Mass Core 2: Crimson Horizon

Sunset Shimmer materialized in a dark stone corridor. It took a moment for her to resynchronized with the Crimson Horizon, and for the scanners on her remote exoskeleton to determine where she was. When it completed the process, she looked around. It was immediately apparent that she was not in a structure that was built by human hands. The architecture was clearly Equestrian, but not a type that had been seen in over five thousand years- -and even then, only by a select few. It was clear that it had been constructed by wizards for their own use. The underground system was built with absolute precision toward a strictly utilitarian purpose, but with a subtle element of the mysterious flare that the ancient mages where known for.

From the look of it, though, it had been empty for some time. The stone was dark and moist, and even with most of a continent floating overhead, it was still buried far deeper than any human would have ever been willing to look.

There was little point in admiring it, though, aside from the knowledge that it had finally reached the end of its millennia-long journey toward its ultimate goal. Sunset Shimmer pressed through the darkness, hearing the click of her boots echo off the lonely walls as she moved toward the center.

The complex was large- -immense, even- -but Sunset knew exactly where to go. Within a few minutes of walking and admiring the worn inscriptions on the damp and moldering walls, she reached the central chamber: an enormous domed room with the bricks of its floor arranged in complex concentric circles, with hollow channels running between them.

Runes ran up the dome and demarcated its purpose. Sunset Shimmer could read most of them, but even she could only understand part of the machine’s operation. She had built the Crimson Horizon twice, once in its simple, young form and again in its current incarnation, but the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of this system impressed even her.

While admiring the size and intricacy of the atrium, Sunset felt her foot touch something on the floor. She looked down to see several brittle bones skitter across the floor. She realized that the absolute center of the room was surrounded by skeletons of ponies, their fragile bones dressed in decayed fabric. These were the wizards who had constructed this machine, and who had died along with it, taking their knowledge of its operation with them.
` Sunset kicked them out of the way. They were of no consequence. Their names had been swallowed by history and forgotten. There was only one of them that truly mattered.

At the far end of the room, a kind of throne was built into one end of the wall where the dome inexplicably flattened. It was tethered to the system above by a number of cobweb-encrusted ancient cables. In it sat a skeleton, his jaw hanging open in a wide grin and the extensive implants in his vertebral column still attached to the machinery behind him.

It was impossible to know what his purpose had been there- -if he had supported the operations of the machine to the last, or if it had been what had kept him alive for his impossibly long life. That distinction did not concern Sunset Shimmer, though. Either way, he had failed before his master work had been completed.

The implants he wore extended around his torso, linking to a kind of primitive containment suit. It must have been bulky and agonizing to wear, and from the tatters of his robes, it seemed that he had hidden its presence. With it revealed, though, Sunset could see the indentation in the front.

She lifted the Key of Korviliath, and felt it vibrating with anticipation. Stepping forward, she inserted it into the slot in the long-dead pony’s chest.

The room immediately reacted, causing Sunset Shimmer to take a step back in surprise. The dark chamber was suddenly illuminated with a powerful blue light, and inert-looking system linked to the skeleton charged with energy from the crystal.

As Sunset watched, the skeleton leaned forward. Its bones clicked and linked their joints back together, motivated by the same blue light that seemed to fill the room. The blue light then condensed into the ancient bones, resolving around them and condensing into something that almost appeared to be matter. It assumed color, although not full opacity. Within seconds, a gray-eyed, bearded pony was staring back at Sunset Shimmer, his bones still visible through the projection that made up his skin.

He leaned forward, and then pushed himself off the throne. The cables attached to the rusted metal in his back tugged at him, and he seemed confused as to why they were linked to him. He gave them a shake, and they fell away. Then he looked up at Sunset Shimmer.

“Starswirl the Bearded?” she asked, in awe of being in the presence of the first Core ever to have existed.

Starswirl frowned, his face taking on an appearance of intense age and sadness. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m not. Not anymore. I died centuries ago now…or maybe longer. What you perceive before you is nothing more than a shadow, a fragment of what I once was. A piece of me left behind to serve as the access point to the Gate.” He looked down at his chest, and, upon seeing the Key of Korviliath, looked profoundly disappointed. “So, Sambra has failed. The Key has been returned. I had prayed to my beloved Celestia that this day would never come.”

“But it has,” said Sunset. “Don’t be so sad, old stallion. You should be happy. I’ve come to complete what you started.”

Starswirl’s eyes narrowed. “No. You could not possibly know what I in my arrogance had started.”

“But I do.” Sunset laughed. “Because I am the conclusion of it. Everything you created, it has become ME.”

“If that were true, you would not be here,” said Starswirl, coldly.

Sunset’s blind eyes narrowed. “You are perceptive for being dead so long. Yes. I’m almost done. I have almost completed our goal. But I need the Gate. It’s the final piece.”

“The Gate ought not to be opened. You cannot possibly understand the cost.”

Part of Sunset’s face twitched. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get that crystal.”

“Don’t I? Sambra was my closest friend as a colt, and I know him better than any pony could. We had our differences, but he would not give you this Key willingly. It was never meant to return to this place.”

“But why?” demanded Sunset as Starswirl started to walk the perimeter of the room, looking longingly down at his long-deceased comrades. “You finished it! The device, it’s complete. Fully operational with that Key. Why did you never use it?”

“Because,” said Starswirl, sharply, “I built it. And I understand the toll it will take on this planet better than any pony could.”

“This planet? This planet is meaningless. A backwater world of primitive, unevolved apes. They can hardly even use magic.”

“And yet you choose to take their form.”

“If only you knew…”

“Don’t I?” He sighed. “Or does it even matter? You would never see what I did. Yes, I originally came to this planet with the thought that it might be irreparably damaged upon the full activation of the Gate. A planet with an atmosphere, with arable land, but without magic. But time changes all things.”

“Time made you weak.”

“No, it killed me. But before that, I grew fond of this world, and the people it houses. I cannot help but wonder if I would have been so limited in my views and scope if I had been born as a man instead of a stallion, what I might have accomplished without the arrogance of a unicorn.”

“Heresy.”

“By what god? Or do you mean yourself?”

“I am the only god of consequence. Or will be.” Sunset stepped forward. “Assuming you will open the gate.”

“As I said,” said Starswirl. “I am nothing more than an interface. I don’t have free will. Just the distant memory of the dying thoughts of an elderly stallion as he lay dying all alone. I was created to open the Gate, and I will do so. But first…”

“What?”

“Tell me, child. How is it that you knew of this place? The knowledge of its location died with us, and I took great pains to hide it. Even Sambra did not know. And yet, somehow, you stand here before me. How?”

Sunset opened her mouth to answer, but then stopped. For a brief moment, she was confused, and for some reason frightened. She knew the location, but she did not know why, or where that information had come from. She could not recall ever having been told it, or discovering it. She simply knew.

“I see,” said Starswirl. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

“For what?”

Starswirl did not answer. He just took one last look at her, and then stepped toward the center of the room. When he reached the golden platform in the center, his body dissipated. The ancient magic that created his body dissipated, taking his bones with it. The platform raised as the floor telescoped upward, and a new set of cables descended from the apex of the dome. In the floor, the channels cut through the stone illuminated with blue light, and rows on the dome began to glow with deep-red runes.

The process had begun, and Sunset watched. She was happier than she had ever been in her entire life, but somehow this all felt wrong. There was something she was missing, although she did not know what.

As the room began to collapse as the dome began to implode, Sunset turned away. She engaged Xyuka’s transwarp system and felt her body fade as she materialized elsewhere. Her only consolation as she left was the fact that a new guest had just arrived to the Crimson Horizon.