Author's Note

You don’t really need to have read the first one to understand this, but anyway despite what I said I made a sequel.

The Tower

The colt went over to the fence, and was greeted by the familiar sign.....

WARNING! NO ENTRY.
TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT

He had read it thousands, and thousands of times and quite frankly was sick of it. The fence was made of titanium, and nailed inside were the bodies of animals crucified on the wall. Lovely.

The mystery of the Castle of Sorrow made him excited, like he was starring in an action movie he occasionally saw on the Television at his house. His absolute favourite hero and someone he looked up to was Batmare, the billionaire who’s parents were murdered in front of her eyes, driving her to become vengeance, to become the night, to become! You know who.

The castle seemed to have stood there for thousands of years, but still fairly modern due to the fact the lights were being turned on and off. It was obvious somepony lived there, he just didn’t know who. That was why he was obsessed with it!

He knew almost everyone in Ponyville, yet on the hill stood the ominous castle everyone ignored. In Cheerilee’s class, he had learned only about the plays of Shakespeare, and things he won’t ever need in the world. In fact, he didn’t want to be an author, or a mathematician or a scientist. He wanted to be an explorer. His Cutie Mark however, had different plans.

He was stuck with being a architect, although he never even liked the subject. The faults that come with hiring teens to help with the fact you’ll never know who your meant to be. But, he wasn’t meant to be an architect, he wanted adventure. Excitement!

He dug underneath the fence, making a burrow small enough for him to squeeze inside. The dirt was damp from the rain and made it uncomfortable to crawl on. He pushed forward, despite almost sinking into the dirt. When he had just got through, he was relieved that was done with.

“Yes!” The colt cheered. After weeks he had finally gotten inside. Now, he had to get inside. VERY quietly. Along the walls in silver writing was ‘La società della vendetta’. A foreign language! This was more exciting than he thought it would be. The bricks were broken and debris was scattered along the floor. The gates were rusted and almost fragile. In the middle was a sewer network. Well, if he was going to get inside, it wasn’t going to be easy. Using his horn, a silver aura appeared around the top, and he threw it like a frisbee into the wall. He hopped inside.

The smell was, interesting. The floor was sticky and hot with moss and an aroma of something horrible was in the air. It was dark and he could barely see. He used his horn to create some light. He walked down the hallway. The aroma was becoming more and more obvious. He looked ahead. He’d found the source of the smell.

In front of him stood a bipedal rat, eating the dead body of a chicken. His eyes were black as night and the stare was cold as November. He screamed. “AAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAHHHHAAAAAA!”

He ran the other way as fast as he could. ’Mom was right mom was right mom was right.’ Tears filled his eyes and he felt blind. He stumbled and fell to the side falling into water. The Rat pounced towards him.

The waters closed over the boy and he knew nothing more.

Cyrus Miller has a very peculiar life. One that almost makes absolutely no sense. He’s a teenager with supernatural powers, is a superhero, and has to pretend when talking to the Pony of Shadows that he’s not insane. Well, he ain’t seen nothing yet.

His phone vibrated on the table next to his bed. He rubbed his eyes and held the phone in his hand. He was being called by Sunset Shimmer. “Hello?” He said, half asleep.

“Cyrus? Where are you? The bus for Stonehenge leaves in 15 minutes!”

“What?! Uhhm. Wait a sec! On my way.”

He stood up and threw on his jeans, and wore his olive green jacket over his T shirt. He picked up his laptop and chucked it in his bag. “Better not forget this.” He picked up a drive. That drive had everything he had worked on, whether it be homework or combat moves. He went into his wardrobe and picked up his mask. The mask, that when he put on also put on his suit. It smelled of sweat and blood.

"GAH! That is a... weird smell." He remarked.

"You did wear it for 5 hours straight yesterday. And the last time you washed it was 3 weeks ago." The Pony of Shadows said.

"Stop reminding me my life is a mess." Cyrus replied. "Time to go." He leapt through the window and put on the mask, transforming him into The Shadow. He put on his phone and listened to one of his favourite songs.

"Temperature in Canterlot city is 30 degrees Celsius. A lovely day for a walk. Don't miss this opportunity folks!" The weather man said.

Cyrus ran over to his motorcycle and rode as fast as he could. He weaved in and out of traffic, the breeze pressed against him. The trees waved.

“We have an exclusive comment from the man who saved our city! JOE FROM JOES DONUTS!”

“Tell us, how does it feel to save everyone in our city?” The reporter asked.

“Well, some celebrities say they don’t like the attention, well that’s a whole bloody lie! They love it! Doubled me income too! When I went and defeated Iron Grey, I did it because I did not want to live under his command! He would not destroy what I believe!”

“So, you’re saying you defeated him because you were pissed off that he tried to become a god?”

“Err. Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Give it up for Joe ladies and gentlemen!”

Cyrus parked his bike next to the bus stop. He took off his mask and ran over to the bus. Everyone seemed to be getting inside. Except a group of people outside, gathering to see some sort of event. Of course. He walked over to the group to see what was happening. “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” The boys chanted.

He saw Blueblood picking on someone. “Time for fun boys. Get up Nandra!” Blueblood yelled at the boy stumbling away. He’d obviously tried running away, but the crowd was hemming him in.

“What do you think you’re doing, Blueblood?” Cyrus said as he walked into the middle of the fight.

“Get out of the way.” Blueblood said as he shoved him out of the way.

“Pick on someone you’re own size.” Cyrus replied.

Blueblood smirked. He was older and more muscular than Cyrus, but that wouldn’t help him here. He hooked towards the side of Cyrus’ head. He ducked and and uppercutted Blueblood. “ARGHHH!” He yelled as he, (almost gracefully) fell to the ground.

“You had nice white teeth, Blueblood. Sorry to break it to you, it ain’t the same.” Cyrus said. He helped the boy up from the ground. “You okay?”

“Thank you so much!” The boy replied.

“It’s okay. People like Blueblood think they can do whatever they want because of who there relatives are.”

“True. My fathers a maharajah, but I don’t go around be heading people. My names Adan. Adan Nandra.”

“Cyrus Miller. C’mon, the bus is leaving soon.”

They both jogged over to the bus and went inside.

The Tower had stood there for over 5,000 years built from large stones, some 13 feet tall. How the ancients got them here, wasn’t known. That just added to the mystery of Stonehenge and the other Neolithic monuments that stood here.
“Okay everyone! We’re going to arrange you into groups.” Cheerilee said. She split them all up and they walked over to the entrance of the Tower. The rain was pouring from the skies down to earth. The dust of the rocks went away in an instant. Cyrus took out a camera and took photos of the magnificent work of the early humans.

“May I have your attention please.” A man said in the middle of the crowd. “My name is Dr. Orion. I’m sorry to ruin a bit of adventure. But you will get to go around in a bit. For now, let me tell you about the history of this place. Stonehenge is a prehistoric monument here in Wiltshire, England, 2 miles west of Amesbury. It consists of a ring of standing stones with each standing stone around 13 feet (4.0 m) high, 7 feet (2.1 m) wide and weighing around 25 tons. The stones are set within earthworks in the middle of the most dense complex of Neolithic and Bronze Age monuments in England, including several hundred burial mounds. Archaeologists believe it was constructed from 3000 BC to 2000 BC. The surrounding circular earth bank and ditch, which constitute the earliest phase of the monument, have been dated to about 3100 BC. Radiocarbon dating suggests that the first bluestones were raised between 2400 and 2200 BC, although they may have been at the site as early as 3000 BC. Any questions?”

“What was the purpose of Stonehenge?” Cyrus asked.

“Stonehenge could have been a burial ground from its earliest beginnings. Deposits containing human bone date from as early as 3000 BC, when the ditch and bank were first dug, and continued for at least another five hundred years. Good question.”

“What about the Tower?” Cyrus asked.

“We’ve only just discovered it. But we’re optimistic. What’s your name?

“Cyrus Miller, sir.”

“Well then, Cyrus. I think you’ve had enough lecture. Thanks for listening.” He walked away.

“Okay everyone.” Cheerilee began. “Let’s go and see what we can find.” Everyone ran off and did their own thing.

Cyrus ran over to the staircase and walked up it. He looked at the rocks and understood that this was the greatest engineering years ago. Then, something strange happened. Something hit the back of his neck.

“AH. What the hell?” He said as he quickly swatted the back of his neck. “Not a mosquito.” He took his hand from his neck. His hand was covered in blood. “That’s. Blood. MY blood.” He felt uneasy and tripped over. He closed his eyes.

Reality crumbled before him. He saw a terrible image of blood congealing from a bowl that snapped his eyes open. The room was full of people. Not students, but people wearing black robes, and had white skull like faces. Some had glinting knives. He backed away from them and realised he was trapped in the inner workings of the Tower. They began to walk over to him. They whispered things. Italian.

“Sacrifica il ragazzo. Sacrifica il ragazzo.” It turned to chanting. Cyrus hit against the wall, but it was no use. It was pure rock. Trapped. And he would die a slow death. They picked him up and carried him. His throat was so dry he couldn’t speak. Nor would it have helped. He screamed a silent scream. Deafening silence. They placed him on a table and chained him down. One of them plunged a knife to his chest. He was stabbed but felt nothing. He was now falling. Infinitely.

He closed his eyes and embraced his cold death.

He woke up. “I’m... not dead?” He was no longer in the Tower. He was in some unknown place. He lay in a field. He sat up and saw houses. The residents were blurred but he made out bodies. He was somewhere with civilisation. Maybe Amesbury. But for that to be true he would have traveled 2 miles. His clothes were surprisingly not damaged, and he didn’t have a hole in his chest. Yay?

“Are you a human?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked next to him. In front of him stood a light blue, with white and darker blue hair, and an instrument presumably tattooed onto her flank... unicorn.

“WHAT THE FUU-“