“You said something about the Harvester.” I encouraged, my voice low. The harvester seemed to me like a tale to get little foals to stay tucked in bed. Everyone I’ve ever met has profoundly disagreed. Some Coursers have even told me they’ve seen him. His metallic arms and legs shine, his pumpkin body fails to wither, and whatnot. I think it's a bunch of bullshit, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it.

Phoebe’s eyes stayed on the dungeon, glancing around while magma popped and rolled to our sides. “Ah, yes. The Harvester.” Phoebe paused, a frown forming on her soft face. “What have you heard? I’d hate to be a broken record.” Phoebe said, her voice light, but her eyes heavy, they darted the space, looking for something, or someone. “You wouldn’t be a broken record. Tell me what you know.” I said, my eyes too now darting the dungeon looking for anything unusual. “Let’s go this way.” Phoebe said, changing directions, and the subject. With a sigh I followed her. We moved to a different part of the dungeon, the corridor narrowing, the ceiling shorting. 

“What do you think about the Harvester?” Phoebe asked, her eyes meeting mine for the first time. “Honestly?” I countered. Phoebe nodded, her eyes back on our path. “I think it’s some shitty tale made to keep the foals in bed all night.” I said, my voice heavy and loud. “Ah, so you’ve never seen it or Stu?” Phoebe asked. “No, because they aren’t real. Just like the grim reaper.” I countered. Phoebe glanced at me. “Alright, then why do you want to hear the ‘tales’?” Phoebe asked. “I can think something or someone isn’t real and still enjoy hearing about them. Just like humans.” I said harshly. Phoebe tried to say something, but before she could I tripped over a stone. 

Flames roared, eating the corridor. They came from the floor, staying in a few places. Trapping us from going forward or backward.

“Courser be nimble, Courser be quick, Courser jump over the candlestick.” A voice boomed, and through the fire I could see a large looming shape, almost like a pumpkin with metallic arms and legs. No, it couldn’t be, could it? The Harvester was just a legend, unless he wasn’t.

“Courser who loathes me, Courser who detests me, Courser survive me, with all the traps I’ve set.” The voice continued. Fear ate at my head, pain ate at my body, and determination ate at my mind. This would not be the end of me. I glanced over to Phoebe who was on my left. She was bowing, low and deep. I decided to do the same. My head touched the hot floor, and though it hurt, it would be better than to die by the Harvester’s hand would it not? 

“Courser who decides to repent, Courser who decides life is best, Courser who wishes to feel remorse, Courser who wishes to survive another day, Courser explain yourself and your greed. Courser talk to me.” The voice screamed. I felt this overwhelming urge to explain why I detested it. It seemed to like poetry, so why not reply like that? 

“Harvester who shares a bond with the moon bearing its name, what have you come to pay? Have you come to pay me with death, or another chance. Have you come to kill me, or have you come to save me?” I started, my voice not particularly even, the sound of my blood roared through my ears.

“My time here may be quick, my body may be nimble, but I refuse to jump over your candlestick. Instead let me hasten, let me bleed, let me vindicate. My voice not so loud, my body not so pleased, my heart not so fast. A tale was told, and a fine tale it was. One of how you came to be. It tested our loyalty, it tested our bravery, it tested our poetry, and last of all, it tested our minds. If I may, on one true night, a foal stayed in bed. Instead of frolicking, instead of eating, instead of playing, a foal stayed locked in its bed. A foal stayed locked in fear, for fear of the Harvester, who’s tale was foul. Who’s tale it was to scare those who stayed out during the moon who beared its name.” I continued, my heart racing. With a few inhales of breath, I continued. 

“May you understand now, why I believed your tale to be false. Why I believed you were a foal’s tale, made to keep them in bed late at night. May you punish me how you deem fit, may you understand me now.” I finished, my voice and body shaking. 

The flames stopped, now allowing me to see the Harvester. 

“That was a fine response. As much as I should punish you, I actually would like to hear your poetry again. Come by sometime.” The Harvester grunted, then just disappeared. I glanced over to Phoebe, but she didn’t look at me, and continued down the corridor.