The heat from the room is almost insufferable.

Abel never thought he'd be this deep down in the dungeons, but if he's going to get anywhere in learning them for his course studies, he's got to learn. It's a blessing and a curse, finding a dungeon-dwelling courser who's willing to guide one through the more treacherous side of the dungeons. While it's a blessing, as there's no way he would've found all the secret little entrances into the lower levels, he also feels his wallet's lack of weight as it slaps against his gear. On top of that, dungeon-dwellers are always a bit... off, so to speak.

“Don't let a dungeon horse look you in the mouth,” his professor used to say. “They're crazy, wild. Rabid animals that never lead you anywhere properly. In all their knowledge of the dungeons, they're just as ready to lead you into a trap as they are ready to take your money and never show!”

The crackling of rock rolling down rock caught his attention back. He watches his hoof slip down one of the messy roads Fetch leads him down, not sure where he is. A glance back tells him the cavern they just came down was... dark. Barely any sights or signs to follow, nothing but the burning glow of molten rock and the heat. His sides begin to foam slightly under his pack as he treks down after his guide, unsure if they're extra sure-footed or if he's just out of practice.

“Isn't there an easier way down this mess?” He calls over a soft roar.

“Is life ever easy?” Fetch's harmonious voice rings out with a laugh, “why be easy when you can overcome and learn instead?”

“Sounds like my crazy brother, Miriam,” he mutters.

The two horses meander through the broken down halls, unsure what their next plan was. He watches Fetch's flank in an attempt to focus his mind, trying not to let the discomfort flowing through his body overcome his mind. A good Courser always knew how to overcome the body with pure might. His determination was his best attribute, all his professors told him. The ability Abel had to push through just about anything, including excruciating pain, was unparalleled. If only other students had such strong will! A phrase he got so tired of hearing, but used to push himself through moments like these. It's not glorious; to suffer like this. But it's honest. Bare. Raw. He had to do what he could to survive, even now with an expert guide. No one better to trust than himself.

“Wait, did you hear that?”

Fetch's head pulling up, ears perked, caused Abel to stop and do the same. Hear what? He can hear the gentle rumble of magma across the walls, something else was bubbling. But... no. He thinks he might be able to hear it... Hooves gingerly tap along the cobblestone as he steps to his guide's side, looking and listening. Every muscle in his body tenses as he hears the scratching of... claws. The slapping of paw pads.

“Woe...” Fetch begins, face tensing and ears pinning while their head lowered in defense, “the hounds of hell be upon ye.”

“Hounds of what?”

Despite being past his adolescence, Abel's reaction timing was still too slow for what came upon the two of them. Howls that echoed through every room filled the air with a dread he'd never felt before. His legs seemed to lock at the death-like scream behind each one, eyes locked on the melting, rotted maws that turned the corner from the door ahead of them. Two, no three, maybe four? A pack of six hell hounds made their way into the room, heckles raised and teeth bore.

He'd never seen such monstrous creatures before; they looked relatively small from that distance, but something told him by the way Fetch moved back several paces, they were much bigger than they appeared. Bodies rotted and spewed liquid rock, glowing as hot and angry as the room around them. Some of them had extra limbs, others were missing bodily pieces that shouldn't let them survive in the wild. Abel's chest tightened and his rear legs stumbled over the uneven ground as he backed up, ears laid back and mouth agape. Fetch turned to him and whinnied something, but he couldn't hear her over the sound of the screaming one hound made. It wasn't until she turned and stomped her hooves at him that he caught on.

“ABEL! RUN!”

His hooves stumbled over each other as the knight turned, starting to scramble behind him. Fetch was already leaps and bounds ahead of him as he bolted, trying to keep up with his guide's movement. Barks and snarls echoed as the hounds charged them in a pack, hungry and eager to tear flesh.

Fetch's guidance led him past the gaping archway they found their way through originally, but he found it difficult to keep up once the halls were open to them. Which way did they turn? He kept up with that pale tail of theirs for a little while, but one too many curves caused him to get lost. The heat of the magma dimmed with each room and hall he passed through, but that didn't mean much when it grew too dark to see well. There's got to be a medium between the second and first levels he's stuck in now, right? The sound of the hounds echoed less and less the further forward he pushed, but by the angels he did not know where every hoof fall took him.

Something down the hall called to him, causing the courser to unknowingly drift towards a large empty room. There was a break in the wall similar to the one he'd traveled down earlier, but instead of insufferable heat, there was a chill in the air and the whistling of wind. Abel squinted at the chasm through the dark, ears pinning when he saw what looked like stars. Stars? No shot he'd already found the surface. Sure enough, though, the dank smell of moss and stagnant water gave way to the smell of wet grass and mud. As he approached, he didn't realize the gap started a lot sooner than the magma room's gap. His right hoof slipped, causing him to stumble and fight for a good few moments until he slid down soft earth and rolled over rocks, mud, and vegetation.

A loud thud knocked the wind out of his lungs, causing him to lift his head and gasp for air wildly. He spent the next few minutes wheezing and struggling, one leg bent in an attempt to prop himself up enough to breathe. Angels... no... the fallen ones of the dungeons must be dragging him down like this. It wasn't usually in his luck to be so clumsy, especially not when so close to the...

The...

Abel finally caught his breath and looked around. It wasn't the surface like he'd thought. Instead, the opening in the dungeons had made way for a massive opening in the underground, a wide and almost endless field of perfectly preserved grass, rubble, and... banners? Were those war banners? Pikes? He recognized some of the skeletons as horse-like, but there were also two-legged creatures, one in particular had a pike through its head and hung it up like a banner of shame, causing its armor and bones to cradle the weapon it died with such gentle care. Wobbly, Abel stood to his feet and looked around, one ear perked while the other listened closely. No... this was no surface field. This.

This was a battlefield.

Vines glowed next to him, causing Abel to start and stomp his feet shoulder width apart in front of him. His nose flared, eyes dead locked on the orange glow to his right. Blooms of elegant flowers curled open whenever the golden-orange glow touched them, causing a beautiful array of petals and lights to overcome the dark field. The field lit up slowly as the roots of whatever plant it was glowed and blossomed across the entire expanse. Half of them he could hardly see, giving way to the reality of just how massive the cavern really was. Skeletons and armor glistened and lit up, some over top the vines, some under, some just barely touched by a flower's glow. A slow clanging of metal started to pick up as Abel took a few steps forward, looking upwards as a vine rippled up towards the ceiling.

No stars above. Just crystals, endless rows of sharp crystals that threatened those below with the ominous orange glow of the vines woven in between them. Abel can't believe how foolish he'd been to think he'd reached the surface so soon. Still, the view was stunning, awe-inducing, even. At least it was in the silence.

Soon enough, the clamoring of metal picked up. Shouts caused him to jump and buck briefly, snorting loudly much like a dragon. He bore his teeth, glancing around, but there was... nothing. Nothing much beyond the dead and a newborn fog lifting from the soft dirt beneath him. Abel tasted a bit of mud on his lips, causing him to grimace and work his jaw side to side, glaring in hopes of ridding himself of the oddly metallic taste. Something beckoned him forward, but he hesitated, rubbing his face on the inside of his front leg to try and rid himself of that gritty feeling between his teeth. No... this fog wasn't natural, was it? He snorted at it, but it didn't budge like it normally should with a breath. The way it swirled around his ankles and worked up his leg also caused him to start a bit, jumping and kicking with an angry shake of his head. What the hell is this? Get off of him, get off of me-

“Easy, little Courser. You are safe here, despite what it may sound like.”

The deep voice caused Abel to whinny out in fright, turning and rearing with his legs kicking out. He turned to the sound, only to freeze in his spot. What on earth-

“What are you?!”

He couldn't help himself. The words fell from his teeth before he could catch them, and he immediately bowed his head a little in apology. A warm laugh overcame him, flooding him with comfort among the loud screaming and whinnying echoing through the field. Abel looked up at the giant... pumpkin? Creature? Entity? Clad in rusted and emerald armor, bearing what Abel could only assume was the largest scythe he'd ever seen. Yet, despite the way the metal glinted in the glow of the flowers, he didn't feel fear. This... thing... didn't seem eager to strike him. Not yet, anyways.

“I am the Harvester, little one. Whether you've heard of me or not is not important, although I do wonder what rumors they spread about my Death across the surface you dwell on.”

Abel's head tilted to the right, ears swiveling. “The Harvester... All I know is that we cannot bear that name as knights, as it's supposedly already taken. Is it you who's taken it?”

“Perhaps,” the pumpkin rumbles, crawling closer to the knight with his strangely bent armored vines-for-legs. Abel took one step back. “So it seems you have heard of me after all.”

“Perhaps,” Abel parrots, unable to hold himself back from the smart ass streak he sometimes bore.

The Harvester seemed unbothered by this, instead turning to the field to overlook the commotion. Abel's head follows the movement, looking out over the field. There's no signs of life among the fog, although he can hear the violence and the battle that overtook the field once. A few steps forward leads his hooves to sink into soft moss and grass, nose flared and exhaling in sharp bursts of curious anxiety. It sounded so... familiar. He swore he could tell at least two, no, three... four? Four of the voices out. Without consciously realizing, the knight wandered into the field at a slow pace, wandering by old armor, skeletons, and bodies he'd never thought he'd ever see. There's something odd about this battlefield. He can't possibly know anyone here, but something tells him he knows. He knows a lot more about this place than his mind lets on, and he can't help but find his way into the very middle of the blood stained place, drawn to the open eye of the field by the tang of iron and the strong scent of blood.

“What do you see, little Courser?” The Harvester's voice carries across the field effortlessly, like he was right there next to Abel.

Abel stops in the center where no violence seemingly touched, ears on a swivel. “I see... nothing but fog. I hear... so many things. I hear-”

A shout calls across the field. He swears he can recognize the voice, understand the way that leather coat flows and feel the weight of it on his shoulders. Something in him causes him to lean forward a little. That coat... its his, isn't it? But it's not properly shaped. That jacket could never fit over a horse's haunches. He'd never seen such a thing fitted for his body type, either. The iron, object in the individual's hand glinted with the same ferocity his face held. He watches it glow and move on its own, steaming while it shifted form from a harmless blunt object into something sharp and deadly. It clicked and rotated, and the man loaded it with something as if it was ready to fire some kind of projectile. The brim of the leather hat on top of the two legged shadow's head causes Abel's ear to twitch, like he feels it on himself somehow.

A knight's armor glints under the jacket as dust is drawn up around the two-legged. The figure rolls backwards and dodges a massive leg stomping down in his direction, causing Abel to rear and pull back as if the ghost of the past would have struck him down as well. He looks up, feeling the familiarity in the black fur of the creature before him. A goat-like face of a beast, with the body of a... what is that. Man? Gorilla? He looks like those beasts he's seen in the Seraph Sword's archives, but much larger than he anticipated. When he sees that goat-like appearance of its face, with those soft brown eyes, Abel's innards freeze over.

“Jay?”

But... why'd he say that? That beast is not his beloved! That's nowhere near what Jay looks like. Still, the creature exudes Jay's aura, causing Abel to look back at the two-legged man. He takes note of the armor as it glistens and glows, bringing back memories of the nights spent studying the technology the Seraph's Sword had. He'd seen weapons like that in the armory during his day studies, and he'd heard rumor of leather being a primitive cover to hide armor from normal civilians in an attempt to fit in. Fitting in mad civilians feel safer, especially when they didn't know the Seraph's secrets. When the large goat-like monster struck down on the human again, Abel caught sight of the individual's left arm, causing him to grimace:

A cybernetic. Black and gold metal glistened with a light blue and golden-orange hue, stitching the individual's arm together where it no longer existed. He could see some of the technology beneath the man's chain mail as well, implying he lost more than just his arm. But... how? Something compelled the horse to look down at his own body. Why did that feel so... familiar?

When Abel finally caught sight of himself, he reared and whinnied in fear. Where- where'd his left leg go? Why was part of his body missing? He looked around frantically, then started to kick and jump, running forward beneath the goat monster's body and into none other than a familiar black stallion. Abel reared in order to stop himself from plowing into his beloved, taking a few steps backwards once he settled on all fours. He took a glance back down at himself and realized his body was just fine, that the sensations of loss were just a hallucination. Good... good. But what was-

“-?! Jay? What are you doing here, my love?”

This Jay didn't look kind or as young as Abel remembered his lover to be. Jay's brows furrowed, his ears pinned, then his teeth bore. The knight barely had time to reflect on the moment before he felt the ghost of the future lunge at him, eager to tear out his throat.

“JAY!”

Abel tucked his neck down and started a fight, kicking his leg out to stop his lover from attacking him. Hooves slipped through nothing as he felt sharp teeth bite down into his left leg, causing him to squeal. Something kept tearing and fighting, ripping the flesh from his body. Abel cried out for his lover to stop, but he didn't. It wasn't fair! Abel couldn't fight back, he couldn't land a single hit on the apparition. Jay didn't stop until all of that supple chestnut fur was ripped from his lover's side and revealed a very similar prosthetic to the human man. Abel balked, looking down at himself. He didn't notice the lack of blood from the violence.

“Jay, what are you-?! What... what am I-”

Abel stumbled back. Jay didn't look any more welcoming than before now that he stopped. Instead, he seemed judgmental, if a bit tormented with sorrow. Why? What did he do to deserve this?? Just as the knight looked up to plead with his love, he heard another voice call him from the side he'd just been assailed on. The courser looked up to see his liege trotting towards him, worry across their beautiful face. Calliope DeAngelos, mane rippling in the fog, sauntered close to him. Oh by the stars, they were here! But wait- they shouldn't be here. Abel was about to scold them, but it wasn't until they got closer that he realized they were looking through him at someone.

“Cain?”

Abel followed their gaze, catching a glimpse of the human who fought the beast earlier. The man looked... ragged. Old. Grey haired, tired. He seemed worn down and downtrodden, something Abel felt an eerie connection to. Age was not kind to this man, but then again, was time ever kind to humans? They'd all died off so long ago... Abel scrunched his muzzle and pinned his ears. What a disgusting, vile sight. After judging the man quite harshly some more, turned off by the unsettling aura he exhuded, Abel turned back to Calliope.

“Callie-”

But they weren't there anymore. Instead, a creature of sheer beauty waited before him. He'd never seen anything like them: four legs under some kind of cat or feline like creature body, attached to what seemed to be a humanoid torso. Massive wings curled up by their side, feathered wings, with blonde-white hair that flowed down their back in soft rippled layers. They had two human arms that crossed over a bare skin bosom, but not in shame or anxiety over their nude appearance. The creature's soft humanoid face was grief-stricken, wrinkled in both age and fear, but in their eyes there was something more. Something... loving. Pleading. Abel started to back up, unsure what the hell was going on, until he couldn't move any further. Why were they so scared? His head turned just in time to see the man walking towards the angelic creature, weapon drawn.

“No... what are you doing?” Abel wanted to get between the two of them, but couldn't for some reason – maybe fear of that giant weapon the man possessed. “Stop... stop! What are you doing?! STOP!”

Nothing stopped the man's weapon from cleaving straight through the creature's neck and torso, blood gushing through the fog, cutting them down where they stood. Abel cried out in anguish, hooves stomping into the now blood soaked dirt beneath them. He screamed, watching as the Hunter started to carve into the creature's wings like they were prized game.

“No! How could you? You MONSTER! How dare you-”

The word monster seemed to finally catch the man's attention. He looked directly at Abel, locking cold eyes with the stallion. Abel's heart skipped a beat. His ears pinned and he bore his teeth with an unnatural hiss, but his tail was tucked, rear legs lowered a bit in an attempt to get ready to fight – or run. This 'Cain' individual stared him down, then licked the blood off his weapon and hands with a dark purple tongue. Humans didn't have purple tongues... not according to what history the Seraph had on humans. Those sharp teeth weren't human, either, were they? Nor was that stare...

Abel heard an anguished whinny behind him. Maybe Fetch had finally found him and would help save him from these crazy visions? If they were visions... Part of him couldn't tell if they were real or not. Dear Angels, please don't let them be real! He glanced down at his leg, noticing it was no longer cybernetic, but he was covered in that entity's blood. That poor creature... he could only bear ignoring their dead body for so long. The feel of their blood on his hooves felt all too good, all too right, which drew him back several more paces, head swiveling towards the whinny.

“Callie... by the Divine, Callie!”

A golden puck whimpered, long ears drooping. The puck trotted forward, then dashed up to the corpse, sliding on all four legs until she was nothing more than a-. A rabbit-like creature? A human? He couldn't tell what she was, her figure kept shifting and changing and stretching unnaturally. The creature-puck started to weep over her friend's corpse, leaning into their blood before looking down at her own blood covered hands. The screams she made caused Abel to wince and lower his head, pulling back in pain just like the human man was. She turned towards the man, then to Abel, red eyes full of vitriol and violence.

“You... you...!! I hate you... I HATE YOU!” The rabbit-puck stood up, body glitching into something unnatural, like she'd been smashed together with two or three other creatures. Every step she took caused Abel to step backwards an equal pace. The girl screamed and screamed at him until her shrieks were louder than the battlefield around him, her own mouth contorting into a massive maw of teeth and eyes- oh god, the eyes-

“I'M GOING TO KILL YOU AND RID THIS WORLD OF YOUR SINS ONCE AND FOR ALL!”

Clanging of armor caught him off guard, but was a welcome change to the shriek the puck was making. Her hands reached out and she lunged at him, but she disappeared just as quickly as she jumped. Abel felt a cold sensation run through him as her essence passed over him, causing him to shiver and whimper. What the... what in the seven hells. Oh, by the Angels, couldn't this nightmare just end? Who did he piss off to cause him such anguish? What did he even do?!

“What... Harvester, what's going on? Harvester? Help! Please!! I'm lost, I'm here! Help me!”

Was the Harvester even watching? Could they even help? Abel spun in small circles, finding his disorientation causing him to lose sight of the massive opening in the cavern. Where was it... where's his exit. How could he leave as fast as possible? The dark swirled around him, fog up to his chest now. Abel began limping forward, his left leg aching from the scrapes and bumps he took from his fall. Was it really that, though? Or was he losing his leg from the ghost attack? What was going on?

“Be still, Abel.”

A deep voice caused his fur to almost stand on end. The opposite comfort from the Harvester's voice earlier gripped his heart and froze him in place, leading him to believe this... this couldn't be them, could it? Were they angry at him for some reason? Did he do something wrong? Abel's ears pinned back and he grimaced, head tilting back a little in dread. His feet remained firmly planted on the ground as a low growl shook the world around him.

“I've finally found you, silly foal.”

The hell hounds. They'd found him, hadn't they? He was going to die here to them. They'd kill him before he could escape. Oh, Calliope... oh Jay... he'd never see them again, would he? What did he do to deserve this? Surely a trip down the dungeons wasn't that serious, was it? Abel squeezed his eyes closed, tears slipping down his cheeks. Please, Angels, if I am to die here, let this be quick.

“Turn around and face me.”

It felt like a crawl. Inch by inch, his hooves moved without his permission, rotating him to face the opposite direction he was previous. When he did, he felt a wave of something overcome him, causing his hooves to tremble. What even was this sensation? It was like his stomach mimicked the sea, but he'd never been on the sea before. He recalled the rolling waves that sailors told the tavern girls when they passed through. Merchants were always so eager to brag about such foreign concepts. Waves of anxiety made him wish he could push his stomach out of his throat, but he'd never be able to. What an awful feeling.

“Open your eyes.”

His eyes opened against his will.

It wasn't the hounds. That was good. But what he saw was almost worse.

That human from before stood in front of him, but, no... it wasn't the human. He looked like him, but that visual faded as quickly as Abel could process what he was seeing in the dark. Instead of a human stood a horse about a few hands higher than him, body bulky with years of muscle from what he could only presume was fighting, dungeon diving, or running, based on the scars covering his body. Abel locked eyes with the creature, taking note of the half-bald marking covering the right side of his face. Half of his muzzle dripped with blood and flesh, as if he'd freshly torn into something. That's when Abel looked down at the rest of his body, the front half covered in the same red blood. Parts of his hooves were chipped and his teeth seemed sharper than they should be. The same feral violence in those hell hounds' eyes burned beneath this horse's eyes, nostrils flaring and exhaling what only could be sulfur and brimstone. That chestnut fur felt all too like his own for comfort, reminding him of the weathered leather coat of the man. Part of the horse's body is missing, his left leg and side...

“You finally see me now, don't you?”

“Who are you?” Abel's voice is feeble and quiet, filled with fear. His body trembles.

“They call me The Hound.”

Abel's eyes widened. His gut twisted again, this time in the opposite direction. But... “That's not right. You can't be the Hound.”

“But I am,” The horses neck turned, bones crackling as he smiled. Abel hated how far that smile went up his maw, as if he was part dog. All those sharp teeth... “Why do you think I cannot be him?”

“Because...” Abel fumbled. His hooves finally carried him backwards, ears to either side of his head. “Because I'm... that's my...”

“ABEL!”

Fetch's voice cut through everything, causing the stallion's fur to twitch and his rear hoof to kick once. The Hound took a step forward, claw-like hooves crushing a beautiful orange flower. It's juice leaked out and intermingled with the blood dribbling from him. Abel stomped in his own right leg and stood firm in a burst of courage, angry at the audacity of the one before him. No. This wasn't real! So he had nothing to fear! He was tired of running; this thing wasn't allowed to bully him! Not at all!

“You cannot be the Hound, as that's my knight's name!” He shouted. “I rebuke thee, get away from me! You cannot claim a knight's honorary title! That is blasphemy! So, begone!”

The echo of laughter caused Abel's confidence to pop, although he held his ground firm. The Hound moved with such quickness that the knight had no chance to move, surrounded by a creature that blurred in a flurry of blood and white fur around him. Howls echoed through his mind, causing Abel to grimace and squeeze his eyes shut. No... no. This isn't real. This isn't real. He's the Hound, not this- this beast. This creature. This monster.

“Harvester, if this is one of your tricks, you are truly wicked!” Abel shouted again, lifting his head high, “you are truly wicked!”

“It is not I who is at fault for the atrocities one witnessed,” that familiar voice whispers to him among the swirling chaos, the fog blending in with the Hound's movement to where he almost disappeared among it. “I am simply a messenger, a ferryman. What you see here is what you wish to see.”

“Abel?” Fetch called again.

“What I wish to see?” Abel snarled, eyes squeezing shut tighter, “I do not wish to see any of this! All of this is blasphemy! Atrocities! Things that have nothing to do with me! All of this is your fault, isn't it? You're the one who brought me here, lured me with your putrid petals and vile scythe... you... you-!”

“Oh, simple minded Courser... if only you knew the truth.”

“The truth will set you free,” the Hound's voice snarled around him in a whirlwind, making him feel dizzy even with his eyes closed, “set you free, set you free, the truth will set me free.”

“ABEL?!”

“I'M HERE!” Abel screamed, shaking his head and turning, “What do you WANT!”

He didn't recognize himself in that shriek. Abel's eyes opened and he found himself in an empty field again, sunlight beaming from an nondescript source behind him. He couldn't understand how there was some kind of sunrise in an underground field, but he didn't question anything at this point. Especially not when it let him see the blue opalescent mare standing on the gaping opening to the dungeon yards away. His ears lifted and relief overtook him, exhale full of fog and brimstone. As he stepped away, the feel of soft grass cushioned every step, hooves soaked with a bit of the blood trickling down from the wound on his left leg.

Abel limped his way forward to his guide, only stopping once to look back. The Harvester sat at a far distance, going through the field with their scythe. A confusing sensation of multiple emotions overtook him, ears flicking here and there in an attempt to help him process what just happened. The Hound... Jay... that golden puck... Calliope and that strange creature with the Man called Cain... what in the seven hells happened here to cause such strange hallucinations?

Must've been the flowers, right? Abel turned just as Fetch appeared next to him, causing him to jump. She seemed to bear a smile despite his previous shout, causing him to feel a little less guilty about being so grumpy. At least with her here they'd make it out of this dungeon alive.

The Harvester watched the both of them leave, leaning on their scythe with a whimsical hum. “One's past sure does have a way of finding them, even across realities, doesn't it?” They smile down at the rabbit-like soul sitting next to them, then pat her head gently. “In due time, little one. He'll figure it out in due time.”