February 26th
Beneath the rocks and sullen peaks
of my Muse’s shallow relief,
I find myself alone and weak,
both time and will becoming brief.
While distantly I strain to hear
the clap of inspiration strike,
my skill applied and brought to bear
on text and mystery alike.
Aside I glance. Hoof, mind and pick
tasked to pull me from this grave,
but escape is sealed through the trick:
I made my rest and cannot stave.
-Calligraphy
It’s been a few weeks since this affair started, but I believe that a record of events might be well-advised. Bristle Mane, an old classmate and acquaintance, reached out to me about a strange book that he had come to possess. The written language, he said, likely predated Old Ponish by a number of years, and he needed assistance with deciphering it. He chanced upon it in an old bookstore in Canterlot, and the shopkeeper couldn’t provide any information about where it came from.
Seeing as I had business near his university in Vanhoover, and that my major and talents are in various writings and languages, I was happy to provide my assistance. The book has no title or author listed on its simple cover: a thick, rough case binding. The paper inside is an early form of papyrus, and the ink appears to be much thicker than that of other ancient tomes I’ve had the pleasure of reading. That it survived so many years to end up on a shelf next to dime novels and trashy romantic drivel is likely a miracle.
Regardless, I set to the task as quickly as I could with Bristle’s minimal assistance. We first met in a class on Old Ponish at the Manehattan Metropolitan University, and it was only thanks to my help that he managed to maintain a passing grade. Still, he now has considerable resources from his position at Vanhoover University, and I've been able to make great strides on the book's language in a short time.
The first advancements were made in finding a slight difference between the lettering used in the journal and standard Old Ponish. At first, I thought they came from stylistic choices, but that was quickly brushed aside when it became obvious that several other letters bore no resemblance to Old Ponish script. I thought it a potential off-shoot dialect, but none of the known forms seemed to match it. Then, I had a breakthrough.
Cypriotic Hippogriff.
The script was a strange mesh of it and Old Ponish. It seemed to be either a shared ancestor or simply a use of both to hide information via some crude form of cryptography. Regardless, with that settled, we could make progress on translation. It was at this time that Bristle brought on one of his graduate students to assist me. Her name was Pavé Pommel, and she is an incredibly brilliant young mare. How she ended up under Bristle’s tutelage is beyond me, as she deserves much more.
Two weeks together over the book, along with some research material, and we’ve begun to make substantial progress. Thankfully, the language is close enough to Old Ponish that there are very few words that we can’t make a fair approximation to translate. One has begun to crop up several times, but due to its capitalization, we can assume that it is a name: Pneuma.
We also believe we’ve found who wrote the journal, as “unicorn” has appeared within the text. Our best guess so far is that it came from an early tribe of them. There’s even a few archaic maps jotted down within the book that could lead us to the origin of this journal. Honestly, the work has gripped me even more since learning this. I’ve always been intrigued by the history of my race.
For now, we will work as much as we can on the book, as Bristle prepares what we have for a research grant proposal.
March 6th
Another week of work, and our research has progressed slowly, but surely. Miss Pommel has probably made the greatest advances in her work. She seems to have found some more information about what exactly this “Pneuma” is from her translations. It seems this tribe of unicorns worshipped it as a deity.
Several passages say that it was bound to a mountain that they settled near and that it spoke to them within dreams. It gifted them some sort of knowledge or talent. The translation is still in flux, truly. There’s mentions of Pneuma telling them how to cast the first “magicks.” I’ve done quite a bit of research into the origins of Spellcraft, but I’ve never seen mention of such a legendary deity in the earliest works of scholars in the field. Not even Starswirl the Bearded or Clover the Clever talk of spells coming from anything but careful study and practice by early unicorns.
The mountain, though, was intriguing, and that is where Miss Pommel made her second great breakthrough. We had seen a few basic maps within the text, but couldn’t pinpoint a section of Equestria it could rest in. Then, Miss Pommel compared it to several current maps, and there is a striking resemblance to the coastline near Baltimare. Sure enough, there are a set of mountains to the northwest of the city which match the maps found within the book.
This is potentially a tribe of unicorns that settled in Equestria before its founding!
I am sure Bristle’s proposal will find headway with this information.
March 28th
We have secured funds, personnel and supplies. I’ve retreated back to my home in Manehattan to gather my own supplies and some further research material. I’ve packed everything related to Old Ponish, unicorn history, and Cypriotic Hippogriff that seems relevant. I’ve even taken the time to visit the local library and acquired some books on the basics and history of Spellcraft. It’s possible that the journal could be describing that history, but the language barrier is obfuscating it.
Then again, if this tribe left other unicorns before the founding of Equestria, they could have easily had a different origin to their magic. It could even simply be the tribe ascribing a supernatural origin to very natural gifts and talents in an attempt to rationalize it.
I’ll be on the train to Baltimare tomorrow morning.
April 3rd
The camp is set up, and work has already begun. In addition to Bristle Mane, Pavé Pommel, and myself, there are twenty other ponies here to assist with the dig and cataloguing of information or any artifacts we may uncover. The map is still rough, and the scale is not exact, so it might take a few dozen attempts to zero in on the exact location of their village.
There hasn’t been any record of settlements near this mountain according to what I could find in Baltimare. The mountain, called Muse Peak, has been a popular spot for mountain climbers and campers, but other than that, I found no mention of it.
We did talk to the local weather authority to keep any rough weather scheduled away from this side of the mountain. It should give us a clear window to begin excavations, though we’ll also have to update them after some planned dig sites are fully cleared. We wouldn’t want them to have to put it off for so long that it causes some kind of unforeseen disaster.
April 18th
Three of the initial dig sites are cleared, but there is no sign of anything that could denote the location of a village. We didn’t expect to find any sign of buildings, given the potential age of the journal. Ponykind were still living out of huts by the time Old Ponish and Cypriotic Hippogriff may have diverged. Still, the signs we are looking for (pots, tools, et cetera) are nowhere to be found, yet.
Meanwhile, Miss Pommel and I continue to work on refining our translations of the book. I believe my assumption that Pneuma was a deity of some sort is not exact. I believe a “spirit” is more accurate. Perhaps something similar to a Windigo, occurring naturally with magical origins?
We can definitely confirm that the tribe felt it was bound to this mountain, and saw it as a miracle that it reached out to them. There’s even a mention of a sacred cavern in the mountain that Pneuma showed them in their dreams. I’ll see if Miss Pommel and I can locate it while the rest of the team works on the archaeological digs.
May 2nd
We’ve been unable to find a cave that seems to match the descriptions in the book, but the rest of the team has managed to make up for our dead end. We found a few fragments of pottery in our seventh dig site. It was fairly close to the mountain compared to the other dig sites, meaning that the scale of the maps are off a lot more than we initially believed.
They’re expanding out the dig and trying to map the boundaries of the village. Miss Pommel and I have focused on the writing and drawings on some of the fragments. We believe that Pneuma’s name is marked on a number of them, but I’m more intrigued by the drawings.
From what we can piece together, they appear to show three figures, likely unicorns, standing together in a triangle formation about a shape. From their mouths flows what seems to be a wind, going into the shape. The shape is a spiral—not unlike a nautilus shell—with three swirls coming out from the center.
I’ll have to keep the symbol in mind if we attempt to search the mountainside close to the dig site for this cavern again.
May 6th
The digging crews have found more artifacts, and seem to have marked the edges of the village. Given the size, we could guess a population somewhere between 100 to 200 unicorns. I’d assume that it was much smaller when it was first founded, and expanded from there over generations. In addition to more pieces of pottery, we’ve also found a variety of tools: axes, farming equipment, and even pickaxes.
A few of them share etchings of Pneuma’s name, in addition to this spiral symbol that is likely tied to it. There’s no mention of anything within this book that points to what the purpose of these unicorns breathing into it is. I would wager it’s a form of ritual. Then again, this cavern seems to be called a sacred one; it was at least important in relation to Pneuma.
In regards to Pneuma’s mention in the book, Miss Pommel and I have zeroed in on some more information. While Pneuma is bound within the mountain, it was able to reach out to the unicorns when they settled here. It was called a font of creativity, inspiration and talent. Pneuma is mentioned around “grace,” “brilliance,” “guidance,” and “blessing” in a way that seems to be possessive. As for the “magicks” that Pneuma taught them, there isn’t much to go on.
I believe one description of “easing movement” is tied to telekinesis, and there are mentions of “nurturing” crops, though whether that’s from strengthening the soil or summoning rain is not detailed. Some things, however, are more abstract. I think they believe that Pneuma gave them the knowledge to create their tools or the art of their pottery. That would explain why they are marked with its name and symbol. There’s even talk of “stone work.” There doesn’t seem to be any ruins of stone buildings in the village, however.
I have to admit that I’ve felt a bit of inspiration myself, while relaxing in the evening and poring over research volumes. I’ve taken a lot of time to work on my poetry and creative writing, and I’m thankful for the results. It’s probably just having such an intriguing history to think about; it does make the mind wander.
I’ve even seen Miss Pommel working on something in her tent and took the time to approach her about it. I must confess, outside of our work together, I’ve tried to give her some space, but curiosity got the better of me. I’m very thankful she was happy to talk with me.
Her family is apparently a skilled line of gem artisans. She was working on cutting a few spare pieces of garnet and sapphire that she had brought with her. They’re truly dazzling shapes that she makes with them, and the shavings are useful for a powder that assists with some metalworking process which changes the colors of some finer metals when mixed properly. She even showed me one piece she had made: a pentagonal cut sapphire in a bright bluish bronze locket.
Truly dazzling. I’m surprised she took such a shining to languages. Apparently, she began talking with a local librarian while researching some metalworking, and it blossomed into a love of literature from there.
Quite different from my choice to pursue it. I did a brilliant job with the style of my writing. I actually remember gaining my cutie mark—a flourish of strokes made by a gemmed quill—when I submitted a grade school book report. As for the ancient languages, I’ve always loved history. I believe that book was about some explorer searching ruins. Amazing how the past leads to the present and the future.
May 9th
We managed to find the symbol near the mouth of an unassuming cave. I believe we passed it over because the descriptions of this sacred cavern were rather grand. The cave couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet deep, with just enough room to stand after crouching down to enter it. We brought three of the stronger ponies with pickaxes to try and dig a bit deeper. We were able to find a piece of wood after a day’s work.
Likely, the cave is the entrance, leading down into the mountain, and it was kept secured by support logs. Some event must have caused a cave-in, and the unicorns either abandoned their village or, potentially, perished.
It might take several months to reach the cavern, depending on how deep it is, but we’ll do what we can to secure the cave as we go.
I’ve asked Bristle to request more funds, personnel and specialized equipment for the task. We should hopefully have it within the week.
May 18th
There’s not much more to be found at the original dig site. We’ve catalogued and sent off the artifacts for storage, and as such, some of our personnel have been let go. Bristle and I continue to prepare research notes and papers to present after the excavation into the cave is completed, but for now we have moved camp closer to the cave.
We’ve made progress of about thirty-eight feet down into the cavern, following the general slope of the natural cave as a guideline and adjusting our path based on the presence or absence of more fragments of these support logs. There aren’t any more major artifacts to be found, however. Not any tools, and certainly not remains.
I still dread that we’ll manage to find those, given the likelihood that a cave-in did cause this cavern to be shut off.
May 24th
It was like an omen.
We found the remains I had been dreading. A single unicorn, based on the fragments of the skeleton that we found. The horn and surrounding portion of the skull were intact, and there were several other scattered bits of bone around it. We made sure to handle them with care. Bristle had made preliminary contact with an osteologist in Fillydelphia, and we quickly sent them off to her. It was sixty-four feet down the tunnel.
It was only a day later that the cave-in happened. We’d made sure to secure the entire cave with the best support that we could afford. Sadly, we can’t support the entire tunnel as digging is done. I think the team of three were making progress a bit faster than they expected. From the looks of it, and word from the foreman, they hit a particularly loose patch of rock and their entire section collapsed. A group working on the supports just a dozen feet up the tunnel rushed to try and dig them out. They weren’t fast enough.
Bristle is certain the insurance will handle things, and increasing the pay of every worker still here seems to be enough to keep most of them on. We’ve taken every precaution and I know that danger was expected, but I still feel sick thinking about it. We dug out the bodies and sent them back to their families.
The only thing worse is that this inspiration for my writing hasn’t left; it’s only shifted to more macabre matters. I had to stop writing a poem that just came so naturally because I was writing about them. Bodies in the rubble, still twitching.
I’ve taken to reading my research notes over and over again just to try and quell the creative spark.
May 28th
Seventy-seven feet and we’ve found it.
The rock gave way to open air on the swing of one of the workers’ pickaxes. It took them a few extra hours to dig out a path large enough for us to walk through and to double up the support beams near the entrance.
All of these months seem worth it. Even those deaths, for one perverse moment, feel like a fitting price to see it. With lanterns and magic, the three of us, Bristle, Miss Pommel, and myself, entered with the foreman and two diggers and saw the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed.
It was a massive cavern, easily one hundred by one hundred feet at the minimum, carved out of the stone with amazing precision, given the age of this village and the artifacts we found. I have to believe this was done with magic. Of course, that all paled next to what was in the cavern. It was a structure, likely a temple, as it was adorned with script and Pneuma’s symbols upon the exterior face and a pair of pillars that sat at the entrance.
We did a quick search of the surroundings of the temple first. There were no additional remains, but we did find a few slightly buried, more complete pieces of pottery, as well as a set of tools that appear to be ornate knives. Despite that the tunnel entrance was caved in many years ago, this cavern seems untouched by time.
I also couldn’t help but notice a faint breeze, coming not from the entrance we cut through the mountain, but from somewhere higher in the cavern. Our magic and lanterns couldn’t cast a light high enough to find any other paths that led up to the surface.
The temple itself seemed sculpted from the same rock as the cavern, and was cut incredibly fine. Again, given the state of the tools we found, it’s likely that a lot of magic was used to sculpt it, or that it was worn down over several years of work. Perhaps this is what that “stone work” meant. Nevertheless, we found more inscriptions of Pneuma within, as well as script that seems to describe more superlatives of its properties and gifts: genius, blessing, creativity, teaching, et cetera.
Each room of the temple was spacious enough to walk around in, with high ceilings. Upon the walls and ceiling were works of art that depicted the tribe and Pneuma working together, or at least being gifted things by it. My assumption that this was a temple at first glance was becoming more and more certain. As we entered a central chamber, we were greeted by something I truly didn’t expect to find: a series of stone shelves along a wall, filled with books.
I’m cautious about taking any of them out of the temple for the moment. They seem well-preserved, but there’s still the chance that taking them out of the environment could cause some potential damage. Then again, if there is a breeze flowing through here, wouldn’t there be some exposure to moisture as well? The covers are dusty, but a chill ran down my spine as I examined one in particular.
It bore Pneuma’s name, etched deeply into its thick and sturdy cover. Leather. Revolting, how brutal we can forget our past is at times. I decided to set the tome aside as Miss Pommel and I examined some others, doing some rudimentary translation to categorize them. Some seemed to be about “magicks,” while others described history, perhaps other places where the tribe had settled. Of course, a substantial portion covered Pneuma.
For now, we’ve called it a night to the end of a productive, exciting day, and I’m thankful to get some rest.
June 3rd
The books on history are helpful. They at least show that the tribe did come from a split with another in a region that seems to match the description of early pony lands prior to the foundation of Equestria. They do not speak of exactly why they split off, but given that they learned “magicks” from Pneuma, it is possible that they were exiled for being unable to practice magic. It could explain why something close to Pneuma is never mentioned in any pony myths and legends I’ve read.
The books on magic itself are beyond Miss Pommel and myself. The language used is very particular, and it would probably take a specialist to parse it correctly. Some things loosely match principles I recall from my early schooling, like “focus,” “reservoirs,” “fonts,” and “runes,” but they’re not applied in the way I recall. Pneuma’s name is also mentioned close to “reservoirs” and “fonts.” Not that we’ll abandon the task, but it will at least be set aside until Bristle can secure the assistance of someone with more expertise.
Easily the most interesting books so far are about Pneuma specifically. Unfortunately, they’re also slightly unsettling. Myths about Pneuma inside them say that its blessing comes with a price, but the descriptions are odd. Apparently, in addition to Pneuma giving its blessing, it also imparts a fragment of itself.
Words like “priest,” “guise,” and “mask” are mentioned. We think it may be a process to pick a spiritual leader. A few books I found on hippogriff mythology—that I ordered because of the use of Cypriotic Hippogriff—mention a similar process for oracles, which were divine mouthpieces for their early deities.
I wonder if this is what those three unicorns around Pneuma’s symbol were depicting. Perhaps the wind didn’t go from them to Pneuma, but the other way around.
I’ve started to write more in my spare time. It seems some time from that terrible accident has cleared my head. The content is surprisingly peaceful, almost beautiful. I’ve never really written anything so serene and touching. Then again, I’m not the best judge. Miss Pommel did give me a gift, though. She carved a trio of gemstones—garnet, sapphire and jade—into a spiral together. It’s very soothing to look at.
If I could see the Path ahead
filled with hope and coNsumEd by dread,
I’d never take another step
and woUld Wither Away instead.
-CalligraPhy
I doN’t know if thEse words will ever be seen by another living soUl, but I truly Wish thAt they will not and fear it all the same. I’m sitting at the bottom of a Pit dug in a mountaiN milEs and miles from the city of Baltimare, rUnning through the events that led Me to this plAce. This moment. My way to the surface is cut off, thankfully, but my oxygen is slowly running out. It is with haste and Purpose that I write this warNing, aftEr all I’ve already shared.
If yoU find anything else here, burn it all. My hope, sitting next to the collAPsed tuNnel wE dUg into this place, is that you’ll find my WArning first.
I wish I had noticed it when we found that central room in the temple. All of those books. Covered in dust, so much of it. Why was there that single gaP betwixt two books, so uNassuming, whEn I think back? Why was the layer of dUst there so siMply, exActly, decePtively shallow? It drew us here. It NEeded Us. It needed a price to be paid for its blessings. A price it WAited so long to collect.
We finally only had the book, that leather bound tome with PNEUMA’s name, left to read.
It was the ritual, everything we needed to Perform it. Three uNicorns.
BristlE Mane
Pavé Pommel
myself
Why did we try it?
So many weeks, delirioUs doWn here? Devoted to study?
Did I suggest it?
WAs it Bristle? Pavé?
I caNnot Even recall.
The three of Us stood in circle.
We heArd whisPers.
Maybe I’d heard them for loNgEr. I cannot recall.
Bristle’s joUrnal Mentioned them. It must hAve been him.
I couldn’t have suggested this.
Words flowed from all of us. Practiced without time, perfected without effort, guided with purpose.
I will Not rEpeat them.
Even now I want to.
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not I will not
It passes. Finally. Peace again.
A great wind shook the temple. Magic flowed, from all of Us. It WAs summoned by words, by breath, not by horn and skill and training. It was natural, ever flowing, as if it lay within us and only needed to be let forth, to drift uP. It coalesced. The screams begaN.
ThosE three lost were blessed.
It took a body. It was not mine. I know it was not mine. It cannot be mine.
I was not where the screams were.
I cannot recall what happened to them.
I had to do something, a spark, to stop it.
The tUnnel is collapsed. I don’t knoW if some Ahead of me made it out. Maybe they’re clawing their way out.
Please, if you saw these words, do Not rEad anything beyond that yoU find. Do not do WhAt we did.
Do not try it.
Let PNEUMA die.
