//------------------------------// // The Stillness of Eternity // Story: Harbinger // by Composer99 //------------------------------// Loose dust and sand drifted with the breeze across the dunes, scattering among the half-buried buildings and obelisks. Each structure had been carved out of obsidian, and etched into each were carvings, highlighted with bright metals. The carvings consisted either of runes, which spelled out long since unintelligible messages, or of pictures, visually relaying the stories of the ruins’ former inhabitants. The buildings and obelisks had been fashioned specifically to unnerve all who beheld them: their geometry was simply… wrong. Three ponies gazed at the ruins in silence. They stood in a row, from tallest to shortest. “So, these are the ruins that you spoke of,” Princess Celestia stated. “They are,” affirmed Princess Twilight Sparkle. “We can but hope that investigating these ruins proves more fruitful than attempting to access the cave in which you found Shadow Grave’s effects,” Princess Luna said. Twilight sighed, then twisted her lips. “You’re telling me,” she said with a wry smile. “I hadn’t realised just how bad the collapse was in the central gallery.” “You were right to begin there, though,” Luna went on. “The cave, I suspect, was the source of Shadow Grave’s power. These ruins, fascinating and disturbing as they are, appear tangential.” “Perhaps,” Celestia mused. “They must be connected to the cave, somehow. Perhaps by reviewing them we can divine its purpose. “On a related matter, Twilight, have you made any progress examining Shadow Grave’s journal over the past few months?” she asked. Twilight laughed mirthlessly. “I wish. She wrote it in a very elaborate cipher. I’ve been working on cracking it, but it hasn’t been that huge a priority. I’ve plenty of other duties to attend to, and when I have spare time, I haven’t wanted to spend that much of it giving myself a headache.” It was Celestia’s turn to smile. “It is important to treasure such time we have that is free of royal obligation, isn’t it?” “I do seem to recall Discord telling us of a weekend where you spent three whole days sorting books, though,” Luna teased. “Far be it for me to judge how you spend your time at leisure, of course.” “Ha ha ha.” Their levity lapsed into silence, and they all gazed towards the ruins. Twilight broke the silence. “I heard the stillness of eternity; I saw the silence of infinity; I felt the unending vast,” she recited, her eyes momentarily distant. “The Bard of Bridleton?” Luna asked. Twilight smiled and nodded. “It’s nice to be around ponies who appreciate classic poetry,” she said. There was another pause. “I am curious at what architects would design these structures so that they all seem so… so unwelcoming,” Celestia mused. “Or, for that matter, what unicorns would want to live in such isolation here.” “Since we came here the first time, I’ve been trying to find any evidence of a large sect of unicorns that might have split off from mainstream Equestrian society,” said Twilight. “No luck so far.” “For my part, I cannot recall any such group during the early years of our reign,” Luna admitted. “Whenever these were built,” Twilight said, “I’m starting to think it happened before the foundation of Equestria and the unification of the three tribes.” They stood in silence for another moment, contemplating the task ahead. “Shall we?” Celestia asked, gesturing towards the ruins. The three princesses spent quite some time examining the ruins in detail, carefully examining each building - including inside, if they could get in - and each of the columns that occasionally rose out of the sand. “The obelisks all seem to tell the same story,” Celestia said, as they met together near the foot of the ziggurat that dominated the ruins. “The unicorns building this place, and then…” her mouth curled down in disgust, “sacrificing other ponies in unspeakable rituals.” “Indeed. A disturbing turn of events,” Luna remarked. “I cannot help but observe that the carvings of the… entity above the sacrifices were all very vague and indistinct. In fact, they were the only carvings that differed from obelisk to obelisk.” “It was like they couldn’t – or wouldn’t – carve exactly what they saw. Or was that, hoped to see?” Celestia asked. “What do you think, Twilight?” she added, turning to Twilight. Twilight was gazing pensively up at the ziggurat. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I think they were trying to conjure something – something terrible. But they must have failed, I think.” “We can only hope so,” Celestia said. She followed Twilight’s gaze to the ziggurat. “That’s the only building we haven’t examined,” she said. “Do you think it might contain any answers?” Twilight sighed. “Not if we can’t decipher the runes.” “I do not believe we have any more time today,” Luna said. “Sunset is only an hour away, and I must attend to my nightly duties. The nightmares of our little ponies can’t be delayed, unlike routine correspondence and holding court.” “I suppose,” Twilight said regretfully. “Should we come back tomorrow? I had some plans, but I could put them off another day. It would wreak havoc on my scheduling, though.” “I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia responded. “Cadance and Shining Armor travel to Manehattan tomorrow. They’ve arranged for two weeks to take Flurry Heart around parts of Equestria. I agreed to mind the affairs of the Crystal Empire in their absence.” “Then perhaps we can arrange for an archaeological team to visit in the near future?” Luna asked. “I suppose that’s for the best,” replied Twilight. “Then it is resolved,” Celestia said. She looked up in the air, her horn glowing, and said clearly, “Discord!” There was a flash. The misshapen draconequus appeared, a grumpy expression on his face. He wore a bright yellow flat cap with a shiny black brim in front. “Oh, good evening, Princess,” he said with a theatrical bow. Under his breath, he grumbled, “Can’t believe I’m being reduced to a taxi service.” “I’m sorry?” “Nothing, nothing, happy to be of help!” Celestia smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Discord. In that case, could you please bring us back to Ponyville? Luna and I have a chariot there that will return us to Canterlot.” “Not a problem. Please keep forelegs, rear legs, manes and tails inside the vehicle at all times. Enjoy your ride with Chaotic Air!” “What is he talking about?” Luna whispered to the other princesses right before they vanished. All was still in the ruins at night: the wind had died down, and no small creatures scurried about. The obsidian ruins gleamed in the reflected light of the moon. The silence and stillness were disturbed by a flash of purple light, followed by hoofsteps crunching on the sand. A cloaked pony, sporting a hood brought up to conceal its features, walked through the ruins to the base of the ziggurat. The pony looked up at the ziggurat’s thick terraces. Holding its head high caused the hood to slip back slightly, revealing the tip of a lavender horn. The pony slowly ascended the terraces of the ziggurat, hoofs echoing across the cold, ancient stone. Eventually, the pony reached the highest terrace. There, the top of the ziggurat was not a block of solid stone. There was a low opening into a chamber within. The pony ducked down, crawling slightly to enter the chamber. A neatly trimmed deep blue tail came out from under the cloak. Narrow streaks of violet and rose highlighting the tail could be briefly seen before it pulled up beneath the cloak again as the pony rose, fully within the chamber. The chamber was almost entirely dark: the only light was a sliver of moonlight and starlight creeping in from the entrance. A raspberry glow appeared within the pony’s hood, and a flare of the same-coloured light floated out from the horn. It expanded and brightened, and the chamber lit up within its glow. The walls and floor were coated in dust and sand, concealing runes and pictorial carvings. A massive obsidian altar sat in the centre of the chamber. The pony looked around, horn glowing again, and a wind whipped through the chamber, scouring the walls and the altar clean. The carvings on the walls mostly depicted the same events as on the obelisks, with one important difference: there was a picture carved out directly behind the altar when faced from the entrance. At the bottom of the picture was a representation of the village and ziggurat. Hovering over it was an indistinct shape. The way it had been carved into the wall imparted a feeling of menace: whatever it was, it was nothing good. Above the shape, a starfield had been carved into the wall: most of the stars were tiny points, except for a specific formation of stars hanging over the ziggurat: these had been carved to be particularly prominent. The pony took all the carvings in, then examined the altar. It was featureless. Unlike the carvings of the rituals, there were no bindings attached to it. The pony’s horn glowed again, and the altar lifted slowly off the ground, before sliding to the side. An opening within the floor became visible as the altar moved out of position. Stairs descended into darkness. The raspberry flare floated down into the hidden chamber, and the pony followed it. The steps wound down and down through the darkness of obsidian stone. Then the rock of the steps and of the wall changed: they were no longer carved into obsidian, but into the bedrock underneath. After a couple more minutes of walking, the narrow staircase opened into a somewhat larger chamber. Illuminated by the flare of magical light, the staircase emptied out onto a lower part of the chamber, which surrounded an oval dais on which sat another altar. At the ends of the dais sat thick metal braziers. Another brazier, coated with unpleasant stains, was on one side of the altar at the widest part of the oval. This altar was obsidian, like the ziggurat above. It had eight indents cut into it: four at each outer corner, and four close to the centre. Within each indent was embedded a loop of thick stone and rusted buckles, as if the indents were meant to hold thick straps. The pony walked up to the dais. In the centre of the altar was a long knife. From the base of the blade, near the cross-guard, the blade curved this way and then that, before straightening out again, until curving to one side at the tip to form a hook. Each edge was decorated with serrations. Despite its likely age, it showed no sign of corrosion or wear. The blade itself was black, as if absolute darkness could be distilled into metal, and stood out from the darkness of the chamber only by the way it reflected the light of the pony’s horn. The pony looked around, as if to ensure nopony had followed, then slid down the hood. Raising it into the air in her magic, Princess Twilight Sparkle gazed contemplatively at the knife with a slight smile.