Ties That Bind

by Seleen

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Adventure
Length: 18983

A Lovecraftian tale set in the ponyverse.

A young Unicorn inherits his family's estate after the passing of his father and enfeeblement of his mother. Socially inept yet brilliant in his studies, he devotes his time to the histories of the arcane and cultures long past. One day, a mysterious weathered package arrives with a cryptic letter from his deceased father. From these events he begins to unravel a mystery that will question the very history of Equestria and lead him to a destiny he never imagined.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-03-28 01:40:38 UTC

I

~

Throughout the ages we have dreamt of a past we cannot recall.

What manner of chastisement is this to which we have been subjected.

The dreamers dream of memories lost, their own.

Anonymous

~

I

I must write in this tome to preserve the events which have befallen me, before they are lost in the melting sanity of my mind. How foolish I was to not see beyond the veil of reality. To see the beings who dwell behind the curtains, to know them, to become them. Such an abominable thought that is--

This document will contain all recollections I can set down. I hope that this will allow me come to terms with what may or may not have been the truth. What I am about set forth not only has bonds to Equestria, but also to the origins of The Elements of Harmony. Do not think my recounting of these events to be the ravings of a mad stallion. Instead, treat these words as a first account testimony. As the words of witness, to the tireless efforts of a most terrifying influence. To those who find this tale, do not follow in my hoofsteps. To give clarity into my actions, I must take you back to the circumstances I grew into.

I was born and raised in Canterlot to parents who were significant members in the Unicorn Aristocratic Society. An insufferable group of Unicorns who flaunted an air of superiority, demeaning any they saw as insignificant. Needless to say, I was born into wealth and privilege. My relationship with my parents was not one of tenderness, I had always felt more of an investment between two parties than a beloved son. There was little time for any emotional bond between us. My father was often occupied in his work documenting inventors, while mother held a prestigious position as a tutor to the private sector.

Ever since I was a foal, I was troubled by night terrors and waking hallucinations. I spent many nights in the grip of these horrors. On the most rare of occasions, my mother would hear my cries. Entering my chambers, she would show me the only memories I have of her endearment. Her touch was like static skittering through me as she stroked my mane, whispering a soft lullaby in an ancient tongue. Her command of this foreign language was melodious and soothing to my shaken heart.

These visions have had a devastating effect on my psyche. I had always buried them under the weight of my studies, yet there were times when nothing could dissuade their will. I had always been a lone soldier in the constant battle that waged inside my tattered mind. To my father I would have appeared weak, afflicted with a pox that only those under our namesake would possess. I could not divulge such to my mother, her rare appearances at night to comfort me would have eventually led to suspicion of my mental state. My pen is heavy in my focus, I pursue the words that will not come forth. If I only knew--

Having now discovered the origin of these visions and the authority they carry, I am beyond shock. My thread in the tapestry woven by this force is greatly significant, but I still cannot fathom its importance. My parents were obviously concerned with my nightmares as I was always kept away from the eyes of the public. Nopony outside of my parents’ strict social circle was ever allowed in my company. This was due in part of ponies that showed signs of mental illness, vanishing. Questions to their whereabouts were met with quick denials. They were often spoken of vacationing at some unnamed resort. Looking back on their actions I can see easily how this would appear as sincere on my behalf. If only--

One of the many credos of my guardians was to put the family name first. It was unbecoming of me to tarnish our Unicorn crest with signs of mental instability. Illness of the mind was segregated to the lesser ponies of Equestria. In fear of expulsion, I learned to hide my feelings from society. I was terrified to be cast out of my home. To be forced to live amongst those my parents deemed under our kind. In an attempt to convince myself that the visions were only unfounded fantasy, I began to write my experiences within two journals.

I mention two journals. The second is hidden deep in the repository of my estate. The first met with an unfortunate accident. To say the least, my father destroyed it. He claimed the purpose for the destruction of my words was for my own protection. I now understand the brevity of his declaration. But during my more impressionable years, I had always been doubtful of his intentions. The contents of the first journal were innocent to me. Nothing more than the detailed passages of dreams and scattered doodles. Regardless, I respected his word.

He was adamant, that if these words were found by the underclass it would be disastrous to the household. He did not wish me to stop this practice, he was a documentarian himself. The mark he bore was was that of an inkwell and quill. He specialized in recording magical and scientific inventions for all of Canterlot. He only wished discretion in my writings.

Promising to comply with his wishes, I came up with a compromise. I would author my thoughts without a date, never naming anypony or specific location. If ever it was found by a group of fools, our family would be clear of public scorn. More importantly, I would not mysteriously vanish to the aforementioned resort. My parents held many social gatherings with dignitaries from their Unicorn society. I was welcome amongst the gathering but I was often found hiding on the fringes of noble chatter. In one instance I overheard two aristocrats whispering tales of a ‘vacationing’ noble. One could easily deduce the truth behind their fulsome diction. With such a truth I closeted the pains into my journal. I was entombed within the brickwork of my parents’ home. I've led a sheltered life. Locked away from the accusing eyes of a world that would deem me unfit.

From the most tender ages I was drawn to the unknown. I showed considerable promise in the fields of astronomy and arcane translation. When I peered through the lens of my father's telescope, I was spellbound. Contained within the heavens was a power exceeding the understanding of anypony. I became envious of the ancients of our world. They had witnessed the mysterious eclipse long before me. Seen the dusted comets paint the night sky with their tails of ice. They stood in speechless-awe in the dancing glow of the aurora. They built their societies, languages and incantations drawn from the constellations. Harnessed the innate magical properties of the heavenly bodies. The majesty of creation, the destructive violence, the infinite capacity. How this all felt familiar to me. I had a compelling need to understand the magnificence of the cosmos, so began my studies. I found that the more I occupied my mind in the texts of old, the less intense my visions became. It had become easier to sustain a semblance of normality as their intensity subsided into strange, kaleidoscopic recollections. No longer were they torturous and chaotic shambles of horrific images. Instead they became images of other worlds, populated by creatures which defied my understanding.

As I grew into a young colt, I thirsted for knowledge. An entire world existed beyond the ivy entangled brick of my home. One evening, I petitioned my parents to attend a more public station of education. This request was immediately dismissed. My father insisted that my education would fall to their tutoring, he and mother shall school me in the ancient arcane. Their goal was to retain their principle, 'purity of mind'. The true reasoning behind this private tutoring? To shelter me from the pandering influence of the Sub-Unicorn integration. To retain the highest noble mind that was unclouded by the fetter that has crept into the Canterlot education system.

I accepted his explanation; he was my father and his word was law. How detestable you must find me now, yet do understand, this was the only world I have ever known. The library in my homestead was filled with books. A massive collection containing the unique knowledge of ancient civilizations. The words of their scholars, scientists and astronomers were all priceless. Not that you could not put a price on knowledge, but In certain circles, shady deals are not uncommon. No other collection in all of Equestria could parallel the catalog my father had assembled. Not even the Royal Canterlot Library was in the same league.

I became a recluse within the boundless halls of my father's library. You may claim my rearing to be the product of a xenophobic ideology, unrealistic and prejudice in its sense of superiority. I'd submit to those who expressed such a declaration, yet truthfully, public interaction did not appeal to me. My world existed strictly within the considerable repository of my birthplace. The manuscripts there filled my mind with knowledge beyond that of any professor in Equestria's schools.

During these times I began to feel an emptiness grow within the heart of my being. As my intellect blossomed, so did the chasm grow, becoming an all encompassing void. I could not describe this feeling in my journal with any other word. I could only describe it as such, a void. Regardless, I wished to become an unrivaled force in my chosen field of study. My mind became a forge, smelting ingots of knowledge that nopony could fathom. My exhaustive efforts culminated in a doctorates degree. Despite being privately tutored, I was awarded honor status from the College of Magic. The plaque still hangs on the wall in my chambers.

Most Unicorns used their magic in conjunction with their chosen craft. Sculpting, fashion, or other such trades. The strength of my magic was elementary at best, I could perform the most menial of tasks uninhibited. But I harnessed my powers to the understanding of ancient text and cosmic knowledge. Certainly a niche practice, but this skill was one that I held over any Unicorn in Equestria. During my commemoration, the applause of my peers had little effect upon me. I smiled, thanked the headmaster, then promptly exited the auditorium. Any stallion who was granted such an accolade would have reveled in this acceptance. Yet I only felt estrangement.

After the acceptance of my accolade, I received many invitations to various schools and social gatherings. I responded to these invitations with immediate dismissal. The lies I wove for my absence were the product of my mask of normality. I could not shake the feeling that my conception was from another time. I was an alien of pure mind, within the algae of cultural mediocrity. The chauvinistic dogma of my parents made me apprehensive to the outside world. I watched the city change as the days went by, and I could not find a place for myself within it's cocoon. I was alone.

Shortly after my commemoration, a dreadful affliction fell upon my father. I cannot explain to you in detail the nature of his illness. In retrospect, I am partly ashamed how I handled this turn of events. I felt not sympathy for my sire, but an unbridled animosity. How dare he saddle me with the affairs of his estate. All I wished, was to wander the hidden grove of bound parchment. Escaping into the words of historical scholars, sheltered from the intoxication of the world.

No more than a fortnight passed before the lord of the manor expelled his last breath. The air within the lord's room was somber as I entered. The servants of his care were standing against the far wall in an attempt to give his heir a semblance of privacy. Their sadness was cut deeply upon their faces, but I was a rock. My heart towards this stallion was as onyx as the stones in the foundation. I felt a sudden swell inside me as I stood over his emaciated face. How peaceful he appeared in this state. The look upon his face was one of acceptance, as if he had finally completed his task in life. The face of tenderness, features which were never bestowed upon me while he was of this Earth. Perhaps I was a disappointment. Were not my achievements in accordance to his ideology? Did he see me as a Sub-Unicorn? One of those he vehemently demeaned during his rants at dinners and council? I could not understand my feelings as I looked upon the lifeless Unicorn.

My eyes burned into the husk of my sire. A fire ignited inside me, a volcano rising from the void, a torrent of distemper ready to erupt. I began to taste the coppery residue of blood upon my tongue from biting my lip. The stinging pain was a reflex distraction to squelch my anger. The fire inside me was suddenly doused as my glazed eyes noticed a strange marking on my father's neck. I pulled down the heavy duvet. His thinned gray coat could not hide the faint line upon his hide. It traced all around his crest, as if he were lassoed. His struggles against the rope burning this line into his hide. I didn't think anything of it as I set the cover back and looked towards the servants. They would not look towards me, perhaps the fire in my eyes dissuaded their curiosity. After a moment I turned and left the room to the care of the servants.

The statuesque constitution of my mother endured time like a portrait, or so I thought. She grew feeble within the days of my father's passing. Her once unyielding mind seemed to crumble, I could only assume it was due to the burden of her bereavement. I found myself at an impasse when it came to her care. The tenderness she rarely showed me during my rearing I could not emulate for her. Unable to care for her myself and continue my studies uninterrupted, I searched for a suitable compromise. I managed to secure a small domicile outside of Canterlot. The previous owner was more than willing to take the generous coin of nobility. I sent my mother to this villa. I would not leave her helpless of course. She was accompanied by a throng of custodians who would cater to her needs.

I now sought the convenience of my father’s attorneys to handle the details of my father’s trusts. I callously etched my signature into the documents they placed before me. Endless statements of charitable contributions; shares and trustee approvals. The only one that left any impression, was that which pertained to the transfer of my stature. To become the lord of manor. Of the six servants in care of the estate, I dismissed all but two. Their only appointments were to maintain the manor's day by day affairs as designated by their trades. It was not long thereafter that silence filled the halls of my birthplace. The crux of my studies was the limitless capital my father had built since before my conception. My knowledge of economics were comparable to that of a mentally encumbered pony. I left the financial integrity of my estate in more capable hooves. Namely, the treasurer in standing at the Royal Bank of Canterlot.

The calendar days were forgotten to me. In my sanctuary, I was free to enjoy my intellectual pursuits. I lost myself in the ancient words of ponies long rendered to dust. How droll these frivolous writings may seem to you. Yet my mundane, isolated life was changed on a most undistinguished morning. I awoke to find a curious parcel on the console table outside my chamber doors. Its contrast was quite vivid as it sat upon the dark oak table. The weather beaten paper did not contain any markings of identification. A rough length of twine was wrapped around the parcel which dug into the soiled wrapping, cutting into the edges. Under its tightly woven knot was a securely held envelope.

I levitated the envelope where I was quick to notice the wax seal was broken. My eremite sensibilities fired the suspicion of my servants tampering. The wax seal was adorned with a circular sigil. Its markings were foreign to me, yet strangely native. The seal held the likeness of an equine skull. Several points along its length appeared to be horns, or some calcified appendage. The symbol was entombed within the confines of a five pointed star. My suspicions of tampering were dispatched as the seal cracked. To my astonishment it appeared to age before my eyes, crumbling into a pile upon the table.

I reconstructed the dried remains and stared at the bizarre emblem. The image seemed to elicit a hunger within me, filling my minds eye with hieroglyphic imagery. I scanned through the vast volumes of my brain, searching feverishly for any explicit image of the symbol. Yet my studious mind was no more than an empty vessel. Setting the wax sigil aside I opened the time worn envelope. The stationary was high classed, well disguised by its shabby carrier. To my surprise, the letter was penned in a most simplistic script.

My son,

I have not been forthcoming with you in regards to our family's history. The importance our lineage carries, and the purpose of the circles your mother and I were established. It was always my intention to bestow this knowledge onto you. Yet at your mother's insistence, I refrained. Perhaps it was her biological instinct to protect you. To shelter you from the unsightly truths of this world. Upon retrospect, it becomes apparent that this was the sole decision of your rearing.

I was reluctant to step out of the boundaries your mother and I agreed upon. Perhaps this was the catalyst which has burdened you with your cloistered existence. For that, if it offers you any comfort, I do apologize. I had always envisioned a greater role for you in this world.

Inside this parcel are the fragments of the sphere I wished to reveal to you. Perhaps this will re-awaken the strength you have denied and buried deep inside yourself. Showing you the truth which was yours by birthright.

A seed of discovery germinated in the emptiness of my soul. I had come to the point where I was so disillusioned with my parents that I annihilated any feelings I had for them. I was intimidated by the conflicting thoughts this letter produced. This was the last remnant of a beloved trust. A secret trust they were seemingly gridlocked against ever relaying to me. The swell of excitement inside myself was overpowering.

Picking up the small parcel I started down the bleak hallway. I paused a moment at the door containing the master bedroom, the lord's room. I do not know why I paused at the junction to the stairs. Perhaps I did have a deep seated respect for my guardians. A respect that this letter had brought back from the abyss inside me. Taking a breath I started down the staircase. The floorboards creaked as I descended the red carpeted steps. The sound was comforting to me, I felt levelheaded, I was grounded. Standing in front of the door in the foyer I felt an excitement I usually reserve for a new book. How this curious mystery enticed my mind. I opened the door to the only place I could find peace. The candlelit library, my sanctuary.

II

II

The sound of my hooves echoed on the cut stone staircase. The descent down the cut spiraling rock was always a powerful experience. Ever since I was a foal, I always treated my father's library as a sacred cathedral, where one steps lightly and speaks little. Every step I made agitated the serene atmosphere, sending the candles writhing in discontentment.

As I entered the hallowed abode, I felt awe-inspired. The artistic skill of the masons responsible for this grandeur was beyond impressive. I always felt enamored in the serenity contained in these walls. A shame that the candlelight could barely illuminate the vaulted ceiling. Hidden under the thin veil of shadow were intricate designs that depicted classical battles and events of yore. Antique bookshelves appeared like saplings between the pillars of cut bedrock. Their masterful cuts were in the classical style, much like architecture found within Cloudsdale.

The smell of musty books filled my nostrils. Each magnificent tome was a unique rarity, exclusive to this catacomb of knowledge. Scrolls and manuscripts from all corners of Equestria were collected by my father. He once told me that my grandfather did the same, such a tradition went back to the beginning of my families lineage. I had also inherited this fascination of collection. The candelabrums adorning the imposing pillars held three candles each. They all flickered in a dance of greeting as I passed by. The library was separated into three adjoining halls, every hall segregated the genres of books. My small work area sat at the center of the mausoleum.

I levitated a candle from the wall and stared into the flame. Its dance was reflected in the pooling wax in burnt in cup. I tilted the candle slightly causing a bubbling waterfall of wax to trail down its length. The drippings dried quickly in the chilled air of the library. The knotted wax line gave it the appearance of a rope hanging from a parapet. A ladder towards a flame, strong and bright. Simple pleasures for a simple mind? Hardly. I raised the glass cage of the lamp atop my desk and pressed the flame against the scant wick, setting it alight. I twisted the feeder, exposing the hungry flame to more of the woven threads of the wick. The fire reciprocated by brightly illuminating my surroundings. I placed the lone candle back into its holder, it was unique amongst its brethren.

The large antique standing clock beside my desk had not been wound in years, and I was scarcely certain it even worked. Although time was not something I concerned myself with, I found it comforting to see whenever I looked up from my studies. The gold embroidered face was frozen in time at 6:10. Much like my life, I was frozen in time, uncared for and unmoving. Shadows danced upon the chaise in the lamplight which sat opposite my desk. The fantastic plush cushioning was once a perfect forest green. Years of my use had now dissolved its velvet into a faded, fern finish. Many nights I had taken meals and even slept within these stone walls. This place which had once been my school and study was now my sanctuary.

I settled into the cushioned bench at my desk. I became focused and went to the task of opening the curious package. The twine looked feeble and badly weathered. Small flakes of dust danced in the lamplight as the cord unraveled. The brittle paper cracked, smelling of wet limestone as I carefully unfolded it.

The small wooden box the paper sheltered was unimpressive, and fared no better for wear. Stains of leakage and disuse riddled its sides and the hinges of its lid were caked in rust. I could not be certain if the poor condition of the box and its wrapping was that of age or poor storage, I was assuming the latter. Turning the wooden box over revealed a faint symbol inked into the base of the box. Pulling the lamp closer I stared into the fibrous wood grain. The more I studied the weathered marking, the more it appeared to darken as if ink was seeping through a screen of silk. The candles flickered as the library seemed to exhale. A chill crept into the heart of my being as I set the box down.

I must have spent an hour sitting at my desk watching the flames dance shadows across the roughly hewn box. My soul grew bolder, intent on exposing the secrets within as I focused my will. Shutting my eyes firmly I tried to pull the lid from its berth, I fought against considerable resistance. The hinges squealed in protest as I pried the lid from its berth. Levitating the lamp closer I peered into the box.

Inside was a scrap of parchment and a key of brass. A single blue jewel sparkled from within the intricately woven handle of the key. From my casual observation the jewel appeared to be a sapphire. Its complex refracting of the lamplight within its heart made it appear to be a pristine cut. The patina lent the key a soft green hue of age, in the glow of the lamp it radiated an almost alien appearance. The key ended in a single tooth, a pattern of intersecting lines in a slanted, makeshift cross. The outer edges of the teeth had sharp notches on either end which seemed to be bent. I could not confirm if it was by design or from use. The key was bound to a chain of tarnished silver. Two small notches were carved at the center of each link. A decorative scoring I presumed.

Placing the key aside I levitated the small, faded scrap of parchment. Scrawled on the parchment was a line of indiscernible text, followed by a series of numbers.

82 28N 62 30W

Writing the approximate location goes against the pledge I swore too. But the circumstances of this chronicle refute my previous convictions. They were coordinates, and I had a vague recollection of a map I had once studied. The numbers were situated in northern Equestria, beyond the mountain range which Canterlot was built upon.

Leaping from my perch I began to run down the channels of manuscripts. My energized flight besmirched the reverence I had upheld with the stones for many years. I focused, casting an elementary spell of radiance. The darkness fled from the light of my horn as I ran to the far end of the library. Turning right, I charged down the opposing row. The candles betwixt the  flared in protest of my intrusion. I hurried down the racks attributed to cartographers and geographic explorers. I scanned the gold embossed titles, looking for a tome inked by a Pegasus who explored the northern reaches.

My apprehension intensified as I scoured the dusty shelves. The volume I pursued was missing. I bitterly cursed, I knew every dusted fold of every tome within this hallowed repository. I could visualize the badly weathered blue cover, its crudely scribed logs which I had dismissed as adventurous fluff. Was it stolen? Or did I misplace it without logging its location within the annals of my mind?

Lost within the trepidation of my investigation I returned to my desk. I sat contemplating the past months events and the correspondence left to me by my sire. The recent events must have affected me more than I was letting myself believe. I had never misplaced something as precious as a unique manuscript from my father's library. It became apparent to me that I must confront my mother. To act as inquisitor, to expose what it was she and father had contracted to withhold from me.

I picked up the key and set the scored chain around my neck. The chain had an unnatural heft, it was not uncomfortable, but I did find it rather curious. How could such a finely crafted succession of links have such a mass? Tucking the key under my vest I looked up at the standing clock to see ebony hands dictating the time as 6:10. I snuffed out the lamplight in a quick exhale. A thin line of smoke coiled upwards, a lone spirit ascending from the catacombs of knowledge. I intercepted the trailing line of smoke with a swipe of my hoof, cutting it in half. It curled, dissipating from my strike, vanishing into the air.

I turned towards the stone cut staircase where I suddenly became petrified. The floor was deadened. My hoofsteps on the polished stone did not emit any sound. The anomalous silence shook me as the rational part of my mind became stupefied. A thousand unnatural horrors thrilled me with every mute step. I felt my head begin to throb in a manner which I had not felt in many years. The candles on the carved pillars began to dim. Their flames dwindled, becoming nothing more than pinpoints of glowing embers. I felt strangulated as the darkness began to encroach around me. I was a lost traveler in the cosmos of faded red stars, frozen in time.

The beating of my heart pounded inside my head. The congregation of percussive beats blurred my vision. The faint outline of the hall began to waver as I struggled to breathe. I could only describe this unrelenting pulse as claustrophobia, an affliction I had no recollection of ever succumbing too before. These symptoms may have been forgotten by my studious mind, but they were all to familiar to the neglect I had subjected my physical form too.

I felt as if the air had been sucked out of the subterranean library, a vacuum seemed to form about me. Morphing my sanctuary into a dimensional universe I became lost within. A sudden vicious gale knocked me to the stone tiles. I began to tremble as the ember starlight was extinguished. My light focused eyes began to adapt to the sudden absence of light. My shallow breaths came out loud, and forced. The towering shelves appeared to lurch over me. Looking down upon me as an insignificant, mindless beast that lay upon the tiled floor. The voice of reason bellowed within me to get away, yet I was numb too its insistence. The unmistakable sound of hoofsteps echoed from deep inside the repository. Pressing my hooves against my ears to dampen the thunderous sound proved fruitless. Tears of pain began to surge, stinging my eyes with their heat. A faint glow emanated in the recess of the spiral stone staircase. The light called out my salvation, yet I could not muster the will to move.

A sudden shriek of unworldly malice shocked my body into action. My legs felt gelatinous and encumbered as I scrambled for footing upon the smooth floors. The hoofsteps became fiercely louder as I clumsily ran. I could feel the breath of a beast upon my neck as I charged up the staircase. The door to the foyer was slightly ajar. The beam of daylight that shone through the outline was Celestial, how pure and safe it appeared. Without stopping, I charged into the foyer of the manor and slammed the door shut.

My legs were trembling from the exertion, or perhaps the fear. I wiped my tear stained eyes as the throbbing subsided. My mind began to push the experience out of existence as it had done since I was a foal. The sting in my temples and the pain in my ears were not so easily forgotten.

The gentle sound of questioned concern rattled me. I looked up to see the same Earth Pony servant whose duty was the general cleanliness of the manor. The other servant was the cook, he scarcely left the confines of the kitchen. Her voice was soft and melodious to my shaken nerves and I began to feel at ease as she stared at me. Flashes of my mother's late night comforts tip-toed upon the edge of my mind. A leaflet from the small book of tender memories, hidden deep inside the void of my mind. Judging from the countenance of my bewildered servant I must have looked a sight. After dismissing her concern I quickly masked myself. It was improper to appear unsettled in the presence of a servant. She looked at me through those auburn eyes, as if seeing through my ruse. I could feel my body temperature rise in the awkward silence. She notified me that a gentlepony from the residence of my mother had come calling. He had come to advise me of her status. Her condition had begun to deteriorate. She was comatose, the doctors feared that she may not endure much longer. I stood against the door, unable at the time to contemplate the impact of this most unpleasant news. Thanking her I quickly excused myself to my chambers.

My hooves felt heavy as I ascended the elegant staircase. I braced myself against the polished oak rail in aid to my shaking legs. It was not long ago that opulent trinkets and collectables were displayed throughout the manor. Long they stood as fixed reminders of my parents social standing. On the passing of my sire and enfeeblement of my mother, I sent nearly everything to auction. Acquiring rare books was more important to me than a hoard of knick knacks. Baubles from a generation of stallions and mares that I could scarcely recollect. The most precious heirlooms had been passed to their respective owners. My sire must have anticipated my distaste for such baubles. His last testament stipulated they were to go to certain friends and family members. The manor felt empty, it was a shadow of its former self without the affluent centerpieces, paintings and elegantly woven tapestries. The furious agitation of my heart began to subside as I reached the top of the stairs. The singular hall was a bleak path of embroidered maroon carpeting. The walls were bare, extravagant paintings and tapestries had once decorated the hall. They too, met their fate on the auction block. They say a stallions home is a reflection of themselves. Was the emptiness I felt inside myself emulated in the surroundings of my dwelling? Perhaps.

Four mahogany doors lined the hallway. They announced their affiliation in the small nameplates engraved in the arching framework. The bath-hall was to the right; the masters chambers just off-center the staircase. The guest suite was parallel to the master bedroom and my chambers upon the far left. I did not occupy the lords room. I cannot answer as to why I chose to leave it vacant.

The halls felt askew as I moved towards my chamber door. I attributed this to my crippled constitution. I entered my chambers, closing the door behind me with a sigh of relief. Locking the bolt was a simple triumph to me, I was safe within my four-walled box. I removed my vest while pouring a pitcher of water into the basin. I soaked my face in the cool waters, calming my shattered nerves. I cursed to myself as the recollection of my servants news came to the forefront of my thoughts. My now comatose mother was the last connection I had to my father's enigmatic confessional.

Gazing into the mirror, I was horrified at the visage looking back at me. Gaunt and disheveled, I appeared to have aged years in a matter of hours. As I peered at myself I was drawn towards the tarnished silver chain around my neck. The scored chain had left a lined impression upon my hide that was sensitive to touch. I attributed the blemish to my ordeal within the library. The event, to my rational mind, was no more than a ridiculous lapse of my common judgment. The entombed sapphire glimmered in the morning sunlight. I became entranced, watching the beams cascade within the masterfully cut pavilion. The dancing light unlocked a long distant memory in an alcove of my mind.

When I was a young foal, my father made it clear that I was prohibited from entering his study. The penalty for disobeying was a plethora of punishments that any young foal would fear. Yet the curiosity of the young bent on discovery and knowledge always prevailed.

I crept from my chambers, making my way down into the cavernous halls of the great library. My father's study was located deep within the darkened corner of the canals. I imagined myself a famous adventurer having just unearthed the ruins of a lost culture as I darted from shadow to shadow. The deeper I ventured, the more a phantasmic chill began to embrace my body. I peered around the edge of a bookcase to see a monolith of mahogany barricading the entrance to my father's study. Patient and unmovable it appeared to me. What treasures it must have hid.

A blast of chilled air pushed me back as the door opened. The candles above me fluttered wildly in the gust. Hot wax from the angered candles dripped upon my snout. I bit my lip to silence the cry that pushed against the walls of my muzzle. A cloaked figure emerged from from the archway. A faint purple glow emanated from under the figures hood as a brass key levitated on a spell. The door closed with a resounding thud. The spellbound key entered the mechanism and twisted quickly. A loud click sounded the lock falling into place. The world was shut out from the knowledge it sheltered.

Shaking my head I looked at the reflection of the key in the mirror. I suddenly felt a renewed zeal. Grooming myself appropriately and donning a fresh vest I left my chambers. I made my way down to the foyer and stood in front of the door that lead to the catacombs of the library. Deep in the corner of the halls sat the ever-patient door of my father's study.

III

III

I suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of dread standing in front of the dark wooden door. The gateway which lead to what once had been my sanctuary felt foreign to me. Despite having convinced myself that earlier events were the concoctions of an exhausted state of mind. I could not shake the overwhelming apprehension that wrestled against my more solid judgment. The nagging uncertainty was a powerful agent.

The hallucinations of my childhood had begun to re-establish a foothold in my psyche. I attributed their resurfacing as the side-effect of my lack of study. I was not occupying my mind as strongly since undertaking the task of unraveling my father's correspondence. My overactive imagination was beginning to get the best of me. I was tempted to imbibe the foul tasting liquid that I kept in my chambers. It would give me some respite from these troublesome visions but the opiates I had been prescribed were a last resort. I wished to remain lucid if I was to uncover what my sire spoke of.

My moment of hesitation vanished. A sudden unearthly strength poured from the void of my being. I cannot easily describe the euphoric feeling which coursed through me. The calming wave of opiates could not equal the warmth which traveled through my body. I opened the door.

The flaming wicks lining the spiral staircase leaned towards me. Straining against their bondage as the library breathed in the air of the manor. The flames seemed to dance in anticipation of my entrance. I may have imagined it, but the sizzling burn of the candles prickled in my ears. My hooves echoing on the stone staircase only bolstered my renewed constitution.

Approaching my desk I sparked the lantern to life. The bright flame cast elongated shadows from the furniture around me. A resounding crunch under my hoof revealed the splintered remains of the wooden box. Its shattered chips were strewn across the stone tile as if it were thrown to the floor in a furious rage. My curiosity should have piqued, yet the alien fortitude in me emboldened my crusade.

I continued down the rows of shelves towards the shadowed bend leading to my father's study. The door was located on the far left wall at the end of the cavernous library. As a foal, I always had a strong curiosity of the forbidden room. What child wouldn't wish to uncover a secret? The thought of finding a unique text or incantation was one of the few anxious pleasures I had as a child. I was startled out of this memory as the intricate engravings on the obelisks appeared to slither. Oceanic amphibians, dragons, and beats of yore all wavering as if alive. I brushed it off as a trick of the light and continued down the corridor.

The sound of a chiming clock bellowed throughout the stone repository, intermittently ringing out against the foundation. The depth of the toll was similar to that of Celestia's bell that sat high in Canterlot Castles belfry. How foolish these thoughts were. I turned back and inspected the standing clock. It was motionless and soundless. The thin cast hands sat patiently on 6:10. The chime came again, the clock was innocent of the din. This toll came from all around me, reverberating a deep wave off the chiseled walls. I felt as if the breath was being knocked from my lungs.

My mouth became dry. I ran my tongue across my palette, it felt sandy and rough. Images of a hidden oasis, deep under the desert flashed through my mind. Its lush greenery surrounded still waters, pure and clean. Such a sight would humble the most hardened of stallions.

A ghastly shriek arose from the staircase. Once again, followed by the the thunderous echo of hooves against the solid rock. My body froze as the lanterns flame was snuffed out. Despite my intent focus on a lively spark, the braided strip refused to reignite. The luminous glow of the surrounding candelabrum's vanished. The olfactory scent of stifled wicks flushed into my nostrils. The sudden absence of light left me a blinded animal amongst the ghostly words of the past. I started to feel the familiar grip of despair as the suffocating darkness enveloped me. I concentrated on a spell of radiance. As I began to utter the spell, a sudden wave of calm washed over my mind, placating my efforts. My words fail me even now. I can only retrospectively describe this sense of security as a false, unwarranted intrusion. Unnatural and foul.

Again the ghastly wail echoed throughout the canals of the library. My heart wished to flee, yet my mind and body were at an impasse. The stones of the ancient foundation began to shudder around me. The bellowing chimes and boisterous quake overpowered the beat of my heart inside my head. Plumes of dust and silt reached out at me. Grasping like clawed appendages, angry from disturbing their eons of repose. The calm of my mind was at once replaced with a villainous sense of violation. The sickening impression of intrusion sent my psyche into a frenzied defense. A bulwark of pure will rallied inside my baser matter to fend off the intruder as I searched for the elusive incantation of radiance.

My nostrils began to fill with the most unsettling odor of a fetid millpond. My eyes shot open as I felt the muscles of my crest contract. An unseen grip tightened itself upon my neck. A violent, unworldly howl came from behind me. On that clamor, my mind was released from its bondage. The sudden clarity caused the spell to burst forth without restraint.

I had never been strong when it came to conjuration magics. As I have mentioned too you before, I possessed only an amateur's level of magical capacity. But the sudden intrusion in my mind unlocked a hidden strength in me. I felt a swell of heat as I became blinded by the vibrancy of the spell. My lungs burned, filling deeply with the acrid bouquet of smoke. My vision swam as a dizzying array of colored lights spotted my sight as the world came back into focus. The library burned from the careless violence of my casting.

I could barely stay afoot as the shifting foundation intensified. Enormous slabs of obsidian stone fell on the burning jewels of venerable scholars long forgotten. My eyes stung as tears streamed down my cheeks. The sight of my world reducing itself to ash struck to the very heart of me, I felt such intense anguish. I never believed I was capable of such a feeling. Not even the passing of my guardians raised such a sudden outpouring of emotion. The resurgence of the slithering intrusion caused the volcano in my void to erupt. I would not allow the perversion to take hold of me again.

A shriek of anger erupted through the howl of the roaring inferno. I ran in a cantering flight of panic through the burning corridors. Vines of flame reached out around me, their blazing tendrils flared in a macabre dance as I fled. The tiled floors began to crumble, clattering under my hooves like dominoes. Sounding like a hissing rattle on the tail of a serpent as I charged towards the end of the canals with a frenzied lunge in my gait. The squealing howl rang in my ears, the pain would have once brought me to my knees. If not for the adrenaline fueling my flight, I may have not been long for life. I felt as if the howling entity was upon me regardless of the chasm being torn under me. Rounding the corner I could see the monolithic door of my father's study against the far wall. It was in reach.

I cried out in desperation as every galloping stride seemed to pull the door further from me. The hall was looping, stretching through infinity as if standing betwixt two mirrors. My mind clouded as fatigue began to overwhelm me. A stiffness grew in my bones, I could no longer struggle against the inevitable. Gasping for breath as the smoke began to choke the life from my body, I fell.

The fires of my world vanished as I plunged into the void below. The feeling of free fall into the depths of Tartarus was a welcome wave of relief. I twisted around to see the gaping hole falling away from me. The debris of my sanctuary fell all around me like a starlight meteor shower. I realized that I was beginning to fall slower as the flaming debris charged towards me. In a matter of seconds, I came to a complete halt. Fiery particles of varying size cascaded about my frame on all sides. The frigid sensation of ice coiled around my body. Its sudden cold stifled any cry I could muster from my torrid lungs. I was held aloft in an abyssal trench by an unknown entity. I struggled against my frozen bonds which proved a fruitless attempt at defiance.

A punishing strangulation began to bear against my exhausted frame, I could not abstain. Despite the bastion of my will, my body was weak. I surrendered to this nefarious intruder. Inside my mind came an otherworldly voice repeating the words.Destiny. Destiny. Destiny.

I writhed inside the frozen bonds as the voice became louder. A cruel pressure grew behind the globes of my eyes on every utterance of this declaration. A discordant scream escaped my muzzle as Incorporeal claws bore deeply into my hide. My battered body was becoming undone. The brass key started to levitate, trying to pull away as a crystal materialized above me. A deep amber glow pulsated from its core as the key strained towards it. The scored chain began to cut into my flesh as it strained towards the crystal. Stretched and confined, I was lost. I felt the life begin to flow from my being. Destiny. Destiny. Destiny. Came the voice with incessant certainty. Its torrent I could no longer endure as my world faded.

My mother once told me that our dreams had some substance in reality as we know it. They could reveal hidden truths, or in extraordinary cases; stand upon the precipice of premonition. Yet dreams, even nightmares, could never venture through the subconscious and mar the flesh. When I was a foal, I would often have fanciful dreams of another life. I was a sorcerer, a creator, a god. Pegasus and Earth Pony alike would fear me. Yet in the end, I would always meet my fate in the beams of a dazzling light. I would tell mother about these dreams. She would simply caress my mane and claim that nothing of this world or beyond would ever cause me any violation. These times were one of the few moments of affection I can recall. How she could even fathom what haunted me as a foal, I never understood. The dismissal of my dreams containing any hidden truth were quietly hushed by my matron.

Rays of the late morning sun drifted through the windows. I awoke, cowering on the floor of my chambers. A vicious sting radiated behind my eyes as the familiar surroundings of my sparsely furnished room came into focus. The only purpose this room served me was to closet my wardrobe and bedstead. The mattress was pristine from many nights of disuse. I had always found the chaise within the library a more suitable berth during times of intense study.

Surreal imagery haunted my senses as I struggled to regain my bearings. Bracing myself against the edge of the basin I pulled myself up. I was trembling, parched and famished. My body and mind had fallen prey to neglect since the inception of this mystery. The vision of the horrors which plagued me began to fade from my minds eye. The clear water in my basin looked like an oasis to me. I sated my thirst in a most boorish display.

I looked into the mirror. Bloodshot eyes and remnants of tears were cut on fine fur of my cheeks. My coat was clammy with sweat and my mane in wild disarray. I was a wretched mess. No longer was I the picture of a Unicorn noble. I had reverted to the forgotten foal. Crying in a pool of tears from the subconsciously created visions of a haunted world. The only consolation I had was the knowledge that my library, my sanctuary, the only world I have ever known. Was spared any real destruction.

My eyes were drawn to the chain which rested in the raw line of my hide. The blue sapphire wreathed in the coiled brass elicited a single word within my mind. Destiny. I turned away from my horrid appearance and pulled open the chestnut cabinet that sat to the left of my bed. Inside stood several bottles of chloral hydrate, my opiate of choice. Drinking such a concoction straight is not recommended for anypony. Yet for the intensity of my ailments, diluting it was out of the question. Every dark brown bottle reflected the light off their rounded shoulders. Reaching with my magic I selected a bottle which was already half empty. I could scarcely focus as the bottle shook erratically in my spell as I unscrewed the cap. I swallowed a healthy mouthful of the foul tasting liquid, nearly draining the bottle.

Feeling the placebo effect before the opiate coursed through my veins, I returned to the basin. Reaching out, I pulled the chiming rope. I did not stare into the mirror for I was afraid, or ashamed; of the wretched beast that would be looking back at me. Moments later a gentle knock came from my chamber door. I beckoned the servant entrance. As ashamed of my appearance as I was, I asked the Earth Pony to ready me a bath and a meal. I stared at her for longer than was appropriate of a gentlepony. I could see the concern painted on her face. I was never close to anyone, let alone a servant. They were only present to perform tasks which the elite deemed under them. But the void inside me always seemed to get a little less abyssal whenever I spoke to my servants. This one tan mare specifically. I cleared my throat and turned away, excusing her. She looked as if she wished to speak, swaying slightly upon her hooves in consideration. After a moments pause she gracefully bowed and left to her task.

The chloral sat heavily in my stomach and I felt as if I would expel its boon. I could not erase the stain left by the vile intruder. Its presence on the clean core of my intellect was shameful to me. The knowledge of this intrusion, regardless of its origin, cut to the very depths of my soul. The sudden image of the peculiar amber crystal flashed inside my minds eye. It appeared rectangular, sharp edged and crudely fashioned, pulsating with an unearthly light. A gentle knock pulled me out of my reverie. The young Earth Pony entered and informed me that my bath was drawn. I looked out the window to see the sun was reaching the height of noon. How quickly time has been passing. I began to feel light headed as the chloral began to course through the tunnels of my vein. I thanked her kindly as she dismissed herself.

I made my way through the empty upper corridor of the manor, stopping in front of the doors to the masters chambers. I placed my hoof on the handle and with a gentle push, swung the door open. The room was awash in a white light as the sun filtered through the organdy curtains of the large arching window. The room was extravagantly decorated. Opulent trinkets and a masterfully crafted fresco overlooked the four posted bed. I dared not auction off these items. I cannot explain my reluctance in parting with the objects of this room. Perhaps a deep seeded respect for my parents stayed my hooves. I gazed on this room with both reverence and disgust. The burden of my memories were created within this room, and their creator died in this room.

Slamming the door shut I continued down the hallway and entered the bath hall. A steaming porcelain tub of water waited in the center of the marble room. The frosted windows along the alabaster walls softened the mid-day sunlight, giving the waters an inviting glow. A long standing mirror in front of the tub had become fogged over with condensation.

Not wanting to glimpse my emaciated appearance, I levitated the mirror away, facing it against the wall. Grimacing, I peeled the chain from the crevice on my neck. I set the key on a nearby wheeled table containing various bathing amenities. My servant appropriately readied me a clean vest that sat folded on the table. Despite it being a casual duty, this gesture caused a faint smile to form on my face. The care of my rearing always fell to midwives and various servants in the employ of my parents. Regardless of it being their paid duties, I was always grateful to them. I could never express affection to them, it was not in my capacity. I knew what affection was, yet I was frightened. Frightened of looking foolish, frightened of falling into the tropes of a sub-pony. They were not my blood, nor were they of the Unicorn elite. I am ashamed of this now, but I could not foresee the follies of my family's indoctrinated ideology. Nor the pawn I was upon the chessboard, surrounded by the enemy.

I felt the last remnants of horror dissolve as I stepped into the waters embrace. My world began to return to a semblance of normality as I sank deeper into the tranquil berth. The waters stung the raw imprint on my neck, yet the pain was dulled. The chloral was seeding my mind with the pleasant tingle of relaxation, dulling my senses and stupefying my mind. A liquid veil sheltered me from the eyes of phantoms and haunted visions. Closing my eyes, I thought of the coordinates beyond Canterlot City. The frozen wastes deep inside the mountain range that nopony dared venture. The absent book pertaining to that very region and the key to the study accompanied by the enigmatic letter from my late father. I would not allow the obvious constructs of my fatigued body deter me from, my destiny.

IV

IV

I found myself effortlessly floating through blue skies, bodiless and free. I dropped through the clouds with such speed and grace that no Pegasus could match. A landscape from another era began to appear under me. I flew over orchards and flowered fields coming to rest over a hill crowned with apple saplings. Hovering above the small mound I peered to the horizon. The panorama that spread before me was breathtaking. My words will not give this glorious world any due justice.

Structures of sculpted granite stood majestically on the fields, their walls seemingly forged from the earth itself. The towering spires were poised like stoic guardians, shepherding the expansive fields and greenery. The glorious city of Canterlot was insignificant to this monumental structure. Bright sparkles of light dotted my vision as sunlight reflected off the glass that sat in the fresco lined windows.

I was transported to the city's entrance. The gaping archway swallowed me into an expansive promenade. Earth ponies unlike any I have seen before galloped through a bustling marketplace. They were taller and leaner. Their appearance was more liken to that of an elder Alicorn. Such as the royal Princess Celestia. I seemed invisible to everypony. They were unaware of my presence as I floated through the streets. Automatons and clockwork constructs sat in the shops and domiciles. I was astounded by the intricate machinery. The mechanical constructs were more advanced than any I've seen before. I blinked my lidless eyes to find myself back above the sapling crowned hill.

An enormous shadow crept on the periphery of my vision. I flew upwards, backing away from the advancing shade. The shade was caused by a city in the clouds. Its grandeur was unmatched. The city of Cloudsdale would be humbled in the shadow of this edifice. Much like the stone-cut city, the craft was awe-inspiring. Large wells at its base churned a mixture of prismatic light. The floodgates of the wells opened, cascading rainbow waterfalls into the skies, their torrents painted the heavens in a florid glory. Pegasi frolicked through the clouds, carefree and at peace. Much like the Earth ponies I saw earlier, the Pegasi shared the same physical attributes.

The clarity of this intoxicating vision was unlike any I had ever experienced. Even the most memorable terrors of my youth were not so rich. They were only clouded puzzle pieces on the table of my subconsciousness. Was this world the creation of a drug induced stupor? Or was this recollection the concoction of something more, tangible?

A sudden eruption of magical energy tore through the land. The thunderous noise was horrendous in its intensity, as if the world was being torn asunder. A black slime crept from the mountain range beyond the two cities. It was devouring the pristine skies in its wake, soaking through the heavens like spilled inkwell. The sun was quickly encircled by the ooze, turning the magnificent star into a burning eye that gazed on the world with malice and contempt.

Images were flying through my mind so quickly that I can only set down the most impacting. I was hovering high above a grand battalion of ponies. Young and old stood in unison against an unknown force. Everypony was encased in a suit of armor. The style was similar to the royal guard in Canterlot, though lacking any of the decorative features. Their construction was streamlined, each layer of plating was built for purpose.

In the skies, Pegasus ponies flew rallying formations of a scouting party. They sped off towards the peaks beyond the two cities towards their charge. A sight of their short skyward battle flashed before my mind. Cries of surprise and anguish erupting from the ground brought me back. Figures cloaked in shadow began to materialize inside the ranks. They were so quick-hooved that I could not make out any discernible features. I struggle to remember their shape. All I can muster is their dark, equine-like bodies. The dark stallions surrounded me, they were aware of my presence. I was trapped. Several pinpoints of light created a halo of energy around their heads. I was not frightened. I was enamored.

Their power surged through me, electrifying my body. The pain was unimaginable. I cried out as my very mind was warped. I began to take a corporeal shape as the putrid ooze filled my lungs, sprawling through my being. I was reborn, reforged in the seething hatred of this malevolent force. I became a sorcerer, a creator, a god. Earth and Pegasus pony alike cowered in fear. I swiped my hooves across the fields, tearing apart the idyllic landscape to my will. As I reached toward the sun, the world became silent. I looked down to find I was falling through a dark whirlpool. As I fell I could see a glimmering flicker of light in the eye of the storm. The light grew brighter as I charged towards its celestial glow. I became greedy and desired its power.

I was transported into an opulent chamber. Inside this windowless room was a grand orrery of golden stone. In its outstretched arms floated six crystals, powerful relics beyond my understanding. Their combined energies bore into me, turning my eyes into my soul where I saw such black and grained spots. I felt as if I were dying. Yet there was a benevolence whispering to me which the darkness fought against. I charged towards the orrery as a dazzling light seared my mind.

I do not recall how much time had passed when I awoke to a soft knock upon the door. My mind was a dull haze as the intoxicating effects of the chloral still gripped me. Looking towards the door I could see the tan colored mare. She advised me that my meal had been prepared and a sitting was ready. Her voice echoed in the marble bath-hall. Her tone was as mellifluous as a concerto. I stumbled a slurred acknowledgment that must have sounded quite foolish. As she left I wanted to call out to her, but I froze.

The water had lost its warmth, I started shivering. The humid pleasantry of the hall was replaced by a biting cold. These past few days I had felt nothing but cold, I had grown tired of it. I desired warmth and comfort. My legs groaned in discontent as I stood. How feeble I would have looked had I been spied upon. I peered down, watching the ripples in the water. The droplets sent small, spherical waves that stretched outwards, expanding until they dissolved against the edge of the tub.

I levitated a pair of towels off the nearby table as I stepped out, drying myself off. My eyes became locked on the brass key. How contrast the patina of the key appeared against the stark white finish of the table. It seemed to me, that my visions have only intensified since coming into possession of the key. It was a ridiculous superstition that such a simple object could possess such a powerful trait as to warp somepony's perception.

As I've mentioned, I had many bouts of restless sleep throughout my youth. Sights of cataclysmic horrors that would sap my strength and leave me gasping in a fevered sweat. Mother always told me dreams were unable to transcend the barrier of reality. Yet these waking nightmares of late felt frighteningly physical in nature. I had grown weary of this curse. I picked up the key, staring at it intently through my glazed eyes. If the renewed intensity of these dreams stemmed from this key, I wished to be rid of it. I threw it across the room. A metallic ring shot out as it hit the marble wall, the silver chain rattled as it curled upon the floor. I turned away from it in disgust. Out of sight, out of mind.

I turned the mirror back towards me. Although the waters had renewed my vigor, I was still fearful of the haggard ghoul that would be staring back at me. I hesitated, my eyes were continuously drawn towards the key across the room. Shaking my head I peered into the reflective glass. I beheld a grey stallion of angular proportion, although not unsightly. A damp, unkempt auburn mane hung lifelessly upon his head and crest. His heavy-lidded eyes sat like sunken orbs. They were dark as of cocoa. Almost black as pitch and shining with intelligence. His countenance beckoned a hidden sadness. A burden which must have been carried since his earliest days.

As I stared at my reflection, I began to feel the emptiness swell inside me. Having been cloistered much of my life, I had never known another existence. For the first time in my life I knew the cause of the void inside myself. Loneliness. Despite my wealth of knowledge and financial security; my stately home and titles of lordship, I was nothing. A hollow vessel. My father, in his last and possibly only act of selflessness relayed the pieces of a most grand future he had once envisioned for me. What might that have been? I was now enamored to discover it. I walked over to the key.

My senses began to sharpen as the chloral faded from my body. My legs trembled as I felt the pangs of hunger. I picked up the key and looped the tarnished silver chain around my neck. The scoring sat heavily in the line around my neck, but I was thankful for the familiar bond as the key pressed against my chest. I turned and left the pallid surroundings of the bath hall.

The smell of herbs and a homely garden filled my nostrils as I walked to my chambers. I quickly groomed and donned a new vest, tucking the key inside. Closing my door, I galloped down the stairs and into the dining hall. A single setting had been placed at the head of the elegant oak table.

Sitting at the table I poured myself a snifter of cider. I spun the dark orange liquid in the glass before quickly downing it in a single gulp. As the cider sat in my belly, its warmth radiated throughout my body. The door to the kitchen swung open. The tan Earth pony appeared, pushing a wheeled cart. She quietly stood beside me, placing a bowl of stew upon my plate. She smelled of strawberries, the scent was beyond pleasing to me. As she was about to return to the kitchen I called out to her. She turned towards me with a questioning look in her auburn eyes. I was at a loss for words, I could feel myself flush with embarrassment. I felt such a fool. She asked me again if I required anything else. I felt a tightness in my chest as I swallowed hard asking her if she would sit with me.

She seemed to be taken aback from my request. It was beyond inappropriate of me to ask for the company of an underclass. But recent events weighed heavy on my heart, and I needed the compassion of anypony. She was confused, staring back at me. I pulled a chair out with my magic, inviting her to sit. To my internal elation she came over and nestled into the seat. The silence in the room was suffocating as I slowly ate my meal. I invited my servant to sit with me, yet I was at a loss for words. I was not accustomed to being an entertaining host.

Clearing my throat, I asked her where she lived prior to her employment at the manor. The pleasant tone of her voice that I had heard earlier was absent. Her reply was flat and stoic, addressing me as a servant to a master. I leaned forward and met her eyes asking her not to respond to me as the lord of manor. Instead, to speak to me as she would to anypony else. Her nervous demeanor faded, her face beamed with a smile that radiated happiness I had never seen before. I leaned back in my seat and smiled at her, I felt a capitol fool, but my spirit became a little lighter as she spoke. She told me of her upbringing in a small hamlet beyond Canterlot. As droll as it may appear to you, the telling of her simplistic upbringing was as fascinating as any ancient manuscript I had read.

As I finished eating, I found myself becoming entranced with this mare. Being unaccustomed at mutual, friendly conversation, I had become a capitol listener. I listened intently to her telling of coming to Canterlot to escape the drudgery of farm life. To rise above the shackles of her class and find her place in the world. She stopped, looking at me intently as her bright face sank into one of concern. She told me that she understood how I felt. I was taken aback, stating I did not know what she was referring too.

She rested a hoof upon mine. Her touch was electric, yet I was frozen, I could not avert her gaze. Her dulcet voice spoke of being an outsider. A stranger in a sea of outclassed faces, lost, forgotten and alone. She looked on me with care. I was not of the nobility, I was not an emaciated ghoul. In her auburn eyes, I was just a lonely stallion in a world where I did not fit. We sat together in silence for what felt an eternity. How painful this recollection is to me now. In that moment, I connected with somepony else, a memory that will last until the end of my days.

She stood, clearing the table from my meal. Placing the dishes upon the tray and returning to the kitchen without another word. I was alone, but this event left me refreshed and clear-headed. The carcass of my body was revived with a new vitality. Standing quickly I entered the foyer and stood in front of the door containing the spiral staircase. The extravagant library that had once been my only asylum, now gave me pause. It had been violated by the malignant hallucinations of my waking nightmares. But no more was I going to allow these phantasmic incarnations to dissuade me. I quickly pulled open the door and descended the staircase.

I felt my mind stumbling over the serene presentation before me. My earlier visions of chaotic fantasy still lingered on the forefront of my mind. Yet before me, was a scene calm and pristine as I had always remembered. Candles appeared bright as they proudly displayed the intricate masonry on the archways. With every step I felt strangely unreal. The veil of darkness which had forever lingered throughout the halls was gone. I felt as if I had ventured into an elaborate reconstruction. I figured my renewed vigor had given me a stronger perception, I was lucid.

As I approached my desk, everything appeared untouched. The weathered box sat undisturbed amongst the small scrap of parchment and lantern. I sparked the threads to life, revitalizing the lanterns glow. I wound the wick down to the burners base, easing the brightness of the flame. Gripping the lamp in my focus, I habitually looked at the standing clock to see its ebony hands resting on 6:10. Feeling reassured, I started down the hall.

My ears twitched as I walked down the corridor of shelves. I thought I heard a faint whisper drifting through the air. If it was a creation of my own or the breath of a phantom, I cannot be certain. I turned towards the corner at the end of the canal. I could see the monolithic door of my father's study.

Stepping up to the door I hooked a hoof around the molded brass handle. Taking a breath I pulled upon the handle, meeting a considerable resistance. Locked, of course. The adolescent side of me could not help but indulge in the naive fantasies of my youth. That perhaps the door was unhindered, its secrets mine for the taking. Levitating the brass key, I placed it into the chamber of the mechanism. A resounding click echoed throughout library as I twisted the brass handle. Sliding the key out of the lock, I placed it back within the safety of my vest. The door was lighter than I anticipated as I pulled upon the handle. I expected an ominous of rusted hinges as the door opened. But it glided open soundlessly.

I was greeted to an arched hallway. It was black as pitch inside the tunnel. An olfactory odor I could not describe filled my snout. Placing the lantern ahead of me, I stepped into the small channel. I turned the deadbolt as I closed the door, locking the world out. Shuttering those who would lay claim upon what my father held as my birthright.

V

V

The gloom of the tunnel scurried from the light of my lantern. Huddling around the cusp of its glow, squirming like a mischief of rats. Much like my distaste for the cold, I had grown weary of the never-ending veil of darkness. A darkness that for the longest time had sheltered me from a life outside of these hewn walls. Looking inside myself I had a renewed vigor, a yearning for discovering a world outside my sanctuary of books. If only I knew then what I know now. How feverish I am while I recall these thoughts. The world my mother wished to protect me from, the world my father wished to show me.

For such an absence of candles or sconces, the tunnel was quite warm. The air was heavy with an odd humidity, carrying a curious scent which tickled my senses. The scent was faint, but the stillness of the tunnel let it cling to the air. As I inhaled the damp odor, it enticed a primal part of me. I cannot give any specific name to this scent, but it was empowering to my more primitive senses. The tunnel was short, about ten feet in length and on a slight downward slope, expanding into a humbly furnished study. My mind was anxious yet I felt at ease in the strange warmth of this place. How contrast my father's study was to the crypt like chill of the library when its sconces were doused. I levitated the lantern upwards where I was surprised to find the ceiling elevation was vastly different. The ceiling of rock was simply cut in an arching fashion and stood upwards of fifteen feet. I found the craftsmanship to be quite crude in comparison to the lavish decoration found in the library's masonry. Judging from the floor-plan of the manor, this room must have been cut directly into the mountain which our home was built beside. The very rock which Canterlot itself was situated.

The faint ticking of a clock matched my staggered heartbeat. I began to feel like an insect, a creeping parasite feasting on the leftovers of my sires life. I felt a tightness upon my heart, a stinging chill in the humid surroundings, haunted and venerable. I most certainly was a trespasser inside these stone walls. The stubborn vermin of blackness seemed to fight the light of my lantern, trying to snuff out its existence. Some echo of my father survived in this place. The coldness he showed during life manifested itself inside the boundaries of the stone room. Its ghosts protecting his secrets from foreign intruders. How superstitious I have become in such a short time. One certainly cannot blame my fearfulness considering recent events. Even the most studious of minds can be broken by the burden of grief and emptiness.

I was taken aback as a sudden clap came from above me. The glass shade of my lamp fell to pieces on the floor, bounding on the plush carpet at my hooves. I cried out as I felt a touch on my withers, spinning 'round to find only darkness. A wave of heat flushed across my face, and I cursed the spirits I had created. I had to keep my mind clear and lucid, I cannot give in to fanciful incarnations. For years I had repelled their taint. Why now did I succumb to them? I felt the brass key press firmly against my chest. This simple brass-work must be the cause of my lack of will. Yet I cannot rid myself of it. It was an important piece to the world my father wished to show me. I could only continue convincing myself that the return of these dreams were from the discovery of hidden emotional scars.

Regaining my bearings I looked to the ceiling. My lantern had become hitched upon something that hung from the crudely cut roof. Refocusing my grip on the lamp, I pulled on its metal framework. It jostled against its snare as the screech of metal against metal rang throughout the study. Focusing on the wick I pulled it upwards, exposing the flame to the soaked weave. The thirsty flame brightly illuminated the ceiling, revealing its trapping to be a magnificent chandelier. I unhinged the lantern from its hook on the gold-plated frame.

The most startling feature of this chandelier was the lack of candles, nor was there a wax basin. No, this was a device designed for Unicorns or a regal Alicorn. The center of the chandelier held a large, blown glass orb. Eight seamless appendages extended from the base of the center sphere, resting on the housing of the outer framework. Each finely crafted tube ended in a glass bulb. Inside the glass sphere was a cloudy substance I was not familiar with. The gold plated frame was pressed with a strange decoration. Waving lines crossed in all directions, coming together at the head of bulbous cephalopod that was etched into the side of the frame. This was certainly a unique device. I suddenly remembered having seen a sketch of such an instrument in one of my father's documents when I was a foal.

My father once had an eccentric client who specialized in magical devices catering only to Unicorns and Alicorns. A sketch of his invention and its instructions lay out one evening on the dining room table. Father must have been called away from his work and I happened to pass by, taking a cursory glance at it. To my young eyes it was an astounding device, and now to see it made a reality above me was a spectacle to behold. I thought back on that document, trying to remember how it functioned. In my minds eye the book materialized, every scrawl of my fathers quill was legible and intact. The instrument was powered by a single spell of radiance focused on the central globe. The gaseous essence contained inside of the sphere will react with the spell causing illumination.

I focused on the spell, casting it into the center of the glass orb which began to shine brightly. The essence inside the sphere sparked to life, swirling violently in the throes of light. The growing energies traveled down the molded glass tubes, pooling within the blown bulbs. The bulbs shone with a brilliant glow, lighting the entirety of the study. A magnificent device indeed.

I picked up the shards of glass from the large red rug which sprawled over the entirety of the floor. The three walls from the entrance were draped in elegant tapestries, possibly there to hide the shameful stonework of the study. Each tapestry showcased various historical events in Equestria's history. On the side walls were common place designs pertaining to the banishing of Nightmare Moon and the founding of Canterlot. Others held depictions of Griffon-kind and mythological creatures. A few of the smaller pieces had silhouetted oceanic figures amidst a dark blue background. The slithering appendages of the figures were reminiscent of the likeness etched into the chandelier. The largest and most intricate of these pieces was affixed to the back wall. It depicted, in exquisite detail, the quelling of rebellion and the union of the three kingdoms. In front of the woven scene sat an oak desk. My father's desk. The plush seat and desk were both rustic in their craftsmanship. A simple mantle clock sat on the end of the desk, keeping time for its unseen master.

I extinguished my lantern and set it and the shards of glass on the desk. A long table against the left wall held a number of curious instruments. Many of them were badly aged, as if they had been excavated from the earth. Strange daggers fashioned from dark green stone, crude scalpels and a cracked mortar and pestle. Each piece had a similar design, yet were noticeably from different eras. Various clamps, forceps and long hooked rods; all had an identical decorative scoring upon their handles. It was the same as found on the tarnished silver chain about my neck.

As I walked the length of the table I wondered why my father would have these items. Did he have a secret archaeological fascination? All I ever knew of my sire was his ideology and his work documenting magicians and inventors. Were these artifacts of another age? Of a culture long forgotten? Why did the chain have the same markings? Why would he keep these out of sight? I began to grow angry. He knew my love of cultural anthropology, these instruments obviously served a spiritual purpose to their kind. How dare he hide such a thing from me.

Turning quickly I slammed my hooves on the desk cursing my father. I became furious, the primal essence cast aside my more rational mindset. I ran across the room, knocking books to the floor. Throwing a small weigh scale, shattering its level against the far wall. Kicking the side table, spilling over a box of brass weights to the floor. Was this what my father wanted me to know? That he held knowledge over me? Was superior to me in all aspects I held as unique to me? I screamed as tears stung my eyes. I ripped the tapestries off the walls, trying in vain to tear them to shreds. I could not fathom why my parents treated me the way they did. Was this the grand reveal of a practical joke? The final punchline? Proof positive that my parents saw me as nothing more than a 'Sub-Unicorn'?

My vision swam in the crimson sea as a silhouetted figure sat in my father's chair. As if jumping in time the figure was walking towards the hall and out of the study. I wanted to follow but I fell to the floor, the room twisted and I was lost. I found myself walking through the halls of my library, looking down I saw hooves of ebony. Slithering black tendrils snaked under my every step, curling over the floors. This was not my body, I was seeing through the eyes of a phantom. It went through the canals, past my desk and up the spiral staircase. Into the foyer where the moonlight shone through the windows. Up the grand staircase and right towards the bath hall. I could hear the heavy breathing of this beast, but I could not persuade its movements. Passing through the door into the bath hall was the tan mare, cleaning the marble tiles. She looked up, her auburn eyes becoming soft. She smiled and bowed, asking if there was anything needed. I shouted, kicked and screamed but it all proved fruitless. I was simply a spectator. I could hear the thoughts of this phantom as it spoke in a voice that was not unlike my own.

The destiny of this being is beyond the graces of one such as yourself. Come with me child. I will show you the truth of this world.

Her smile vanished as she slowly walked towards the phantom, appearing to be in some kind of trance. The beast turned and started to leave but stopped before exiting the bath hall. He looked into the standing mirror, to my everlasting horror, I saw myself in the reflection. The burning intensity of my eyes filled me with such dread that I lashed out with everything I could muster.

I flailed wildly upon the floor of my father's study. I was a ravenous lunatic, fighting off the ghosts of a warped mind. Slowly I became still, the sound of the ticking clock bringing me back to sanity. I opened my eyes, the chandelier shone brightly, a celestial sun hanging in the canopy of rock. I struggled to my hooves, my head was throbbing. A vile taste sat in the back of my throat as I stood. My legs shook under me as I made my way up the small incline of the tunnel. I fumbled with the lock as I pushed the door open. I began to gain strength as I charged through the library, past my desk and up the spiral staircase. The door to the foyer was open as I ran into dining room and flung open the kitchen door. It was dark, the fires were doused and the cook had retired for the evening. I ran out and leapt up the stairs three and four steps at a time. Turning right down the hallway I saw the door to the bath hall was left ajar. Pushing through the entrance I saw a lone wash bucket near the cast tub. A small pool of water on the marble floor reflected the moonlight. She was gone.

I returned to the study with a listless gait. Circling the desk I sat down in my father's chair. It creaked in protest, as if sensing somepony other than its former master. I held my head in my hooves as I stared at the clock at the end of the desk. Its thin hands were pointing to 11:29, it was late and I was alone. I could feel the void inside myself deepen as my head felt heavy, unable to process all that has happened. I began to convince myself that the tan mare was safe. That she must have gone home for the night. She would return in the morning, giving me her kind smile and blessings of the day. I sighed heavily, leaning back into the plush chair. On the desk sat a badly damaged book. It looked as if it had been the unfortunate victim of a flood or left out to the elements. Perhaps it was my lot in life to call the worn pages of books, friends.

Opening the book I was shocked to see it was the journal of the Pegasus explorer I had failed to find in the library. Pulling the chair closer I gently turned the brittle pages. All the text was written in an arcane codex. This practice was not uncommon with explorers and inventors, coding their work to safeguard it from theft and plagiarism. I scanned the opening preface, the text was written in an old script that not many could decipher, but I was quite familiar with it.

From an early age I had always found the intricate art of translation to be second nature. It became apparent that this would be my calling in life. It was during a most intense session of translation when the mark appeared on my flank. I was studying the script of an extinct, northern Unicorn culture from an archeologists journal. It contained ancient incantations which nopony had been able to decipher. As my young eyes stared at the orientation of the symbols, a sudden epiphany came to me.

I retrieved a book which contained a diagram of the constellations in the northern sky. Carefully removing the page from the book I laid it over the symbols. I associated the structure of the constellations to the corresponding arches of the ancient runes. The more ample stars in the constellations harmonized with the bolder strokes of the runic script. If this cultures history and language was based on worship of the heavens, then perhaps the grapheme of their text was established by the stars themselves. I spoke aloud the names that most closely intersected the markings.

A bright beam of light emanated from my horn as a map of the northern sky appeared before me. The stars which matched the strokes pulsated, emanating the gentle tones of the pentatonic scale. It wasn't language specifically, it was their symbols for musical notes. As I worked on the manuscript I found their spells and language were based on the stars and the harmony of sound. With this discovery, the likeness of an open book the shade of burnt sienna appeared on my flank. Its pages were held open as wisps of light reached outwards from the open crease.

I began skimming through the entries of the journal. The coded script was almost second nature to me. Most of the pages were filled with the typical fodder found in works pertaining to exploration. Weather logs, prideful flowery monologues, wildlife observation and crudely drawn cartography. I began to feel like I was at the end of my tether when I noticed the script of the last passage greatly differed from the previous entries. The slant was hurried and the size of the characters varied, as if the scribe was in a panic. Transcribed it was as follows--

It is night, the moon is gibbous and waning. I have seen them, I have heard their cries. Horrific abominations have materialized from the raging storm around me. I feared the old legends of Windigoes, yet these abominable constructs are not of this world.

I have taken all my drink which only spelled a transient surcease. My sextant lost, my rationed supplies no more than a meager serving. I feel my time has drawn near and the clutches of hopelessness will carry me their slave.

Within the coordinates I have set down 82 28N 62 30W, against the western face lies a glacier. When the high sun shone bright, I saw a curious rock formation under the pack of ice. Foolishly I left my course to explore this. Forgive my haste, but I fear I have not much time.

The next morn I rose early, returning to the glacier only to find the curious formation had been revealed. The rock itself was bare and dripping with melt. The day was not warm and this melting only bore deeply into my curious nature. Feeling myself bold, I ventured into the mouth of the glacier. I now ask myself, did ever anypony find that which did not wish to be found and rise to meet another day? The cylindrical maw seemed to swallow me whole as I ventured deeper into its snaking tunnels. My eyes were deceived as I witnessed the alabaster blocks of a cyclopean structure stretch before me over the last rise.

The architecture was of nothing I had ever seen before. Illogical curves met bending alleyways. All were set a glow through the porous skin of the unnatural glacier. I wanted to flee yet I felt an unnerving presence within my mind, calling me to venture deeper into the caverns. Even as I write I feel I have gone mad. I landed on a great staircase leading into an oval shaped promenade. The looming arches were wicked in their appearance, gnarled and rigid, like the appendages of a crustacean. I stood in front of a tunnel. A gust of warmth was expelled from its depths, as if a dragon slumbered in that darkness. I fled. Nopony was meant to witness such things.

The end is near. I hear their cries all around me. I will bury this record in my camp as testament to my discoveries. I only pray it will see the light of day and dissuade anypony from this unnatural place.

Turning the page only revealed bare paper remaining. This Pegasus' tale had never been told to anypony. Yet my father had the original account inside the halls of his personal library. How many times had I walked passed this log, only to put to memory as an explorers attempt at fame. A chill ran through my being as I closed the book. So much had happened to me in such a short time. I cannot describe to you my mindset.

The coordinates listed in this Pegasus' journal were the same as what was written on the parchment from my father. This location must be the destiny my father had wanted me to discover. Perhaps his possession of this journal was a gift to lead me to this grand discovery. I admit the thought thrilled me.

I looked at the destruction I wrought in the room. I began to clean up when I noticed a faint crease in the rug. The table I had thrown over was dipping slightly into the floor. I pushed the table aside, stomping a fore-hoof into the sunken impression. The hollow thud of wood answered back. I pulled the corner of the rug away, revealing a wooden hatch. The wood was soiled and discolored with age. My heart began to pound as I felt the scored silver chain begin to dig into the line of my hide.

VI

VI

The hatch was similar in size to a cellar door and of simple wooden construction, yet heavily wrought with iron welds. I hooked my hoof under the rusted latch and heaved upwards. The metal woven planks shuddered as I met with considerable resistance. I was aware that I had fallen prey to physical neglect, but never had I thought myself so weakened to not open a simple hatch. I braced myself against the floor and pulled with all I could muster. The chain began to bite into my hide, a stinging pain that I could not put out of my mind shot through me. I collapsed to the floor, staring at the wooden hatch. There was no visible lock or keyhole yet this entrance was somehow barricaded. I had a the thought of a hidden switch located somewhere in the study was the key. How ridiculous and cliché this would appear, typical fodder for tales of the macabre.

Brushing myself off as I stood I scanned the carnage of my father's study. Gritting my teeth, I bitterly cursed out to the spirit of my sire in some futile attempt to incur some sign of guidance. I was only met with the mundane sound of the ticking clock upon the desk. I brushed a fallen strand of my mane out of my eyes and sat heavily into the chair. The dark iron bindings that held the planks together were damp with a hidden moisture. The humid air of the study had its origins in the area beyond that stubborn hatch. Frustrated, I pushed the weathered journal of the Pegasus explorer away from me. It slid across the sanded surface hitting the mantle clock on the end of the desk where it came to an abrupt stop. I leaned against the edge of the desk, laying my head upon my hooves and stared at the clock. Its simplistic, leaf-cut hands were resting securely upon 11:29. I lifted my head, how could no instance of time pass with all that has happened? I reached out and slapped my hoof against its wooden housing, hoping to jostle the gears with a boorish display of brute force. After a few moments, the hands did not move as the ticking continued. I stood and reached for the clock pulling it towards me, it did not budge, it was securely fastened to the desk. I leapt from the chair so quickly that it slid across the rug and hit the wall. A muffled thud came from the tapestry on impact, a soft plume of snowflake like dust showered behind me. I pushed against the desk, only to find it also unmovable. I leaned under the sanded surface, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Instantly I spied a metal pipe secured to the front right leg which bore into the rug. Standing back over the desk I opened the glass housing of the clocks face and turned the hands in random directions. My ears perked as I heard the faint sound of grinding, the metallic pins of a geared locking mechanism.

Oh father, how clever to employ such an ingenious locking gadget. I was no thief, nor a locksmith, but I was also no fool. I turned the hands to rest in a most familiar location, upon the comforting placement of 6:10. With that, a loud click came from the hidden hatch. How simplistic a clue he had seeded in my mind. All those nights spent looking up at that silent clock by my desk, thinking it my counterpart, unmoving and ever still in its patience. It was all but a shield, guarding the future I was destined to discover. I stood over the hatch and reached out with a spell, gripping the handle firmly in my focus. I heaved upwards with my spell, the hatch opened with a protesting squeal as the rusted hinges gave way.

A fetid smell, warm and humid assaulted my nostrils, causing me to gag. I recoiled, pulling the hatch open fully as I turned away from the offensive scent. My eyes began to sting, I could taste the foul aroma sitting in the back of my throat. The thought of a hidden family crypt or mausoleum came to the forefront of my mind. I had never questioned where my father, nor any relative for that matter were inurned, it was never information that I concerned myself with. Regardless, I could not shake the feeling that I had opened Pandora's Box. I regained my bearings and turned back towards the opening.

I had expected to see an abyssal trench cut into the floor, swathed in an unmistakable and impenetrable darkness. Yet I was surprised to see a soft green light bathing the entire passageway. The glow was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, I deduced it to be a form of bio-luminescence. I was not overly familiar with the characteristics of this phenomenon outside of text books. Certain fungi; insects, even complex seafaring-lifeforms can emit light through a chemical reaction with oxygen. I stepped into the staircase and peered down the descending tunnel. Lichen blanketed the walls, emitting the soft glow that enticed me into its embrace. Leaving behind the well lit interior of my father's study I began my descent into the unknown. The stone staircase was crudely fashioned and damp with moisture. The green light pulsed in time with my hoofsteps, I had a strange recollection of this tunnel but could not place the memory. Perhaps a vision lost in the chaotic mishmash of my mind over the past few weeks. The staircase continued in a steep descent, the deeper I plunged into the bowels of the Earth, the more venomous the olfactory aroma became.

My head began to spin as the fungus covered walls seemed to stretch onwards forever. I dared not touch them, lest their ascospore be poisonous to ponykind. I curled my tongue against the back of my throat, wishing to wretch the horrid taste from my mouth when I suddenly came to a level flooring. The tunnel expanded into a wide cavern that shone brightly with luminescent vegetation. The sight was breathtaking, pencil-thin stalactites hung from the ceiling in clusters so dense that it appeared like a bed of nails. Strange plants and unclassified fungi blanketed the walls, glowing vines snaked through the dripping rocks like tentacles. The light this strange plant-life emitted was a mix of blue, green and red. The pathway turned sharply to the left and trailed around the circumference of the cavern. The edge of the well trodden path gave way to a deep pit. I walked to the edge, kicking a stray stone into the chasm as I peered into the darkness below. Long I stood there, staring into nothingness, seeing a reflection of myself as I looked into that pit. The key slipped from my vest and dangled over the edge, its otherworldly mass seemed to will me into that void. The walls of the pit were slick with moisture and appeared razor sharp. Obsidian from ancient volcanic flows shined in the glow of hanging mossy vines.

Looking across the chasm I could see a line of five wooden doors against the cavern wall. I stepped away from the edge and placed the key back into my vest, this cavern was a speleologist and botanist's dream. My heart began to race as I carefully trotted along the path. I was not one to be afraid of heights, but I felt my mortality when I stood upon the precipice of that yawning abyss. I brushed past the hanging vines that slithered through the nail-bed of stalactites. I barely gave it notice as I felt a slithering sensation upon my hide. Turning around I suddenly found myself entangled within the hanging vines. I struggled against them but their grip was merciless. I pulled forward with all my might when my eyes shot open, I cried out in pain. What I mistook as root formations were actually barbarous spines, their razor-like spikes dug into my hide as I struggled. I began to panic as their tendrils wrapped around me, this sent me flailing in desperation. I could feel their sting as I gained footing, pulling away from their baleful grasp.

I fell upon the rocky floor, backing myself against the wall as I panted for breath. The vines swayed in the humid air, small flakes of blue dust trickled to the ground. The blue light emanating from the vines began to glow brighter from having fed upon me. If this was truth or the creation of my mind I am not certain. Inspecting myself I could see small patches of crimson dotting my grey coat. The cuts stung with an intense heat; as if having been stung by a wasp or bee. I shook my head as I stood, my vest had become torn along several of its stitches due to my desperate thrashing. The heat of the cuts began to dissipate as I quickly moved along the path. The green lichen of the walls melded into a red hue as I reached the other side of the cavern. The sound of creaking stone and droplets of water could be heard throughout the cave, lending it a most haunting ambience as I stood in front of the first door.

Pushing the door open revealed brightly burning sconces on the walls of a square room. The room was strong with the pungent odor that I had slowly started to become accustom to. Inside the room I was aghast at what I saw, this place truly was a tomb. Cut into the walls were a series of makeshift catacombs, within each opening sat the dried remains of a Unicorn. I felt myself begin to tremble as their hollow eyes seemed to burn into me. In the center of the room was a stone slab where the remains of one Unicorn lie. The slackened jaw of the husk appeared to be silently screaming. A strange stone dagger and several crude tools were set on the slab beside the remains along with several clay urns. They all had decorative scoring marks on them, they were the same instruments I saw earlier in my father's study. I felt a chill down my spine as I leaned down closer to the remains. You would question my mind why I wished to inspect this rotting husk. I do not fault you for doing so, does one simply look away from a disastrous accident? No, morbid curiosity and the allure of the unknown pulled me closer. This Unicorn was mummified, all of them were, twelve in total. I suddenly felt like a grave-robber, a trespasser amongst the ghosts of a world I never knew. How I wished to relate my findings to my journal, but the nagging voice of my rational-self pulled me back. I slowly left the room and closed the door.

The second door contained the same, as did the third and fourth, a series of burial chambers containing twelve mummified Unicorns each. The fifth door was locked with a curious runic locking device. Barricading the door was a beam of solid iron with a runic symbol etched into it. Cut into the wall beside the door was a square indentation also graced with the same magical rune. A crude likeness of an equine skull, encased within the confines of a five pointed star. As I inspected the rune it dawned on me where I had seen this symbol before. It was the same symbol affixed to the wax seal of my father's letter. I peered through the barred window of the door where I could see a fire-lit hallway. I had to find a way to open this lock.

I felt weary as I walked past the line of doors. My attention was suddenly alerted when I noticed the absence of light in the second room. Opening the door confirmed what I feared, all the sconces were doused, where no more than moments before they were brightly lit. The crack of stone upon stone inside the room caused me to jump in fright. Staring into the room I could see a small glowing object near the stone slab. My better judgment rallied against entering that room, but I could not ignore the object’s allure. As I stepped into the darkened room I heard a deep rumble from all around the cavern, a voice called to me inside my head. The stones began to groan when I picked up the faintly glowing object in my focus. It was a small cube cut from granite, turning it around revealed a runic symbol. It was the same runic symbol as the lock on the fifth door, it was the key.

Dry screams of agony cried out all around me. The door slammed shut as the cracking of bones and clattering of hooves on stone erupted in the room. The glowing radiance of my magical grip on the granite key highlighted the sunken features of a deceased Unicorn as it jumped at me. I screamed in terror as the chattering jaw lunged towards me, aimlessly biting into the air as I fell backwards, skittering across the floor. I cried out as a sharp hoof fell on my right hind leg. Horns glowed all around me, erratically swaying in sickening motions accompanied by the foul odor of decaying flesh. I spun myself around and ran to the door with a limp in my gait. Pushing open the door I fell onto the pathway in the cavern, howls bellowed from the adjoining rooms. Rolling over, I kicked the door shut just as a shambling cadaver was nearly upon me. The door was swinging open again as I jumped up and stumbled towards the far door. The doors all began to open as the rotted remains of Unicorns stepped through the cut stone arches. Their legs trembled as their brittle limbs held aloft their crumbling bodies. Their slackened jaws hung loosely, dried lips curled inwards exposing wretched teeth which guttural sounds howled past. I fumbled the granite block into the cut of the wall as my heart pounded in my head. I cursed, crying out for haste in dispelling the runic seal. The hideous abominations were nearly upon me as the iron bar shifted, I pulled the door open and ran down the hallway.

I looked over my shoulder to see the horrid wretches were in relentless pursuit of me. My lungs burned as fear gripped my heart and clouded my mind. I ran down the hallway that expanded into a large room that was segregated with flowstone columns. On each column sat a wood crafted brazier which held a glass orb that radiated a soft incandescent light. Straws and lengthy stalactites hung intermittently throughout the cavern, dripping into pools of water that collected on the floor. Three doors sat on opposite sides of the cavern, from my quick inspection I did not see any with a lock, which was both a blessing and a curse. I hobbled towards the the first door that was on the far side of the room opposite the hallway which I entered. Opening the door revealed a well lit passageway that lead to another door. The shrieking howls echoed throughout the cavern as I slammed the door shut behind me, my eyes were clouded with tears as I started to hyperventilate. I limped towards the other door as the hallway began to swerve, slamming my weight against the door I fell into a closed off room. My thoughts at the time did not think about my eventual escape, only of my self preservation. I kicked the door closed, the iron bar with a runic sigil stared back at me. I reached out with my magic and pulled the granite block from the wall beside the iron bar. The rune upon the iron bar glowed as it slid and locked the door shut. I dropped my head to the floor and closed my eyes, the world went dark.

I awoke to the popping of smoldering braziers that lined the room which I sheltered in. I groaned loudly as I rolled myself over and stood up. My body ached, my hind leg stung as I put a firm pressure on it, it would prove to be an irritant but was not a serious injury. I rubbed my eyes and looked out through the small barred view-port of the door. The hallway was lined with the motionless remains of Unicorns. My heart sank when I saw the putrid remains littering the floor. I had hoped what I experienced was nothing more than another vivid hallucination. I turned away from the door and was shocked to find I stood in a large chamber lined with fetters and various equipment designed for torturous interrogation. Leg-screws, racks, a brazen bull, splitters and shin boots. These horrendous devices were obviously used at some point from a cursory glance at them.

In the corner stood an Iron Maiden, its history was one clouded in myth and superstition, to see it standing before me in its hideous glory was a humbling experience. As I walked up to it I was horrified to see a pair of eyes looking back at me through the open eye holes. The lifeless, auburn eyes stared into the depths of my being. The faint scent of strawberries wafted through the malodor of the room. I felt my heart swell, as if it was about to burst, I turned away from the iron casket and fell to my knees. I cannot explain the overwhelming sensation that churned inside me. A piteous sob was all I could muster as I laid my head upon the floor and let myself go.

I do not recall how long I lay on the floor of that horrific room, but I felt as if I became ancient in those seconds, minutes, hours; however long it may have been. I stood and turned back towards the iron casket only to find it open, and empty. Laying on the floor in the center of the grated drain was the horn of a Unicorn. I picked it up, it was cleanly cut and polished. It appeared to have been a preserved horn, much like how masks of the deceased are sometimes taken in a plaster cast, some families of Unicorn nobility preserved the horns of their elders. I stood there feeling empty. My mind was becoming undone, I could no longer differentiate between reality and the veil beyond. My mind had become as empty as the hollow cadavers that haunted the halls of this cruel grotto. I turned to suddenly hear a piercing scream which nearly knocked me back into the vicious mouth of the Iron Maiden. A crude statue of a Unicorn stood in the darkened corner, it was missing its horn. Without hesitation I placed the horn onto the shaved stump where it held firmly. I had become numb to the world, only the most mundane of tasks were in my grasp. The wall beside me shuddered and swung inwards revealing a well lit staircase leading upwards. I stepped into the passageway and looked over my shoulder at the horrendous room as the wall started to swing closed.

I began a lumbering ascent up the elegantly carved staircase. The pain of my body was numbed by the shattered puzzle of my mind. I started to pick up the pieces, trying to make a rational explanation of the horrific events. An attempt at convincing myself that I was still sane, a thinking, objective individual and not some slavering lunatic. I started to become short of breath, my legs were trembling as I reached a wall at the top of the staircase. A rope hung from the ceiling, looking up I could see it held a small block of wood against the wall. Pulling the rope released the wooden block and the wall swung open to reveal the ghostly white interior of the lord's room. I became frozen in the passageway as I saw a motionless silhouette in the light of the moon, standing in front of the rain-spattered window.