air.
Charmane opened her eyes to see a vast swirling world around her, silent and serene. The formless void’s baby blue seemed to twinkle slightly as if there were stars in the distance, before giving way into wonderful shades of cerulean and cobalt. She glanced about the place as if searching for something, but her face remained neutral the whole time. In one eye, she could see a huge expanse of black littered with hundreds upon hundreds of stars that twinkled like the ones around her, but her other eye showed a bright white light, followed by a forest warping in and blocking the harsh glare. Apparently, the pony she had guided to the realm had wanted to be near trees, just like his son had spoken.
Blinking once, both scenes left her and the blue expanse came back, clearer than ever. If she were more of a talker, there would be something to be said about seeing three dimensions of existence at once. Flipping her bushy mane back, Charmane glanced up, her horn lighting whitish scarlet again. Her job was never done and soon there would be another soul to ferry, but from where was the mystery. There was no continuity between where and when ponies died, so she had to wait until one of them called for her, alone in the great void.
At the tip of her horn, a small orb of light formed, spinning like a top. Streaks of vibrant red flared around the edges before being sucked back into the white. Charmane's eyes flashed and the orb shot up into the air before dispersing into fragments. As the fragments faded, her ears flattened against her head. She closed her eyes, waiting for anything to happen.
Slowly, she lifted her hooves and walked into the blue void. It would take time for her spell to alert her to any deaths, so she reopened her eyes and stared forward as she progressed further into nowhere. Perhaps there was someplace she could visit in the living realm: a nice, quiet place with wonderfully carved headstones, a fresh breeze and maybe even a large tree to rest under. Cemeteries were her favorite places to visit when there was time, especially the one in a place known as Canterlot. The grounds were always so well maintained, the headstones were scrubbed and polished, and there was a shady oak tree she enjoyed napping under. A small smile crossed her face as the void faded to white, ready to take her there.
Before she could go, however, a familiar tingle in her forehead alerted her. Glancing up, she lit her horn before a series of images flashed through her mind. She saw a snowstorm raging around a lush green expanse of a field. The grass swayed lightly, a reaction to a warm summer breeze, while crystals of enormous proportions jutted from the ground in odd angles. Charmane’s eyes widened at the sight of them, her muzzle twisting into a confused look. She could not remember ever seeing crystals that big before, nor seeing a violent snowstorm right up against a peaceful field.
The next image showed her a bright blue flash of light, followed by the pained scream of a stallion and a deafening boom. It became immediately obvious what had happened to her after that: a pony must have exploded after toying around with a spell. She had seen plenty of failed spell experiments in her time, some being more messy than others; this one looked to be an explosion which would incinerate any kind of body inside of it.
A third image then replaced the explosion, this one being more dark. It was pure black, like the night with no moon. From the middle of this darkness, however, a pair of disturbing green eyes opened, complete with a red iris and purple smoke billowing from the corners. The eyes stared back at Charmane, almost as if spiting her.
No doubt this is who I am to ferry, she thought as her mind traced the eyes. But what a strange vision. I wonder why my spell is showing this to me. Usually, her spells showed her the cemetery she was supposed to visit and the face of the departed, but she had never seen a set of eyes look back at her through the spell.
Curious, Charmane blinked the images away and looked back up at the void, searching again. She had to find the source of these images, the place where her spell went. As she scanned, her mind made notes of the places she was sure was not the location.
Canterlot, Ponyville, Manehatten, Fillydelphia, Appleloosa: none of these places match. I need a spot where there is snow and sunlight. To her knowledge, it was early autumn in the cities, not yet the time for snowstorms and past the reign of heated, sunny days. That her spell would show her those two specific things was indeed strange, but the fact remained there was a soul out there somewhere in need of her help. She redoubled her focus on finding the place.
As she traced the magic, Charmane stopped at one star in particular. It was different than the others, one that she did not recognize. It glowed with a faint pink-and-blue aura and shined brightly, as if proud of itself. There were seven stars for each of the cities in Equestria, but this one made number eight. Her eyes sparkled again as she stared at the star, determined to know what this one was.
She walked towards it; her eyes glowed white again and her form began to fade. The star shined brighter and soon enveloped the entire blue void, her translucent form barely visible. Immediately, Charmane knew there was something strange with this portal as she kept walking, her legs growing heavy and listless. A magic of unknown origin and power surrounded wherever this was supposed to take her, trying to prevent her entry to the city. Charmane, however, paid little attention as she kept walking and soon enough, the magic faded and her strength returned.
What is this place? she asked herself, wary of the destination. If there was a magic that could interfere with her, the caster of the spell would have to know of her existence. She braced herself as the light began to fade and the world came into focus. Her wings flared open and her horn glowed, ready for either fight or flight.
When her eyes came into focus, she stared in awe of the sight before her.
Less than ten feet from where she stood, the same violent snowstorm raged on. The snow swirled around like it was caught in the midst of a tornado while the drifts fluttered and swayed with the wind. Beyond them, tall mountains reached up like the teeth of a cragodile, pointed and covered in snowcaps. Above them, grey clouds roiled angrily and continued to dump an endless stream of snow. By contrast, the spot where Charmane stood was nice and warm, as if it was nothing more than a calm summer day. There was no howling wind, only soft grass beneath her hooves and birds chirping in the distance.
Breaking her gaze away, she turned around to see a graveyard of seemingly ancient origin. Headstones were broken and faded, most of their runes washed away by weather or hooves. Tall grass hugged the edges of them, as if they were protecting what little remained. Rows upon rows of them stretched on, so many graves that a pit began to form in her stomach.
What kind of monstrosity would cause this many deaths? she thought as her eyes searched the graveyard. Compared to this one, all the other graveyards in Equestria were small, barely reaching a third of this one’s capacity. Not even the one near the Everfree Forest, the largest and most used that she had visited, could stand up to this. It seemed as if entire generations had died and were laid to rest here.
Struck by the sheer size of it, Charmane turned away, her stomach clenching. She had no clue what to make of this, but she felt no souls anywhere around here. She was alone in this nightmarish place, a graveyard where the countless dead lay forgotten.
Her hoof lifted up to steady herself on what she thought was a nearby headstone, but to her surprise it caught a piece of warm, polished marble. Glancing up from the grass below, her eyes traced the edges of the stone. Smooth lines of an expert craftspony gently curved up to a shelf held aloft by what looked like vines before reaching over to an ornate sculpture of an alicorn among the headstones. That was surprising in itself, but her eyes were drawn to what was above the shelf. A dead bed of roses lay on top of dusty soil inside the marble, their former roots barely keeping it in place. The brown stems and blackened blooms of countless roses twitched ever so lightly as the gentle breeze began to blow.
Shock coursed through Charmane’s body as she realized what her hoof was resting on. One of her altars was in this graveyard, her gateway back into the realm of the living. Turning back to the headstones, confusion wracked her mind as she searched the recesses of her memories.
Have I been here before?
The altar was made specifically for her, it could not be coincidence. The roses, the image and even the marble—it was exactly the same as the one in Canterlot. Could this be another burial ground there?
Cautiously, Charmane removed her hoof from the altar and took a couple steps into the rows of graves. Her eyes roamed over the headstones as she tried to pick out any names or markings she remembered. She passed by countless stones until her eyes locked onto one whose markings were visible enough to read. Leaning in closer, Charmane peered at the stone.
Fourth night of the full moon in spring, ninth year of King Charlemane. Eighth quarter moon in winter, fifth year of Queen... she read, unable to make out the last name. Her mind seemed to click at those words, recalling memories from long ago and far away. King Charlemane was a tall and proud stallion, always wearing silver armor and a red cape. She could vaguely recall his face, but remembered he had a thick black mane. Her mind stopped there though, her memories fading as quickly as they came.
A strange sense of understanding came to her as she reflected on the knowledge her mind had provided. King Charlemane lived a very long time ago, back when she was still new to her position. Glancing up from the headstone, Charmane noticed there were similar markings and times on the stone next to this one, then the next one and so on. This is an ancestral graveyard. She looked out into the horizon, filled with awe.
As she gazed upon the many markers of a time long gone, a slight shuffle from behind caught her attention. Breaking away from the sight, Charmane turned slowly to watch as a cloud of pure black smoke rose from some of the graves farther away. She raised her head slightly as the cloud become bigger, puffing up and outward in all directions. Curious, she allowed herself to walk towards the cloud while weaving between headstones, her eyes never leaving the cloud. It was a slow process, but the cloud drew her in like a moth to flames.
When she was a mere few feet from the edge of the black cloud, the most amazing thing happened. From the inky depths of the cloud, a pair of sickly green eyes opened up; blazing red irises locked onto her, purple wisps of smoke trailing from the corners.
Charmane froze at that, her own dual-colored eyes staring back into them. Silence ensued as they stared at each other, unblinking and unmoving, save for the light rustle of her mane in the breeze and the roiling cloud around the eyes.
“Dost thou fear me?”
A strange voice rang out, inexplicably coming from the cloud. Charmane blinked at that, finding herself caught a little off-guard. She gazed at the cloud, trying to understand what had just happened.
What was that? she asked to the hollow space in her mind. The familiar sound of emptiness echoed back as the cloud returned her stare.
“Answer me!” the cloud rumbled, flaring like a thunderstorm in the summer. Charmane’s eyes flashed back at it, her curiosity suddenly gone. A stern look crossed her face as she began to spread her wings, unsure of why she was reacting this way.
Does he mean to challenge me ? she thought, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes glowed while an ancient reserve of magic awakened within her. Her mane felt as if small channels of electricity coursed through it while her feathers felt a small breeze catch them, making her wings flare. She forced herself to stand a little taller, trying to reach eye level with the cloud and making herself look quite intimidating in the process.
It was only then, staring at an angry black cloud, did she realize something. The cloud had spoken directly to her, something nopony had done in centuries. Confusion flooded her mind as she blinked, trying to focus on the threat before her. If it could speak to her, then it could obviously see her. And if it saw her, then that meant this... thing wasn’t alive. Her yellow iris only served to confirm her suspicion when a brief glimpse into the living realm showed nothing.
“Who are you?” She glared back at the cloud. A conscious spirit in this world was indeed a dangerous thing, especially if it was awake before she met it. Those powerful enough to defy the shock of death were few and far between, often powerful beyond words. Some of them had accidentally awakened from their spirit state with magic, like Starswirl the Bearded, while others simply pushed themselves relentlessly to become aware of their surroundings, which Charmane guessed this one had.
The cloud’s green eyes narrowed as it regarded her, as if it felt threatened. It wasn’t surprising given the stance Charmane had put herself in, but the eyes seemed to glare and glow with a similar intensity to her own, as if the spirit was trying to pull from the magic that made up its current body. Instead of attacking, however, the cloud seemed to swirl inward to the eyes. A brief gust of wind blew suddenly, causing Charmane to twitch, but the black swirls followed the direction of the wind, revealing a most stunning sight to her. The eyes were surrounded by the handsome face of a stallion, his mouth twisted into a frown. His black mane flowed in the wind like the cloud that had blown away while a rich red cape adorned his body. Silver pauldrons lined his front legs, leading all the way up to a large criniere of the same metal plates.
“I am thy king, alicorn,” he spoke with barely concealed derision, “and thou wouldst be wise to grovel in penitence for daring to oppose me.”
Charmane found herself looking down at him, giving rise to her curiosity again. The pony, king—whatever he was—only came up to her chest. He seemed no bigger than an average pony she ferried, just darker and more brooding. As she regarded him, her wings started to lower and the glow faded from her eyes. A stern silence formed between them as they eyed each other up, Charmane’s staring with more of an interest than his hateful glare.
“What is your name, young one?” she asked gently. An indignant snort came from him as his upper lip retreated, revealing a set of sharp white teeth.
“How dare thou speakest unto me like I be but a foal! I am a king and I shall be shown the respect I deserve!” he roared back, stamping a hoof into the hallowed ground beneath them.
Charmane blinked slowly, unimpressed by his outburst. “Of course, Dear King.” She tilted her head. “But even a king must have a name.”
A small grumble came from him as her head returned to its former position, his teeth still bared.
“Thou mayst call me by my full title when thy begs for mercy. My name is Sombra: King Sombra of my Crystal Empire.”
A small smile played across Charmane’s muzzle as he spoke. Even without his regal appearance, the way he carried himself and spoke dripped with practiced royal precision. “I am honored to meet you, King Sombra.”
“Thou shouldst consider it the most important event in thy life thus far.” he said bitterly.
“I consider it a great privilege to be able to guide rulers like yourself to the Eternal Plains,” she said, bowing her head before flashing a smile at him. “It’s not often one of you manages to awaken so early.”
King Sombra merely narrowed his eyes further, his upper lip covering the sharpened fangs he called teeth. “What dost thou mean ‘awaken so early’?”
Charmane’s smile widened, revealing her own pearly white set of teeth. “The shock of death is not easily overcome, King. Most ponies do not even realize that they have died until I guide them to the Veil.”
King Sombra paused at that, his malicious glare freezing like a bucket of hot water in a blizzard. “Thou speakest of me as if I hath shed my body. What trickery be this? Speak the truth, lest thy riddles be thy last words.”
“I speak in no riddles or use wordplay, King Sombra. My name is Charmane, the Caretaker of the Departed. And only those who have died can see me.” Her grin went wider, revealing her elongated incisors. She watched as King Sombra’s demeanor faltered, his proud appearance cracking under the revelation.
“No, that is… I cannot be! Thou must be lying for I cannot be dead!” he shouted. Staggering, King Sombra swayed a bit in his spot before plopping down onto his rump, shock crossing his face. “No. No, no, no, no, no! I had just escaped! I did! I-I-I cannot have passed on!” He grabbed his forehead and shook it about as he yelled.
“The truth is much harder to accept when you first hear it,” Charmane said with a calm voice. She had only taken a single stride towards him when his hooves slammed back into the ground, his green eyes full of rage and confusion.
“How? How didst I die?”
“Of that, I do not know, King Sombra.” she said.
“Speak of my fate, vile monster, or I shall rend thee limb from limb!” he roared, rising to his hooves. A dangerous inky glow began to form at the tip of his red horn, causing Charmane to tense. For a few seconds, neither pony spoke as the tension grew higher.
“I do not know what happened to you, King, but your mind does.” she said.
“Thou is a fool! If I already knew what befell me, I would be able to recall such a disaster!”
“King Sombra, please calm down. Your mind is still in shock from your death, which is why you can’t remember how you died. If you calm yourself, I can show you from your own memories.” Another tense silence followed her statement, the air filled only with his heavy breathing. After a few moments, King Sombra fell back onto his rump and sighed heavily, still glaring at Charmane.
“Thou is to show me the truth and nothing else, witch. Deceive me and I shall make good on my threat.”
Charmane smiled again, even more intrigued by King Sombra than ever before. Not only was he awake and able to form himself into a recognizable body, but he was also granting her access to his memories. She slowly crossed the gap between them, her horn lighting up the whole way. When she reached him, she lowered herself down, resting her belly against the grass as she stared into King Sombra’s menacing eyes.
“What I will show you will perhaps be the most horrifying thing you will ever see. You will not just see it, but you will hear, smell and feel it as if it were happening right now. Do not be afraid, though, as I will be with you inside your memories.” she said.
“save thy silver tongue and Show me how I passed on.” he growled back. Taking a deep breath, Charmane allowed the spell to finish in her mind. A single beam of white light with scarlet edges shot from her horn and lined up perfectly with King Sombra’s forehead. Charmane shut her eyes and allowed her magic to flow freely, searching for the correct memories like the spell she had cast earlier that found him here. Her magic seized her mind, causing her eyes to open as white glowing orbs.
