Forgive Me for What You've Done by VaK
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Story Notes:
Tags as far as Warnings are listed as what I expect (This story should become mildly Grim-Dark).
More shouldn't be a long ways off.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tried to keep my diction and figurative language within the "bearable" spectrum this time, haha.

There is no after-life.

You had hung in blackness for all time. Surrounding you was imperceptible darkness that stretched into more darkness ad infinitum. Light never prevailed in this place, and it never would. It felt remarkably as if hooks suspended you, but confirming these suspicions by sight or touch wasn't likely to happen. They seemed to have been sunk into your arms, legs, and back. The pain from the "hooks" was, after having adjusted to them, much more an aching sore than a bladed sting.

Although initially it had been quite difficult to pinpoint, you felt as if there were parts of your body where the seams had come undone: as if your skin had began to open up on either side of some manner of wound. It was not so much a pain, but quite odd; your forearms, chest, and calves all had the distinct feeling that the skin and flesh had parted ways. The question eventually came to mind that perhaps this darkness that now surrounded you had simply escaped the stitching of your body. It was your best bet of ever understanding it.

Nothing much happened in this void.

Time lost its significance as a factor in your life. While it might be written as "one day", it could have just as easily been decades: you were come over by a feeling of gravity. It was as if you faced the ground from all sides, and it only made it more difficult to guess which direction the ground might be. Thankfully, it was short-lived.

In retrospect, it's been best for you to declare that there is no after-life. It's more a feeling that your body has while your mind continues to exist in solitary silence. At least if there is an afterlife, you've come to accept that it's not anything you're ever bound to find.


Luna frowned and flicked at an inkwell with a hoof. It was inevitable; she had to start on atoning for the worse half of her past.

Celestia'd hinted at where she might start, but Luna was far from eager.

Far from eager to return a murderer to Equestria, although it had been her along with Celestia to make him into that. Why she felt she owed him atonement, after all.

Much less eager to return a human to Equestria. No human's soul had ever shown itself to be able to move into the afterlife, so resurrection was relatively simple

But the Equestria that now existed was even less like he had known before. Luna decided to rely on Celestia's advice:

"Amnesia's the name of the game. If that doesn't work out, might want to see to evacuating Canterlot."

Celestia hadn't been sarcastic, even. Guards were more vigilant than usual.

Luna sighed, stood up, and left for the catacombs where they kept such relics as a buried human.


Colourless, unseen, stygian tendrils began to collapse over your body, beating in waves until the very ability to sense pain began to fade. From all sides, they forced into your body, perhaps returning the darkness surrounding you back inside. But as this metaphoric light came, you began to suffocate.

You'd long forgotten how to withstand light.

You'd long forgotten why you were sentenced to such an torturous existence; but the feeling of having earned it never left.


Whatever flesh and skin the "hooks" had caught you by tore. It was more of a release than pain, although the ground you fell onto in a few moments wasn't.

It was alarmingly dark, but you were almost confused initially when presented with sight. You saw light glint on some manner of ebon fluid that issued from your lips as it met the ground, mixing with dust that covered the pale marble floor. You forced yourself up with an arm.

Although it had felt like the "hooks" bore directly into your skin, you were dressed quite thoroughly in some night-blue garb and an ornamental silver gauntlet on your right hand. A chair surrounded with dark blue glow came through the air to you, and clattered down onto the floor as the glow dissipated. You took it as a sign, and sat down.

Your reliance on sight must have dwindled as time went by; you were slow to notice anything around the chamber--that you now realized was quite large--unless you gave it your utmost attention, staring a hole through it.

You noticed some movement peripherally, at least something your eyes hadn't forgotten how to do. A lady, with dark blue hair that flowed to meet the darkness, approached you. Well, pony-lady. Pony-girl? Lady-girl? Lady-boy? (Whoa.)


You realized you'd been staring so intently at her that you were leaning forward in your chair. "I-I'm sorry." You tried to look at something else, perhaps with seemingly less animus. But, for whatever reason, you turned back. Something in the girl captured your attention.

She stood noticeably higher than you, even if seated. She was visibly nervous, almost as if at a loss for words.

A tag fell into your lap. All it read was "Volō" engraved in silver.

"Volō, after a millennium-long 'grace period', you've been returned to life in order to atone for sins of your own, as well as to assist others in their own search of forgiveness. When you have repaid your debts to Equestria at large, we might decide the permanent sentence for your past crimes. Might we, no..." She faltered momentarily from bellowing these orders. All the while she avoided making eye contact, almost desperately. "...Might I expect your compliance?"

Something surged from your memory. You struggled to hide a grin, even though you couldn't entirely determine the significance of the memory besides its basic meaning.

"Of course, Miss L-Luna. If you can prove to me that the world does not end at this room's doors, then I'll do anything that you will me to."

All you knew was her name, but it didn't seem to help her uneasiness at all. If anything, her nervousness seemed worse for it.

Perhaps your ensuing unconsciousness was an indicator of this.

Chapter End Notes:
I love criticism, and comments of any sort. I'd love to hear your feelings.
Oh, and Volō is Latin for "I am willing".

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