Daring Do, or A.K. Yearling, rather, had never liked raiding tombs. Of all the places she had traveled to steal, purchase, or otherwise obtain archaeological items, tombs were her least favorite. It always felt like a violation of privacy to those who had been buried there.
She wasn't too sure if she was in a tomb this time, though. Every coffin she had come across was empty, and the spaces in the walls for mummies were vacant. The entire place felt dead, but it didn't seem to contain any dead. So she didn't feel as bad as usual about it.
The air was cold, deep down as she was. She believed she could see little clouds of mist each time she breathed out, but she didn't want to divert her focus to check. It just became a little thought in the back of her mind. The situation was too serious for her to stop paying attention.
Puzzle floors suck, she thought decisively. At the moment, she was standing on three hooves, her back bent and twisted around in an awkward fashion to aid her in her objective. Two hooves were on the floor spaced wide apart to hit two buttons, and the third was pressed up against a wall to hit another one. With a little straining, her hoof made contact, and the heavy stone slid into the wall.
She looked around at her journal, lying on the floor. She studied the pattern she had drawn two days ago, when her most recent adventure started, and eyed a fourth button a short distance from her fourth hoof, which was helping to hold her up and not press an incorrect button.
She took a deep breath, then launched her hoof up and brought it back down on top of the stone. As it slid into position, she squinted her eyes shut in the hopes that she had the combination correct.
The sound of rock grinding on rock issued forth from inside the walls. A door further down the path from her rolled open, revealing the path forward. She let out a sigh of relief and relaxed her tense muscles, allowing herself to flop onto the floor in exhaustion.
Her latest few trials had been more taxing than usual. A trip to Las Pegasus, a shootout in a casino that involved her making her own makeshift gun from a slot machine, a trip into the desert, and her making good on the notification her former assistant had sent her detailing a mysterious crypt. The ordeal had taken place over the course of four days, the fourth night currently in progress, or so she thought.
She stood back up and brushed her explorer's vest off. After adjusting her trademark hat and picking up her journal, she was ready to go. The newly opened path stood as a black void within the wall, and a shiver ran down her spine as she crossed its threshold. She felt her way along the narrow walls in the dark, her flashlight having been broken in a trap about thirty minutes before she encountered the puzzle floor.
After a solid minute or so of walking, the corridor abruptly turned left and opened up into a much larger cavern. The ceiling vaulted upward, held in place by pillars evenly spaced throughout the area. Little balls of golden light sat where torches normally would, enchanted to never go out. Strange markings adorned the dilapidated walls; even she couldn't make out what ancient civilization they belonged to. The entire place was in a state of decay, much of the masonry hadn't stood the test of time. A path of cut stones led down the center of the cavern, where nothing but a lone pedestal stood, waiting for her.
She flexed her wings, then gave a good hard flap, sending her a foot or two off the ground. She fluttered across the room slowly, keeping a close eye out for any nets or other things that might catch her as she flew. She stopped once to make a rubbing of the runes drawn into one of the pillars.
After five minutes of carefully watching her flight path, she made it to the center platform and landed. The pedestal stood only a few feet tall, the surface made out of a smooth black stone that differed greatly from the stone that made up the pillars and the pathway. It's craftsmanship was genuine; the surface was glossy and reflective, as if it had gone untouched by the thick layers of dust that coated everything else.
But what was on the pedestal got her attention. It was a simple book, bound in what appeared to be leather (a little too macabre for her tastes) and had no markings across its surface, including its spine. There was no way of telling if anything was written in it without picking it up.
She reached out to grab it, but then hesitated. Surely, it would be trapped. After all the traps she had gone through, she was sure that there was one more designed to completely kill or trap her. Perhaps the book wasn't worth it? She began to draw her hoof back.
But all those traps had to have been placed for a reason. This was clearly the one thing the whole vault had been protecting. Perhaps the book contained the key to understanding what lost civilization built this place? Or the key to deciphering the meaning of the symbols drawn on the walls?
She bit her lip in indecision. It was always such a gamble. The book had to be some sort of treasure, of that she was certain. But was it worth risking her life?
She took her journal out of her bag. Eyeballing her journal and the book on the pedestal, she judged their sizes to be about the same. She took a deep breath to steel her nerves. This was her job, her life. Risks were just a normal part of it.
Her hooves blurred, and the two books were quickly swapped. Her eyes darted around the cavern as her ears twitched, both straining to find a clue that a trap had been activated. A sigh escaped her lips when a full thirty seconds passed without anything happening.
She gave a little laugh and thanked her good luck. It seemed that she would get out of this one without having to dodge a giant boulder or something else ridiculous. But then she froze. She lifted the book higher in her hoof.
It was heavier than her journal.
Without hesitation, she snatched her journal off the pedestal and took off running. A click issued from the ground as her hooves left their spots. She was halfway across the room in seconds.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw something that doubled her heart rate. Sand was dumping in from the ceiling, starting in a circle around the center platform and quickly spreading outward. She flapped her wings and jumped, taking to the air with hopes to avoid being buried alive in the flood of sand.
Not to be outrun, the sand was catching up on her quickly. Within seconds it was threatening to overtake her, but she was close to the corridor that she entered the cavern from. She felt her tail getting pelted by the grains, and it motivated her to move faster. She was almost there!
With a final, desperate flap, she propelled herself through the narrow entrance. Her wings folded to her body instantly, and her legs took up the slack, rushing her down the corridor. She stopped at the turn and looked back. The sand had stopped there, spilling out into the hallway slightly.
She took a deep breath to calm herself, but stayed focused. She had no idea what other traps awaited her now that she had triggered the big one. However, she was certain she would make it out. She was Daring Do, adventurer extraordinaire! She could handle anything that some stuffy desert vault could throw at her!
With that thought in mind, she ran off into the darkness, confident that she would escape with her life yet again.
"Yes, and here you go." Another signature, another delighted reader. But that very well might be the last one.
Two months had passed since her final adventure, her last hurrah. She had finally had enough of it all, the daring escapes, the shady figures, the risky business. It had gotten to be a little too much for her, and she decided that the risk was no longer worth the benefits.
A few weeks after she returned to her house from that tomb in the desert, she revealed the books to be based on her own adventures, something the press had a field day with. Her printing company said her book sales had increased by 20% after that announcement.
One month after she narrowly escaped death through being buried alive in sand, she finished writing the final book of the Daring Do series, Daring Do and Fortune's Favor. She felt obligated to make something more of the ending to that story though; she had a feeling that readers wouldn't be totally satisfied with Daring Do finding a blank journal at the end of her final adventure.
She hadn't been satisfied as well. When she had at last retreated back to her secluded home in the forest, she opened the mysterious journal to find that nothing was written it it. It was just full of old, yellowed, blank pages. The back of it had a few lines etched in gold, but they were as indecipherable as the ones on the pillars back in the tomb.
But she was putting all that behind her. Her days as Daring Do were over, the final lines had been written and the characters had taken their bows. She purchased a home in the outside rings of Ponyville with some of the bits her book's sales had netted. She had more than enough saved up to settle down in comfort, and stay that way. She wasn't young anymore.
"Th-thanks, Miss Yearling. I-It means a l-l-lot," stammered the nervous fan whose book AK had just signed.
"It was no problem at all. Thanks for coming." AK put on an exaggerated smile. That's it, last one, I can go now, she thought impatiently. Dealing with ponies wasn't her favorite thing in the world.
She capped the pen with her wings and removed her hat with her hooves. She didn't have to hide her mane anymore, now that all of Equestria knew who she really was, but it still felt odd to her to be dressed in her normal clothes in public, even after two months of doing exactly that to promote the last book she put out.
But the garb was getting old now. She had put it on for the last time when she went to Las Pegasus, searching for the next clue to lead her to the tomb. It seemed like a costume to her at this point. A meaningful costume, but a costume nonetheless.
She delicately brushed a hoof over the canvas surface of the hat. It had seen her through many adventures. She felt over the few raised bumps on the fabric, the repaired parts where bullets had once whizzed through. She inhaled and smelled hot desert sands and dusty tombs.
She put the headgear back on and stood up from her little chair. That final signature had concluded her final book signing for the last Daring Do book. Extra copies that she had with her on the desk had almost sold out after a few hours, leaving her with one copy of her own book. She picked up her bag and the exquisite special quill that she uses whenever she writes anything.
Gently flying out of the store, she waved to the manager behind the front desk and let him know that her time was up. The pony gave a smile and a nod back, then stood up to go take down the signs and table she had been using.
As AK opened the doors to the bookstore and took her first breath of fresh, Canterlotian air in over three hours, she flipped open her bag and placed her extra Daring Do book inside. She took a glance at a clock hanging off the wall of a nearby shop and noted that her train to Ponyville would be arriving soon.
She took off to get to the depot on time.
The car shuddered as the train came to a halt. Recognizing her destination, Daring gathered her items and walked off the train, the gazes of nearby ponies trained on her iconic manestyle and coloring. She could hear the whispers, but she chose to ignore them. Several well-built earth ponies and a unicorn walked up to her and introduced themselves as the moving company she had hired to help get her items in her new home.
She helped carry boxes and suitcases out of the storage car attached to the back of the train, and they got it moving. The new house she had bought was on the outer rings of Ponyville, where she was told it would be less busy compared to inner Ponyville. She was ready to get back into society, but she figured diving in head-first wouldn't be beneficial.
The process of moving her luggage took only 20 minutes, on account of her not owning much in the first place. She never spent much time in her last home, as she was always on the move, chasing a new treasure or something similar. At long last, she was able to set her hooves down in a place that she knew she wouldn't have to run from sooner or later.
The movers left after she paid them with a moderate sum of bits. They made sure to remind her to call them whenever she needed something moved again, and she made sure to remind them that she didn't need to call them in the first place.
She set her hat down on a small end-table that had been left in the foyer. It was time to start unpacking.
It had been two-and-a-half weeks, and boredom was already setting in. She hardly went out into Ponyville proper, the only trips she made were for food. She had quickly grown tired of the locals gawking at her, the famous Daring Do! and the incessant pestering of her #1 fan, (self-proclaimed, of course) Rainbow Dash. She figured that early retirement would leave many lazy days, but she needed something else to entertain her.
From her spot in the cozy chair by the windows, she could see her office space. Inside sat an unused desk and chair, along with her quill. Her satchel leaned against the side of it.
A frown eased its way across her features. She stood, the chair puffing back out instantly, eagerly awaiting her inevitable return. She crossed her house and looked over the desk. The quill sat ready to be used, as it had been since the last time she used it, a week ago or so. On a whim, she flipped open her bag and took a look over the contents. She saw some old maps, several rocks and a small bone, but one thing commanded her attention.
The old blank book she found in the tomb.
She looked to her quill, then back to the book. After a moment of brief indecision, she pulled the book out a set it gently on the desk, squared in the middle. She pulled out the chair and sat down, the chair protesting with soft squeaks from the sudden addition of weight. She turned over the cover of the book and looked at the first page.
Maybe the best thing to keep her from going crazy from boredom in this town was to do what she always did: write. But it couldn't be Daring Do again, that chapter of her life was over. She had hung up the hat for the final time, and she wasn't going to put it on ever again.
Then maybe something completely different. Something that she wouldn't publish, something for her. She looked out the window that hung above the desk and eyed Ponyville. Her eyes roamed over the peculiar old-looking architecture and pleasant thatched roofs. She watched the bustle of the marketplace as ponies came and went, haggling for deals.
And, as she looked, she began to see more. From the empty spaces beyond the houses, walls of cut stone rose from the ground, skyward towers slicing into the sky. The buildings lost their colors and faded to black and white, save the yellow straw the roofs were made of. The market expanded and became busier, many of the ponies looking for business adopted a similar wardrobe, coarse cloaks, simple cloth coverings, and a splash of armor here and there. She could make out the sound of a blacksmith's hammer ringing out across the din that arose from the ponies milling about.
A.K. Yearling took a deep breath, and began to write.
