I tried to ignore Crispin. Honestly, who does he think he is? He starts saying something vital about Auryn and then he just stops? She’s my sister, I think I have a right to know. Magma, on my sides, bubbles as my thoughts go back to Auryn. I love her. She’s my sister. Calista is too, but Auryn was really the only one who cared for me. She made sure I was fed, she made sure I was happy, she made sure I was healthy, she made sure I was safe. Mom didn’t give a shit about me, and dad was too busy fighting some war. Auryn was the only one who cared for me. Even Calista couldn’t be bothered. Maybe that was just because she was young, Auryn was the oldest after all. Still, I wish Calista would have cared, would have helped, would have just been there. Alas, being royal is not something I would wish on my greatest enemy.

“You know, Auryn told me a bit about you.” Crispin starts. I look at him, I never knew she had spoken of me. “She said that you were the youngest, raised off of scraps. Scraps of food, scraps of love, scraps. She told me she was proud that you hadn’t become like some of the royalty she met who had been raised off scraps.” Crispin said. I paused. “She said that?” I asked. Crispin nodded. Before I could say anything else, the magma underneath began to roil and quickly turn back into lava. “Crispin!” I yelped as lava began pooling around my hooves.

“Come, quick!” Crispin called, making quick work of the small bits of magma that hadn’t turned to lava yet. I hopped onto a magma piece, but as I did it began disintegrating right under my hooves. I hopped to the next piece, a tiny bit too late, my back hooves now smoldering. I hopped to the next, and next, leaving behind more lava as I did. Eventually I reached the ‘safety’ spot, where the rock stayed solid underhoof. 

Crispin gaped at something, and when I turned around I was met with horrors. A serpent dripping with lava rose. Its forked tongue flicked, as if smelling the air. This awful creature arcs and spirals in the air, slamming back down into the lava, sending smoldering bits of lava and debris every which way. “Duck!” Crispin cries, as a larger rock nearly takes my head with it as it flies through the air, bits of lava coming off and landing in my coat. My back feels like it was exposed to fire, even though only a few flakes of lava landed on me. A thick smell of burning fur fills my nostrils. I cough, trying to expel the awful thick smell, but it keeps infiltrating my nostrils, refusing to leave me alone. 

Somehow, someway the horrible creature in the shape of a snake begins speaking. “Galatea, Galatea, All Galatea, Galatea, Galatea, All Galatea.” It chants, its forked tongue still flicking the air, its voice hoarse and harsh, as if it isn’t its own. As if it's possessed. 

A person, or thing appears behind us. “Come with me.” It calls to the serpent. It has the body and face of a pumpkin, a leg and an opposite arm of a blue shiny metal, a leg and an opposite arm of a silver metal with moss growing on it. In its hands a large Scythe with gold joints, and a gold blade. Flowing from its back is a brown torn and tattered cape, and to its side is a walking scarecrow; sticks for hands, overalls, a bright orange shirt, and what seemed to be a green bag for a head. In the scarecrow’s hand, a seemingly heavy sack. Filled with god knows what.

Crispin sunk into a low bow in the presence of the two things. “Harvester, and Stu, it’s an honor.” Crispin spoke, his voice almost regional. “Bootsie.” The pumpkin bodied spoke. I assumed that was Stu. “Stu, it's an honor.” I said, copying Crispin, except I refused to bow. Stu took a look at the scarecrow, then spoke. “Actually I am Harvester, this is Stu.” They spoke, their metallic hands pointing to the scarecrow. “Oh. It’s an honor to meet you both.” I said, now scared. “Yes, and you don’t bow.” Stu grunted. Stu and Harvester walked away, and seemed to disappear into thin air.

When I looked back, the serpent was gone. “Stu?!” Crispin shouted. “Did you call the Harvester by his servant's name?” Crispin’s voice echoed in the large space. “Was that-” I started. “You know what, nevermind.” Crispin growled, hate and regret thick in his voice.