Little Amnesia: My Dark Descent

by Pippington Britishhooves

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Gore, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 35307

I don't know where I am, or how I got here. I don't know who I am. I don't know how, or if, I am going to get out of here. I don't know if I'm alone. The only thing I do know is this; I must descend deep into the darkness.

Imagine waking up, and not knowing anything. As in, anything at all. You don't know your name, age, location, previous life up until that moment, nor whatever else is going on all around you. Imagine only being able to find out by searching for clues as to your history and whereabouts, and not knowing if what you find is true or not.

For me, this is my reality. My name is....I am....I am in this predicament. I am somewhere I don't know, and somewhere I don't like at all. I haven't met anybody else here, but I don't know if I want to. I've looked about, and I've found out very little about myself, or any other information that could help me.

I don't know if what I've found is true. I don't know if I want it to be or not. Everything I have managed to find has painted a disturbing picture. Everything I've found has pointed me towards vague clarity that I wonder not only whether it is real or fake, but whether the memory loss, the amnesia, is worse than the truth. My predecessor doesn't seem to have thought so.

Everything I've found is telling me to descend.

Descend into the dark.

My name is...I am...

...

...

...Diamond.

Published 2014-05-29 14:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-21 02:30:08 UTC

My name is...

Don't forget. Some things mustn't be forgotten.

A few wobbly steps forward.

The Shadow hunting me. I must hurry.

The steps are starting to become difficult.

My name is Diamond. I live in Trottingham at...at...Mayflower.

It's hard to think, with all my effort going into trying to walk straight.

What have I done? This is crazy!

I've given up trying to move in a straight line, and have instead settled for being able to move forwards at all.

Don't forget. Don't forget!

I stumble against the wall, but push myself off immediately and back onto my hooves. Keep moving forwards. I'm almost there.

I must stop him! Focus!

I concentrate on the clopping of my hooves on the stone floor, and it allows me to stay in the present, if only barely.

My name is...

Just a little further, then I can rest from all this.

I am...

Just there, up ahead. That corridor should do nicely. I push on, dragging each hoof up with as much effort as I can muster.

Diamond.

I'm done. I've reached my destination. It's not my problem anymore. It's his. It will be his. I just hope he can solve everything, and forgive me. I can't, which is why I've pushed all this onto him. With one last stumble, the world rises up to meet me, the blackness rushing in to greet me. I welcome it.

.

..

....

.............

........................

The patter of water on stone eased into my ears, although it could have always been there. It didn't seem to increase in volume, I just...started to notice it. It began to grow clearer, and I could make a distinction between a pattering of what sounded like rain, and a gentle gurgling of water draining away, followed soon after by a low throaty rumble of thunder.

I opened my eyes slowly, trying to focus my sight on something solid. A groan immediately followed as the light burned my eyes, forcing me to blink to try and clear away the sudden influx of discomfort. Cracking my eyes open slightly, the blurry images of the outside world made their way to my brain, barely registering as shapes at all. Screwing my eyes up tightly, I tried again, opening my eyes and trying to make out something. It seemed to work, the blurs growing sharper, more focused, albeit slowly. There was a window set into a stone wall. Light flashed through the glass, and a second later the report of the thunder followed, then a rapid, grating whistle of wind. I shivered, suddenly feeling the cold biting into me. I appeared to be laying on a carpet, although the hardness of the stone floor underneath was not diminished any. I lifted my head, my gaze travelling up the wall until I spotted a hoof sized hole punched into the ceiling, letting in a steady flow of rainwater, as well as the chilling wind. At this point I noticed that the carpet was growing unbearably soggy, having apparently absorbed a fair amount of the puddle that was trying to form under the miniature waterfall, and with a small heave I hefted myself up onto my hooves.

With the ruined fibre below me, I looked around, taking in my surroundings. I was in a corridor, set with windows on one side, throwing pale, meagre light in from the outside, not so much illuminating the interior but darkening the shadows around it. The drenched carpet below me ran the length of the short corridor, at one point perhaps furnishing it quite spectacularly, but not anymore- its floral patterns were faded, and it's red colouration had dulled to a feeble hue. A small wooden table sat next to a pillar on the other side, a plant pot resting morosely on it. In the other direction, perhaps a few paces from me, was an archway to another part of the corridor. I took a hesitant step forward, wobbling slightly on my hooves, and then another, and another. My hooves squished sloppily on the carpet, and within five steps I had reached the arch. There was a window inside, letting in enough light to reveal the boulders blocking the rest of the way forward. Just to the left and right of the opening, nestled into the corners, were candle stands, each holding four candlesticks. There was nothing else in here though, so I turned back.

Just aside the archway was a wooden door, and I almost missed it. If I hadn't turned around the way I did, I wouldn't have noticed it at all. With a small amount of trepidation, I pushed lightly against it, wincing as I heard it creak. It couldn't have been very loud at all, and I was likely overreacting, but in my nervous state, it sounded as loud as the thunder outside. Pausing to let my nerves settle, I pushed again, the door opening quite easily. I didn't immediately cross the threshold into the room beyond, instead waiting anxiously as if I were considering intruding onto somepony else's property. For all I knew, I already was. The thought gave me pause, which was quickly followed by a rising sense of panic. I didn't know where I was. This could be somepony's home, or business, or anything, and I could be trespassing. How did I get here? I tried to cast my mind back, but found it blank and empty, as dark as the corridor around me. Oh no. No no no no. Where am I? How did I get here? Why am I here? Who am I? WHO AM I?! The sickening feeling threatened to overcome me, but I forced it down, clenching my eyes tightly shut and gritting my teeth. Panicking won't help, I must stay calm. Focus. Feeling the icy sensation in my gut recede, if not disappear, I opened my eyes again, gently allowing my jaw to relax.

The room behind the door was dark, but there was a clear source of light. A candle burned merrily away, shining brightly on a wooden writing table, the wall behind adorned with two banners, one a dark blue with a crescent moon and a blue pony standing beneath it, and the other a vivacious yellow, almost identical except that the moon was replaced by an image of a shining sun. The ponies in each banner were facing towards each other, as though greeting the other. Or perhaps preparing to battle for dominance. The light also illuminated the rug underneath the table, not unlike the carpet I was currently standing on in the corridor. That light...it seemed to beckon me, like it could offer me comfort and...where did that come from? Perhaps I was just unnerved by my situation. Taking a deep breath, I walked forwards, entering the room and moving towards the table. Reaching it, I found a small metallic tube resting beside the candle, which seemed to be...glowing blue? I reached forward, picking it up in my hooves, but when I brought it closer to my face to observe it, the strange tint seemed to have vanished. Just a trick of the light, I told myself. Flipping the lid off the tube, I looked inside. It was filled with a stone and a small piece of metal. Ah, it was a tinderbox. Deciding this would come in useful, I looked around myself to see where I could store it.

That was when I discovered that I was wearing saddlebags. How did I not notice this before? I hurriedly reached for the buckles, undoing them and shrugging the bags off onto the floor. I opened up each side in turn, rummaging through them for anything that might have been of any use. The first side turned up nothing at all, and I shoved the tinderbox inside for safekeeping before closing and sealing it. Opening the other side, I put my hoof in and immediately felt an object, quickly pulling it out and holding it up. It looked like a book of some sort, judging from its rectangular shape. I placed it on the table, beside the candle, and opened it up, only to find that many of the pages had been torn out. That was strange. Why would I be carrying a book with this many missing pages? Turning the first blank page that wasn't ripped out (it was a journal, I realised), I spotted some text scribbled hurriedly onto the paper, looking like it had been scrawled in a hasty panic. I had to squint to make it out, only belatedly noticing the underlined heading above, reading 'Mementos'. The message itself was short, but it took me a few minutes to determine that it was a prompt and curt instruction:

Follow the liquid trail and find its source.

What liquid trail? I began to think again, to cast my mind back, before realising how futile that was. Even if I could remember just anything about my past, it likely wouldn't help here. After all, this 'liquid trail' could be anything, and it could be anywhere. It may have been something that I'd written days or weeks ago, and it may have been far, far away from here. It may have been completed already, or have absolutely nothing to do with my situation at all. There was no guarantee that it had been written for me, that I had left the note for somepony else. In fact, there was no indication that I had actually written it, or that it was even my journal at all. I sighed, closing the journal and shoving it back into the saddlebag where I had found it, before pulling it onto my back and fastening it in place again. I had to figure out what to do now, so I set off, hoping that I'd find something useful somewhere. I stopped at the door, taking a look at the room over my shoulder one last time, before I sighed once again and stepped outside.

CRUNCH

The noise caught me off-guard, as did the sudden sensation on the bottom of my hoof, and I scrambled backwards, a small yelp escaping my throat. I looked down, spotting the remnants of the shard of glass I had just stepped on. I took a few breaths, feeling my heart thudding against my ribs frantically. It was only some glass, that was all. Nothing to worry about. My eyes moved upwards, seeking out more of the glass, only to fall on the bright pink splodges on the carpet. My breath caught in my throat again, the words from the journal pushing their way to the front of my mind. Could this be what it was on about? I looked to the right, spotting the splodges continuing along the corridor and out of the archway. Steeling myself, I started forwards, deciding that it was sensible to find out if this was a lead or not.

Reaching the archway, I peered around the corner, finding a wider hallway ahead, the pink splodge trail leading into another opening further down, just before a great wooden door. I looked ahead, finding the corridor opposite caved in, boulders choking the way, much like the one behind me. Swallowing loudly, I turned right and walked towards the opening, following the pink trail, which was only partly illuminated by the giant window now situated in the wall behind me, occasional flashes of lightening throwing some more dull luminescence onto the morbid carpet and grey stones of the hallway. Two suits of armour stood as silent sentries, watching me as I passed by them. No, that was just my nerves. Suits of armour don't move, not on their own. With a small shudder, my front legs gave way, leaving me to half fall onto the carpet, its rough fabric providing no comfort. I tried to ignore the texture, as well as the feeling that I was being watched, and pushed myself back onto my hooves and scrambling as quickly as I could through the arch.

It was much more lit in here, with chandeliers spaced along the ceiling and candles placed at intervals along the left of the wall. I felt my heart slow slightly, my breathing lose its ragged edge. Stepping forward, I felt a little more at ease, my shaking legs finding strength, at least until the door just ahead of me to my right swung open of its own accord. I jumped back, startled, and smacked into a cupboard, my terrified eyes fixed on the doorway in fear that something should walk out. Nothing did, and I wasn't sure whether that terrified me more or not. Switching my attention to the cupboard, I opened it quickly, looking for anything of use. Resting on the bottom of it was another cylindrical tube- another tinderbox. I picked it up and shoved it into my saddlebags alongside the other, before looking back at the doorway. Nothing had changed, and I took a cautious, timid step towards it. There was light coming from inside, and I heard a faint sound.

Stepping inside completely, my mouth felt dry as I continued into the room. The walls either side of me were decorated with the same banners as before, the two ponies with their respective colours and symbols. On one side of the room there was a fireplace with a small fire burning, which I realised to be the source of the sound I had heard. It had warmed the room wonderfully, enough that I could have just sat in the chair placed in front of it and relaxed, had I not been confused and alone, having awoken in a seemingly abandoned building not five minutes prior. However, the warmth and seclusion of the room, with its setup of a small table (on which sat an empty bottle of wine and a tinderbox, the latter of which I snatched up gratefully), a few comfy seats, some candles casting calming light through the room, and the burning fire made it obvious that somepony actually lived here. Not only lived here, but had been here very recently, dispelling my previous consideration that this place was long abandoned. I also realised that there were no windows here.

Then why had the door blown open?

I quickly left the room and continued down the corridor, passing by the pictures hanging on the wall with little attention to them, stopping only to rummage through another cupboard in which I found yet another tinderbox. Why were there so many laying around, I wondered as I placed it inside my saddlebags. Stepping past the cupboard, I came to a wooden door, which I pushed open tentatively, peaking around the side as I did so. As it opened, I spotted a staircase, a chandelier above beckoning me forwards.My nerves tingled as I trotted forwards, placing my hooves on each step with the utmost care and attention, my head, kept up at all times in case something should appear. Walking in this fashion slowed me down immensely, and it took several minutes for me to reach the top of the stairs to find...nothing, just a winding corridor. I breathed out a sigh of relief and ran a hoof across my face. This place was unnerving me, making me paranoid. I needed to find the end of this liquid trail, and then find out where I was and what I should do.

I followed the hallway round, my eyes twitching nervously at each bend. Why was this hallway so curvy? What purpose did it serve to be so narrow and winding? Did I just hear hoofsteps? I spun around hastily, my searching eyes looking for the source of the approaching pony. The hoofsteps seemed to grow louder and faster, until I couldn't determine where they were. The tumult was ubiquitous, coming from the walls themselves, the ceiling, the passage behind and in front of me. My breathing grew heavier and my motions erratic as I twisted and turned, searching for a tangible being, something real to catch sight of, until I collapsed, my legs buckling under me as they failed to sustain my overextended movements. I lay on my side, shuddering as unearthly grunts and groans made their way around me. The stone walls seemed to constrict, then stretch exponentially, a sickening creaking and groaning accompanying the change. I began to whimper, my shuddering reaching my head and causing my vision to blur.

My movement returned to me, and I pushed myself off the floor again, stopping when I had stood up to listen for any hoofsteps. There was nothing. The walls were motionless, the candles flickered stoically in their holders, throwing some light onto the stonework, the struts in the roof giving some gentle creaks. This did nothing to calm my breathing, and I continued forward on shaky legs, rounding another corner to find a doorway leading into a smaller, but wider, hallway. The pinks blobs continued on, and so I did too, noting the overturned cupboard laying on the carpet.

I had barely stepped three paces into the hallway before a door ahead creaked slowly open, which sent me shuddering yet again. Fearfully, I hurried to the side, passing through an open doorway and into what I only belatedly realised was a small storage room. It was dark, and I nearly backed out of it, until I spotted a blue glow on a far shelf. Turning fully to it, I could see it was only a faint hue, as though it were merely a trick of what little light was in here. My curiosity won over, and I started slowly towards it, stepping over several items strewn across the wooden floorboards haphazardly, before finally reaching the shelf. Perched on it was a solitary tinderbox, the source of the strange blue tint I had seen. There was no doubt about it, it was definitely emitting a blue aura, although from up close it was far less pronounced than it had been by the entrance. Taking it and stowing it in my saddlebags, I turned around and went back the way I had came, peering around the the entrance to see if anything had emerged from the room. Nothing had, so I crept out cautiously, spotting the pink trail leading to a doorway on the left, opposite the door which had opened itself moments prior. Creeping forwards along the carpet, I swept a suspicious eye over the door, opting to look inside should anything approach after I had passed it. Inside, it was brightly lit by several candle stands and a chandelier, the spacious, open room decorated with a large carpet and curtains on the walls. It actually looked quite pleasant, and I allowed myself a small, contented sigh at the sight.

My sigh was returned as a sharp whistle of cold air which snuffed out the candles, plunging the secluded area into blanketing darkness and chilling me through. With a startled yelp, I shoved the door closed, letting it thump loudly, and turned on my hooves, galloping for the doorway through which the pink trail led, hurrying down the stone steps as quickly as I dared, leaping over the fallen stone pillar at the bottom (something I only spotted thanks to the feeble light from the hole in the roof), and pushed against the great red door before me, heaving it open before turning and quickly shutting it once I was on the other side, panting heavily. Turning around to face whatever was before me, I was only comforted slightly by the presence of burning torches adorning the walls. Still tense, I trotted forward, peaking round the corner and finding that the stone corridor continued on, with torches lighting the way ahead. With a quick look behind me to check the door, I stepped around the corner.

A grunt gust of wind blew a door on my right open and extinguished all the torches in a heartbeat. I shrank to the floor shivering violently, unable to vocalise my terror by now. My breathing had become jagged and strained, and my throat was tight. Several seconds passed where I remained motionless on the floor save for my hyperventilation- at least, I assume it was several seconds, although I lost track of the passage of time. I may have been there for several minutes, or hours, until my eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I saw that nothing had emerged from the room. My breathing was still quick, but was slowing from uncontrollable gasps and desperate clutches for air to quick, deep inhalation, and I gradually rose from the stony floor, shuffling forward slightly to check the room. Peeping round the corner, my eyes took in shafts of dirty, grey light from above, water pooling on the floor from the holes in the roof. My eyes scanned the room and were quickly drawn to a pair of items emitting a blue tint. I tensed my muscles in my legs and held in a deep breath to steel myself for the task to come. Letting out the breath, I quickly trotted into the room, snatched the two tinder boxes from their place on the shelf, and stowed them inside my saddlebags hurriedly, all the while casting furtive glances around to make sure that nothing would...I'm not sure what, but one doesn't fight instinct.

The room shuddered suddenly, dust floating down from above. I froze momentarily, then stiffly continued on, my hooves splashing slightly in the shallow pools of water as I crossed back over the cracked and up the two steps that led out of the room, back into the blackness of the corridor. The pale light coming from the windows to the right illuminated the pink trail as it led towards the windows, then cut left, going round the corner to some unknown. Just how far did it go? I pondered this fretfully as I walked onward in the same stiff manner, panting as I rounded the corner and saw the trail veer into a room on the left. The way ahead was blocked by rubble, so with little choice, I followed the trail inside.

I hadn't taken more than five steps into the room before it heaved. By that, I mean the room shook beyond what I thought would have allowed it to remain intact. I was thrown onto my knees, dust showering down around me, a deep, gradual rumble accumulating and reverberating throughout the room. The window started to rattle as the glass trembled in its frame, as though trying to tear itself away from the erratic movements of the stone around it. The room felt like it was about to collapse, and images of thousands of tons of stone tumbling down to crush me, or leave me buried alive, flooded my mind, immersing me in cold terror. I staggered forwards and threw myself under the shaking table, whimpering loudly as a lay on my side, curled up as tightly as I could muster. Books fell from the bookshelves around me, thumping onto the tiled floor in a strangely indifferent way. I started as an object landed on my side, having fallen from the table above me.

The rumbling movements died down, and the dust started to settle. Ever so slowly, I uncurled from my position on the cold tiles of the floor, panting for breath, shivering violently. As I moved to get up, the object that had fallen on me during the tremors slid off and clanged to the floor. As I shifted my gaze down to it, I noticed two things. Firstly, it was a lantern, powered by firelight gel, which seemed to be already flowing around inside the glassy compartment. Secondly, it was emitting the same strange blue glow that had become apparent to me after I had woken. It was subtle, playing at the corner of my vision, as though merely a trick of the light. Making a mental note to observe this later if I had the chance, I clenched the handle in my teeth and picked it up, turning it on. The gel caught and sent out a wide, bright pool of light, the heat warming my throat. It comforted me as I straightened up and searched the room, and by the time I exited through the other door (having pocketed another tinderbox), I was feeling much calmer, although my heart still thumped strongly in my chest.

The orange circle illuminated the other side of the cave-in as I passed through the doorway, and lit up the remnants of the corridor ahead. Crests adorned the stony walls, and a wooden door stood at the end. close enough to fall into the warm circle of light given off by the lantern. I paced quickly towards it, opening it towards me with a hoof, and stepped into the room, relieved to find that the windows in there were letting in enough grim light to allow me to see without the lantern. Conscious of wasting the gel, I turned it off and turned to my saddlebags to find somewhere to store it. As luck would have it, there was a small hook on the straps which fitted the handle perfectly, leaving it to rest within easy reaching distance. Turning back to the room, I found it to be filled with bookshelves adorned with damaged tomes, and crates stacked atop one another. A chandelier swung morosely on the ceiling, creaking as the wooden boards shifted slightly and let down specks of dust. For the most part, it was peaceful, with the groaning and creaking kept to a minimum compared to the other rooms. I crossed the wooden floorboards at a steady pace, pausing at the door as I took note of the closed stove in the corner and the wardrobe opposite it. My curiosity finally won over, and I walked quickly over to it, opened it up, and found a tinderbox waiting inside. Why were there so many tinderboxes laying around here? Was somepony leaving an emergency stash or something? I wouldn't need to pick anymore up, I thought as I slipped the latest edition into my saddlebags and noticing how much I had stashed in there. It really was unnecessary.

The liquid trail disappeared under the door into the next room, and upon opening said door, the pink blobs lead me directly towards the desk pushed against the wall. The chair next to it was knocked over, as though whoever had been sitting in it had stood up in a hurry. A candle flame flicked, illuminating some of the items strewn across the wooden surface; a slip of paper, a quill residing in an ink pot, and a bottle of something that I couldn't identify from a distance. The meagre light showed nothing else about the room, as though somepony wanted to draw my attention to this exact spot. Well, the liquid trail ended here, and this was apparently its source. Acknowledging that this was likely the biggest opportunity to get the information I wanted, I trotted forwards, approaching the desk with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. As I drew closer, I saw that the bottle I had noticed earlier was emitting the vague blue light I was by now used to. On closer inspection of the label, I found it to be firelight gel, and after checking to see that the top was screwed on tightly, I slipped it into my saddlebags with the tinderboxes, before turning my attention to the paper on the desk. It also appeared to be glowing blue, something which I barely acknowledged as I pulled the chair up into a standing position and sat down to read the writing upon the paper.

Diamond's Note to Self

19th of the 8th Moon, 1839 Second Equestrian Era

I wish I could ask you how much you remember. I don't know if there will be anything left after I consume this drink.

Don't be afraid, Diamond. I can't tell you why, but know this; I choose to forget. Try to find comfort and strength in that fact. There is a purpose. You are my final effort to put things right.

Celestia willing, the name Steelheart of Everfree still invokes bitter anger in you. If not, this will sound horrible.

Go to the Inner Sanctum, find Steelheart, and kill him. His body is old and weak, and yours, young and strong. He will be no match for you.

One last thing. A shadow is following you. It's a living nightmare- breaking down reality.

I have tried everything and there is no way to fight back. You need to escape it as long as you can.

Redeem us both, Diamond. Descend into the darkness where Steelheart waits, and murder him.

Your former self,

Diamond

My breathing had hitched in my throat as I read on, and when I had finished, I had become motionless. I didn't know what I had expected, but this certainly wasn't it. A note from myself, telling me to go and murder somepony I had never heard of? This was insane! I snapped out of my trance and turned the paper over, but there was nothing on the other side. I turned it over again, and again, and again, desperately searching for more, but there was nothing. How did I even know that this was addressed to me? It could be anything, like the scribbling in the journal I found when I woke up. The journal...

I reached into the saddlebags hurriedly, quickly finding and dragging out the small, leather-bound book and dropping it onto the desk. I opened it up to the first intact page, the hasty writing at the top still present. I looked between the instruction on the page and the writing on the note, and my heart turned to ice when I found them to not only be the same writing, but for the note to fit snugly into the journal, clearly having been torn out. A journal in my bag with an instruction telling me to follow a trail that was right next to where I had awoken, leading to a note with the same mouthwriting. The odds were looking grim. The note had even said that he had chosen to forget, and that definitely sounded like me right now. The circumstances were more than uncomfortable.

A fierce resolve suddenly took ahold of me. I might be lost in a strange building with no idea about my past or motivation, and very little knowledge about my identity, but that note had given me direction, a purpose, and information. It had told me to take comfort in my situation, and that's what I should do. So far, I...I guess that I had set myself up? That it was all me who had left the clues and leads for me to follow? The absurdity of my situation dawned on me, and I shook my head to get refocused. So far, I had lead myself to information, provided a purpose and direction, and it had gone well. So far, I knew more, because I had followed my own wishes. I had clearly known what I was doing, before I had my own memory wiped.

For what reason would I want to wipe my own memory?

Don't think about that! Packing the journal (with my note to myself tucked carefully inside) back into my saddlebags, I grabbed the inkwell, should it come in useful later, and placed it delicately in with my journal, making sure the lid was screwed on tightly. It was a memento that had brought me here, so maybe I could leave more for myself? Tightening the straps, I looked around the room, finding nothing that was immediately useful to me.

Wait...there. A small wooden lever on the far wall stood nonchalantly waiting for somepony to pull it. Trotting over, I gave it a quick pull with my mouth and then stepped back, hearing the scrape of stone as a bookshelf to my right moved out of the way, a hidden door sliding up to reveal a secret passage. Relief washed over me, and it was with a slightly easier, although still reluctant, step that I passed into the passage and found a red door at the far end. I took several deep breaths as I walked up to it.

My name is diamond, I thought. I knew my name now. I was making progress.

I. Am. Diamond.

Shadows of memories past

As I pushed open the red, bulky door, I saw my foreleg, and actually stopped to take notice of it. My coat seemed to be a dirty green colour, something that I hadn't cared about (or particularly noticed) up until that point, and likely something that most ponies wouldn't care about in general. For me, however, it was a new stage of self-discovery in light of my recent memory loss. I had to re-determine who I was, and that began with my appearance.

This train of thought kept me occupied as I closed the door behind me and trotted up a few stone steps and through a stone archway. The room I entered was expansive, sporting a high ceiling and a balcony overlooking the room to my right. There were stone pillars towards the centre of the room, illuminated by a ray of light beaming in from a large hole in the stonework of the ceiling, and fragments and sections of stone lay scattered around the floor from broken pillars, stairs and parts of the ceiling itself. The place looked decayed and decrepit, like it was ready to crumble around me at any given moment. A small window at the far end of the room, and one above me on the stony wall to my left, allowed dirty, grey light to filter through into this tomb-like room. I walked forwards, hearing my hooves clopping against the hard tiles beneath me. Some birds fluttered hurriedly away somewhere out of sight as I approached the centre of the room, stepping around one of the fallen, shattered pillars. The centre of the room was where the ceiling had fallen in, giving way for the muddied light to seep in from above, casting a dirty luminescence over the floor. There was a large hallway to my left ending with a huge wooden door, presumably the exit to this abandoned, decaying ruin. Taking a few more steps to the right, I saw some stairs leading down to another door.

I feel like I've walked here before.

I swallowed as I moved stiffly over to the steps, dreading what was beyond the door, what could lay behind that wood which caused me enough fear to wipe my own memories from my mind and force me to wander without guidance. I placed a tender hoof on the harsh stone of the first step.

I gasped as deja vu washed over me. I could feel the tendrils of familiarity poking about inside my head, probing my mind for recollection of this place. To my surprise it brought forth a strand of memory, and I found myself feeling, experiencing, a conversation which I knew to have taken place here, where I was standing at that very moment, at an indeterminable time.

"Steelheart, is it actually inside the castle?" I recognised that voice as my own, but I couldn't fathom the context. Wasn't Steelheart the pony that I had ordered myself to kill? The one who had been the cause of all my rage and caused me to wipe my mind clean of the horrors apparently contained within? If that were the case, then why had I been talking with him as though he were a companion of mine? I remembered the steady clop of hoofsteps on the flagstones and the sudden change of tempo as the conversation continued down the stairs.

"In a manner of speaking," answered a deep, gravelly voice, which I took to be Steelheart. The recollection of his tone with such clarity was terrifying to me, even more so knowing that he was supposed to be my enemy. "Come, bring the lamp. You've been to the refinery, have you not?"

"I don't believe I have. Is it connected to the...what did you call it?" I recalled the hoofsteps returning to a steady walking pattern before stopping briefly while a door creaked open, letting the two interlocutors through, before being pulled shut again, the hoofsteps resuming their usual pattern.

"The Inner Sanctum, my most precious chamber, Diamond. And it lies well beyond the refinery. In fact, it lies beneath the very stone of Everfree."

I shivered as the memory halted, my mind stopping abruptly as though it had come to the precipice of a great cliff. I had finally found ground on which to lay the foundation of my past, but beyond that, it was a yawning abyss, offering nothing but blackness that threatened to swallow me whole if I even attempted to venture forwards. Nonetheless, it was something. It may have been more fragile than the stone around me, but it was something, something that I could work with. Through that door lay the refinery, and beyond that lay the Inner Sanctum, where I had told myself I could find Steelheart, meaning that this was the way I needed to go. With my blood thumping loudly in my ears, I walked steadily down the steps, crossed over to the door, and placed my mouth around the latch. Taking a quick breath, I pulled the door towards me and stepped around it.

I gasped loudly as I saw the corridor beyond, instinctively taking a step back. A flaming torch bracketed on the wall lit up a part of the passageway not too far ahead, casting an orange glow onto the walls and floor. The way ahead was blocked, barricaded by what seemed to be a growth of some sort. Treading nervously, I slowly approached the monstrosity, cautiously observing it with a disgusted grimace plastered onto my face. It looked like some sickly grey goo, except somehow more solid and tangible, sticking firmly and obstinately to the walls and ceiling. Spikes protruded from its surface, great black points fiercely warding away any who dared to draw near. Tentatively reaching a hoof forward, I gave it an experimental prod, blanching as it bent with my touch, immediately springing back to its former shape as I recoiled in disgust. It was pliant to the touch, and after a few more curious tugs and pulls, I determined that it was too tough to tear by myself. I doubted that even a saw could cut through it. Disappointed, I turned around and trudged back up the stairs.

What could I do now? I had to find a way past that blockage to reach the refinery, but how? Could I go around it? I looked around the room, my searching eyes falling on the balcony I had seen before, a walkway that lead to another door. Well, why not? It could lead me to a route I could take to avoid the growth. I climbed over the broken bricks and fallen pillars to get to the staircase leading up, the banisters still intact. In fact, the staircase itself looked quite stable and whole, a nice change from the collapse of the rest of the pillars and brickwork around the rest of the room, something for which I was grateful as I ascended.

"No! Get away from me!"

The cry startled me and nearly caused me to lose my balance. I spun around to find the source, my eyes searching fearfully for whoever had shouted. I scanned the room, remaining motionless mid-way up the staircase save for the jerky movements of my head. I didn't see anypony, but the voice had been so clear, so close, that I had to determine who it was and where they were. The only logical assumption I could make was that the commotion had come from a passageway my right, the opening being the closest thing to the source of the commotion. Whoever she was, she might be in trouble, and I knew I couldn't just ignore this.

With a pounding heart, I padded carefully back down the stairs and approached the archway at the bottom, positioning myself next to the wall and peeping gradually into the opening. A brief stint of steps down greeted me, before the passageway ended with a doorway to the left and right. Reaching behind me, I grabbed and lit the lantern, feeling its comforting warm glow spread over my throat and chest. With the lantern throwing brightness into the narrow passageway ahead, I shimmied around the corner and trotted down the steps, slowing as I reached the two doorways. I looked through the left opening first, the light from my lantern illuminating a longer series of steps ending in a wooden door at the bottom. Switching to the opening on the right, I found myself close to a door, no steps leading up or down. Making an immediate decision, I walked forwards and pushed on the door with a hoof, stepping into the room beyond with only a small amount of trepidation.

The wooden floorboards beneath me clunked lightly as I stepped onto them, and then paused for a moment. It was dark in here; my lantern cast the most light in the room, with only a dirty grey stream from a window set into the opposite wall, which cast a little light onto a wooden staircase leading down in a clumsy square, hugging the wall tightly as though it were itself scared of what lay below. Looking left I saw a wooden banister separating me from the room below, although a section had been removed and was currently laying in front of me. To my right the stone wall was supported with wooden struts, with an unlit torch decorating one of the vertical struts close to me. Walking over to it, I set the lantern gently down on the ground and released it from my mouth, rummaging around in my saddlebags for a tinderbox. Pulling one out, I flipped off the lid and took the fire striker in my mouth, leaning close to the flammable fabric wrapped around the head of the torch as I jerked my head repeatedly, striking the steel against the flint. After a few attempts, a spark caught ahold and the fabric burst into flame, lighting up more of the room. I packed everything back into the tinderbox, replaced the lid, and reinserted the small cylinder back into my saddlebags before picking up the lantern, extinguishing the flame, and hooking it back into place. The light from the window was enough to allow me to walk down the stairs without falling or tripping, my hooves clumping on the wood as I made my way down. I kept my head up, looking for the mare who had called out. Was she here?

"Hello?" I called out softly, my voice much less confident than I would have liked it to be. It wavered too much, and made me sound like I was about to have a panic attack. "Is anyone there?" Only silence answered me, telling me that there was in fact no one in the room, something which made me feel a little safer. Reaching the ground, my hooves made contact with stone. To the right was a lit torch, illuminating a caved in passage to the side. The boulder blocking the way were coated with dust, and I was reminded quite painfully how unstable this entire structure was. A subtle blue glimmer from a large bottle on the floor drew my attention, and I stepped towards it and picked it up, reading the label by the light of the torch's fire. It was more firelight gel, a welcome addition to my saddlebags. I turned to view the rest of the room, noting that the way I had entered was a raised wooden walkway, supported by wooden struts and pillars which adorned the room.

A drawn out creak followed by a sudden crunch drew my attention to the cave-in behind me, leaving me to jump back as the boulders shifted and spewed out dust. I thought I heard an unnatural groan too emanating from the rubble, but I was probably imagining it. I mean, what else could it be? It was definitely my mind playing tricks. One thing was certain though; this place was in danger of collapsing on me, and I needed to do whatever I was going to do in here and get out. With this in mind, I moved past the stairs and onto the other side of the room, taking an immediate interest in the shelves in the corner, directly under where I had entered, and in particular, after a quick look-over, the blue bottle on the top. I snatched it up and placed it into my saddlebags, having collated three bottles of firelight gel by this point.

Just to the left of the shelves was a doorway, although I couldn't see anything beyond it. Taking my lantern from its hook, I ignited the gel and raised it to the doorway, casting the shadows back. There were a few wooden steps down, an extremely short passageway, and then another doorway. I trotted down the steps, my hooves making contact with soil as I passed through the passageway, which, in such a confined space, was flooded with orange warmth. I almost wished I didn't have to move from that place.

Stepping through the wooden frame of the second doorway, I found a room barely lit by a small chandelier, the four candles proving remarkably inefficient in dispelling the darkness. I pulled out a tinderbox from my saddlebags and spent a few moments trying to light a torch immediately to the left of the doorway. After I had, the entrance to the room and the centre were covered by a strong source of light and warmth, providing me with some amount of comfort. The wall facing the entrance was lined with bookshelves, crammed with tomes of varying lengths and colours. Two wooden support columns dominated the center of the room itself, along with a strut which ran along the wooden ceiling, from which the chandelier hung. Directly below the chandelier was a metal grate. I peeked around the edge of the wall to find an alcove behind, with a desk taking up most of the space, more bookshelves adorning the walls. On the desk were some candles and a white pot of some sort, as well as a sheet of paper. I stepped around the wall to read the note.

As soon as I did, I was overcome with the same sense of deja vu that I had experienced in the main hall. I leaned onto the wall and rubbed my head with a hoof to ease the strain of experiencing a vivid memory while perfectly awake.

"Hmm...." a gravelly voice mused, sounding like he was pondering over something. Faintly, I could recollect the sound of liquids bubbling and containers being moved about. There was a clank as what sounded like a glass jar was put down. "There should be more cuprite." The clatter of unseen instruments resumed, followed by what seemed to be scraping. "Let me see, let me see...and one part aqua fortis."

The events faded away in my mind, taking its arbitrary place on a unknown timeline in my head. I pushed myself off the wall and rubbed once more at my temple. Stepping the rest of the way to the desk, I picked up the note, reading its contents for any hint of what this room was.

Early Alchemy Experiment

This is my third attempt to produce artificial vitae. The former compounds lacked the potency I need, but I sense I'm close. Calamine and Orpiment are a given, and the Cuprite binds them well. This time I will attempt Aqua Regia instead of Aqua Fortis in the hope it will produce a more even solution.

The experiment was unsuccessful. The solution is highly acidic and proves impractical to put to any use except as a detergent. Organic tissue reacts especially violently to the solution and should be handled with the greatest care. I might be able to use the recipe, but I'm losing hope that I will find an alchemic solution to my predicament.

On finishing the note, I looked around the room to confirm my theory that had sprung to mind when I put the memory and this note together. In the corner across from me was a table covered in vials and bottles, as well as instruments that I didn't fully recognise. It did seem to be a laboratory. More importantly, it served as a path to a solution for me; this note had mentioned that a concoction had turned out to be highly corrosive, and I needed a way to get past a very obstrusive barrier. Perhaps...just perhaps...I could dissolve it. All I would need to do, in theory at least, was to combine the chemicals mentioned in the writing and I would have the solution, both literally and figuratively. I looked intently at the writing on the page, making sure to commit the details of the ingredients to memory.

Calamine

Orpiment

Cuprite

Aqua Regia

There were only four, that was all I needed. Four ingredients. Picking the note up in my teeth, I looked up again, seeing the pot in front of me. When I first saw it, I hadn't thought too much about it, but now it seemed to stand out, almost glowing in anticipation. Maybe it was that phantom blue I saw everywhere, or maybe it was just that fact that I realised that I would need something to carry the mixture in once I had created my acid, but I felt like I was drawn to it for some reason, like it was an integral part of my plan. I plucked it off the desk and shoved it under a foreleg, skimming the adjacent shelves for any bottles which may have been any of the ingredients on my list.

I moved around the room in this pattern, looking for a vial of cuprite or a bottle of aqua fortis, or whatever they came in. What did they come in? I didn't actually know what aqua fortis was. I could guess that it was some form of concentrated liquid substance, but that was only because...well, I wasn't sure. Intuition? I didn't find any ingredients that I needed on the shelves, the only useful bottle I did manage to find being yet more firelight gel, the blue hue making it distinctive amongst the books and instruments of intellectual pursuits. With no more room to carry anything, I made my way over to table I had seen, placing the pot and the gel down and the note beside them. I unstrapped my saddlebags and lowered them to the ground, making sure that I didn't damage the lantern. Speaking of which, it didn't seem to have a great deal of gel in it. Flipping open the top, I unscrewed the cork of the gel and poured it inside, listening to the satisfying gluck as it sloshed into the cylinder. Finished, I clicked the top of the lantern back into place and moved the empty bottle of gel to one side.

As I turned back to the table to sort out the rest of my gear, I noticed another sheet of paper laying there. Curious, I reached inside my saddlebags for a tinderbox, quickly lit some candles on the conjoining table with it, stashed it away again, and leaned in to have a look.

Chemical Relocation

The lack of a chimney to properly vent the fumes from my most recent experiments has taken its toll on many of my less stable ingredients in storage. Some seem unaffected, but many are stained by the fumes and will be difficult to salvage. I shall do what I can and move them to the wine cellar.

Well, the mixture certainly seemed to be potent if just the fumes could other ingredients. That thought gave me a little comfort. I also knew where to go now, and why there seemed to be a distinct lack of chemicals within the room. Even so, I seemed to be running around in circles. I had to go to the wine cellar to collect ingredients to make a solution to dissolve a barrier to gain access to the refinery to pass through that to reach the Inner Sanctum to kill Steelheart for some unknown purpose. This whole scenario was becoming more convoluted as it went on. That thought process threatened to drive me deep into a pit of despair. I needed something to focus me, to push some order back into this chaos.

The thought came to me suddenly. My journal, of course! I reached in to my bags and pulled out the comforting pocket sized book, opening it on the table. I would just write what I needed to do, and then whenever I became confused or despondent, I could just reach for the journal to remind me what to do. Yes, that should do it. Finding the page marked 'Mementos', I pulled the quill and inkwell from the bag too and placed them on the table. After a brief moment to collect my thoughts and put them in order, I took the quill in my mouth, uncorked the inkwell, dipped, and started writing.

Some sort of... I paused in thought, trying to find the words to match the experience of meeting whatever that thing was in the hall. ...growth blocks the path to the refinery. Can it be dissolved? I should think so, what with it seeming to be a growth and with the note telling me that the solution I was hoping to make was very acidic and reactive to organic tissues. It was my best hope right now. I moved on to writing my next directive.

Evidence in the laboratory has revealed that combining four chemicals can create a powerful acid. I would need to find and mix these chemicals to create the acid and then use it to dissolve the growth. Only then could I make progress. So far, so good. However, to find them, I would need to first do something else, which led me onto my final written reminder:

Chemical ingredients have been moved from the laboratory to the wine cellar. I would need to go down to the wine cellar to retrieve them, then bring them back up here to concoct the mixture. There it was, the plan laid out plainly, a clear set of steps for me to follow. Now that I'd achieved that, it should be much easier for me to make progress. With calmer breaths, I corked the inkwell, placed the notes in my journal, gathered the pot, journal, and inkwell and quill, stowed them all back inside my bag, hooked up the lantern, and hoisted my saddlebags back onto my back, fastening them in place quickly. With a check that I had remembered everything, I exited the room and made my way back up the wooden stairs.

Exiting the lab, I closed the door behind me. If I needed to get to the wine cellar, I'd first need to find where it was. A cellar would likely be down below, so in all likelihood, it would be the door just across from me, the one that I'd seen earlier which had a longer series of steps leading down. That seemed like a logical place to start. Stepping through the stone doorway, I peered through the adjacent gap down towards the door at the bottom of the steps. It certainly seemed like it could be a cellar. Looking up, I noticed a plaque adorning the top of the stone perimeter of the doorway, which read 'Cella Vinaria'. Well, that seemed to confirm my hunch. Assuming that 'cella' was in fact a cellar and that 'vinaria' was wine, then I was definitely on the right track. I looked over my shoulder to the top of the doorway I had come through from the lab, and found a similar plaque in the same place, this one reading 'Laboratorium'. Well, yes, that was evidently a laboratory. Facing forwards again, I stepped through the doorway and descended down the hard steps to the door at the bottom. When I reached the bottom, I pushed on the door, only to find it stay in place. I pulled on the latch, and got the same result. I shoved it and gave it a kick and pulled again, but it obstinately refused to budge, the rattle of it moving in its frame sounding like mocking laughter. I sat down and sighed, reaching into my bags and pulling out my journal and inkwell.

The door is locked. Find the key to the wine cellar. The new addition on the mementos page made four situations I needed to resolve. I looked at the first entry, the one I had found when I had woken up in the rainy hall, and crossed it out with a single, sharp line. It made sense to me that if I was going to write an impromptu checklist as I went along, that I checked off each point as I completed it.

"Process, Diamond," I muttered to myself. "Stick to the process." I took a breath and looked up as I closed my journal and placed it, along with the inkwell and quill, back into my bags. The wine cellar was locked, and I needed to find the key to it. Hopefully it would be nearby. The way to the refinery was blocked off, I had already visited the laboratory, and as far as I could tell, there was only once place left in this area to explore, the way I had been going before I had been distracted by that shout.

I still haven't found the source of that.

"Process, Diamond," I reminded myself as I stood up. It looked like my path was set for now. I backtracked up the steps and turned right when I passed through the doorway, back up the steps and through the archway into the entrance hall. To the left were the stairs which I had started climbing earlier, which I now made my way over to again, trotting all the way up onto the balcony. To my immediate left was a door with wooden planks nailed crudely across, barring entrance. Turning to the right, I walked onward, moving past the window at the top of the stairs and then mid-way down the balcony a caved-in doorway, in which boulders sealed off the corridor or whatever else lay beyond. It was directly above the corridor down below too, I noted with some disappointment. It may have offered me an alternative way around the growth or something else entirely. Whatever the case, it was of no use to me, so I continued along the balcony, passing another window in front of a collapsed staircase. Just ahead was an arch similar to the one downstairs, this one with a plaque reading 'Tabularium'. What did that mean? Library? Something to do with books, surely? How did I even know this? I shook my head to clear my thoughts and stepped through, making my way to the over red, wooden door, and pushing it open, wincing at the shrillness of its creak.

The hall on the other side of the door was lit by a lone lamp hanging from the wood panneled ceiling, a candle burning loyally away inside it and casting a little light onto the richly carpeted floor and decorative panelling of the walls. The door frames were marble, although one of them on the right side of the hall, stood empty, the door itself laying on the carpet just in front of the frame. The plaque next to this doorway read 'Libri Rari', which I presumed meant...books...rare? Uncommon or special editions of books, perhaps? Whatever was in there, it looked as good as any place to start looking. I walked over to the marble frame, my hoofsteps muffled by the soft carpet, and peeked inside.

The room was rather spacious, with the wall to the left of the doorway taken up by bookshelves with very few books left on them, only a few scattered tomes decorating their shelves. In fact, there seemed to be more paper strewn about on the wooden floorboards than on the actual shelves themselves. On the far side of the room was a grey brick fireplace decorated with some candles, and next to it was a chest of drawers with a painting hanging over it. In the middle of the room sat a table and chairs on a rug. On the right of the room were two more bookshelves, these even more lacking in books. Light streamed in from a hole in the ceiling, which had been shoddily repaired with some boards, and as such, the room was rather well lit, even without candles.

I moved into the room and searched the shelves on the left side of the room, my scavenge turning up nothing. Working my way around the room, I opened each drawer in turn, but found them all to be empty, and the shelves on the other side of the room were barren, something that was evident even during my cursory search. The only useful item was a slip of paper laying on the table, and I paused to read it as I passed by on my sweep of the room.

Diamond's Diary - Zebra Lands (Entry 1)

16th of the 5th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

The unflinching southern sun has continued to plague our expedition, making it impossible to dig until dusk. How Professor Scraper managed to find the location in these vast plains of nothingness remains a mystery to me. When I asked him about the tomb again, he told me about the legend of 'Die Son en Die Maan', the local folklore and superstition. It is an interesting story in its own right, but I can't help feeling there's more.

Later that evening, we uncovered a passage beneath the dunes leading to a sand-covered stone structure. The professor was confident it was the tomb we sought and ordered the others to clear the way- late into the dark cold night.

Tomorrow, I shall lead the workers into the ancient structure, hoping to reach the burial chamber. No matter what the professor is keeping from me, the dig should yield something interesting to take back to Trottingham and the Equestrian Museum.

After I finished reading, I took out my journal and placed the diary entry in the very front (the page lined up perfectly, which didn't surprise me this time). This could come in useful, a way of shedding some light on my past. As it was, I had already made a couple of important discoveries; I had been on an expedition to the Zebra Lands during the 5th Moon of this year, which, if I assumed that today was still the 19th of the 8th Moon, then that was only three Moons ago. Apparently, I was an archaeologist only three Moons ago, and I uncovered a tomb in the Zebra Lands. The second discovery was that I had apparently bought the journal, the one I had in my possession in the present, in order to record my experiences while I was on the expedition. Acknowledging that there were likely more diary entries to show me more about my past, and that they were scattered around the castle for some reason, I stowed my journal away (with the diary entry tucked safely inside), took one last look at the room, and then walked through the door and back past the marble frame into the hallway.

I crossed over to the door opposite me, preferring to venture there before the dark of the rest of the hall. There was just something about the darkness that repulsed me, but I wasn't certain what. Pushing open the door, I peeked inside, finding this room to be a little larger, as well as less sparse. To the left were two small square tables each covered in piles of books. On the other side of the room, a bookshelves covered the wall, and a desk was situated underneath a window with the red curtains drawn. As I lit the lantern and raised it aloft, I saw that almost all the surfaces- the tables, desks, and shelves- were covered with books. Two more bookshelves stood like sentries next to a door to the right of the room. I stepped inside, my hooves clattering against the tiles as I moved around the room, searching each surface for useful items. I found nothing until I reached the desk, when I slid open the top drawer and found a tinderbox inside, which I silently added to my growing collection. The rest of the drawers were empty, but one of the shelves held a blue-ish sheet of paper as well as books, and I stopped once more to read it.

Grimeye's Contract

9th of the 1st Moon, 1702 S.E.E.

I hereby offer my full attention and services to Steelheart, baron and lord of Everfree. This contract will reign for a total of 3 years when my freedom shall return to me. In addition, Steelheart, baron and lord of Everfree, is to recommend my services at the Equestrian imperial court and within the sanctum of the Circle of Nobles in Canterlot.

May no living being break this seal.

Grimeye, house of Grey.

The note confused me. This was a contract signed over a hundred years ago, and yet it referred to Steelheart. How could this be? Was there perhaps another Steelheart, a family member or something? Maybe Steelheart was a succession of barons, and the land title was handed down to each generation. I didn't have any way of determining this for certain, so I stashed the note in my journal, finished my search, pulled open the other door and exited the room.

The hall ended in a window to my left, throwing dirty light onto the chair and small wooden table next to it, as well as the door directly opposite the room I had left. To my right, the hallway continued down to door, through which I could the wooden wall of another room. Deciding to take the shortest route, I crossed over the hall and pushed open the door, stepping into the next room. A window to my left was boarded up, but the one next to it did let in some light through its grimy panes, allowing me to see the chest of drawers in between the two window and a desk in a small, enclosed alcove on the far left of the room. As in all of the other rooms so far, there were bookcases lining the walls ahead. A glance to my left revealed a stone fireplace, and the rug in the centre of the room, and the chandelier directly above, gave the impression of a decrepit but once homely room. I clopped over the tiled floor and opened each of the drawers in turn, finding nothing useful inside. Moving over to the alcove, I pushed the chair out of the way to allow me easier access to the desk, finding a tinderbox in one of the desk drawers which I immediately put to use in lighting one of the candles on the desktop. As it flooded the wooden surface with orange light, I found myself looking at another sheet of paper.

Diamond's Diary - Zebra Lands (Entry 2)

17th of the 5th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

My hooves tremble as I write. I feel a need to document my tribulation for I fear that my memory will fail me if I linger.

Today I took some workers and ventured into the dark ancient passage we uncovered. Our torches burned faintly in the murky air as we slowly made our way underground. The zebras were superstitious and fearful. They argued loudly and I felt their strange language getting to me. I mustered my strength and yelled at them to continue down the slopes and broken steps.

The crudely carved passage confused me. It looked much newer than the First Equestrian Era structure we had expected. The twisting path emerged into a great ante-chamber. The walls were lined with statues unlike any I'd ever seen. Despite their unnatural quality I felt a strange familiarity toward them, which haunts me still. At the far end of the chamber, a great slab of stone sealed off whatever lay ahead. I gave the order to raise it, and as I pushed through the narrow space, the heavy stone suddenly dropped, sealing me inside. I was trapped.

I took out my diary and placed the entry next to the first, right at the front. If I was lucky, there would be more entries nearby, hopefully detailing the events immediately after I became trapped. After packing up and seeing that the room contained nothing else for me to use, I made my way over to the other door leading out of the room, opposite to the windows. It was open a little towards me, and I pulled it open the rest of the way.

A groan filtered into the room.

I stiffened, looking to the left in the hallway. It was too dark to see. I backed away, closing the door hurriedly, leaving only a small gap out of which I could look out. I remained motionless, listening intently for any more indication that something was approaching. Nothing. The wind whistled through the gaps in the poorly maintained wing and some rain pattered against the window, but nothing else. It had sounded unnatural, like a guttural whimper of pain or despair, but now there was nothing. It could have been the wind, blowing more violently through the hall than normal, or there was a chance that I had just completely imagined it. No noises, no movement outside the room, nothing to suggest that I wasn't alone here. Still tense from the experience, I reached for my lantern, turning it on and holding it in front of me as I slowly pulled the door open once more.

This time, the hall was filled with golden light, the shadows and creatures which may have laid within having been banished by the warmth of the burning gel inside the device clenched in my jaws. To my right was a dead end, only a shelf, a table and some chairs present. Across from me, another door, suddenly looking very welcoming compared to the hall to my left, which split into a left and right turn. Breathing in deeply, I briskly crossed the carpet lining the hall and pushed open the door tenderly, leading me into a room marked 'Libri Veteres'- old books, if I wasn't mistaken.

The room itself was very bare, as well as very dark; the wooden floorboards were not ornate in any way, and to my left and right sat bland wooden tables overflowing with piles of books. Directly ahead of me were yet more booksehelves, boxes laying on top, unused. As I stepped into the room, my hoofsteps seemed to echo loudly. I thought I heard something bang against the wall, and a book became dislodged, falling off the shelf and sending out a puff of dust which slowly started settling back down. This place was getting to me, making me hear and see and feel things that couldn't possibly be real. Even as I shut the door and began holding my lantern to the tables and shelves, searching for any items that I could use, I thought I could feel things crawling over me, and I had to stop every few seconds to scratch the itches that my mind told me were bugs. I had managed to search the entirety of the room before I had to resort to lighting a candle, using one that I had found on one of the shelves to hastily light a candle on the desk with trembling hooves, sweat beading on my brow. As it caught alight, I paused, resting my hooves on the table, trying to slow down my breathing. After a few minutes, I was calm again, and able to return to the door with a more steady grip on the lantern. Opening it, I took steady steps out into the hallway.

At the end of the hall was another door, but when I pushed against it, it didn't open as I would have expected. I pulled, and found the same result. A few more pushes and tugs resulted in the telltale rattle that revealed that it was locked. To the left was another dead end with a decorative drawer stoically standing guard, although it turned up nothing when I rummaged through it. I started walking back to the old books room, looking back at the plaque of the locked door ('Historia Loci'). Back at the table with the lit candle, I swept a hoof across the table, clearing it of the piles of books, all of the thumping to the floor and throwing up dust. I stopped to listen, seeing if there would be any reaction to the sudden noise. After a moment, I concluded that I was alone. The noises I had heard before must have been my imagination, a thought which brought a small smile to my face. Now with a clear table, I took out my journal and ink, turned to the mementos page, and wrote myself another note:

The door leading to the Local History room is locked. Is there another entrance?

While I was there, I looked back at my other mementos to remind myself what I had to do. Right, find the key to the wine cellar, that was the priority here. Once I had done that, I could enter the wine cellar, find the ingredients mentioned in the note (I quickly found the note and read that over too, just to make sure I knew what I had to get), mix them into the acidic solution mentioned in the other note (which I found and read) in the lab, and then use it to dissolve the growth. Now clear on what I should do, I stashed away my items and stepped through the door again, this time with more confident steps, and took a right at the end of the hall, heading past the door to the local history room and towards an open doorway into what looked a corridor.

On reaching the doorway, I gave a quick look to the left and right revealing that I was in a gallery. It was dark, but I could see the polished wood surface of the walls, the portraits hung high up on the walls, the decorative diamond-shaped tiles on the floor with rugs interspersed near each doorway, the banners hanging from the ceiling, and the pale light falling onto the floor from the windows. At both ends of the gallery lay a stone fireplace. I started left, aiming to get around behind the room to see if there was a back door or something, another entry point. I passed several windows on my way to the far end of the gallery, some boarded up, others not. Through the unboarded windows I saw trees, the sight giving me a slight pang, a desire to see the outside world, a desire which increased as I heard the violent whistle of wind ripping through the wing, very similar, almost exact, to the one that sounded like groaning. I clenched my teeth and continued on, passing through the marble-framed at the end of the gallery.

Stop being an idiot, Diamond. There is nothing here, you are just scaring yourself. Stop it.

Beyond the doorway, the ceiling had partly fallen through, leaving a pile of rubble and debris for me to step around. I could hear the steady drip of water from somewhere, likely the part of the ceiling which had fallen in. Just past that was a small alcove to the side, containing several comfy-looking chairs and a small table, on which I saw a gently glowing blue bottle. I picked it up, determined that it was firelight gel, and stowed it away in my saddlebags. The path ahead had caved in too, boulders sealing of the room beyond. My guess was that the only reason that the alcove hadn't caved in with it was due to the pillars which supported its ceiling enough to stay up. Now with only one way to go, I turned left, following the hall round to two doors, one on each side. Deciding to start on the left, I made my way towards it.

CRUNCH

The light crackling and scraping of stone gave way to a resounding crash which echoed through the small passage, and the shaking nearly threw me to the ground, instead leaving me to stumble into the drawers. It had happened to quickly and suddenly, and stopped just as spontaneously, quickly trickling to a gentle rolling sound as it all settled, and then silence. Picking myself up, I trotted back around the corner, and groaned as I saw what had happened. The ceiling, having partly collapsed before, had weakened enough to collapse completely, leading to a cave-in. I was trapped here, unless I could find another way out. The dust was still thick in the air, and I coughed as I made my way over to the alcove, which was mercifully still intact, where I set my lantern down and coughed, thickly and fully. Reaching into my bags for my journal and ink, I jotted down yet another objective:

Must find a new way out of this area. I wasn't entirely sure why I felt that I needed to write that, seeing as I had no intention of staying here, but I suppose it kept me focused, almost as if writing it down made me feel like it was more real, more tangible perhaps, and therefore more achievable, or maybe because it was simply something official that I gave myself to do, and that giving myself a purpose was what kept me going. Mulling these thoughts over, I packed away the journal and ink, picked up my lantern, and made my way back to the room I had been about to enter before the collapse, bother literally and figuratively, threw me.

Stepping through the doorway, I was greeted a little light trickling in from a hole in the ceiling in the furthest corner, yet another collapse in this area. It was probably the result of what had just happened, seeing as the two were side by side, so I shouldn't have been surprised. In all reality, I should be thankful that I wasn't in the doorway when it collapsed. The floor was wooden here, and a table had been overturned further into the room. A bookshelf stood right next to the doorway, and I looked it over when I entered, finding nothing on it. Opposite the doorway stood a wooden desk, a blue-ish sheet of paper laying on top, almost beckoning me. Stepping over to it, I searched through the drawers first, finding and bagging a tinderbox, before I turned my attention to the paper.

Diamond's Diary - Zebra Lands (Entry 3)

17th of the 5th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

After pounding the unforgiving stone wall for what seemed like an eternity, I realised it was hopeless. I was trapped. I fell to the ground gasping for air, trying to focus. That's when I saw a faint blue shimmer.

My weakened body was heavy to carry, but I managed to push myself towards the enchanting light. It was waiting for me. Enclosed in dark nothingness, I felt myself drawn to the mystic light. I reached out, cupping it in my hooves.

The faint glow escaped my legs and began to spark brightly and spirit me away. Unlocking alien memories of spiraling towers, endless deserts, and impossible geometry.

The next thing I can remember is the grating sound of stone being lifted, the voices of the zebras pulling me to safety. And grasped firmly in my grip were the broken pieces of a most peculiar relic.

While reading the diary entry, I started breathing heavily. I took in bigger lungfuls of air, reaching up with a hoof to massage my throat. For some reason, my airway had seemed to constrict, depriving me of oxygen. I started to cough and splutter, stumbling against the bookshelf as my legs weakened and gave way beneath me. I tried to turn, to push myself up, and founded myself against a wall. Straining against my oxygen-deprived muscles and the weight of my own body, I gradually pushed myself up and rested a hoof on the wall. To my surprise, the surface I my hoof came into contact with was stone. I raised my hoof and struck against it, feeling the hard, rough surface bite back against me. I tried again, and again, and again, desperate find somepony to assist me, the stone striking back against my hoof each time I made contact.

"Help!" I called out, continuing to pound at the unyielding rock. "Move the stone! Get me out! Help!" My efforts were futile; there was no response, no indication that any help was coming, and I felt this realisation sink into my muscles, my hoof dropping down from the stone, which was now flecked with droplets of blood. As my strength left me, I collapsed to my knees with a thump, my head lolling inches away from the ground, gasping and gagging, desperately seeking out any oxygen that I could find. Blackness started to creep into the corners of my vision.

A shimmer of blue, so faint that at first that I thought that it was a result of the oxygen deprivation. But no; it persisted, growing brighter and clearer with each passing moment, seeming to call to me from the other end of the room. It offered safety, clarity, protection, and in that moment, I felt myself filled with hope, and knew what I needed to do. Grunting with the effort, I pushed myself onto my hooves, no longer feeling wooden floorboards beneath me, but sand and rock. I forced myself on, stumbling and tripping towards the blue beacon, praying that it would move closer to me. It didn't, but the sight of it urged me onward, encouraged me to draw just that little bit closer, just a little bit further. It seemed to take an age, but I finally reached it, my breathing now shallow as I struggled to find any air. Its shimmer had become a positive emission of light at this point, and I found it hard to look directly at it. It seemed to be a sphere of some sort, resting snugly on a pedestal that seemed to have been crafted for it. Entranced, I reached forward with a hoof. As soon as I touched it, its light grew brighter, nearly blinding me as it shone out and covered everything in blue brilliance.

Suddenly I was gasping in great mouthfuls of air, submitting to my lungs' screaming desire to be fed. I blinked rapidly, clearing the light from my vision. I was still in the sitting in the room, my hooves pining the diary entry to the desk as though clutching at it, my lantern glowing faintly as it started to run low on gel to burn. As my breathing returned to normal, I stood back up into a normal standing position and reached a hoof to the lantern on the desk, turning it off. With a dip into my saddlebags, I retrieved my journal and a bottle of firelight gel, flipping the top of the lantern and pouring the gel in with a satisfying slosh. After I filled it completely, I placed the empty bottle to one side, flipped the top back into place on my lantern, fitted the diary entry into my journal in its appropriate place, and placed the journal back into my bags. Picking up my lantern, I turned it on, revelling in how much brighter it burned now, and turned to leave the room, passing a wooden stand holding a map of some sort on my way.

Finished with that room, I crossed the hall into the next one, hoping to find something to help me find my way out. If it came to it, I supposed I could dig myself out, but I would rather find another method. As I pushed open the door, I noted the fully stocked bookshelves lining the wall to the right, the sparsely loaded ones, mostly containing scrolls, set in rows to my left, and the dirty window directly ahead. My thoughts were mostly taken up by my vivid experience in the previous room, though. That memory, that recollection, felt so real, almost like I was experiencing it again. For me, it was the first time, or the first time I could remember it. And yet, somehow, it seemed to have been triggered by that diary entry, almost as if describing it made me remember exactly what happened. Did that imply that, deep in my mind, I could actually remember my life before? That deep down I had all the answers I needed, locked away from my conscious being? Maybe all I would need to do was be reminded to recall, in detail, my entire life. Even more curious was the blue glow of that sphere, which was so familiar to me. Was that not the same blue-ish glow that I had been seeing since I had woken up, on every object that had proved useful to me? Surely that could be no coincidence.

I turned into the first gap between the rows of shelves, about mid-way down the room. At the end was another stand featuring diagrams of a building, or parts of a building. As I drew closer, I saw some labels on them, including 'East Wing' and 'West Wing', and it was at that point that I felt the deja vu wash over me, bringing forth the recollection of the sound of paper being unfurled and ponies tapping as they pointed at various parts of the diagrams.

"Much of the castle is old and hasn't been tended to for centuries. When the shadow arrives, it won't take long until things start falling apart."

"We are just buying time anyway," I remembered myself replying. "Let's do what we can."

"There isn't much to be done about the wards," Steelheart had continued. "We should reinforce weak structures. The ground will tremble and there is a risk everything will cave in on us- especially downstairs." I recalled him pointing to several parts of the diagram at this point. "Here...here...and there. Let's get the servants working on it."

The memory faded from my head, and I was once again alone in the present. I remembered before, in the entrance hall, talking to Steelheart about "it" being "inside the castle", and here again, Steelheart had mentioned the castle being old. It should have been obvious to me much earlier, but then, I had been confused I frightened. I realised that I was, from what I had now heard twice, inside a castle, and judging from what I had read and remembered about Steelheart, it was likely Castle Everfree, or the Everfree Castle, or something like that. Again, a little more information gained, and at this point, I appreciated everything I learned. Backing away from the diagrams, I moved around the shelves and down a gap between the wall and the shelves, finding a small wooden chest at the end. Opening it up, I found two tinderboxes and a bottle of firelight gel, all of which were taken to decorate the inside of my saddlebags. There really didn't seem to be much more for me in this room, so I turned and headed for the door again, thinking that if I truly couldn't find another way out of here, I could always break one of the windows with a rock, and then slip out there.

In the doorway, I looked to the right, finding a dead end, a wall between me and, if I had calculated it correctly, the local history room. There was no back door to it, unfortunately, the reason I had come here, and that meant no way out of this area. Maybe if I took a rock and smashed a window, I could climb around and smash through a window into the next room. The issue with that was assuming that there was a window in the local history room to smash into, or that I could climb along, or that I could hold a rock and climb along simultaneously, or that I could gain enough momentum to smash the window while keeping balance on a ledge. That was a disappointment. Maybe I would have to dig my way out, and then maybe use a rock from there to break the door down.

Wait. I squinted at the wall, realising that it didn't seem to be quite as solid as I had previously thought. Stepping around a fallen wardrobe, I drew closer to the wall, finding a section of the wall to be bare brick and gaps. Through the gap I could see a candle burning away in the next room, bookshelves adorning one of the walls. I gave one of the bricks a push, and it let loose a steam of dust and sediment, shifting slightly in place, but not breaking. It was fragile, but not breakable by hoof. I set down my lantern on the fallen wardrobe and made my way into the room to the left, crossing over to the pile of boulders in the furthest corner. Finding a portable rock, small enough to carry but big and heavy enough to do some damage, I hefted it up with my hooves, cradling it in my forelegs as I walked back to the wall, taking slow, steady steps on my hind legs. With the aid of the light from my lantern, I took aim at the loose bricks in the wall, raising the rock above my head. With a heave, I brought the rock down against the brick, smashing it from its place with a mighty crunch. The brick shattered and the fragments flew away from the wall, several other bricks becoming dislodged in the process. I pulled the rock back and thrust it forward again, bashing it against the wall, knocking loose bricks and dust, sections of wall and concrete, until the stony barrier collapsed and left me a tunnel big enough to pass through into the next room. Throwing the rock through to clear any excess bricks or debris, I grabbed the lantern off the wardrobe and stepped up into the tunnel. It turned out that I did have to smash my way out.

Passing through the wall, I squeezed through the dusty stone centre and looked out into the room. Bookshelves were everywhere, and it was decorated in a similar manner to the gallery; the floor and walls were the same, and the ceiling was wood panneled like that first hallway in this area. The candle I had seen from the other side illuminated the room. I dropped down from the wall into the room, feeling a certain degree of familiarity to it. I could feel a memory forming, or re-forming, as it seemed to be.

"You have to be swift- when you activate the first one..." A clicking, whirring sound started, and, after a few seconds, clicked a final time, and then stopped. "You hear that? If it stops, you'll have to start over."

"Isn't all this a bit excessive?" The whirring had started again, and the reply didn't come for a few seconds.

"You can never be too careful, Diamond." The clicking was replaced by the grinding and scraping of stone, something which I recognised from my experience with the lever after I had found my note to myself after waking up- there was a hidden door somewhere. As soon as the recollection of the events stopped, and my mind was still again, I settled down on the floor and pulled out my journal, turning to the mementos page.

There is some sort of secret door mechanism in the local history room. Having written the memento, I stowed the journal and ink away and looked around the room. Moving towards the bookshelf nearest the hole I had made in the wall, I started feeling about the shelves, seeking a hidden lever or something, but paused when I felt a light draft tickling my coat. I moved to one of the edges and felt the draft get a little stronger. This was it, the secret door. There was a draft and a faint light coming from behind the shelf, and there had to be a way in. Moving around to search the other shelves, I quickly circumnavigated the room, picking up a bottle of firelight gel from one of the empty shelves. As I passed each candle, I took the time to light them, realising that, not only would it be easier to find the secret mechanism if I had plenty of light, but that I would likely be in here for a while, so using some tinder would probably be worthwhile.

It was on my first tour of the room that I saw the display cases. There were two of them, but only one contained a blue-ish piece of paper. Knowing that this would, without a doubt, be useful to me, I returned to the hole in the wall and grabbed one of the bricks that had been knocked loose by my assault and carried it over to the display case. A quick thrust downward with the brick shattered the glass and gave me access to the note, which I pulled out and read by the light of a corner-side candle.

Local Folklore

Ponyville and Everfree Castle 1801 S.E.E.

Another region rich with lore is Ponyville, a large village/town founded in 1491 S.E.E. and having received recognition and official status by the Equestrian imperial court in 1500 S.E.E. with a population of 54. For centuries there have been stories surrounding the hamlet, and later village, and its neighbour, Castle Everfree, which are situated next to and in the Everfree forest, respectively. The quiet forest-clad plains surrounded by the mountains, rivers, and lakes is as picturesque as can be, albeit haunted by the dark. Ask any local and you will hear proof of the widespread superstition. All travellers should indulge themselves in such conversations since it will certainly serve as exciting entertainment. All of them have their own twists on the tales, but there are some motifs that keep reappearing.

The Gatherers

This story reaches back all the way to the time of the Thirty Days of Chaos. It is said that, in the confusion, violence and anarchy of that time, ponies became lost in the cold dark woods and met some dark, evil creature, which forced them to forever roam as wicked, twisted, beasts, stripped of their identity. Their bodies wrought by tainted magic have left them disfigured and empty of essence. Many have sighted them over the years and described them as horrid revenants. They move silently through the woods, shying away from any beholder. They are called Gatherers as they seem to follow some ambition to steal living creatures. Is it their prey which can be heard struggling inside damp burlap sacks dragged behind them which reveal their presence? What dark schemes do they follow?

A Visit Undone

It is claimed that Star Swirl the Bearded, a well known erudite, visited Ponyville in the 1500's of the Second Equestrian Era. He was believed to have resided in the local inn for a fortnight as he looked for remnants of kingdoms past. During his alleged stay all the prominent members of society paid notice and he is mentioned in many records of the time. One day he was recorded as going to investigate a burrow to the northwest, and that is where history loses sight of him. Although the general consensus dismiss these rumours, as Star Swirl is known to have lived thousands of years ago, the locals insist that the ancient unicorn did in fact visit their humble abode. The contrast in claims do bring questions to the forefront; who was this mysterious figure who visited the quaint village near the dark forest, and what happened to them?

The Immortal Baron

The Baron of Everfree lives a reclusive life with his family at his castle nearby Ponyville and like most of those of noble birth, rumours are inherited alongside the title. Researching the history of the region reveals little before the castle was mostly destroyed in The Cataclysm in 1000 of the Second Equestrian Era. It was rebuilt by Steelheart, a noblecolt from Canterlot claiming the role of protector of the Equestrian State. Steelheart helped to end the anarchy of the Thirty Days of Chaos and restored peace and order to the region, enabling it to flourish. He remained popular throughout his presumed lifetime, although the family has always been secretive when it comes to lineage and heritage, therefore the birth and death of Steelheart and his offspring has never been fully recorded. This has fed the idea that the baron is in fact the one and the same who came from Canterlot over eight hundred years ago, lived through the restoration of Equestrian peace and order, and joined the coveted Circle of Nobles along with the great leaders of this country.

The note offered me some comfort in the form of more answers and clarity. I knew, almost for certain now, that I was in a castle, known as Castle Everfree, which was situated in the middle of a forest, equally named the Everfree Forest. Next to the forest was a village called Ponyville, which was by this point likely a town. Steelheart was the baron of this castle. All the information I had gathered- the notes detailing names and locations, the flashbacks proving my encounters and further supporting the evidence written in the notes I found- was suggesting that I was correct in this regard. I was learning more with each passing moment, and as I did, I could feel my resolve strengthening as I became clearer on my path, understood my situation, and drew closer to finding my purpose.

The note also bewildered and scared me. I pulled out my journal and rifled through the notes I had already collected, holding one up to check that I had in fact understood the information on it. I had; written down on the paper, as clear as day, was the date for Grimeye's contract: 1702 Second Equestrian Era. I read it through, dread filling me as I came across previously meaningless phrases- Steelheart, baron and lord of Everfree, Equestrian royal court and within the sanctum of the Circle of Nobles in Canterlot. I couldn't believe it, but all the information I had, solid evidence written by ponies decades ago, even centuries, seemed point to one horrifying truth. In both Grimeye's contract and the extract from a local geographic guide, written almost one hundred years apart, they referred to Steelheart as the baron of Everfree Castle deep within the Everfree forest, as well as his connections to the Equestrian royal court and to the Circle of Nobles. I had spoken (apparently frequently), even consorted, with a Steelheart in a castle in the middle of a forest, with a recurring name- Everfree. The first recorded information on Steelheart refered back to 1000 S.E.E. and according to my note to myself, he was still very much alive.

His known activity spanned over eight hundred years.

That couldn't be a coincidence. Of course, it may have been a hereditary title, as the extract had pointed out, but the same name over countless years? A suspicious lack of birth of death records? A written extract with a subtitle called 'The Immortal Baron'? Something was wrong, so terribly, horribly wrong.

This was doing me no good at all. I placed the extract inside my journal, in the section I kept for notes I had found, and stowed it safely away. Standing back up, I continued my search with vigour, scouring the bookshelves and walls for secrets. After a short while, I realised that I was getting nowhere, and decided that if there really was a hidden mechanism, it would be disguised, hidden in plain sight. I wasn't sure what it would be, but I knew that, in a room with filled with books and bookshelves, it would likely have something to do with that, so in the interest of my progress, I started sweeping and pulling the books off the shelves. The tomes clumped to the floor, each one an obstacle out of my way. On one shelf, a book stubbornly refused to move, forcing me to try and tug it off. I clenched it in my teeth, and pulled. For the first few inches it moved smoothly, but then it jarred to a halt, and a rhythmic noise flowed out from within the bookshelf itself.

click click click click click click click click click

My eyes widened as recognised the sound. I'd done it! This was the mechanism, or at least one of the parts to it. Steelheart had said something about "the first one", meaning that there were more. Quickly moving to the next shelf, I rapidly pulled books off them, hoping to find another book to pull. There was nothing, and I moved onto the next one. This turned up the same result, and the one after it. By the time I had moved around to the other side, the clicking had stopped. Clearing the remainder of the books from their shelves, a located a second secret lever disguised as a book. I pulled it, then rushed around to the other side as the clicking started again, the gears turning within the hidden mechanism. I reached the other book and then grabbed onto it, giving it a sharp pull. It worked, and the gears came to a halt. I waited for something to happen, but nothing did. I turned to look at the fake shelf, wondering what I would need to do to move it and allow me access to whatever lay behind, when I saw something out of place- a lone book on the middle shelf, sitting there innocuously. With a hopeful optimism, I walked over to it and gave it a quick pull.

With a click and a whir, the bookshelf jolted into life, the grinding of stone filling the air and causing me to vibrate as the shelf, and part of the floor, rotated, moving me from the local history room into the room beyond as it settled in place with another click. I turned to observe the secret room, noting how it was decorated just as the last one was, with bookshelves lining one wall and a chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. Thankfully, this room was much more lit that the local history room, light from the outside seeping in through a centre-set window just above a desk. At first, the desk seemed to be rather bare, only holding a candlestick and some ink, but then a blue hue attracted my attention. On the left of the desk was a metal key. I drew closer and looked it over, turning my head to read the lable; Wine Cellar. I smiled happily and let out a sigh of relief, picking it up in my mouth and chucking it into my saddle packs and extracting my journal and quill. With a quick three strokes, I crossed off three of my mementos, now having found a way out of the cave-in, found a way into the local history room, and found the key to the wine cellar. Everything was looking up.

BANG

The sudden noise made me jolt and drop my quill, and for a moment I didn't move, my muscles seeming to have locked in place. Then came another sound, a cross between a gargle and a hiss, almost like the source didn't know what sound it was supposed to be making, before another loud bang cascaded trough the room. I heard a crunching, splintering sound, like wood being rent apart, and realised with a sharp, sickening shock that the door had just been torn down in the room next to me. I spun around and backed away into the corner, folding my trembling legs under me as I lay down, shivering violently. A sharp scraping sound made its way to me, like blades being dragged over stones or tiles, much like the tiles decorating the floor in this room, and the room beyond. There came a shuffling noise, interspersed by the scraping, and occasional clomps which sounded akin, and yet so alien, so hoofsteps. The shuffling and scraping moved around the room next door, growing louder as it- whatever 'it' was- approached the bookshelf, the only barrier between me and the unidentified intruder.

I held my breath as I the sound came closer, seeming to move slower as it passed. My trembling increased, and tears started to push their way out of my eyes, blurring my vision. It was all I could do to stop myself from crying out in terror, lest the thing hear me. After what seemed like ages, the being moved past the shelf, issuing another gargle-hiss, and continued its tour of the room. After a few minutes more, it seemed to exit the room entirely, its clomps fading away. I let out a gasp and sucked in air, my chest heaving as I hyperventilated in the corner. I managed to suck down enough air to soothe my erratic heart, allowing me to stand and move cautiously over to the shelf, turning my trembling head to listen for any signs of movement. There were none, and so I returned to the desk, pulling open the drawers in turn to see if I could find anything. Most of them were empty, but the first held another sheet of paper, which I picked up and placed on the desk to read.

Regarding Closing of the Wine Cellar

Grimeye and his fools have endangered my research long enough with their absentminded handling of the equine vessels. The sheriff is keeping a watchful eye on the forest and is killing my trusty servants. It's just a matter of time until they follow the trail to Everfree. I need to lock up Grimeye and his entourage to avoid further investigation from the public. The wine cellar will therefore be sealed off until the matter has been handled. Either the Guard leaves or they will starve. Whatever comes first- they can rot for all I care.

Maybe I will feed them some wine, it would in a sense solve both of my problems.

My face twisted into a disgusted grimace as I read this. I presumed that this was written by Steelheart, as he mentioned Grimeye and Everfree as though they were his, and he seemed to afford very little respect to Grimeye or anypony else for that matter. Indeed, the disregard for the lives of Grimeye and his followers was evident, appallingly so, and to think that Grimeye had pledged his services to this pony. And what did 'the equine vessels' mean? What was this research? Steelheart was researching something, that much was obvious, having previously tried to- I checked the other notes quickly- create 'artificial vitae'. Whatever 'vitae' was, it had him interested, enough to apparently research on ponies. The mere thought of the possibilities, knowing Steelheart's character and seeming lack of inhibitions, was enough to make me wretch. What an awful, despicable pony. I forced the thoughts from my head and packed the note away into my journal, and my journal into my backpack, along with my quill and ink, and returned to the shelf, listening for a long while before hesitantly pulling the book and rotating once more, returning to the local history room with new found alertness.

My eyes immediately scoped the damage done to the door, which had twisted inwards, hanging off of one hinge. The lock had been splintered, and the thought of what could do that made me gulp nervously. Whatever it was, it may come back, and I didn't want to be there when that happened. I crept slowly and nervously over to the door frame, listening for any sound of approaching hoofsteps. There was nothing, and so I poked my head out the door, looking through the darkness for any shapes that resembled an equine or something remotely similar, but finding nothing, only spotting the doorway leading to the gallery on the left. It was the clearest path I had, as well as the lightest. With a cautious, fretful hoof, I stepped onto the stone outside the room, and paused. Nothing jumped out at me. I put the next one forward, and the next, and walked gradually over to the doorway, stopping just before. I gave a quick look to the left, finding the gallery empty, before stepping out.

A growl came from the right.

I spun around, seeing a pony staggering through the doorway at the other end of the gallery. I gave a small, barely contained gasp and scrambled backwards as quietly as I could, trying to get as far away as possible from where the pony had left. It didn't seem to have seen me, but that didn't mean it wouldn't come back, and with this thought in mind, I backtracked away, keeping my terrified eyes fixed firmly on the doorway. I moved as far back as I could, making sure that nothing entered the gallery as I went, eventually bumping up against the far wall. I jolted a little, but then breathed out as I realised what it was. There should be a doorway, and I could use that to circumvent the pony I had seen. I was certain that I could. I turned to the right, expecting to enter the passage leading to the back of the local history room, instead tripping over something solid and rough. Looking around to see what I hit, I found myself looking at a pile of boulders and rubble spilling from the doorway, and groaned. I had forgotten about the cave-in, but it was obstructing my passage, meaning that I couldn't get around. I thought for a moment and tried to remember the layout of this area. From where I'd come, there was a room leading through to the exit, meaning I could use it to avoid whatever that was that I had just seen. Taking a deep breath to clear my head, I turned around to head back to the middlemost doorway.

It was waiting for me.

Two blank eyes, burning with cold, animalistic fury stared at me, its gaze so piercing I felt like it could see my heart slow to a crawl inside my chest. The head, maybe at one point the head of a pony, was disfigured and deformed, seeming to have no set shape to it, almost as if the skull had melted and then solidified mid-way through a moulding process. The jaw hung sickeningly open as though broken, partially ripped on one side, and it seemed impossible that anypony could live with such a horrible disfigurement. A few broke, brown teeth remained rooted in what little was left of its mouth, the lack of a closed jaw giving the impression that it had nothing after a throat, from which rose a repeated gargling, wheezing noise as it attempted to breathe. Its skin was greying and looked old, its consistency something akin to burlap or hemp, as well as having a similar colour, and it lay loosely on the body, sagging and creased with an array of scars and cuts on the thick, tough surface, barely held in place by the leather straps adorning its form. Each of its hooves bore viscous looking claw-like blades which curved towards the floor at the point, designed especially to rip into flesh and maim ponies, the dried, cracked blood caking them testifying their lethality.

I scampered backwards, yelling in terror and surprise, not stopping my attempt to scrabble backwards even after I met the mass of stone and debris behind me, or even when I felt the wall pressing at me from the other side, refusing to accept that I was trapped. The creature gave a loud growl from somewhere deep down in its wrecked throat and stumbled towards me, the bladed hooves clacking on the tiled floor.

Click clack click clack

I couldn't move, the wall refusing to yield to my insistent demands as I pushed and strained against it, begging to be allowed to flee from this beast. It continued towards me in its clumsy, staggering gait, almost looking like it was struggling to attempt to walk.

Click clack click clack

My breathing had became so fast that I seemed to be taking one continuous breath, unable to make any amendments as I banged desperately against the wall.

Click clack

Even if I wasn't willing to accept that I was trapped, my body was; I collapsed, my vision blurring in some futile attempt to guard me from the horror that closed in on me.

CLICK

I couldn't move properly. My body only moved in twitches and spasms as my death walked towards me, ready to strike me where I lay.

CLACK

Visions of memories past

Fate is a horrible thing, because no amount of pleading, begging, crying, bargaining, screaming, or fighting can change it. If you know what is going to happen, and you don't like what you find, then it terrifies you. Horrifies you. It leaves you crippled, desperate to escape, drives you to do awful, humiliating, deranged things. It changes you, makes you something that you aren't, at least not in more rational, standard circumstances. It brings out the worst in you, and few are brave and strong enough to accept their fate and allow it to make them better. I was not one of those ponies.

I was going to die.

This knowledge didn't bring me comfort or determination, and it didn't bring me strength or courage. It cowered me. It forced me onto my knees and caused me to forfeit control of my body- I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe properly, and I couldn't see. I became a shadow of myself, a pitiful example of a pony. I whimpered and twitched fearfully in the corner of a gallery.

The horrific beast was just a blur to me, a shade in my vision as I lost all concept of sight. I didn't know what it was anymore. I couldn't see it, only hear the hellish gargling and shuffling sound it made as it inched closer toward me. The blades clinked on the floor, each tap a painful reminder of how deadly they were, and how close they were getting to me. I blinked again and again, struggling to clear the tears from my blurry vision. Haphazardly drawing a foreleg across my eyes, I pulled my head down lower, a last, futile attempt to protect myself, and waited for the end, the moment when those blades would rip into my flesh and rend me apart.

It was taking a long time. Was the creature toying with me? Was it raising its blades right now? It might be- I couldn't hear them, nor its shuffling. In fact, I couldn't hear anything except the rain and my own cacophony of terrified gasps and sobs. Rigid with terror, I opened my eyes and raised my head to look at it.

It wasn't there. I looked up and down the gallery. It wasn't here. It...wasn't here! It wasn't going to kill me! I was going to live! I sobbed in relief, tears running down my face as I embraced the simple act of living, hugging myself tightly. What a beautiful thing, life! To be able to see and hear and feel and walk and breathe and experience, something so common, and yet so fragile, so easily taken. I don't think that I had ever appreciated life as much as I did at that moment. I wiped my eyes with a shaking foreleg and gradually pushed myself to my hooves, as wobbly as they were. Finally standing, I placed a weak hoof forward, staggering slightly as I attempted to remaster walking after my encounter. It was initially difficult, but after a few steps I managed to return to my usual ability, walking steadily along.

I reached the final door in the gallery, the one into which I had seen the figure disappear, and my euphoria at remaining alive started to wear off. I felt the tension creep back into my thoughts, and found myself peeking nervously around the door frame to check that it was safe before I crept into the hall, taking careful hoofsteps. Had that creature been a figment of my imagination? Something summoned from the depths of my warped mind? I certainly wouldn't be surprised if it was merely a hallucination. After all, I was under a lot of stress and pressure, and this environment wouldn't be good for anypony's mental stability, so maybe a phantom experience wasn't so unbelievable. My hoofsteps seemed to echo as I moved to the corner, fueling my already taut nerves.

A pained moan filtered in through the door behind me, and I stifled a sob, almost cantering to the door leading back to the entrance hall. I reached the red door and heaved it open, slipped through hurriedly and pulled it closed, shaking all the while. I was back on stone again, the clatter of my hooves as I ran attesting to my return. I was safer here, I thought. Here, there was nothing that could hurt me, not like back in the archives, with those unnatural noises, those pained groans and whines, those gargles and grunts. Maybe I was imagining it all, like I had that creature, and there had never been anything in my way, but I wasn't willing to risk it. They may be imaginary, may be vivid sensory hallucinations brought about by stress and tension which appeared to be real.

But that door to the local history room didn't break itself down.

I cantered down the stairs and made my way to the long hallway leading to the entrance, the huge wooden door being the only thing keeping me here. This place was bad news, and I had a job to do, but if this castle was filled with twisted, creeping beasts and ruled by an evil baron, then I would need help. I would travel to Ponyville, the nearby town, and call for help. We would return here, armed with weapons and a purpose, and tear through this damned building, smashing any obstacle in our way, sentient or otherwise, and Steelheart would pay for his crimes, whatever they were. I raced along the stone hallway, spurred on by the thought of aid and the outside world. Together we could bring this nightmare to an end, as soon as I stepped through that great door, just a few metres ahead.

As I drew close, the air seemed to bulge outwards. A blue, speckled mist seeped through the wood, or materialised- it was impossible to tell. The mist shrouded the door, covering it from one side of the arch to the other, and then solidified, transforming into a grey, pulsating mass, adorned with black thorns. I swallowed and backed away, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the putty-like substance blockading the exit. It looked like a organic tissue, similar to muscle, if muscle could ever be that sickly shade of grey, stretched as it was across the door. In fact, it looked exactly like the growth blocking my progress towards the refinery. I gulped, considering my previous advice to myself:

A shadow is following you.

I couldn't get help. I was stuck here, my progress barred both forwards and backwards. No, that wasn't true- I had the key to the wine cellar, access to the chemicals hopefully stored down there, and a plan of action. Whatever was going to happen, I couldn't do anything until I made that mixture. I took a few deep, controlled breaths and set about searching the hallway for anything useful by the dirty light that bled trough the gaps of the boarded-up windows. Leaving the hallway with two more bottles of firelight gel, hidden quite bizarrely behind some boxes, I made my way back to the archway that lead to the lab and the wine cellar, taking a left at the stairs and heading down to the cellar. Reaching the door, I gave it a quick pull, resulting in the telltale rattle of a locked door, and then delved into my saddlebags, pulling out the key from my plethora of items and placing into the mighty iron lock, turning it with closed eyes, praying that it would work. There was some resistance, and for a moment the key refused to turn, but then the lock gave way and clicked, releasing the door. I sighed in relief, lifted the latch and pushed it open, stepping inside with only a little trepidation.

As I closed the door behind me, I felt the cold start prodding at my body. It made sense, given that it was a cellar, but it was still a little disconcerting, and I pulled out my lamp very readily. The glow illuminated a very similar layout to the lab; I was on a wooden balcony, the stone walls supported by struts, and there were a few boxes laying alone against the wall. A few small windows let in dim light from somewhere, and there was a wooden staircase leading down. It seemed familiar considering that the laboratory had the same design, and so I made my way down the stairs, checking the floor below. It was a stone floor again, as I'd expected, with doors leading to other rooms strewn across the walls. I put a hoof down onto the stone and felt a wave sweep through me, suddenly lightheaded. I clenched my eyes shut as another experience forced its way into my conscience.

There were glasses clinking together, a liquid sloshing gently as it was poured. Likely wine, I imagined. The glug of the liquid stopped, and there was a gentle thud as a bottle was placed on what I envisioned to be a table.

"Where did the baron go?" asked a stallion, sounding more curious than concerned.

"Who cares?" answered another dismissively to the sound of a glass chiming as it came into contact with another. "He left us enough wine to last us a lifetime. Or at least until tomorrow!" There was some general laughter at this, the individual chuckling heartily at his own joke, followed by a belch.

As the memory faded away, I realised that there was something different about it. The previous experiences had been more vivid, as though I were holding those conversations again and experiencing them in person, but this one, it felt more like I was watching it from the side, more as an observer than a participant.

I swept the thought aside and looked around, the lantern swinging under my chin as I turned my head from side to side. The cellar was square, roughly, with the staircase taking up the centre of this room. Directly ahead of me, at the bottom of the stairs, was a wooden door. It seemed as good as any place to start, I reasoned, making my way towards it. It squeaked open, allowing me to see the wooden boards which made up the entire room, ceiling, walls, and floor. At the far end of the room was a table strewn with tools and a bottle of some sort. Barrels were stored on either side, standing obstinately in the glow of the lantern. I stepped forwards, sweeping, my hooves clunking on the floorboards. This seemed to be being used as a storage room, holding the main supplies of wine. The bottle on the desk didn't look like a wine bottle, though. It was too short and wide, and looked like it was made for something else entirely. As soon as I got close, I looked at the cream label stuck on the front; Cuprite. I smiled happily as I picked it up and slipped it into my bags. Already I had one chemical that I was looking for.

BANG!

I jumped and looked around hurriedly as the door slammed shut behind me, my heart beating quicker. I sighed and shook my head. I was on edge right now, every noise prompting me to react to it. I needed to get what I came for and get out, a thought which encouraged to cross the room and push the door open slowly, listening for anything out of the ordinary. I swallowed and leaned around the bulky door, looking for anything lurking outside. Yes, I definitely needed to get out of here.

A wooden door to the right of the staircase was cracked open slightly, inviting me to investigate, and so I made my way towards it, the light from my lantern scouting ahead for me. I nudged the door the rest of the way open, spilling a warm yellow glow into the room beyond. Two support struts took up the centre of the room, and there were more shelves, tables and boxes pushed up against the far wall. I stepped inside and began a walk around the edge of the room, moving anti-clockwise. The first shelf held nothing of value, and it was only when I stepped past a tipped table that I made any useful discovery, turning off my lantern to confirm my suspicion.

As the darkness took the opportunity to rush in and smother me with its cold, clammy grimness, the blue hue brightened, emitted by a bottle which had been rested on the table, until the table itself was flipped. Twitching uncomfortably from being surround by darkness, I leaned closer to the bottle, reading the label on it; Calamine. Placing the lantern on its hook, I picked up the bottle, checking it over for cracks, and pocketed it. It wasn't damaged enough to leak, a fact I was thankful for given the stone tiles. If it had broken, I would have been stuck, trapped forever. I shuddered at the thought, feeling a cold chill run through me.

CRUNCH!

The collapse came suddenly, the warning rumble and shaking appearing scant seconds before the crash and crunch filled the air, stone and rock tumbling down. I couldn't see exactly what was going on, the blackness forcing me to picture the events in my mind as I tried to turn to the source of the disturbance. Some intuitive reaction pulled my gaze upwards, and in the murky darkness I saw something shift and drop, right towards me. Hurriedly, guided by instinct, I dived to the right, leaping out of the way of the object in time to hear a sharp thud and a more subtle crack.

The noise slowly faded away around me, granting me a vague amount of security to uncurl and lift my head up to view the carnage. Despite the absence of light, my eyes had adjusted enough for me to make out the outline of shapes. I sought out my lantern, lighting it and bringing it to bear, stifling a groan at the sight in front of me. Chunks of stone and sections of wooden struts blocked the doorway, a result of an apparent collapse. I checked behind me to see what had fallen and found a cracked barrel, wine trickling out of the damaged container and seeping across the stones like blood from a maimed animal. I was thankful that I'd avoided it, grimacing at the thought of how much damage that would have caused if it had hit me.

Pushing myself to my hooves, I looked around, wondering how I was going to get out. From what I could see, only the roof near the door had collapsed, leaving most of the room intact, although that could change very quickly. One thing that I did see however was a metal container in the corner adjacent to the door, which I moved closer to, looking it over. The metal reflected the light of my lantern, and I found myself looking at the barrel from different angles, trying to find out what it was. There was a tap at the bottom, but it didn't seem to be used for holding and dispensing wine; those containers were bigger, and crafted from wood. This seemed to be something else entirely. It seemed like it was holding...firelight gel? I didn't know why I thought that, but it just seemed to make sense, like it was obvious. Tentatively, I gave the tap a quick turn, some thick, oily substance dripping out and splashing onto the floor. Yes, it was definitely firelight gel, which meant that I could top up my lantern. But that meant that I would need to turn it off, which would leave me in darkness, so...

A quick look around the room revealed a torch bracketed to a nearby strut, one which thankfully hadn't shattered during the tremble. It was facing the blockage, which would make it useful for when I would need to clear that mess to get out, but also sufficed enough in regards to filling the lantern. Setting my light source on the ground, I reached into my bag and produced a tinderbox, quickly igniting the torch and summoning a mighty flame into the room. It provided me with a fresh wave of hope, seeing that strong fire lighting up at least part of my prison. I was going to get out of here, I knew it.

With a light source available, I returned to the barrel, extinguishing my lantern and flipping off the top, and turning the tap onto full, letting the gel pour into the device with a steady gluck. After it had finished, I secured the tap and the top of the lantern, which, I noticed as I turned it on again, glowed much more brightly, something I appreciated greatly. It must have been lower on gel than I had thought. I couldn't afford to waste it, and so turned it off and stowed it away, returning my attention to the door.

The wood and stone trapping me looked rather heavy, but rummaging through the room for items to use turned up nothing useful to aid my escape. I stumbled across two more tinderboxes, and used them to light the remaining candles in the room, providing a complete coverage of light for me to work in. Broken chunks of stone blocked the ground, stopping me from even reaching the door. I picked a relatively small one, a boulder about the size of my head, and gripped it between my hooves, lifting it up with some effort and tossing it a little distance behind me. At least it was possible to move them. I tried another, a larger one, and heaved it across the floor, dragging it away from the pile with a grating, grinding sound.

The rubble cleared slowly, each jagged remnant budging as I persisted, dragging and lifting them away until I was clear of rock, leaving only the two struts blocking the door. These proved harder to move. The first was leaning against the top of the door, the second leaning away from it. I tried to tackle the former first, finding it easier to reach. I placed a hoof on the strut at chest height and pushed, pressing my weight against the lengthy wooden structure, to no avail. It didn't budge. Stepping back to reassess the situation, I wondered if I was going about this the wrong way- if it was leaning against the wall, wouldn't it make sense to push the base away from the door and allow it to fall? It didn't look like I could push the top away, given that it would just get caught in the rafters. Turning, I checked over my shoulder to line up my shot, tensing my muscles in preparation before I struck, kicking backwards at the base of the strut.

The blow knocked the strut off balance and pushed it back, the top skidding down the door and landing with a thump, the obstruction quickly cleared as I dragged it backwards to make room. The second strut took a little less effort. I stood on my hind hooves and wrapped my forelegs around the wood, pulling it towards me and then heaving it to the side. It teetered, and I let go, stepping back hurriedly as it slid gradually out of the way before slamming onto the ground next to me. I flinched a bit from the impact, but turned to the door with gratitude brushing the small amount of sediment and rubble from the floor.

Pulling open the door reminded me just how dark it was, the sea of light from my room reluctant to follow me out, illuminating just enough of the cellar to show me that there was nothing waiting for me, and that there was another doorway to my left, devoid of an actual door. I stepped across the stones rapidly and lightly, passing through the doorway and into what seemed akin to a porch, or a room used for the purpose of excess storage. There was a door to the left, perhaps making this just a multi-purpose room for whatever it was needed for. Indeed, there were some barrels in the corner; maybe the wine was taken from the barrels to fill bottles, and then stored beyond the door, or maybe-

BANG! THUMP!

I skittered back in shock as the door rattled, something on the other side thumping loudly on it. Muffled screams of terror and desperation emerged from the room beyond, cutting off suddenly, the banging ceasing. I was trembling, hugging onto one of the wooden struts decorating the doorway. There was somepony there! Behind that door, another pony! From what I had heard, it had only sounded like one, but what was the thumping about? Were they stuck here, like I was? Desperately trying to find a way out? Were they hallucinating, like I had? Was I hallucinating now? The thought gave me pause, and I blinked, looking behind me to check that nothing was there. This damned environment made you feel like you were being watched all the time.

Clenching my eyes and teeth tightly, I took deep breaths. If there was a pony, I wasn't alone. If there wasn't, there was no problem, excluding my sanity. Either way, I needed to sort this out, especially seeing as I had two more chemicals to find. That was another strange issue; why had they been separated down here, rather than kept together? Maybe they were volatile or something and needed to be kept separately. First things first though, I needed to get into that room, which meant going into it.

"H-hello?" I called out. "Is anyone there?" Waiting with bated breath, the silence seemed to drag on forever, no one in the room beyond offering any response. With much anxiety, I detached myself from the wall and crept closer to the door, raising a shaking hoof to knock on it before I thought better, taking the time to drag a few barrels in front of the wood should anything choose to respond in a less than hospitable way. With a quick breath, I quickly gave the door a few knocks, backing off subconsciously. Again, there was nothing- no voices, no movement, no response whatsoever. After a few moments, I decided that the only course of action would be to open the door and find out what was happening for myself, slowly dragging the barrels back to where I moved them from originally before clenching my jaws around the latch and, with anxious breaths, carefully pulled the door open, the creaking seeming to boom throughout the castle. As nothing leaped out to attack me, I peeked around the door cautiously.

Chunks of flesh, strewn in a dark puddle of blood. I blanched. What had happened? This was...it didn't make sense. Somepony had banged on the door just moments ago, but now...this? I fished out my lantern and leaned forwards, shining the light onto the mess. The blood was dried, soaked into the wood of the floor, far too old to have been spilled just now. And the flesh was...uh! I recoiled as I breathed in its stench, having been holding my breath since seeing the atrocity. It was rotting, emitting a pungent odour which made me retch. I wasn't going to enjoy entering the room, but it was almost certain that there was nopony in here- whatever had happened wasn't recent. With a deep inhale to steel myself for the task to come, I stepped past the gory scene on the floor with careful but rushed hoofsteps, turning away quickly and observing the room I had stepped into.

It was much like the other rooms, with wooden floorboards and stone walls supported by wooden struts. There were no windows in here, and so the only source of light was my lantern, casting a watchful glow around me. I knew it wouldn't make sense to put windows this far down (after all, what would be the point? It wouldn't let in any light, and the wine would need to be kept away from fresh air in order to store and preserve it) but part of me wished that there was at least one, just to let the awful stench out. It made my eyes water, and I had to blink to clear the burning sensation. The open door acted as slight ventilation, and already I could feel the odour leaving the room, drawn out into the wider expanse of the wine cellar, but it was far too dense initially to feel comfortable down here. The were more chunks of flesh and dried splashes of blood along the floor, leading around a corner to the left as though encouraging me to follow. With a grimace on my face, I stepped around the corner.

The deja vu hit suddenly, catching me off guard and causing me to stagger into the wall. What was going on? It felt like...no, it wasn't me feeling that, or even thinking it. It was another memory, a recollection. I had to stay focused and separate the two in my mind. I had to recognise the present from the past. I had to recognise reality.

"What's happening?" somepony groaned, his voice laden with pain. He stumbled on his hooves and dropped a bottle, the glass shattering upon impact on the floor. "It feels...like my...chest is going...to burst!" He grunted, a sickeningly wet gargle bubbling from his lips. Something was stretching and twisting, like a hatching chick trying to push through the confines of its shell. With a final yell of pain from the pony, something tore, a wet ripping sounding clearly throughout the room, and then a spurting sound. A dull thud followed, a metal tankard clattering across the wooden floor.

"Grimeye, do something!" another panicked voice shouted, apparently horrified by the scene in front of them. There was several seconds of silence, filled by barely stifled groans and uncoordinated shuffling.

"Accept it," a third voice, this one gruff, replied eventually, sounding morosely calm. "We're not getting out of here alive." His tone was chilling, the absence of terror or in his voice completely mismatched with the situation. It just didn't fit.

"How can you say that?" the second pony asked incredulously, shouting the question. He began thumping on a wooden surface, smashing his hooves against it again and again in his desperate anger. "Steelheart, you piece of shit! Let us out of here!" He changed his tactic, rattling the object in place- he seemed to be trying to force the door open, but wasn't given much opportunity to do so, falling into coughs and retches, all of which sounded surprisingly dry. I could feel a gaze on the space by the door, where the retching pony was spluttering, falling onto his side.

"Don't bother," the gruff pony intoned, observing the throes of his companion. "You'll find more solace in accepting the inevitable than wasting time trying to avoid it." The retching pony either didn't care or didn't hear, as he forced himself back onto his hooves and tried to ram the door, uttering loud screams amid the bangs and rattles of the unmoving door. With a climatic, drawn-out wail, a familiar splat tore across the room, the pony falling silent.

The lightheadedness faded, leaving me shaking in place. What in the name of Tartarus was that? That memory was similar to the one I had first had when I had entered the wine cellar, more distant and lacking that feeling of participation. Not that it made it any less clear; the muffled screams and banging I had heard outside had been me remembering this event, the pony desperately trying to escape his doom as he...ugh, I didn't want to think about it, but it was impossible to escape, the evidence strewn across the floor and...on the walls? Yes, there was a splattering of blood dried into the stonework on several parts of the walls. The table around the corner had a plethora of flesh and gore encircling it like some sort of wall, a toppled chair marinating in its hellish mixture. The sight made me shudder. A small wooden chest was positioned just in front of it, and I chose to focus on that, stepping forward to investigate its contents, finding a tinderbox inside. Putting my lantern on the messy table, I plucked the cylinder out and placed it in my saddlebags.

As I fastened the straps, one of my hooves came to rest on something sickly and disturbingly wet. I scampered away from it in disgust and stepped onto something else, my hooves slipping from beneath me. With a startled yelp, I fell part way into the gory goop surrounding the table, the clammy, sticky remains of ponies long dead pressing against me. I felt my throat tighten, the rush from my stomach signaling the inevitable. I doubled over and vomited, adding another bodily fluid to the combination, heaving again and again even after I had brought up everything that my stomach had to offer, until I had calmed enough to wipe my eyes and mouth. I had to get away from here, take my mind off this. I picked the lantern off the table and looked around, spotting a doorway leading to another room. Squirming all the while, I picked myself up and trotted through the doorway.

The space I entered was small, only holding a stove and a table, on which sat a candle, a bottle similar to the two in my bags, and a note, shining unabashedly, drawing me towards it. A cursory examination of the bottle showed it to be Aqua Regia, another of my required chemicals, which joined the other two in my saddlebags. That just left the note, which was something I wanted to sit down to read. After lighting the candle on the table and extinguishing the lantern, I pulled the chair towards me and nestled myself into it, getting comfortable.

Then the deja vu returned. I sighed as it swept over me, taking my senses back to a time unknown. There was a shuffling, a scraping of a chair, this chair, over wooden floorboards, then a pony stumbling on their hooves, trying to walk straight. They grunted and staggered, falling against the strut in the doorway of this small room and stopped for a moment.

"I'm not a superstitious pony," their gruff voice intoned gravely. "I don't believe in gods or goddesses, or any shit like that. I don't believe in whatever it was that we were told as foals, of Celestia and Luna, the two ponies who brought peace and balance to this land. If that were true, then why do ponies like me exist, or ponies like Steelheart? There is no justice in this world, no balance, because that bastard still lives." He yelped and coughed, something wet hitting the floorboards, the following seconds consisting of ragged breathing. "Then again, death does have a way of changing your views. It seems that I'm being punished, so I might be wrong about the whole thing. I doubt it, but I just might be. So here's the thing; I've been a right bastard in my life, done things that it took me until my dying breath to regret. I've explained everything in my note. I don't know if Steelheart will come down here and find it and if he'll remove it, or whether he'll keep the door locked for the rest of eternity, but that's my final written contribution to this world. I hope somepony finds it, and sees that son of a bitch for what he is. I'd write more, but I can't see a damn thing! It hurts to breathe, to...speak. I deserve what I get here, but there's something else that I wish I could've done before I rotted in this damned room, something that I should've done. Steelheart needs to die, to pay for what he's done." He gave a pained chuckle. "I don't know who I'm speaking to. Probably my brain seeping out my eyes, but it just feels right. Who's going to stop me? My death, I'll do whatever I want." He coughed again, retching repeatedly. "Time to...wrap up. In the name of...AGH! To Celestia or Luna...or whoever is out there who...UGH!...who cares enough to hear me...kill Steelheart...find him and...kill him...make him...pay for what he did! He- UGH- needs- HNNG- to be made to PAY"! An extended yell followed his words, and then a splattering sound.

The memory faded away, leaving me staring at the doorway in shock. Somepony had died here, cursing Steelhooves and asking that he be brought to justice, the appropriate penalty being death. Not only that, but they had left a note to explain their situation. I tried not to make a comparison between him and myself, and instead focused on the note, reading it by the candlelight.

Grimeye's Last Words

My name is Grimeye, house of Grey. These are my final words, my confession and testament. Two years ago I was summoned to the castle Everfree. As most of the aristocracy, I was curious about what this supposed knight of the Circle could want from me and accepted the invitation. The baron was friendly and offered me a proposition.

It dawned on me that the nature of the contract was sordid and that the reason I was chosen was because of the follies of my past and not the honours I've been rewarded with during my time as a guard. I was to kidnap healthy ponies upon his slightest whim and do so without asking questions. In return he would attest to my character at the royal court, advancing my position in noble society. I would like to claim that I struggled with my decision, but it came swiftly and I accepted wholeheartedly.

Ever since that day I've brought stallions, mares, and foals to Everfree. I can't remember the numbers, but there were many, perhaps even a hundred. None of whom were ever seen or heard from again.

Tonight the baron invited me and my cohort down to the wine cellar to celebrate our work. I had my suspicions as we descended the stairs, but he insisted and joined us in a toast. The wine tasted fine and my men drank without restraint.

So begins the punishment for our sins. The baron has locked us up and returned upstairs. Forgive me for what I have done. I was weak and fell into his diabolic ways. My men are screaming, their skin has been pierced by their own tangled bones. I feel my insides revolt against themselves. Blood has begun to pour from my eyes and I can no longer-

The note ended there, cut off mid-sentence, with black, dried, coagulated blood caking the bottom of the paper. The tale the confession painted was awful. It gave me more insight into Steelheart and his activities. Steelheart was kidnapping ponies and, from what I understood from documents that I had found earlier, was experimenting on them. That sickened me. Before, he was a shady character, somepony that should be avoided, but now, he was positively evil- kidnapping, cruel experiments, manipulating others using their greed as a weakness, it almost made Grimeye's role seem minor.

An epiphany struck me in that moment. Grimeye. That name was familiar. This was Grimeye's confession, the one who had been so stoic about his upcoming death. One of his followers had even called him 'Grimeye'. How hadn't I seen it earlier? Grimeye of house Grey, who had signed a three year contract with Steelheart, trading his services for a boost to his reputation from an influential individual. There was the note, mentioning Steelheart's plan to lock Grimeye and his followers in the wine cellar to avoid discovery from the Royal Guard, and even 'feeding them some wine'. He knew, he knew, what would happen to them. He planned this. He had wanted them to die. Nopony deserved that. Steelheart was disgraceful, an appalling example of what a pony should be, and nopony should be able to get away with doing what he had done. I may not have know why I was specifically angry with him, but this was sufficient to remind me that he was in fact a despicable creature. Everypony who was as wretched as him, who had done the things that he had, who had even helped him, should be punished.

I also realised that the note would have been written in 1704 S.E.E. seeing as it said two years ago I was summoned, and that his contract was signed in 1702 S.E.E. That would mean that the deaths here occurred one hundred and thirty five years ago. Now I understood why I hadn't felt the same as I recalled the memories; they weren't my memories! It wasn't possible, because I wasn't even born then. How did that work? How could I recall alien memories? This was absurd! I shook my head, placing the note safely in my journal. Steelheart had been doing this for at least one hundred and thirty seven years, judging that he was still here, and I had asked myself to kill him.

I grabbed my lantern and turned to leave, illuminating the remains of Grimeye and his peers in the process. Even though the pony had done some horrific, evil things, knowing full well that what he was doing was wrong, that he was feeding his own greed, he had paid the price for that, along with the rest of his followers. They had suffered enough, and Grimeye at least had repented, had asked for forgiveness and retribution, something he had been denied in his life. That was his last wish, called out across a century, and I had heard it. He had waited so long for justice.

"You're forgiven, Grimeye of house Grey," I spoke to the remains. "In spite of your acts, of your greed and selfishness, I forgive you, and I assure you that I will find a way to stop Steelheart. He will face justice." I looked out of the doorway at the bloodstains and the flesh scattered around the room. "He will face justice for everything he has done, for the crimes he has committed against us all." It wasn't much, but it was all I could offer. If they could talk to someone a century ahead, why couldn't I talk to them a century back? We had essentially held a conversation in all but meeting. With a last look around, I walked out of the room, considering shutting the door behind me, but deciding against it. No, they could be free, even if it was a hundred years too late. They had been locked in there for far too long, and I knew how it felt to be trapped.

I had one more chemical to find down here, and looking around the room, I saw two open doors, plus the room I had just exited. There was a door on the other side of the room, laying beneath the wooden balcony, to which I crossed, clopping over the stones to reach it. I gave its latch a tug and it rattled in place, refusing to open for me. A locked door, again. I looked about the cellar again, my gaze falling onto another door to the left. Trotting over to it, I tested it, the door opening easily. Well, this was a good place to look, if nothing else. After all, there was hardly anywhere else for me to look.

The door was midway down the length of the room, the room I was entering strewn with stray boxes and empty shelves, the torches scattered across the walls resolutely cold. My lantern cast aside some of the shadows like they were a shallow mist, a quick investigation to the left turning up a dead end and a wine rack devoid of bottles, although the shelf next to it did hold a curiously blue shimmer. I eagerly approached the thin bottle, thinking that it could be the last chemical I needed. Unfortunately, it turned out to be, with a skim of the label, something called 'laudanum', which it self-prescribed to be a medical bracer. Keeping a pain killer on me would be prudent, if a slightly unwelcoming thought, and so I slipped it into my saddlebags and turned to leave where I had come.

Something moved within the shadows.

As silently as I could, I stifled my gasp and smothered the flame in the lamp, placing it on the floor and backing into a small gap offered in the corner by two shelves, pressing myself to the floor and trying to fit as much as my body into the gap as possible. My forehoof shot to my muzzle, giving me something to stem my panicked breathing.

Despite my eyes having grown to the size of saucers, I couldn't see anything, the act of putting out my lantern allowing the darkness to rush in to smother me as soon as I had smothered the flame, bringing with it the cold, dry air of the cellar. I had begun to shiver and shake, trying to fend off the discomforting itchiness I felt from being so utterly covered in bleakness with something potentially harmful nearby. My view range had dipped, and if I couldn't see whoever was there, hopefully they couldn't see me. Then again, I had had my lantern on, and if they'd seen that, then they would find me. I had nowhere to run. But then again, if they'd seen my lantern, wouldn't they have come to get me by now?

Maybe they were coming right now.

Maybe they were just waiting for me to come out from hiding.

The terror barreled into me as my mind ran havoc, convincing me that I was doomed and that any second something would leap out from the edge of my vision and rip into me, leaving discard chunks of my flesh down here to rot with Grimeye and the others. My breath pitched up raggedly, my vision became filled with spots and my ears started ringing. I could almost scream out...

No.

Whatever came over me did the job. I stopped panicking, allowing my breathing to diminish to a manageable level, and my senses to distinguish some sense; I could see a little better, my eyes making great effort to pierce the blackness which seemed to be ubiquitous down here, and saw nothing, just the swirl of dust drifting about. I couldn't hear anything that suggested that I was in danger, either. Could I have imagined the whole thing? With trembling jaws, I picked up my lantern and crawled out of the space cautiously, my nerves screaming at me to stop moving and get back in. With no small amount of apprehension, I stood up, inch by fear-inducing inch. No monster, no instantaneous death. With a trembling swallow, I backtracked down the room, passing the door through which I had entered, and followed the room round to the right, passing with shaking hooves through an open doorway and into another, wider room.

The lantern came on, casting clarity and sense around me. Wine racks filled with green glass bottles lined the walls, a few laying discarded across the wooden floor alongside boxes. There was a bolted wooden door to the right, and I had a strong suspicion that it was the same one that I couldn't open before. Maybe my rattling had attracted-

"Process, Diamond," I mumbled, my lips dry around the tin of the handle. The boards creaked as I walked over them, taking note of a segregated alcove in the corner. Peeking around the boxes stacked in the space, I found a couple more bottles of laudanum, slipping the additions into my bags and thrusting my light around the room again. On the far wall, there seemed to be a shelf devoted singularly to one bottle, similar in shape and size to the others in my bag. Feeling it drawing me closer, I turned off the lantern and stowed it away, letting the blue hue guide me to it, reaching out to pick it up in my hooves and holding it close to my face to read the creamy label brazened across it: "Orpiment".

I let out a sigh of relief and smiled as I held the bottle, feeling it in my hooves before I added it to the provisions I had accrued, content now that I had a full collection of chemicals in my possession. A wave of cool confidence washed over me, soothing the itches with which the darkness had afflicted me and dispelling a good portion of the tension I had built up down here. I could physically feel the muscles in my legs and along my back loosening. With much more strength in my step, I trotted to the unopened door, spotting the bolt keeping the wood firmly sealed within the door frame. Grasping the bolt, I tugged it, straining to pull it back. The iron tasted felt rusty and old against my tongue, and squeaked in protest as I tried to wiggle it out of the way. It was stuck for some-

CRACK!

The bolt slipped back suddenly and smacked into the catch, the noise reverberating around the cellar like a booming gunshot and sending a jarring ringing through my teeth and jaw. Rats squeaked in either fright or annoyance from unseen spots in the room, and the air itself seemed to leer in expectant anticipation. I winced as the harsh sound broke the eerie stillness down here, shattering whatever stasis had been established in the forsaken depths of this castle. Just as quickly, the equilibrium was reasserted, the suffocating silence returning, only the ambient creaks and skittering of claws on the wood punctuating the uncomfortable calm. The repose offered to me in my discovery of all of the ingredients was beginning to erode away, loosing in a war of attrition against the cold, sullen aura of the room, and the discomfort was beginning to crawl its way back up my spine. With a small shiver, I pulled the now unlocked door towards me, and stepped out into the main body of the cellar, pulling out my lantern to light my way up the stairs, onto the balcony, and through the great red door, my pace quickening as I stepped out of the room thanks to a prickling along my back.

As the clatter of the door closing faded away, I trotted hurriedly up the stairs, happy for the respite from the almost constant feeling that I was being sized up by some hidden pursuer, each step alleviating the feeling that I was being observed. I crossed over to the laboratory, opening the door and entering the stillness of the room. It seemed eerily familiar now, almost a reflection of the wine cellar, and I felt like an intruder, almost as if the had room fallen silent as I stepped inside. The living didn't seem to belong here; the stairs creaked and groaned as I made my way down them, the light of my lantern guiding me onwards and downwards. Was I sweating from the heat of the lantern and shivering from the frigidity of the air down here, or was it something else? It was so still that I could imagine snapping the air around me just from the act. Passing through the doorway into the main lab, I set my lantern down and flipped open my saddlebags, rifling through the assortment of tinderboxes and bottles of oil. I found one of the chemicals amid the haphazard collection, clenched it in my teeth, and drew it out, placing it on the table. I quickly found the next, placing it next to the first, and the third, and forth.

What was that?

I stopped still, holding the forth bottle between my teeth, listening. There was a low creaking of wood, a dull sound akin to a moan, and some light bumps. It sounded like the castle was alive, despairing at its own decay. The noise seemed to be coming from above, and a look up showed the wooden ceiling boards, the likely perpetrators. What was strange was that the bumps weren't staying in one place. It almost sounding like they were moving.

The stairs.

The bottle was placed down hastily and I turned off the lantern and squatted, crouching behind the table. I tried to keep my shivering to a minimum, scared to knock the table lest it alert whoever was upstairs. Were they even upstairs? The ubiquitous creaks and groans of the wood emanated from seemingly everywhere, giving me no indication as to who- or what- was causing them. It came from the roof, the struts in the very room, the stairs outside.

I blinked, forcing myself to calm down, taking deep breaths to regulate my breathing. Listening more closely, I tried to determine where the hoofsteps were coming from. I couldn't pick anything up, only the natural creaks of the wood. Still shaking, I slowly picked myself up, cautiously stepping forward with nervous hooves. It took me a while to stand up and shuffle as quietly as possible to the doorway, peeking around and up the steps into the next room. My eyes scanned the darkness, my ears pricked for any sounds which could indicate an intruder.

After a while, I was forced to concede that the only intruder here was myself. Much of the room had been built from wood- the stairs, the floorboards, the ceiling, the struts- and it was hardly unreasonable for wood to creak, especially given how little insulation there was down here. The wood was likely contracting and expanding with the elements, the stones keeping everything cool and the torches warming it back up. Together, there was a lot of reason to believe that it would be creaking.

With my heart returning to a more bearable pace, I returned to the table, pulling the ceramic pot from my saddlebags and setting it down below the tap, making sure that the copper pipe would spill the final concoction into the pot. Right, now all I needed to do was...science, or something. I rubbed my temple with a hoof, hoping the motion would stimulate my brain into thinking of a solution. There were four empty glass vials sitting on circular supports, resting just above nozzles built into the iron pipe which was attached to the table. I looked underneath and found that the pipes joined to a cylindrical container of what I presumed to be gas, supported by the presence of a pressure valve wheel on the pipe itself. The vials were connected at the necks to another iron pipe, this one flowing from the wall and ending in a tap, where I had placed my chemical pot. Each of the vials had their own wheel, presumably another pressure valve to isolate each chemical if it needed to be contained. I was no scientist (or maybe I was, it was impossible to tell at the moment) but I was certain that I could get it to work.

Uncorking each chemical on the table, I fumbled with the glass vials, twisting and turning them as I tried to detach them from the pipe. I finally succeeded, carefully pouring the aqua regia into the nozzle of the first vial before reattaching it, making sure that it was firmly in place again. Into the next vial I poured the calamine, fixing the filled glass back in place, followed by the cuprite into the third, and then the orpiment into the forth, after which they were subsequently sealed back onto the pipe, my empty bottles pushed aside after having served their use. The sight of the chemicals sitting bare before me made me smile. They were all here, ready to use. Now all I needed to do was mix them.

Therein lay the problem.

I looked around at the shelves to see if there was anything that could help me, reading the spines of the books to see what they contained. Unsurprisingly there was plenty of material on alchemical mixing and the properties of certain elements, but little that could help me. I crouched down to scrutinise the bottom shelf of the nearest bookcase and happened to spot a blue hue from one of the books. Dragging it onto the table, I opened it up onto a page detailing a method for mixing different chemicals together. My eyes skimmed the page, picking out the important details from the page.

"Convection heating," I muttered. "Heat from burner evaporates chemical...air flow from pipe creates pressure which draws vapour along...vapour condensates and collects...and finally is mixed." Okay, I think I had a vague understanding of how it worked. Setting the book aside, I grabbed at the wheel on the bottom pipe, twisting it with a combination of hooves and teeth, the metal squeaking as it ground against a substantial period of misuse until it finally came to a halt. I heard the hiss of gas as the opened valve allowed it through and I stepped back. Good, it was working. Well, mostly. There was no fire, which, from what I understood, was a integral part of the evaporation process. I quickly consulted the book again, trying to espy whatever I had missed.

A spark. I needed to light the fire myself.

Looking around for tools, I realised that I had more than enough tinderboxes in my saddlebags and dug one out, flipping the lid off and flicking at the flint, hoping that the motion would provide enough of a spark to light the burners. I held the box nearer the nozzles, willing the flint to catch. The metal struck the flint, producing a spark, and-

I flinched back as the burners all caught simultaneously, the sudden flare of heat driving me back and causing me to wince, the light stinging my eyes slightly. It quickly died down to a consistent level, the small flames tickling at the bottom of the glass, teasing the chemicals inside. From here, I needed to wait for them to heat up enough to vaporise, and then open the valve to allow them to condense in the pipes and run into the pot. Either that, or opening any of the valves would cause the gas to ignite and generate an explosion. At least if that happened, I could blow my way down to Steelheart and then blow him up. The thought made me chuckle.

SMASH!

I dropped to the ground as a horrible, rolling crunch spread into the room, reverberating from the walls. The silence took a while to settle, like a layer of smothering dust. What had happened? Had I actually caused an explosion? No, I couldn't have. It wasn't close enough, nor had there been an explosion, more like a collision or a crumbling. Standing up, I grabbed my lantern and made my way over to the doorway, walking up the few wooden steps for a better view into the main room. The cause of the noise was all too easily identifiable.

The main stairs had entirely collapsed. I would need to find another way to climb back up onto the balcony above if I wanted to get out of here.

Stepping onto the cold stones, I made my way closer to fully assess the extent of the damage. The supports beams had given out and the weight of the timber had caused a snap, leaving only the base, the mid-way platform, and the underlying support standing, the rest scattered chaotically across the floor. Even the mid-way platform had given on one side, leaning at an angle to the ground. I stepped around it, looking for a way to repair the damage, or at least form a bridge to get myself up there. Maybe if I stacked something, I could lift myself enough to clamber up? It likely wouldn't do me any good with the acid to carry along, but it was all I had for now. I set about trying to find something, anything, which could be held stable enough to hoist me up.

A cursory search of the room turned up some extra planks, probably down here for repair purposes, and I dragged them over to the platform, hauling them up onto the slanted surface of the wood. With the three planks collected, I sat the lamp down on the floor and pushed myself back onto the platform, picking up an end in my forehooves. Lifting it up, I tipped it forwards, hoping that it would be long enough to reach the cracked edge of the staircase. It was, falling into place with a satisfying thunk. I lifted the next into place, nestling it beside the first, and then the third beside the third, creating a little walkway for myself up to the balcony above. Setting a tender hoof on it, I pressed down, testing its durability. It held, set in place from the angle it was resting against the platform. I could finally get out of here, once I finished the mixture.

I turned around hurriedly and jumped back onto the ground as I remembered that I had left a potentially volatile set of chemicals unattended with a piece of equipment that I didn't fully understand, rushing back down the steps and into the miniature laboratory. The vials were vibrating, the chemicals within now colourful seething gases rolling across the surface. Acting in haste, I quickly loosened the valve above the first vial, the pressure releasing with a whoosh as the gas disappeared into the above pipe. I immediately turned the rest of the wheels, allowing the gasses to escape and mix as they cooled, dripping into the collector. With a final yank and twist, I shut off the gas flow, the burners shutting off instantaneously, the flames snuffing out as their fuel was cut off, leaving me to listen to the dripping of the new mixture in the pipes, and the creaks as the metal expanded and contracted from the temperature change.

After leaving it for a couple of minutes, I raised a hoof, nudging the tap open, nothing happening at first. Then, allowing me a sigh of relief, a sickly lime -coloured liquid splashed down into the waiting pot. It continued to spill for several seconds before the flow was reduced to a dribble, and then final drips, and then nothing. Breathing a grateful sigh, I clamped on the edge of the pot with my teeth and lifted it, heading for the makeshift ramp to upstairs.

I had failed to consider how potent the acid would be, and being this close to it was a painful reminder of exactly what I was dealing with. The fumes emitted from the pot were horrific; acrid and vile, they burned my nose and throat even without me breathing in, and I had to fight back a wave of coughs, eventually putting the pot down by the collapsed platform so I could wipe my stinging eyes and let loose a flurry of hacks without fear of spilling it over myself. Regaining control, I slung my lantern onto its hook and took several deep breaths, readying myself to pick the pot up again. As I did, I almost gagged, the smell of disinfectant probing my synapses, struggling to find a balance as I stepped onto the planks that made up my ramp. One wrong move, and I would spill the acid over myself. Looking downwards to avoid letting the concoction spill over, I took careful, steady, measured steps, my nerves mounting as I made my way up, until finally I reached the top, speeding my transition across the balcony and through the door for what I hoped would be the last time.

I was ascending the stone steps from the laboratory when it occurred to me that I had a choice; the growth blocking the way out could also be dissolved, which meant that I could escape. I could leave this place behind and all the horrors it contained. No more skulking through corridors and passageways, trying to determine if there was life or not and whether I should avoid it should I find anything. I could walk away and leave it all behind, forever.

When I reached the middle of the entrance hall, I set the jar down on the floor, turning my head away to cough once again. In front of me was the hallway leading to the great wooden entrance doors, currently smeared in the sickly, thorny gunk which prohibited me from leaving. Right now, I could carry the ceramic jar over there, splash it over the growth, heave open the doors, and run for Ponyville. From there, I could find a place to stay, carry on running, get answers, or raise an army to storm the castle if I felt up to it. There really was no reason for me not to leave, as far as I could see.

A slow, howling call echoed throughout the chamber, sending a cold shiver through my body, and I turned, my jaw chattering as I saw the grey sludge materalise over the archway leading to the wine cellar and laboratory, the dark thorns emerging like vicious predators. Looking up to the other archways around the room, I found them to be already sealed by the enigmatic mass, effectively leaving me trapped.

A shadow is following you. It is is living nightmare. There is no way to fight back. You need to escape it as long as you can.

I couldn't leave. There was no hope of me escaping. Even if I left, if I emerged from this castle and ran through the forest- would I even reach Ponyville? Would I be able to get far enough to warn the town residents? Would they believe men? Would they- or could they- help me? No. That wasn't an option. I would be hunted down and I would die. My note to myself had given me specific instructions, directions on what to do, and I needed to follow them. My former self had left clues informing me of my next move, and trusting him so far had got me to where I was. Without that guidance I wouldn't be anywhere. Without that, I would have no memories, no understanding, and no path, and if I left now, that would be exactly what I was left with. My only hope was to continue into the castle.

Pushing myself onto my hooves and picking up the repulsive pot, I walked down the stairs, filled with dread. I pulled the door open, looking at the pulsing intruder obstructing my way. The pot was laid down, my forehooves gripping it tightly as I lifted it back up, wobbling slightly as I tried to balance on two hooves. With a moment's pause, clenching my jaw as I thought about how much I was risking with this one pot of acid, I threw the mixture forward, splashing it over the unnatural growth.

The effect was immediate. Where the acid touched, the grey matter hissed and smoked, eroding away within seconds, the thorns crumbling away. The elastic appearance disappeared, the surface ripping and splitting down the middle like weakened rubber, the ends burning away and as the erosion spread across the entire mass, the dissolving material fading away into blue smoke and then nothing. The whole process had taken less than five seconds, and left me gaping in surprise long after it had ended, my senses taking a while to return. It could have been a dream for all the evidence that was left of it, and how quickly it had happened. Shaking my head, I shook the last drips from the pot and stowed it inside my saddlebag, equipping my lantern if only to feel something familiar as I turned the corner of the now clear corridor, finding myself facing another wooden door. It creaked as I opened it, violently piercing the stillness of the space beyond.

Blackness greeted me, my lantern failing to illuminate much, necessitating a top up. Inky black rushed in as soon as I turned the flame off, rubbing against my coat. I bristled, fumbling for a bottle of firelight gel from within my bags, emptying it in and throwing the discarded bottle aside, igniting the lantern once again. The burst of light and warmth drove the shadows away, sending them scuttling for the corners of the corridor. I appeared to be in a long stone corridor, wooden struts lining the walls and ceiling. Lifting the lantern up higher, I could make out what looked like hanging lanterns set at intervals. Setting off with trembling legs, my hooves passed over the grimy ground, cold earth pressing against me.

"It sure is dark in here," I muttered as I trod along the narrow path, passing under the first hanging lantern. I wished I could reach up and light it, but with any luck I would be out of here soon, and stopping would just delay my exit.

"Yes, and there's a good reason for it," came a gravelly response to my side. I spun around in terror, finding no one there, my light failing to reveal anypony. No matter where I looked, there was nothing. I could still hear the crunching of hoofsteps on the soil. "But you can light the lamp now if you wish."

"What's the reason?" I asked, bring my lantern to bear. "For the darkness, that is." I turned a corner ahead, noticing that segments of the wall had been covered with wooden boarding and that loose chunks of rock and stone lay scattered sporadically along the floor.

"Stay close- be careful not to stray."

"What's the reason? Why is it so dark?" We turned the corner at the end and then another, both times left, heading deeper into the castle no doubt. At the end I could make out a doorway.

"Pay attention, Diamond. It's important that you keep going straight and make sure not to stray."

I stumbled against the wall as the deja vu faded, blinking to clear my vision. A check quick around me confirmed that there was nopony here. I gulped. That memory had matched what I was feeling so well that it segued into reality. I hadn't even realised that I was remembering anything. It felt so real. With a shake of my head, I focused on the doorway at the end of the corridor. All of the walls were lined with panels of wood now, probably structural support, something that would be needed with the damp and the cold down here. Stones didn't lend themselves well to keeping a room warm, so that was to be expected.

Reaching the doorway, pressed myself to the wooden frame and looked into the wide space, easily twenty feet across. It seemed to be devoted to keeping wine, huge barrels sporting taps lined up against the wall. Mid-way up to the ceiling were support beams, crossed at the middle. There was an open doorway nearly opposite me, just to the left, and I stepped into the room, casting suspicious glances left and right as I crept, inching my way over to what I presumed was the next room.

The sudden growl stopped me dead, sending me darting back to the relative safety of the doorframe. I extinguished my lantern and hugged the wood tightly, my wide eyes fixed on the doorway across the room from me. In the darkness, time seemed to stretch out, my heart thumping so loudly in my ears that I thought that the world would be able to hear it. Nothing. Nothing.

Something equine staggered across the gap.

I cowered back, shivering violently, my lantern feeling oddly cold and dead without its characteristic flame, and I prayed that that was the only thing that would be snuffed out this night.

Reflections

I galloped as quickly as I could down the passageway, turning corners with the greatest haste as I scrambled for the exit. The mass was materialising behind me, I could hear it. It persisted as I ran, stalking me as I threw open the door and slammed it shut, wincing at the harsh report it made. A mere second later, the wood of the door disappeared under the grey goop as it solidified, sealing me inside the stone corridor into which I had fled to escape it. Quickly, however, the noise faded away, the matter not extending beyond the door. It seemed to be toying with me.

I had progressed through the refinery with little difficulty, although terror had held me firmly in its grip the entire way, each step causing my nerves to scream at me in protest, certain that the shape I had seen would appear around the corner. Luckily, I didn't hear from it as I moved shaking from room to room, trudging my way across the dirt floor and scavenging what little I felt confident enough to go near. I had refilled my lantern from a firelight barrel and found additional bottles to stow away, as well as two discarded diary entries from my journal, now stowed safely away in the little book. Standing on the remotely blood-stained soil, I had read them, shedding some light on my ordeal after returning from the Zebra Lands.

Diamond's Diary - Return (Entry 1)

22nd of the 6th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

It's been more than a Moon since my last entry. After the event inside the underground chamber in the Zebra Lands, professor Scraper insisted I return to Equestria. He said he didn't want to risk forfeiting the entire expedition lest I took a turn for the worse. An excessive decision in retrospect, but I'm glad it turned out that way.

I found my journal this morning in the haphazard collection of things brought home from the Zebra Lands. Next to it lay the broken stone orb wrapped in cloth. I tried to assemble it, but I couldn't. The pieces wouldn't fit together, as if they weren't from the same object. Could I have imagined it all? Was there ever a complete orb?

Diamond's Diary - Return (Entry 2)

25th of the 6th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

I feel the need to continue this journal, even though it was intended for my journey in the Zebra Lands. This must be something very important, I just know it. I've taken it upon myself to piece the orb back together, but it's been more difficult than one might think. The pieces are behaving strangely. They seem to change color, shape and texture, but ever so slightly.

Yesterday I took careful measurements and notated any significant markings. Today, I confirmed my suspicions. They were changing. I was terrified and rushed off to see the finest geologist in Trottingham, Sire Weather Stone. I approached the subject with care, and we discussed how rocks change form. He told me about the nature of glass, how it eventually collapses on itself, like ice slowly melting over the course of centuries.

Stone eased my mind a bit, but I can't escape the feeling that these shards have otherworldly properties.

After searching the rooms for a way out, I had encountered a locked door and found a small hole big enough to squeeze through in the wall, and soon stumbled across a trapdoor with a pulley system. After unjamming it, I had opened up the trapdoor and jumped down. The Shadow made its presence aware soon after, its sickly mass chasing me down the short passageway. Now the way behind me was sealed, leaving only the corridor ahead as a viable direction.

My first step sounded with a splash, and looking down I found myself knee deep in water. Since when had the corridor been flooded? Had I missed that when running in here in my panic? Why didn't it spill out when I opened the door? Or...had it just appeared now? Surely it couldn't have; I hadn't heard it or felt it up until now, so...where did it come from? I lifted my leg apprehensively as I wondered about the water's sudden appearance, or perhaps my lapse in consciousness. Both were terrifying possibilities.

The water itself was cold and numbed my legs, but it looked clear and clean, and I became aware of how thirsty I was. My reflection looked back up at me, gauging my reaction as I contemplated drinking. The dark green coat was diminished to almost a grim brown, bristled and coarse, matted with dirt and dust and the sticky remains of viscera. An unkempt brown mane clung fiercely to a firm, young face, the darkened eyes staring sullenly forward, partly unfocused. There should have been a glimmer or a spark it seemed, but it was absent, the brown glassy orbs resting lethargically in their sunken sockets.

My image dispersed in ripples when my muzzle connected with the surface and I supped and swallowed the cool liquid. It irrigated my coarse throat and cracking lips, returning moisture to my pining tongue. It was painfully and unexpectedly refreshing, the cold biting at my withered and exhausted organs and returning them to proper functionality, like waking a sleeper with a sharp slap. Having guzzled my fill, I unbuckled my saddlebags and placed them on a nearby box, taking my first opportunity of being unencumbered to collapse into the water, letting it wash over me. It bit harshly, nipping at my skin underneath my coat, but gradually began to massage my tired and sore muscles. I felt the grime leaving me, the gunk that had pervasively stuck to me pulled away as I rolled and rubbed myself over. I felt as though I were lighter, like the excess grit was weighing me down. The water worked its magic inside and outside me, and I felt more at peace.

I felt like something was coming.

I pulled my head above the water, pushing my dripping mane out of the way of my eyes. It was too dark to make out anything clearly, but I could see the direction of the corridor and the lonely boxes bobbing up ahead. I turned my ears up, turning to listen more intently for any sound that indicated that something was approaching me. They flicked as I caught onto a sound, the repetition of the heavy splash unmissable in the water, and unmistakable as something walk clumsily in loping steps along the corridor. My heart pulsed rapidly and I felt myself grow cold in dread, a thousand heartbeats passing by for every step that drew that little bit closer.

There was no way I could get through the door behind me, sealed over as it was. It had taken an acid to burn through it before, and I had no such chemical on me now. As far as I could see, the corridor had no rooms or side passages to it, and lead to the right up ahead of me. I couldn't go that way; that was where it was approaching from. Ducking behind the box holding my saddlebags, I leaned out just far enough to hold an eye on the corner, waiting for the creature to appear. The splashes grew louder and my heart reciprocated, beating so furiously in my chest that I feared that whatever was here with me would hear it. It was nearly here.

My breath caught in my throat as the steps rounded into the stretch of corridor I was in, spouts of water thrown up from the heavy plodding. A shape moved into view, but it was indistinguishable in the low light. It seemed to blend in with the corridor, so all I could manage to see was the movement. It drew closer and closer, and still I couldn't make it out, but that was not the primary concern on my mind. I heard what sounded like a deep sniff, followed by an ominous snarl, and its pace markedly increased. With a frightened yelp, I leaped on top of the box, standing over my saddlebags, watching the unidentifiable thing stalk towards me. I whimpered, drawing back as much as I could.

And then it stopped. Suddenly, without warning, the splashes ceased, and the shape halted before the box. In the silence, I heard it sniff again. It emitted a low gargle and shifted its weight, but otherwise remained silent and stationary, watching me and waiting for me to move or slip or...

I shuddered, dreading to think what it could be waiting for. Why hadn't it attacked me? Could it be that it didn't know where I was? As much as I wanted to believe that, it had stopped in front of the box I was standing on, and had settled down like a predator waiting for a prey to emerge, and that suggested that it found it difficult to reach me. With no small amount of reluctance, I peered at it, barely moving as I tried to make out its seemingly amorphous form. What was it? The dim gloom prevented my eyes from making any sense of what it was meant to be, its shape lacking a distinct identity. It was like a blur or a smear rather than a creature in its own right.

I wrenched my gaze away from the sinister thing and looked around, hoping for a way out. The entire corridor was flooded, the door behind me was welded shut by the grey mass, and there was a formless creature stalking me. Needless to say my options weren't great, other than staying in place on the box and praying that my adversary starved before I did.

Wait.

My eyes picked out shapes, actual shapes, in the water; sturdy wooden boxes, gathered in groups of two or three along the wall. I looked at the closest batch and thought about the possibilities. I could jump from here to there. The creature stalking me only seemed to be able to travel in the water, so as long as I travelled along the boxes, I should be able to remain out of its grasp. Steeling myself, I tensed my legs, trying to determine their strength. The water-dweller burbled as though it had deduced my intention, and its core-chilling rumble lent me more determination to make the jump. Kicking out my back legs, I pushed forward.

The flight through the air felt longer than it probably was. My heart thudded a hundred times over from the moment I left the box, my stomach chilling into a cold lump of lead, my mind screaming at me to stop, until I landed safely on the target box. I felt a jolt of exhilaration as all four hooves touched down, avoiding the water sloshing around me.

SPLASH

SPLASH

My ears pricked in horror as the water stalker suddenly lurched back into life, taking familiar loping steps towards my new area of habitation and stopping in front of it as it had before. I swallowed and stepped onto the next box and the one after that, my safe path ending with a small stretch of water, and then another collection of boxes. It had worked before, I told myself, taking a couple of steps backwards before running and leaping, landing safely. Yet again, the sploshes followed my progress.

I ran and jumped between the wooden islands, keeping myself off the floor on my way down the corridor and hoping that there was a way out at the end of it all, the incessant splashing behind me motivating me to continue on in spite of anything to suggest that there was any other way out. I leaped a slightly larger distance, stumbling on the landing and scrambling to stop myself from slipping into the water, my heart accelerating to a ludicrous speed, my head feeling a little lighter. Just up ahead, there was another turn, this one to the left, and there was no crate in the water for me to keep me elevated. I paused, running through my options in panic, searching around me for a way to go. Behind me, the splashes trudged closer, and a view of the spouts of water thrown up convinced me to go; I jumped forward. Landing with a sickeningly cold splosh, the gargle-growl behind me urged me on, sending me hurtling around the corner in a flurry of disturbed water.

I thudded into something metallic and cold, managing to turn to avoid the worst of the impact. It was an iron gate, the bars taunting me with a view of the corridor on the other side. I tried lifting it, pushing and straining frantically against the barrier, but it stubbornly refused to yeild. There was little which I could do to grip it, and even when I did make scant progress, it was too heavy to lift, only rising an inch before sliding back down into place. In the corridor behind, the approaching steps had sped up, as if sensing that I was in reach, and I looked around for a way out. There were some books on a ledge to my right, but the ledge was far too low and small for me to clamber atop it for safety. To my left, the wall was just as unhelpful, offering nothing to aid me. It was all just stone, except for the small wheel of metal.

I looked again, shifting hurriedly closer to it and placing my numb hooves on it, twisting in every direction in the hope that it might do what I was sincerely praying it would. With a creak and a squeal, the wheel twisted at my insistence, the gate rising agonisingly slowly in response. I whimpered, pleading with the gate to hurry up, my hooves gripping and twisting the wheel furiously, but it didn't help. The stalker was almost around the corner, and I had no way to stop it, no way to impede its progress. It knew exactly where I was.

Unless...

With a fervent dash over to the ledge, I grab a book, pulling a couple off in my haste. They slapped noisily into the water, drawing a growl from the water beast as it rounded the corner. Resting the tome on my hoof, I sent a prayer to the two sisters, pulled my foreleg back, and hurled the book over thing making terrifyingly quick progress towards me. The impact in the water echoed around the flooded corridor, and the thing stopped, only the waves it had made continuing on towards me. I waited, my breathing quick and shuddering as I tried to remain as silent as I possibly could, wondering if the blasted thing would turn around and investigate the noise further down the corridor or just ignore it and rend me apart.

A gargle later, the splashes restarted, this time moving away from me and back around the corner. I breathed out a jittering sigh of relief, grabbing another book of the ledge as I made my way back to the wheel, resuming my attempt to lift the gate. It had slid down since I moved to distract my pursuer, and was now only about a tenth open, barely above the water level.

A fierce ripping and thrashing sound tore down the corridor, making me flinch and shiver. It was followed by a dissatisfied grumble, and then the familiar splashing plod of the lumbering creature making its way back. I twisted at the wheel, watching the gate amble upwards, nearly at halfway. It would have to do. I threw the second book behind me, watching it splash down and draw the approaching form towards it, and went to move past the gate. It was descending quicker than I had anticipated, and I had to duck a little to get under the sharp prongs that made its bottom, arching my back to get under. My undercarriage dipped into the water, and as soon as I was out from under it, I turned around and tried to pull down on the gate, to get it shut quicker, to seal the beast off from me.

I hadn't heard it, but it had heard me, clearly. The usually loped gait of the amorphous, terrifying predator was charging towards me, the water around it parting as it quickened its pace. I yelped and pulled down harder on the gate, causing the tips of its spikes to fall below the water level, but I was out of time. The thing had reached the gate, and I could see its form trying to get under! I backpedaled, tripping and falling onto my rump. I tried to scrabble away, achieving little but to throw water at the wiggling monstrosity which was pulling itself from under the gate.

Then it yelped. The thrashing in the water become violent, almost panicked, as the creature struggled against something, slowly sinking into the water until its head, or wherever its mouth was, ducked below, muffling its cries to a confused bubbling burble. The thrashing slowed, the disturbance stilling, until at last, everything became tranquil, and I sat very still, apparently alone. I licked my lips and stood up cautiously, peering at the rippling water for any sign of what had happened to the creature. It was only when I saw the yellow ichor seeping into the water from a lump beneath the surface that I realised that it must have become impaled by the gate while trying to reach me. I blanched and turned around, nonetheless thankful that I didn't have to worry about the aquatic hunter any more.

Ahead, the corridor was a mess of debris, including pages of books and old segments of scrolls, chairs with their wood rotted through, all floating in the unnatural river that this passage had become. I made my way along it, odd pieces of rubbish rubbing up against my legs, although I paid none of that any heed. It was eerily quiet after the previous encounter, and I found myself checking left, right, and behind myself for any sign of a disturbance, lest the damned beast come return somehow. My thumping, thudding heart forced me to remain suspicious of the calm and tranquility, the water lapping softly against my knees. Ahead, some boxes were stacked in a line, blocking my path, and I pulled myself up onto them, out of the water for a short while. I reflexively hesitated, one hoof poised above the water, my body fearing stepping back into the water after I'd faced such danger before. Forcing myself to be rational, I extended it down, edging slowly towards the water's surface.

I was greeted by nothing by the relaxing touch of the water, feeling a little warmer after its brief absence. I let out a sigh, partly from relief and partly from fatigue. I was tired, more mentally than physically. I was wandering around this castle, chased by creatures and darkness and some arcane spirit, and I didn't understand much of it. It was exhausting my sanity and my rationality, and I didn't know how much longer I could do this. Was staying here, on this box, any worse than the alternatives? It wouldn't require effort, and there was nothing here to hurt me.

As soon as I'd thought that, I felt myself objecting. No, I could not stay here. I would not stay here. Why should I give up? I'd come this far, survived by continuing in spite of the risks, and I apparently had a plan. Granted, I didn't know what that plan was, but I was discovering more about it as I progressed. My situation was dire, but what did I stand to gain by giving up? Absolutely nothing at all. Even if it was only my survival instinct, I felt something pushing me to carry on, scolding me for even considering giving up. If I pulled through, I had a lot to gain; my memories, my freedom, my safety. I refused to stop here, not when I had no adversity to face- if I had time to stop and consider my prospects, I wasn't in enough danger to rightfully do so. Determination set in as my body followed my first forehoof, dropping off the box and into the water with a splash.

I froze in horror as immediately a loud gargling growl sounded from just ahead, and a succession of splashes sped towards me. My nerves screamed at me as I turned and jumped back up onto the box, scrambling up and away from the creature. It was right behind me! I cried out in terror and pain as its teeth grazed my right hindleg, swinging up onto safety just in time for its jaws to clamp shut noisily on thin air. I winced as I looked back at my leg, spotting the hot rivulets of crimson blood rolling out of the gash it had made, staining my coat a murky brown as it settled and matted. The wound was shallow, but when I tried to stand, more blood squeezed out, falling down my saturated coat and dripping onto the crate. Luckily, it wasn't too painful, and I could stand. I just hoped that I could run.

The box I was standing on juddered suddenly, and I yelped in surprise. The water beast gargled in response, and the crate shuddered again, shifting a little. It was trying to knock me off! My breathing sped up, and I looked around me for a solution. There was nowhere to get out of the water in the corridor behind me, and I couldn't move forward while the creature was still there. I gulped, trying to stay calm and to not panic. There were plenty of boxes in this row, maybe I could-

My thought was thrown off as a particularly strong slam unbalanced me, nearly causing me to tumble into the water. It was my best option, I decided, grabbing a box from the left and lifting it with my forelegs. I winced as I put pressure onto my injured leg, looking down into the water to try and find the impatient hunter with the box lifted above my head. It made a movement, catching my eye, and I brought the box down with a yell of fury or fear, I don't know which. The box crunched loudly almost as soon as it had left my hooves, followed by a subsequent growling yelp of pain. Yellow ichor painted a part of the box, and I felt a rush of pride, or something closely related, to know that I had injured it. Leaping from the barricade, I jumped over the monster and splashed down a little way ahead of it, beginning my run without pausing or hesitating.

The water stung as it came into contact with my gash, but it also numbed it, enabling me to gallop as the dazed monster started to give chase, its gait noticeably slower and more laborious. I ran the length of the corridor, turning right at its end, and then on some more, nearly tripping over some steps just before a red door. I tugged it open, looking back to see the splashes gaining momentum as though sensing I was about to escape, and made my way through, heaving it closed behind me. It slammed shut, the judder seeming to reverberate throughout the castle, and when it faded, everything was silent again. I panted heavily, turning to look where I'd ended up.

I was at the bottom of a stone staircase, the top obscured partly by an overhang, but I could see by the light of torches adorning the walls above the stone banister leading up. It felt like I had just emerged from a bunker or a cellar. The light and heat gave me the strength to continue, and I made my way up, happy to be ascending again, if only such a short distance.

The staircase deposited me from the stone gully into a large hall, not dissimilar from the one I had departed from to enter the refinery. I supposed it was a back hall of sorts, and it contained the same balcony as its counterpart, the same large windows letting in the dim light from outside, and the same pillars stretching up to the same tall ceiling. The most noticeable difference, in fact, was the presence of a fountain in an alcove, where the corridor to the main entrance would have been in the other hall. I stepped towards it, suddenly reminded of my injury. The fountain would be the perfect place to clean it properly, and it seemed like I was in luck- the marble basin contained water, glimmering softly in the wan light provided by the windows.

A wave of lightheadedness passed over me, and I felt fear settle in my stomach as the idea that I'd cut an artery and lost too much blood sprang to mind. It took me a little while to realise that it was just the deja vu settling in. This one felt similar to when I had witnessed the deaths of Grimeye and his henchponies, strangely distant and unfamiliar, rather than a recollection.

"Oh dear sister, I am sorry," a pained female voice uttered. I imagined for some reason a tall, powerful pony rising from the floor, and looking up into a vast collapsed section of the ceiling, through which moonlight poured uninhibited. Looking up, I saw that the ceiling was, while in a state of disrepair, mostly intact, allowing me no view of the sky above. It felt odd to be able to imagine something so vividly as to genuinely expect to see what I had saw in my mind when I looked to check. "But you have given me no choice but to use these."

A mechanical whiring and clinking began, and even while I looked at the fountain, acknowledging it to be real, I envisaged two slabs of stone in the floor parting, allowing a stone column to rise up, surrounded by five smaller rotating pedestals. I could imagine so clearly that upon each pedestal sat a magnificent jewel, containing power far beyond its majestic appearance. As the mare lifted the jewels, a sixth appeared, rising from the column itself- a star glimmering and glittering with internal power.

"Not so fast," another, crueler voice stated, and I heard the first mare cry out in surprise and resistance. "If you think I can be beaten so easily, then you are sorely mistaken."

"Let go of the elements!" the first voice commanded, worry seeping through her authoritative tone. I determined that the newcomer was attempting to wrestle the jewels from the first mare's grip. Somehow, I knew that they were each trying to gain a telekinetic grip, and that if either let the other possess all the gems, they wouldn't be able to defend against what power was contained within.

"I answer to no one!" the newcomer seethed, malice thick in her voice, wrenching hard with her magic. "Not to you, and not to nature's cycle!"

"This is wrong. You can't forego the balance of day and night. How many will suffer under your eternal night?

"As many as needed. They can resist, or they can obey. Their fate is their own, dear sister."

"Please don't do this. You know what the elements can do, you know how much power they contain!"

"I know that you're too weak to use them fully! They contain enough power to craft a new world or to destroy an empire, and we have not seen even a fraction of their potential. Power is the only master in this world, and I am the manifestation of power!"

"I'm not going to let you do this," the first mare asserted. Her tone was firm, unyielding, but I could tell she was tiring. If this battle continued much longer, she'd lose her grip on the jewels and her opponent would win. "If it means binding them...I shall."

"You won't." Her opponent's disbelief was palpable. She seemed to know something about the mare that made her skeptical of the claim. "You know what that would entail, what it would mean, and you could never commit to that. And that is why you do not deserve to rule Equestria!"

"If it's the only alternative, then I shall," the mare stated firmly. "If you would use them as you have claimed, I cannot allow you to have your way." She stopped, grunting from the effort of holding onto the jewels. When she spoke again, her voice was strained from the physical exertion and from the weight of the situation. She couldn't fight much longer. "Please...let them go. Let all of this go."

The response was as swift as it was curt. "Never!" I could almost feel the mare's heart shatter as her opponent spat those words, and I imagined hot tears bubbling at her eyes.

"Then I really, truly am sorry. I have and always will love you, my dear sister. Please know that, Luna."

A thrum built rapidly in volume, energy crackling between the two figures, and with a final, blinding flash, a pulse raced and roared through the world, carrying the scream of disbelief and the sob of sheer grief, the final message of two goddesses for a world they had left to die.

Author's Note

Okay, so a bit more world building in this chapter. I hope this has piqued everyone's interest, because I know it has been a bit dry up until this point. I plan to add more of my own variations to the story, other than simply expanding on what is given in game (although that too), and I hope it came across like that in this chapter. Rest assured that the world will be fleshed out, and that in later chapters, answers will be given as to what exactly has happened.