Rook stopped just short of the end of the tunnel, refusing to go up into the temple itself. The Admiral would have asked her to elaborate, but both of them were underwater, so there wasn’t going to be much in the exchange of words. Rook gestured upward with her fin, made a neck-cutting motion, and pointed at her eye.
The Admiral nodded, keeping her helmet squarely on her head with her wing. There wasn’t much air within the bowl, but there was more than enough for her to swim through this small channel. Using her hooves and free wing, she kicked up, rising to the surface with Rook far behind.
The spherical room of treasure captured her imagination: so much gold, jewels, and other precious artifacts she couldn’t even begin to gauge the value of. And, of course, there was the centerpiece. That brilliant silver eye floating in the middle of the air, casting its gaze upon all the precious jewels.
And the massive wyrd dog, though that was currently sleeping like a dragon on its hoard.
Carefully, the Admiral rose from the water, keeping one eye on the silver eye at all times. It either didn’t notice her, or simply didn’t care.
I’ll grab you soon enough, the Admiral thought. But first, the primary obstacle. She lifted her harpoon and aimed right at the wyrd dog’s silver eye. If it was anything like the cats, a devastating blow to the extra organ would take it out. If not? She could always run back into the water. Even if it could swim, that tunnel was a little small for it.
She pulled the trigger with her wing.
The dog’s tail-hand grabbed the harpoon in midair and threw it to the side. All of the creatures’ eyes opened, bringing a guttural growl with them. The dog lashed out with the fire of its hand, the dark heat singing the Admiral’s exposed fur.
In the middle of the attack, the Admiral bolted for the water. She did a backflip into the pool she’d come out of, sinking beneath the waves. The beast’s paws plunged into the ripples after her.
One got her tail.
Oh for the love o—
The dog tore her out of the water, tossing her into a pile of gold coins. She hit hard enough to partially bury herself in the treasure. This did not deter the dog, for it jumped overtop of her, noxious saliva dropping down its face onto her.
“Nice doggy…” the Admiral said, cursing inwardly that she couldn’t load her harpoon while covered in gold. All she could do was lift the weapon to block the incoming attack, skewering the dog’s paw with the gun’s tip.
Like most wyrds, the pain wasn’t much of a deterrent. The flaming hand grabbed the harpoon gun and threw it away, leaving the Admiral defenseless.
So she grabbed a nearby diamond and threw it at the dog’s silver eye. The pointed section of the gem broke the silvery membrane—not enough to do any real damage, but enough to get the dog’s attention. In a half-panic, it lifted its front paws to its eye, assessing the damage.
Enough of an intelligence to feel threatened. What is it about this island? She glanced at the floating silver eye. What do you do?
Pushing the thoughts aside, she ran for the watery escape again, leaving her harpoon gun behind. She may have been plucky and clever, but this was an unknown wyrd she didn’t have the firepower to gun down directly.
She didn’t make it to the pool, but she didn’t need to. The wyrd pegasus dropped from a hole in the ceiling, landing on the back of the dog’s neck and driving its pointed wings into the dog’s rotting flesh.
The Admiral smirked. Thanks, whoever you are.
The pegasus whirled out of the way of the dog’s hand, not caring in the slightest about the fire’s heat. It sunk its wings into every point on the dog’s body it could reach—but it notably couldn’t reach the silver eye. The dog was protecting it religiously, while occasionally swiping out in an attempt to hit the pegasus’ eye.
The Admiral snuck over to her harpoon gun and picked it up. She loaded it once again, pointing the harpoon right at the dog’s eye. It was certainly a massive target, but the haphazard motion of the wyrd battle kept it from being an easy one. The Admiral closed one of her eyes, lined up the shot, and waited for the perfect moment.
The pegasus tossed the dog to the ground, exposing its eye. The pegasus would not be able to capitalize on the weakness, but the Admiral would.
She pulled the trigger…
Sparkler, Granite, and Lob fell out of the same hole the pegasus had come out of. They didn’t land on the Admiral, but their sudden appearance threw her aim off. She hit one of the dog’s normal eyes rather than the silver one.
“Admiral!?” Granite shouted.
“Shoot the dog’s eye!” the Admiral hissed, having shot both her harpoons.
Granite and Lob raised their guns and launched their spikes. The dog was already up, however, and took the shots in the chest rather than the eye. With a roar, it charged them.
Sparkler picked up a massive platinum scepter in her hair and smacked the dog across the face with it. “Back off, ya smarmy mutt!”
“Smarmy?” Granite raised an eyebrow.
“Pretty sure the word doesn’t apply here,” the Admiral added.
Sparkler cracked the dog’s skull. “Ain’t my problem!”
The dog opened its mouth wide, revealing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. Several of these teeth popped out like bullets, flying at the ponies. The Admiral was able to duck out of the way while Sparkler created a makeshift shield out of her locks. Granite’s armor protected him, but one of the teeth broke through a weak spot in Lob’s leg, knocking him down.
The pegasus apparently knew about this toothy attack, for it capitalized on it the very instant the dog started using it. It skewered the underside of the dog’s jaw, poking a bony wingtip through the beast’s tongue. Swinging around, the pegasus punched a wing through the top of the jaw as well, piercing the bone under the creature’s long muzzle.
The wings had missed puncturing the eye, but the Admiral suspected the pegasus hadn’t been trying to puncture the eye, anymore. It was trying to limit the dog’s movement… so the ponies could shoot the eye.
The Admiral rolled to the side, picking up Lob’s harpoon gun. It still had a second bolt strapped to it, lucky for her. While she reloaded, Sparkler assisted the pegasus wyrd by wrapping her hair around the dog’s mouth.
The dog, in turn, lifted its tail and unleashed a burst of fire. Sparkler was forced to release, but the pegasus held strong, keeping the head still.
The Admiral shot through the noxious smoke. Her harpoon flew true, spearing the dog directly in the silver eye. A flood of shimmering goop rushed out of its body, covering the treasure of the room.
The pegasus removed itself from the writhing body and sat on the gold, paying the living ponies no mind at all as it watched its ancient enemy suffer.
Several cats poured in at this point, ready to serve their dog. They stopped short, however, when they saw their master’s dead carcass on the treasure. Every last one of them looked up at the silver eye expectantly.
The artifact flashed. Every wyrd with a silver eye—dead or alive—was petrified into what appeared to be solid silver. Every last one became motionless and harmless.
Sparkler gasped. “My magic! It… it works again!”
“What was that?” Granite asked as he tended to Lob’s leg. “Seriously, what?!”
The Admiral looked at the floating eye. “...This thing. It’s done something to the wyrd.” She glanced at the dog and the pegasus. “It… did this, somehow. And now it’s done.”
A sinking feeling came over the Admiral, a sensation soon compounded by a feeling not unlike starting an elevator ride down.
“Grab the eye and get us out of here!” The Admiral shouted.
“The exit is up there!” Granite said while Sparkler grabbed the eye with her hair.
“Put on your helmets, we’re leaving this way,” the Admiral pointed at the pool of water. “Rook’s waiting for us.” She grabbed Lob, made sure his helmet was secure, and dove into the tunnel.
Rook was more than a little surprised to see her carrying Lob through the tunnel, but the seapony had enough awareness about her to know they had to move fast. She helped the Admiral move Lob along, giving them enough speed to keep ahead of Granite and Sparkler.
The temple wasn’t falling apart and they were not being pursued—but they were falling. And the further they fell, the less chance the Admiral would have to get the air she needed. The others had full suits available, all she had was a helmet. If they sunk so far the pressure became too much…
There was a thunderous rumble. No doubt the island had just hit the surface of the ocean. It would take some time for it to completely submerge, but there wasn’t much they could do to go any faster. It was just the five of them, swimming through an aquatic tunnel. The rumbling continued, but the Admiral heard no one. There was only the water pushing across her fur as she moved.
Just as she started to feel the weight of the water increase, they popped out of the tunnel into the lake. The Admiral looked up, relieved that she could see light coming from above. All she had to do was swim to the surface and breathe.
If only she hadn’t been exerting herself so much over the last few minutes, this would have been easy. As it was, there wasn’t as much air in her helmet as there should have been and she was using up what was there absurdly fast. She dropped Lob, trusting Sparkler to take care of him. Should have passed him off long ago…
With both of her wings, she surged upward like a furry torpedo, focusing on nothing but the light above her. She ignored the fact that her visor was fogging up something fierce and that she was starting to feel like her deep breaths weren’t restoring any of her energy. How much of that was psychological? What point did she need to force herself to stop taking in air to combat hyperventilation?
She wasn’t sure. Whenever she was in tense situations like this, she either had some way to read her oxygen levels, or she had no oxygen to speak of and just held her breath. In many ways, this may have been worse: how could she tell if she was exerting more energy attempting to breathe than she was getting back?
When her vision started to go fuzzy, she forced herself to take one more breath and hold it. She knew it was too late at this point: there was hardly any oxygen content left in the sweaty air. She closed her eyes, focusing on flapping her wings.
Flap.
Flap.
Flap.
She was flying…
Something hit her from behind, hard. The shock made her exhale and open her eyes, just in time to see the sun as she was thrown out of the ocean. She popped her helmet off and took in a breath of air before she hit the surface with an impressive splash.
Just below the water was the Hex, piloted by Wiffle… and led by Rook. Rook gave the Admiral a salute paired with a cheesy smile.
The Admiral would have laughed if she didn’t feel the pressing need to get more oxygen into her lungs. She poked her head above the waves and gasped several times before calming down.
“I really, really should have kept the full suit,” the Admiral muttered.
“That would probably have been a good idea,” Sparkler admitted, rising to the surface. She opened up the folds of her hair, revealing several precious gems, coins, and the silver eye. “What are we going to do with this thing?”
The eye reacted now that it could see the outside world again, pointing itself right at Rook. The seapony panicked, ducking away, but Sparkler sealed it within her hair before it could do anything.
“Keep it away from Rook,” the Admiral ordered. “It does things to wyrds. Other than that… I think this is the little toy we can give Silver when we get back. Something truly unique, he wanted.”
“If you think it’ll work…”
The Hex surfaced completely. Wiffle popped the hatch and called out excitedly. “Guys! I’ve got the Algol on the radio! They’re coming to get us!”
Sparkler sent out a pulse of her spell. “...And they’re a lot closer than any deepfish. We’re going to get out of this!”
Rook pointed at the Admiral and then to the south.
The Admiral nodded. “Yes, don’t worry, we’re going to finish your quest. I can’t imagine there’s much more between us and the goal, right?”
Rook shook her head—but after deliberating with herself for a moment that involved a glare aimed at seemingly nothing, she shrugged.
“...Then we can hope there won’t be any more interruptions.”
~~~
High Academe Iota of Sanctaphrax raised the part of her head where her eyebrow should have been, scowl deepening. “Leyline. You are wasting my time.”
Dean Leyline of the largely defunct School of Magic slammed his hooves on Iota’s desk. “I am not long for this world, High Academe! I need an apprentice, and I need one soon, or else the art of spellcraft will be lost forever!”
Iota glanced at the crystals Leyline wore around his neck. “Surely, if they had your artifacts and your books, they could learn. You have my word: the next unicorn with an adaptable talent will be given your resources.”
“Your word…” Leyline let out a bitter snort. “We all know how good your word is.”
“I say what I mean.”
“You change your opinion when convenient. Bah.” Leyline put a hoof to his horn, rubbing it to soothe the soreness. “There is more to magic than books and studying. Some of it must be taught. Experienced. I am the last wizard. I need an apprentice.”
“Magic is dying. You should be thankful your art lasted this long.”
“You have heard of the relic mare.”
Iota nodded. “Twilight Sparkle. I am aware of the rumors. I believe them. They are reasonable. If the more foggy details are to be believed, she has already received formal training in the art. More so than you ever will.” Iota leaned in. “You can teach her nothing.”
“I am…”
“...not the last wizard.” Iota pressed her hooves together. “There is no further need for us to put funding into your desperation.”
Leyline took a few steps back. “You just want to get rid of me.”
Iota said nothing.
“Wait for the old stallion to croak, is that it? Get rid of the last vestiges of proper magic in this world? I won’t have it! I…” He coughed hard enough to fall to his knees. “I’ll…” A clouded look came over his eyes. “...What am I doing here?”
“The usual,” Iota deadpanned. “You had just been dismissed.”
“I… right… right…” Leyline hobbled over to the elevator, leaving the High Academe’s presence. As he descended, he felt a surge of anger. Why was he so angry? It was unbecoming of a Grandmage to have such outward emotions. As his master and his master’s master, he needed to keep composure. Always.
He pulled a small locket out of the folds in his robe, holding a picture of a massive white mare with a solar eclipse cutie mark. The High Academe of Sanctaphrax while he had been a student here… back then, magic was respected. The hoof-full of students who studied the art were of the elite. She was given the position as the Dean of Magic.
Now, here he was, all that was left. The only remnant of her teaching. A failure who couldn’t keep the flame burning.
He exited Iota’s Engineering tower on a middle level, trotting haphazardly through the tunnels. He was not conscious of where he was going, but that was normal. Invariably, he would always end up in the Tower of Magic.
Or, the Tower of History and Magic, these days. The small schools had been folded together with continual cuts. Strange, how Sanctaphrax grew in profits, schools still had to be downsized so much. He knew it was all about the money, now.
What he wouldn’t give to be there when Sanctaphrax was new and founded purely on the ideas of learning. Just a few towers with ponies obsessed with the knowledge of the past and future.
Who could remember that, aside from himself?
With a sigh, he entered his School.
Meteor was there, talking with a brown earth pony Leyline had never seen before.
“And then we’ll need to ship the explosive components carefully,” Meteor was saying. “And we’ll need t—oh! Leyline! How’s life treating you?”
“...I remember the old days…” Leyline said, wistfully.
“Times change,” Meteor said. “As our mutual friend the Admiral is always saying, we have to look to the future, not the past.”
“...Mhm…”
“Do you need anything?”
“No, thank you.” Head hung low, Leyline shambled into his office. It took him a few seconds to realize there was a pony sitting in his seat. “...Who…?”
“Dean Vespid. You know. Medicine?” The yellow pegasus raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t exactly had this position for too long, but it’s been years.”
“Ah. Yes, yes, I remember now.” He couldn’t. “What can I do for you, Dean Vessel?”
Vespid twitched. “I have confirmed through rigorous testing and use of your prescribed methods that wyrdness is, most assuredly, a magical process. Using samples from ‘Rook’ and the captives in my terrarium, I was able to extrapolate a difference in progression.”
“We already knew it was a curse,” Leyline muttered. “Told you that years ago.”
“Yes, but this is quantifiable and is able to rule out a biological pathogen. I’ve introduced the two samples to each other; they are identical. The mutated cell structure is the same in ‘Rook’ as a full wyrd, there’s no biological reason it shouldn’t have completely converted her. In fact, from the cellular level, as far as I’m concerned she is completely converted. Something else must be driving the transformation since the cytoplasmic ret—” She shook her head. “Never mind, not important. What’s important is that I need your help finding out the exact mechanism behind this curse. The effect is largely biological, but the source…”
“Send me your observations,” Leyline said. “I will perform an analysis therein. Though if my current theories are correct, it will be affixed to the life-force itself.”
“...What?”
Leyline smirked. “For a pony of medicine, you lack knowledge in critical areas…”