Monster

Phase One

The Masque

From the Abyss he comes above,

With not an ounce of mercy or love.

Soul stealer, heart seeker, terror of the night.

Dare ye not to test his might.

Seek ye not to hide from his sight.

Night and day he walks among

Those of old and those of young.

From time of times he has sought

Those who by sin their souls he bought.

- excerpt from Humai Mnikeil ("Death from the Deep") by Mnakoum nir Hbirim, translated from Zebrican

The Canterlot City Art Museum. Cadence was certain there could be no better way to relax than to spend the day admiring the works of Equestria's most magnificent and talented artists. Well, excluding spending a day with her husband, but he was a bit busy today.

Shining Armor. Her husband. Whoo! That thought still sent shivers down her spine.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza casually trotted through the halls of the museum with a relaxed, pleasant smile on her face, occasionally stopping to admire a particularly well done painting or sculpture. Only a few other ponies were present, because it was a weekday. This was the very reason she was there now and not later, no need to worry about crowds. Those present all knew who she was, of course, and most greeted her or congratulated her on her recent marriage. However, none were nearly as starstruck by the pink alicorn as they would be by one of her aunts. She was quite happy with this, actually. Sure, she was a princess and essentially the avatar of Love, but her notability paled in comparison to that of alicorns that ruled over the day and night. So while ponies nearly always recognized her, they rarely flocked to her as they did with Celestia and Luna. As long as she avoided more crowded areas, she would be almost entirely free from harassment.

The pink alicorn suddenly paused, then slowly backtracked to the doorway she had just passed. Cadence was a semi-regular patron of this museum, and she had every detail of its layout memorized. She knew how the art was organized, what kind of art was displayed where, and which areas were closed off and empty.

During her last visit, this particular area had been empty, with a sign displaying a "coming soon!" sign detailing a 'Deities and Demons' exhibit. The area had been closed off for the better part of a year, and the scaffolding and various other materials within had lain unused for so long that she had started to think it would just remain that way forever. Apparently that wasn't the case, since the expansive room was now fully painted and covered wall to wall with paintings, drawings, and sculptures of the many depictions of gods and other divine creatures made throughout history. There were ancient clay pots and weavings from Zebrica, paintings - both contemporary and Renaissance-era, - from a number of famous Equestrian artists, Minauran sculptures, and even a few Griffonian works.

However, there was one corner of the exhibit that drew her attention the most.

Her smile fading somewhat to a more neutral expression, Cadence cantered into the room and over to the opposite end, where a sub-exhibit had it's own little alcove. The back wall of the niche was covered by a noticeably enlarged copy of a painting, lit from multiple angles by dim spotlights to enhance its atmosphere. On the bottom of the picture's frame was a small bronze plaque.

"Abyss" - by Horidius Ponifex Lovecolt, 246 BC

Cadence had to admit, the name was quite fitting. The painting was dominated by swirling red and orange brushstrokes that were clearly meant to resemble fire. At the center was the most intimidating alicorn the princess had ever seen. It stood atop a small mountain of bones containing at least one skull of every sentient race on the face of Equis. Its coat was the color of dried blood and rust. Every inch of its body rippled with more muscle than any living thing should rightly possess, yet it remained proportional despite it. It's wings were spread wide, noticeably lacking of a normal alicorn's feathers and instead being webbed and leathery like those of a bat.

The most intimidating feature of the image was undoubtedly the alicorn's head. Stretching across its face was a mask that looked as though it were made from the bleached skull of some monster. The grinning mask seemed to leer out on the world with a malevolence and violence all its own, while it's extensions that wrapped around the alicorn's head made it look like it was painfully clawing its wearer's face. A glowing yellow eye leered down from the mask's left eye socket with a cold, judging violence. The right socket was dark. The small trail of blood running from it like tears seemed to suggest that there was no eye there at all.

It was not the only image of the menacing creature in the sub-exhibit. The alcove held examples from multiple civilizations that depicted similar entities. There was a Zebrican wax drawing depicting a massive zebra with an identical mask standing before a number of other zebras, each bowing to it in fearful submission. Next to that was a sculpture of a similarly masked, red-furred minotaur that held a pair of battleaxes crossed in front of it. Then there was a more modern Griffonian drawing that depicted a masked griffon standing in a dark forest, reared up on its hind legs with one claw clenched and held next to its side as though winding up for a vicious punch; it's other, bloodied claw was reaching forward, as though the creature sought to crush its observers. There was even an ancient carving of a masked dragon that stood on its hind legs like a minotaur.

Cadence, like any educated pony, knew right away what all of these works depicted; Death, Yvithagn, The Human, or at least each civilization's take on the creature. She noticed an article in front of the alcove that appeared to be some professor's thoughts on how every single race's take on the avatar of Death was virtually identical, and about how even the most isolated nations had practically the same word for 'death' in their native languages; "Hviamal" in Griffon, "Humai" in Zebrican, etcetera. She didn't read it, though. She knew quite a lot about this particular "coincidence" already.

"Mm mm mm, now that is impressive, I gotta admit...inaccurate, but impressive."

The voice was impossibly deep, unmistakably masculine, seemed to echo from everywhere at once and yet from nowhere, and held an underlying menace to it that would make most ponies wet themselves in sheer unadulterated terror. Cadence, however, didn't react beyond giving a light frown.

Since when did you become a connoisseur of the arts? she thought towards the no longer dormant presence in her mind.

"Since just now, and it'll stop once we're done lookin' at these little beauties right here."

Cadence's frown deepened. By now she was completely accustomed to the voice's shenanigans - being forced to deal it twenty-four seven ever since she was a little filly had more than a little to do with it, but being used to something was much different than liking it.

"Besides," the presence continued with more than a little teasing in its tone. "I think a better question is, since when were you so interested in death, fire, and blood? I always thought you were more into pink hearts, rainbows, an' all that faggoty, puke-y cute shit."

At this, the pink alicorn scowled and readied to snap back at the presence, both for the comment and the language that went with it, but suddenly stopped short. A look of mild confusion crossed her face as she looked back up to the painting of the rust red, masked alicorn. Why was she looking at this? Confusion changed to mild horror. Why wasn't she freaked out by this? The presence had been entirely correct in the spirit of its comment, if not the language, Cadence despised art with darker themes, yet here she was staring at a whole exhibit full of it like it was hypnotizing her, and she had absolutely no problem with it.

Forgetting all about responding to the question asked of her, Cadence backed away from the painting of Yvithagn, looking at it with more than a little suspicion and now a bit disturbed by the fact that she didn't find it...well...disturbing. This was practically a shrine to Death incarnate! This kind of thing should have been nightmare-inducing, yet she found it impossible to find even the slightest negative sensation directed towards it. Why?

"Well now, that is a good question." The voice did not sound serious in the least.

Cadence's suspicion flared further, this time directed towards the presence in her mind and joined with a not-so-slight anger.

Yes it is, she thought sourly. What did you do?

"You think I did something? Little ol' me? You wound me, Cady."

Cut the crap and answer my question.

"Oooh, such unladylike language! Have I touched a nerve?"

I swear...

The voice gave a chuckle, then did the mental equivalent of putting its forehooves up defensively. "Cady, c'mon, relax. I'm just jokin'. I didn't do anything, honest."

I find that hard to believe.

"And I really don't give a fuck," the voice shot back with an easy mental shrug. "It's the truth. Ain't my problem if you don't believe me."

The alicorn glared at seemingly nothing in particular, though her thoughts made it clear who it was directed towards. The voice gave a sigh, but finally became more serious.

"Alright, alright," it relented. "Stuff like this has happened before without you freaking out like this, so I'm guessing something's changed. Was it during your honeymoon?"

You're in my head. Why don't you just look for yourself?

"Nuh-uh, no way in hell. I know what goes on during honeymoons, and I'd like to keep my firsthand knowledge on the subject as limited as possible. There's a reason I took that week long 'vacation' from you, thank you very much."

Cadence gave a brief smirk despite the situation, but resisted the urge to comment on that matter. She quickly grew grim again.

It...It's been happening more and more often. Everything will be perfectly normal, and then I just...I don't know...start feeling different. I'll see something, or even say something, that I normally wouldn't like, and then feel absolutely nothing negative about it, like I suddenly don't mind anymore. It's almost like my personality is starting to change itself...

The voice hmmed quietly. It seemed oddly...subdued, completely unlike its normally bombastic, boisterous self. Seconds ticked by, soon turning into dozens, then going on into a minute. Still the presence did not answer.

...Well?

"Not a clue," was the immediate and cheerful (almost suspiciously so) answer. "Seriously, Cady, don't you worry yer pretty little head about it. I'm sure it's nothing."

The pink alicorn frowned, not at all convinced. However, there were two facts about the presence that she was quite familiar with. First, if it decided it did not want to tell her something, trying to pry would just end with her being red-faced and frustrated. Second, despite how much it seemed to enjoy embarrassing and teasing her, the voice had shown that it genuinely cared for her well being, though that may have been nothing but it's own self preservation instinct, since it inhabited her mind. Whatever the case, if the problem was truly something life threatening, it would tell her.

Cadence glanced at the "Abyss" picture uneasily, then shook her head lightly in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She turned to leave, deciding it would be best to save the rest of the exhibit for another time.

With her back now turned to the many forms of The Human, Cadence never noticed the golden yellow glow that manifested within the minotaur statue's left eye. She did not see its head turn ever so slightly to regard her. She never saw how it gazed after her, its masked countenance somehow seeming...concerned.

Night fell. The sun lay below the horizon, replaced in the sky by the pale moon and twinkling stars. In the land below, the many ponies, griffons, dragons, and other denizens of Equis readied for their hours of nightly rest...

Most of them, anyway.

For some, the day was just beginning. The majority of these nocturnal beings were merely animals of the night; bats, owls, and the like. Others were simply among the few civilized beings to be active only in darkness; night guards, graveyard shift nurses, and their ilk. A few, however, were a far less virtuous sort. They used the night to hide their deeds, accomplishing their iniquitous work under cover of darkness.

Rick Taylor knew that the house before him was a den of the latter sort.

There were no other homes for miles in any direction. Where there would normally be neighbors, there were acres of manicured lawn instead - a practiced eye would quickly note that this was not because of mere aesthetics, but rather so that no one could approach unseen. The property closer to the house at its center was walled off from the rest of the world, with a heavy iron gate as the only entrance and exit. Inside the barrier was a house just as luxurious as it was large. The light within suggested active occupation, and the many carriages outside evidenced the entertainment of more than a few guests, while the presence of armed sentinels spoke of their paranoia and hinted at their less than virtuous nature.

Rick walked up to the house unmolested by those guards. The majority of them were in too many pieces to bother him anyway, and the rest lay glassy eyed on the ground in pools of their own blood - pools that became eerily deformed as they seemed to reach out towards the hulking Monster that approached the front door.

The man stopped short of the metal door, seeming to size it up for a moment. Slowly, he raised a hand and pressed it gently to the door. Then with a sudden surge of power, he shoved.

A thunderous BANG echoed through the house as the door was torn from its hinges, skidding loudly on the floor for a few feet before slamming down on the floor. The masked human ducked his massive bulk through the open doorway and into the building.

He was greeted with the sight of dozens of utterly flabbergasted expressions.

For a few seconds, everything was frozen in time. The lounge area just beside the entrance was filled with a number of guests. Multiple ponies and griffons, both male and female, were frozen in the midst of pleasant drinking, conversation, and general polite merriment. Mixed among them were a number of heavier set stallions and male griffons in suits, most likely additional guards.

Pure shock remained in the room, but soon it was not alone. Recognition began to dawn on the faces of the house's occupants, accompanied by disbelief, mind-numbing horror, bowel-voiding terror, or some combination of the three.

Though the majority of the patrons were frozen with terror and surprise, a unicorn guard seemed to snap out of his stupor. His horn glowed dark blue. A sword surrounded by an aura of a similar color emerged from the scabbard on his side. In a move that was undeniably intelligent against such an obviously superior opponent, albeit futile, the unicorn elected to throw the weapon rather than charge. The blade was sent sailing through the air with all the telekinetic force that the guard could bring to bear. It twirled end over end, seemingly with the risk of hitting with its hilt rather than the cutting edge. However, the guard's aim was true, and the blade struck the Monster with its pointed end. The aim proved not merely true, but impeccable; the sword was buried to the hilt at the exact point where the Monster's heart was located.

Rick did not fall to the ground dead. He did not yell out in pain. He did not even grunt in pain. He did not flinch. He did not even bother to look at the profusely bleeding wound in his chest. For a brief second, all he did was give a nightmare-inducing stare to his attacker, then he reached up to grip the sword impaled into him. He removed the blade with a sickening squelch, still not moving his attention from the unicorn. The bleeding instantly stopped as the offending object left. Once it was completely removed, the wound was completely gone. Only the red liquid staining the floor remained as evidence that there had ever been one.

The Monster then cocked his arm back like an olympic javelin thrower and, with impossible strength and speed, threw the now bloodied blade back at its owner. The unicorn did not even have time to draw his last breath. Faster than an eye could blink, the sword plunged into the pony's forehead at just the right angle to cleave his horn in two before entering. The blade pierced skull and brain and skull again, punching through the back of the guard's head to pierce his back, bisecting a portion of his spine.

The stallion went rigid, then relaxed and flopped limply to the ground as blood began to leak from his lethal wounds.

Pandemonium.

Ponies and griffons alike screamed and bolted for the nearest exits; back doors, windows, any opening large enough to fit them. But they found the doors stuck closed, and despite their best efforts, no one could open any of the windows or even break them.

The Monster charged forward with great, loping strides.

One white-coated unicorn had not moved. Unlike those around him, who still screamed in terror and ran to and fro in their attempts to escape, he remained in his chair, frozen in wide eyed horror as the masked Monster approached him. Rick reached out with one hand as he passed and grabbed the fear-stricken pony by the head. Tossing him briefly into the air, the man grasped one of the stallion's back legs, holding him in a way all too similar to a one-handed grip on a baseball bat.

Wading into the small, panicked crowd, Rick swung his arm back and forth, using the unicorn he held as a makeshift bludgeon. Bones shattered. Blood fountained into the air. Ponies and griffons alike screamed in pain and terror. A pegasus mare was flung into a wall with such force that she went completely through it, turning nearly every bone in her body to powder. A griffon was crushed into a bloody smear on the floor by a titanic overhead strike. Another was thrown headfirst into the solid marble fireplace, splattering everything nearby with gore and cracking the stone.

Through all the horror, the violence, and the abundance of death, the Monster remained completely silent. He said not a single word, did not make a single sound. He was a cold, merciless avatar of bloody murder. With each blow, another died, their last sensation being of utter terror and indescribable agony, their last sight being that of a grinning skull and a single glowing, piercing eye.

Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

Death reigned. Blood lay across every surface; the reclining chairs, the sofa, the tables, the floor, and the walls. Corpses and pieces of corpses were scattered all across the room. Those few still intact enough to possess faces were frozen forever with looks of untold fear, horror, and agony. At the center of the carnage stood the Monster, Yvithagn. The broken body of the weaponized unicorn stallion lay discarded at his feet. Blood was smeared all over him, so thick on his hands that he almost appeared to be wearing dark red gloves. Slowly but surely, the crimson fluid splattered throughout the room began to flow towards him. It traced its way up his body to be absorbed by the mask he wore... but not all of it. Not this time. After a minute, the flow halted, though blood was still quite prevalent in the scene. Rick himself, however, was rendered completely clean.

The Monster turned. He was not the only living creature present. Just before him, practically at his feet, was the prone form of a gray earth pony mare with an image of a treble clef on her rump. Her coat was matted and soiled by sweat and blood, though none of the latter was her own. Her full, illustrious mane was disheveled and drooping. The mare's eyes and tears were traced by running makeup, and she quivered and shook with terror. She looked up at Rick's covered face with terrified eyes, her pupils had shrunk to fearful pinpricks.

Rick's golden eye glowered right back.

"P-please," the pony quietly begged. "I...I-I-I d-didn't want any p-part of this."

The glare did not waver in it's intensity.

"P-p-please, you m-must believe me."

Still the Monster kept up it's piercing gaze. The mare's voice began to grow desperate.

"I-I didn't have a choice! If I d-didn't do what they wanted-!"

The Monster clenched its hands into fists.

"I w-was f-f-forced into this! P-please, believe me! I-I had no-..."

She trailed off as fresh tears began to fall down her face. Despair began to fall over her as the Monster's fists clenched tighter. But then, just as she expected it to reach for her, its gaze suddenly...softened? Yes, the Monster's glare disappeared! It's hands relaxed, and it looked into her eyes with an intense, but now also merciful, gaze. It looked at her for a moment longer, then turned and walked away.

Octavia gazed after him for a second, afraid that he would change his mind. He strode over to the stairwell to the second floor of the house, and began to ascend without giving her a second glance. Realizing that it had no intentions of killing her, the earth pony lowered her head into her forehooves and began to cry in hysterical relief.

Rick continued up the stairs until he reached the second floor of the house, which consisted solely of a corridor lined with multiple doors. He walked down the hallway until he reached the third door on the left. From inside, he could hear the sound of whispering and pitiful whimpers. The door handle was locked, and was wrapped by heavy chains and a padlock in addition to that. Rick picked up the lock, causing the chains to jingle. The sounds from inside instantly stopped. For a second, there was silence.

Rick began to squeeze the padlock. The iron groaned and creaked, quickly warping out of shape. The metal soon reached its limit and broke in half with a deafening CRACK, snapping a link of the chain in the process. Both halves clattered to the floor, followed shortly afterwards by the chains. The man then grasped the door's handle and waggled it. No good. He tried harder, dipping into his reserves of superhuman strength. Still nothing. Deciding it would need to be broken, Rick yanked on the handle, ripping it right out of the door.

With nothing left to hold it closed, the door began to slowly, slowly creak open, eventually revealing five frightened faces gazing out at the towering Monster in the doorway; two belonged to griffon chicks, and three to fillies. One of the griffons was clearly older than the other four, but still no older than a teen. She held her wings over the group like a protective mother hen, giving Rick a look that was afraid, but determined all the same. She clearly had no intention of allowing harm to come to the other younglings. Four other pairs of eyes peeked out fearfully from the eldest griffon's wings. Rick could see that they clutched at one another with fear. Aside from the younger griffon, he identified a small white unicorn with a curly pink and purple mane and two pegasi fillies; one bright pink, the other dark blue.

Rick continually looked from one face to another, his expression otherwise unreadable beneath his mask. He took a step into the room, but stopped when the elder griffoness tightened her wings around the four younger children and gave a barely audible growl at the back of her throat, despite the growing terror dancing in her eyes. He remained still for a moment, then slowly dropped to one knee and extended a hand out to the five.

They appeared collectively surprised by this move. Each of them looked hesitantly from his hand to his face and back again. They seemed more uncertain than afraid now. Rick remained in that position, waiting.

A hesitant, shaking hoof exited the safety of the teenage griffin's wings. The gryphoness tensed and looked down in surprise as the white unicorn cautiously took another step outside her safety net, then another, then another, each just as shaky and frightened as the last. She approached the hulking man with wide eyes, ready to bolt back to the wing cocoon behind her at a moment's notice. Rick remained unmoving. He watched the carefully approaching filly, but did nothing else.

The fear-filled trek eventually reached its end. The small pony looked down at Rick's massive hand, not entirely sure what to do next, but not quite as nervous as before. The filly looked up at his face with uncertainty. He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. The unicorn looked back at his hand and hesitantly put a forehoof on it, then another. Her back hooves soon followed.

Careful not to startle the young filly too much, Rick slowly stood up straight, carrying her with him. She gave a surprised squeak and visibly tensed when he moved her to the middle of his forearm, cradling her against his chest. She relaxed after a moment and gave him a weak smile. He looked from her to the rest of the group, who now looked at him more in wonder and awe than fear. He gave them a small, slow nod.

Something else lighted their eyes then. Hope.

The Carousel Boutique was dark. It had been so for days now. The "closed" sign had not been switched out once during that time. Dust was beginning to gather on the disasterpiece of clothes and materials inside, and its owner made not a single solitary attempt to remedy it.

Rarity sat at the epicenter of the mess, softly illuminated by the moonlight. Her normally immaculate mane was wild and unkempt. Her coat, normally the image of perfection, was ruffled and matted. She sat with her eyes closed in the silence and shadows. Depression hung about her like a cloud, but she did not cry. She could not cry even if she wanted to, not anymore. As long as it had been since-

BANG BANG BANG.

The unicorn's ear twitched, but she did not otherwise react. Who would come knocking at this hour? Twilight? No, she was concerned for Rarity, sure, but she wouldn't come around this late, would she? Fluttershy? Not unless she was taking lessons from Iron Will again. Applejack, maybe?

BANG BANG BANG.

Rarity's ear twitched again, this time in irritation. Didn't everypony see that she wanted to be left alone? Why couldn't they just leave her alone with her mis-?

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

The white mare's eyes snapped open and she directed a positively murderous look towards the door to her boutique. She got up and cantered over to the door, her ears lowering as she did so. Her horn glowed, and a purple aura wrapped around the doorknob, whipping it open with an audible whoosh as she approached. As the door opened, she took in a breath to yell at whatever foalish pony had decided now was a good time to bother her.

Rarity's scowl became a look of confusion when the door opened to reveal... nopony... nopony, that is, until she looked down. The breath she'd taken escaped as a light wheeze, and her eyes became as wide as dinner plates.

Sitting outside the Carousel Boutique, beaming at her with an innocent smile, was a very familiar unicorn filly with a curly pink and purple mane.

"...S-...Sweetie Belle?"

"Sorry if I woke you up, sis," her little sister said, her smile turning a tad sheepish. "The, uh, door was locked."

It took a moment for everything to click. Once it finally did, a wide smile split Rarity's face and unshed tears of joy shimmered in her eyes. She quickly ran out and snatched up Sweetie Belle in a tight embrace. The younger pony returned the gesture with a girlish giggle. For a few minutes, the two sisters stayed that way, embracing while the elder quietly wept with happiness.

After a while, the two separated, both still teary eyed, as Rarity looked at her sister with no less relief, but with confusion added to the mix.

"Sweetie, I don't understand. I thought... I heard... How did you-...?"

"A monster saved me," she said with absolute honesty, smile never leaving her face.

Rarity gave a sniffling, teary-eyed laugh. "A monster saved you," she repeated with disbelief.

"Yep!" Sweetie Belle nodded enthusiastically, then pointed across the street with a hoof. "He's right over there."

The elder unicorn followed her sister's gaze with a questioning expression coloring her features.

"That's wierd," Sweetie commented. "He looks different now."

Rarity did not answer, and could not have answered if she tried. Her lower jaw was a bit preoccupied with dropping to the ground.

Across the street, gazing at them with a single glowing eye, was a massive, muscular, rust red alicorn wearing a ghoulish-looking mask.