//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: The Forgotten Idols // Story: Daring Do and the Iron Pyramid // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// The light from the torch was bright, but insufficient. It flickered and danced quietly over the walls of the ancient pyramid. Its ancient silence was broken only by the sound of Daring Do’s hoofs tapping on the dusty metal floor, the crackle of the flame, and the dull hiss of Wun’s wisp-lights. What struck her was the profound silence outside of that. It seemed that the moment they lost sight of daylight within the darkness, all sound had been cut away. Everything from the outside had vanished, trapping them in a world that had existed for millennia without the slightest light or sound. Perhaps it was meant to be peaceful. Perhaps not. “We’re the first ponies to be here in thousands of years.” A tingle moved through her body, from her hooves to her wings. A strange, powerful feeling that she had never felt before. Like the sense of exploration that had first given her her compass cutie mark, but infinitely more poignant. This was not a matter of sailing ships into uncharted ocean or riding through ancient jungles and mountains, not a matter of simple exploration. This was different. It was not a matter of space, but of the dark profundity of time. “Yes,” said Caballeron, himself clearly feeling the same sensation. “Although much can happen in five thousand years.” Daring Do put her hoof on the wall. It, like the outside, was made of perfect and unrusted iron—except it was the wrong color. Not like normal iron. So much darker, like wrought iron, but smooth like steel. “The entire pyramid is made of this,” she said, looking down the long hall. It struck her as odd. Not a simple tunnel, but not something built to be ornate. It looked almost industrial. “That just doesn’t make sense...how could somepony in ancient times even have come close to this?” “Our geological surveys of the soil found traces of iron oxide,” suggested Caballeron. “Hence the red color, I’m told. But the soil here contains no iron ore.” “Even if it did...even by the time of Hissan IV, at the start of the Unification Period, the north barely had the ability to forge iron, let alone southern Equestria. I mean, in King Horseuncommon’s tomb, his most prized possession was an ancient Assyrian dagger made of meteoric iron. That was the only source they had, and that was all of it. That one dagger.” “I own that dagger,” noted Wun. “It is...primitive. But significant. I like it.” “And this pyramid was already ancient by then,” said Daring Do, quietly, her voice constrained by the fact that the iron walls did not echo. “It may represent a lost lineage of metallurgy,” suggested Caballeron. “No other examples of the material are known to exist.” “Their swords,” said Daring Do. “I think they’re made of the same thing.” Caballeron sighed. “So thestrals made it, then?” “No. The swords are old. Wun, did you notice the symbols?” “Runic,” she said, “but not ones that I know.” “Not just that. Imagine if you cut one of those swords to pieces. Those markings, the shape of the blades? Look familiar?” “Daring. I do have time for riddles, but you should not waste your tiny lifespan on them.” “The Black Gem in the Kritponios Crown?” Wun’s eyes widened, and Caballeron gasped. “You’ve seen the Kritponios? You’ve actually had a chance to study it? The gemstones inside—if I had even a single chance--” “It is in our museum,” said Wun. “Wh—what?!” “And nopony could ever figure out what the Black Gem was.” “It is the most valuable piece.” “And the only part not cut like a gemstone. Because nopony could cut it. I think it’s metal. Made of this stuff.” Daring tapped on the wall. Wun looked up at her surroundings, realizing that she was standing in a cathedral of what very well might have been one of the rarest substances in the world. “If that is true, it is the same substance as in the Sombrix fragmentary armor. But this much...” “There is no way the ancients could have achieved it.” “We could not even do it in modern times. Our steel-body ships are still only prototypes, and this is so much larger than even our flagship...” “Do you notice anything else?” said Caballeron, smiling weakly. “Yeah.” Daring Do pointed to the walls. “No rivets. No signs of welds. No tool marks. As if it was forged in one piece. Except Celestia herself and every unicorn in her stallion pile couldn’t move something this big this far. Not with every Pegasus and every earth pony pulling alongside them.” “Yes. What you have proposed is indeed impossible.” Daring frowned. “Really? Then what’s your theory, mister archaeologist?” Caballeron smiled wrly. This time it looked sincere. “I only said it is impossible. Not that you are wrong, my dear.” Wun pushed past him, nearly pushing him over in the process. “Stop flirting with my baby sister or I will remove your wings and or horn.” Caballeron frowned. “I have neither of those things.” “Really. Then I suppose I will have to find something else to remove. Although you would probably use your rippling earth pony strength to overpower me and pin me down, tearing my ridiculously expensive clothing inside this obscenely valuable and fascinating tomb that I now own.” Daring groaned, but Caballeron just looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “That—that would be horribly inappropriate--” Wun leaned close to him and smiled. “These walls are acoustically soundproof. No one will hear the screaming.” Caballeron cleared his throat and trotted forward. “That said, yes, let us continue. This is likely part of the antechamber system still, I’m sure the tomb is farther in.” “But wait, the traps!” For some reason, that caused Caballeron to trot even faster. “I said WAIT! Old tombs always have traps! It’s a thing! A THING!” “That is completely absurd!” cried Caballeron, turning his head to look behind him so he could yell at Daring Do. “I assure you, I have attended hundreds of projects, and not ONCE has there been traps in--” In that instant, not watching where he was going, he fell through a large hole. “No!” Daring Do leapt forward, intending to grab him. As he fell, she did to, spreading her wings and flying blindly into the hole. Almost immediately, she struck the wall of it at a sudden turn, feeling something in her shoulder pop and feeling the wind knocked out of her. The light of Caballeron’s torch began to fade, but she pumped her wings through the pain to catch up to him. Half falling and half flying, she descended, feeling the stale air of the ancient tomb rushing past her as she fell. In the distance, she could hear his screams of surprise and terror as he fell into the blackness. The sounds returned to her in a way that was oddly distorted, as if the iron walls had contaminated them with aspects of silence and rendered them disturbingly inequine. She began to panic. There was no way to know how deep the hole went, and no way for her to know where the bottom was—or how much time she had. It was far enough that he would be badly hurt or worse if he did not grab onto something, and yet her instinct when faced with darkness was to hold back and hover, to avoid slamming herself at full speed into the dark floor and meeting the same fate. Yet she resisted, reaching out into darkness until suddenly she felt something in her hooves. She spread her wings at the last second, feeling the ligaments straining as she decelerated. With Caballeron’s additional weight, she could barely support them both—and before she had even stopped her hooves met sand and, below it, cold metal. Caballeron, breathing hard, held onto her for dear life. Daring Do, though, retracted her wings, now finding herself on solid ground. “You know, you can let go eventually.” “Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Caballeron separated from her, and Daring Do’s eyes began to adjust. There was almost no light except from the torch that Caballeron had dropped, although it had been nearly extinguished and was now little more than glowing embers. Beside her, Wun suddenly dropped, her body surrounded by a puff of magic as she landed effortlessly on the ground. Her wisps followed her, bringing dim blue light to the room. Daring Do shuddered when she saw her surroundings. The metal ground was coated with small dunes of sand, and within them something dry and white. “It seems we were not the first ones here after all,” said Caballeron. “Like I said. TRAPS.” Daring Do stepped over the piles of sand and remnants of fabric that had gathered at the base of the hole, walking over metal toward where the torch had fallen. It had managed to fall a substantial distance from where they had landed, having bounced off several jutting bits of metal that Daring had somehow miraculously managed to miss. She picked it up in her hooves and blew on it softly, not enough to put it out but enough to try to reignite it. Unfortunately, it was already on the verge of going out. That was when she heard something moving in the darkness beyond where her sister’s light reached. Something moving against the ground, through the sand and debris. Daring’s heart quickened, and she blew on the torch faster, trying to get it to ignite. Then she heard the hissing. So did Caballeron. A quiet voice slowly came from the darkness. “Please…help...” Daring looked up, her whole body shaking. “What?” “Please...no...” “Daring!” cried Caballeron, running to her. “Get back, get out of there!” Daring could not, though. Her body had frozen. She suddenly realized how dark it was, how deep she was, how far she was from the camp outside. She did not know how to get back. She could not remember. Her mind had shut down. Then they came, slithering out of the darkness, lunging toward her—and all she could do was stand there, closing her eyes and screaming like a filly. Caballeron lunged, pushing his body against the snake and driving it back. The others charged him, but he struck at them, forcing them back. Then he took the torch, waving the still-burning end at the horde of serpents. Through its light, Daring Do could see them. There were so many, and they were strange. Large, primitive—and some had legs. “Get back! Get away from her! Get back or I will stomp you all!” He stamped his feet and charged the snakes, causing them to recoil. “Please no!” screamed one of the snakes. “Please no step! NO STEP!” cried another, and a chorus of pleas came resounding from the mass of reptiles as they fled from Caballeron’s wrath. Daring, now on the cold ground and quivering, heard them and watched them go—until a hoof was extended to her. “Are you hurt? Did they bite you?” “Snakes...why did it have to be snakes...” “It’s okay now. Can you stand?” Daring Do took a breath. “Yeah. I think so.” She stood up, taking Caballeron’s hoof. “Biblical snakes,” explains Caballeron. “Very venomous. Very talkative. Don’t eat anything they offer.” He grimaced. "That's what eventually did in Malus Honestia, if you're intent on knowing." “I don’t think that will be a problem for me.” Daring wavered on her legs and nearly collapsed. Caballeron caught her. “You find snakes a problem?” “I hate them,” said Daring, shuddering. “So...snakey...” “Ahem.” Daring and Caballeron turned to Wun. Daring almost fainted upon finding that the snakes had coiled around her sister’s body like perverse necklaces, bracelets, and corsets. “Please no step!” “I make a flat! So scary!” “Boop the snoot?” Caballeron stared in bewilderment. “Why are they not biting you?” “The same reason sharks don’t eat lawyers,” muttered Daring Do. “Yes,” said Wun. “Also, I am quite familiar with them. In Singapone, we call them ‘danger noodles’.” “No we don’t,” snapped Daring Do. “Put them down!” “But they are trying to constrict me. Look.” She took a step forward. “Put them down or I’ll constrict your neck! GAH!” Daring recoiled, hiding behind Caballeron. “I hate snakes!” “Fine.” Wun spoke to the snakes, and they departed from her, retreating to the dark shadows of the tomb. Caballeron reignited the torch, adding more fuel oil to its cloth. “The level we were at before...it was at ground level.” “So how deep are we now?” asked Daring Do. “I don’t know.” “This pyramid has roots, then,” said Wun. “How intriguing.” “It was probably built on an underground complex. Perhaps a more ancient temple. We have no way to know how big it is. We need to turn back. This is ludicrous, this needs to be done systematically--” “You are welcome to leave if you wish.” Caballeron looked up the drop he had come down and his expression fell. He turned to Daring. “Can you fly us?” “Maybe. I don’t think so. You’re heavier than you look.” Daring paused. “But I know the path back. I can get the griffons to haul you out, and we can set up ropes.” “And that would leave you alone with me,” said Wun. “You can levitate,” said Daring. “That would leave me alone!” cried Caballeron. “Nor can I levitate myself that far without something to stand on,” added Wun, stepping into the darkness as snakes recoiled from her presence out of respect. “Nor do I wish to. Daring, based on the structure of this building, what do you suggest it is?” Daring paused. “Pyramids were always tombs. But if it was built on top of something, it might be a temple.” Wun smiled. “Meaning?” Caballeron inhaled sharply. “Meaning burial chambers...or religious artifacts...” “Or both.” She smiled. “You. I recognize something within you that I like. Perhaps we could pass a bit farther? I know I will not sleep until I have laid eyes on at least one golden idol or bejeweled sarcophagus.” “Perhaps I have misjudged you as well,” said Caballeron. “BUT. It is important that we proceed with care.” He looked at Daring Do, and she frowned. “You were the one who fell down a hole.” They crossed the expanse, a room so large that Daring Do could not see the edges or top of it, even in Wun’s wisp-light. What purpose this room had once served fully eluded her, and somehow she found herself increasingly desperate for the tight, dark hallways again. Those at least seemed reasonable, and natural—this, though, did not. A wrongness of construction that Daring sensed but did not wish to address. Not until lights were strung about the iron ceiling and walls and archaeologists were at work in every corner. Not until sanity was brought to this dark and silent place. They came to a door. A large one, far greater in size than for a pony. It was already open. In fact, Daring Do could not conceive the mechanism of the door. Like the one entering the temple, it did not swing inward or outward. It simply seemed to retract by an impossible mechanism back into the iron walls. This room was narrower, with a lower ceiling. As soon as they entered, Wun stopped, her brow furrowing. Daring Do knew that the reason Wun’s lights were dim was because, as a unicorn, her vision was well adapted for night. So that her ancestors could more readily find prey. Then her lights moved as she dispersed them throughout the room, causing the three of them to rise to the ceiling and brighten substantially. Suddenly the room was flooded with crisp, frigid light. Daring winced from the glow, but when she saw what Wun had already sensed, she felt jealous of the fact that unicorns did not feel emotion—because the sight was horrifying. The room contains a number of tables, or high benches. Higher than a pony would stand at, and forged from metal, as if from one piece emerging from the ground. They were arranged evenly, their bases connected by thin troughs through the metal floor that had long-since filled with dust and other dark fouling. It was what sat on each of the tables, though, that made Daring Do nauseous. “Bones,” said Caballeron. “What is this?” “That is a question for an archaeologist, I think.” Wun stepped slowly into the room, and Daring Do followed, unable to stop herself. The curiosity was simply too strong. She had seen skeletons before. Every pony had one, as did every other equine bovine or cervid short of changelings. Her and Wun’s father, as a long-time student of natural history, had entire rooms filled with them, preserved and articulated in various poses, often with their epitaphs written below. Daring Do, as a child, had spent hours staring in amazement at those bones. One of them had been the first Pegasus she had ever seen apart from herself. These, though, were different. Even at a glance, they were wrong. Unbelievably so. All showed massive deformities of every imaginable sort: of skulls overgrown with eye sockets, or multiple skulls fused to bodies consisting little more than as a jumble of bones and ragged cloth. Of limbs sprouting from places they should not, or spines extending outward into vast tails. Spikes, crooked wings, dried keratinous hooks, horns of every shape and fashion, all on display. In bodies wrapped in cloth, and held to their tables by chains. Daring felt sick, and looked to the ground, only to realize that it was heavily slanted. “Hey,” she said. “Why does the floor slant toward...those...drains.” She shuddered violently, having answered her own question. Caballeron held his torch over one of the skeletons, its legs contorted and extended into vast claws and the rear of its body reverted to little more than an extensive vertebral tail that overhung to the floor and extended a substantial distance. “Considering the...the wrappings? This appears to be a mummification chamber.” “Mummification?! What in the name of Celestia’s RUMP where they mummifying? What are these?” “I...I don’t know.” Caballeron, clearly distressed, began to rationalize. “It...it might be possible that these were meant as...well, to put it crassly, a form of taxidermy.” “These were ponies!” Caballeron looked up, his pale eyes wide. “No, Daring. I highly doubt they were.” “They are in very poor condition,” said Wun, examining one of them. “The process does not seem to have been completed. Which does beg the question, why did they stop?” Neither Daring Do not Caballeron had an answer. Instead, Daring Do’s eyes were draw to the edge of the room. The wall was not flush, but instead separated into a number of cylindrical chambers. Things with glass or crystal covers revealing what seemed to be dust and bone fragments and metal within, all suspended in black liquid. Objects that looked curiously like tanks. Daring Do approached one. Some of them were apparently occupied with their original contents, but others had split open, separated by an unseen mechanical mechanism. “I wonder what these were,” she said, brushing her hoof through the dust at the base of one—and seeing a distinct, familiar signal at the base. “Hey,” she said. “I think I found something!” “Hopefully something valuable,” sighed Wun, her wisp-lights drifting to Daring Do’s location to better illuminate it. Caballeron and Wun huddled around the area where Daring Do was pointing. ` “What is it?” “Inscriptions. Notice anything familiar?” She looked to Caballeron, who raised one busy eyebrow. “No,” he said. “I do not follow.” “Look at the homologous structure of the central seal. Aren’t you supposed to be an expert in Unicornic Seals?” Caballeron snorted. “Unicornic? As precocious your skill is, my dear, and do not mistake that I am indeed impressed, you are reaching, and badly. There were no unicorns in southern Equestria until the arrival of Starswirl the Bearded in ancient times.” “I know,” snapped Daring, “Starswirl the Bearded and Stygian the Unicorn, I’ve read it--” “Clearly not. There are no records of Starswirl ever associating with anypony named ‘Stygian’, and I highly doubt a pony associated with Starswirl could be incredibly unimportant as to be ignored by history.” “I’ve read the accounts.” “Yes, the Trousers Aflame translation. Hardly a reliable source.” “No. The Malus Honestia version, in the original language, so I know I’m right!” “There’s no way you could speak that language, you lying--” “There is a reason I never wasted time in college,” said Wun. “Academic debates bore me. Even when they invariably come to blows and mane pulling. “Daring. Are you absolutely sure this mark is one of a unicorn?” “Well...no...” Daring faced the tank again, and could have sworn she saw something move inside it. She did her best to focus on the inscription. “The main body of the text is in...something. It looks like thestral, but it isn’t. I’ve never seen it before.” “And you, the other one?” Caballeron took a breath, calming himself. “Unicorn seals are a form of calligraphy based on certain spells. Those spells, in turn, are structured based on known natural laws. Rune magic is distinct in that anypony can use it, at least partially, so long as the rune is intact. It is possible whatever race constructed this simply, and by coincidence, accessed the same natural laws that some unicorn spells are derived from.” “That is reasonable.” Daring’s feathers ruffled. “But--” “This is something we can come back to. Remember, Daring, this is a perfunctory review. We do not simply run into a tomb, grab all the artifacts, and leave. Life is long. We have time to wait.” Daring Do grumbled. Caballeron seemed to notice. “It’s not an unreasonable conclusion,” he admitted. “You may turn out to be right in the end. Even if I doubt it. It was...an impressive assessment.” Daring blushed somewhat. She doubted he was trying to sound as patronizing as he was. “Thanks.” “It is simply a matter of refinement. Although you do seem to show a certain spark for the subject, it does take time. And practice.” “And a fancy degree to hang on your wall, I’m sure.” Wun repositioned her lights. “I do appreciate a good mummy, but these are clearly failures. I want something...more.” She started walking. Caballeron fell in step with Daring Do. “Is she always like this?” he asked, quietly. “You have no idea,” said Daring. “She’s just passionate.” “And you aren’t?” “Not really?” “A pity, then.” The room expanded once more, and Daring Do found herself climbing a vast staircase. What room it was built in she could not see, although at its periphery she saw the visages of great shapes, of idols built in the form of some unknown and terrible creature. Perhaps something that no longer walked the land, and had not for a great deal of time. From what little Daring could recognize of them, she perceived them as something like centipedes. At a certain point, Daring took flight, hovering slowly behind her sister and Caballeron. She needed to hear the sound of her wings. There was too much silence in this tomb, too much emptiness—as if no one had even bothered to install proper traps. There was no sense of danger. Only of void and sadness—and yet the air felt electric. This place was tolerating them, but they were not meant to be here. Then the stairs ended, and Daring Do paused, staring at the scene before her. “Hey,” she said, landing softly on the metallic ground. “This iron stuff, you said it was pretty much indestructible, right? That not even dynamite could scratch it?” Caballeron, pale and speechless, nodded. “Then what the heck did this?” The space before them, on its far side, had once terminated in a great door, one of incredible size and complexity. A blast door, even, if the ancients had a concept of such things. What lay before the three ponies now, though, was a shattered wreck of metal. Enormous chunks of iron had been split and torn from the wall and door alike, severing the innards of delicate mechanisms as yards of metal were sliced apart. The wall around it was covered in seemingly hundreds of deep gouges, the metal slashed deeply from every angle. The floor was covered with chunks of metal and the remains of mechanisms, and other things as well. Things that looked too much like the incomplete mummies from the lower level, except that the bone was more organized and the wrappings paired with dark iron armor bolted around them. Whatever they had been, though, they had been torn apart by whatever force had ripped open the door. “This is unfortunate,” sighed Wun. “But not unexpected.” Daring frowned. “Not unexpected? What does that mean?” Wun did not answer, and instead stepped over the remains of armored mummies and door fragments. Daring, instead, turned to Caballeron. “Any thoughts, Mr. archaeologist?” “I’m a linguist. I don’t do this. I sent other ponies to do this kind of thing. We shouldn’t be here.” “Great. Do you have to be so depressing? What do you think the chances even are that whatever did this is still in there?” Caballeron closed his eyes and sighed. “Thank you. I had not been thinking that thought until you said it.” The shattered remains of the door led to a tunnel. Daring noticed just how similar it was to the halls above. Which made no sense, at least consciously. If the pyramid were built on top of an older temple, there was no reason the temple below should match so perfectly. Likewise, she could still not shake the nagging sense caused by the lack of decoration or ornateness. Pure metal, unadorned, with no eye toward aesthetics. Just metal. Like wandering in the underdeck of one of her family’s transport ships, or the few military vessels they were not supposed to own. Worse, she could have sworn that she heard a ship. A distant, low hum, just below her range of hearing. Something that was causing her to increasingly and irrationally grow more and more stressed. Caballeron sensed it too, but Wun did not. Her pace had only quickened, drawing her deeper and deeper into the tomb. “We have to turn back,” said Caballeron, at last. “This is a bad place.” “No,” said Wun. “Not when I’m so close.” “But--” “We have to see,” said Daring. She herself was shaking, but could not stop herself either. She felt the same fear that Caballeron did—but the same drive that forced her sister ever forward. That what they sought was close, that the black flecks in the edge of her vision and the taste of metal in her mouth meant they were near something truly special. Something that had never been seen before, not since the builders of this temple had left it behind. Then the tunnel fanned out, separating into the final chamber. They found themselves standing in a vast, wide room, and Wun immediately fanned her lights, turning them to their maximum brightness. It only seemed to make the shadows grow deeper, although Daring could see what the room contained. The entirety of the floor was carved and adorned with the first decoration Daring Do had seen in the entirety of the tomb—except that she immediately understood that it was not a decoration, but a machine. Not necessarally a mechanical one, but one that was all or partly constructed out of magic. The metal had been warped and cut, engineered precisely to accommodate the concentric circles and spirals of foreign metals in every shade of silver and white, their solidified rivers constructing a spell of incredible complexity at the center sat an altar of sorts, a short cylindrical platform with a small hole in the center. At the far end of the room, in an arc and at the far end of the symbol, sat a number of stone cubes. They were forged from the same stone that made the facade of the pyramid, but manufactured and processed with infinity more complexity. Their perfectly carved surfaces shined black in Wun’s light, revealing systems of incredibly complicated runes carved into their surfaces and gilded with silver and some red metal that had no name. Some of them appeared to be similar to the symbol on the outside of the pyramid, but others were different and appeared to interface to the system of runes that made up the floor. “Look,” said Caballeron, pointing. Daring Do did, and wished she had not. At the two edges of the arc of cubes, there were two circles that formed the periphery of the complex of symbols. In the centers of these lesser alters, two staffs had been inserted. Was scepters, specifically. Their owners sat below them, collapsed heaps of bones dressed in tattered black garments. Skeletons with batlike wings. “So the thestrals did build it,” said Daring. “This is what they were trying to contain.” “These are sealing spells,” said Caballeron, holding his torch to one of the cubes. “I think. They bear no homology to any known unicornic design.” “They are not our concern,” said Wun. Daring and Caballeron turned to see her standing at the center of the largest symbol, where the altar was located. Her green eyes seemed to flash in her own light, and she was smiling. “There are words here. What do they say, my cunning linguist?” Caballeron gulped and approached the center. Daring Do did the same. The central cylinder did indeed sit in the center of a figure. Daring frowned, staring at it. She could barely make sense of the abstractness of it. The main body of it consisted of a triangle, with each point containing a bizarre abstraction or glyph. Around the edge of that, in a set of rings, sat words written in white metal and inscribed in three languages. “I know two of those,” said Daring Do. “The outer one is almost like thestral, but not really. I can’t read it. The one below it is Eastern Unicornic.” “I don’t read that one,” said Caballeron. “I’ve never even seen it.” “Because it is almost never used,” said Wun. “The meaning reflects the context of the reader. It is good for poetry, poor for everything else. Which is why we no longer use it.” “So I take it you read it?” Wun pointed to the first symbol. “The symbol for grain. Then the symbol for spring, and a stream with rapids. Then a symbol that probably meant war. A pleasant poem, I am sure, but the verbs are context-dependent without positional annotations. No doubt the writer was not a native speaker.” “And the inner language...” “Is Arcanic,” said Cablleron. “It is a very ancient root of some unicorn sub-languages relating to magical and esoteric texts.” Daring smiled wryly. “So much for no unicornic influence in southern Equestria.” Caballeron huffed, and turned back to the seal. “It says ‘present the blood of the equal’.” Daring squinted at it. “I don’t think that’s what it says...” “Miss, I am an expert in this line of study. My translations are impeccable. I know what it says.” “But if we consider what the outer ring is saying...I mean, I can’t read all the words, but some of them are close--” “Exactly. You can’t read it. And the Eastern ring is useless. So what we have is my translation, and the instructions for opening the lock.” He pointed at the central triangle. “This is an Equine Trinity, a representation of the three basic pony races. Pegasi, earth pony, and unicorn. Three equals.” “I see,” said Wun. “So the lock demands blood. WE MUST APPEASE IT WITH A SACRIFICE!” She immediately levitated Caballeron into the air, holding him above the center of the lock and summoning a cutting spell and pointing the blade of it at Caballeron’s soft underbelly. “Unhoof me at ONCE!” he cried, his legs flailing in the air. Wun shrugged. “If you insist.” She moved the cutting spell closer to Caballeron’s forearm. “Wun, stop!” Wun’s eyes turned toward Daring Do. “Oh. Yes. I had forgotten. Sacrifices are always virgins, no? Daring, step on the lock so that I can give you the poke.” “We are not having that conversation right now! Put down the archaeologist! Right now!” Wun sighed, and then dropped him. “Always impeding my fun. Why do you have to be so rational?” “It’s not my fault you don’t have empathy.” “No. That is the fault of my superb breeding.” Caballeron stood, dusting himself off. “This is serious business. I do not appreciate you joking around!” “She wasn’t joking,” snapped Daring. “So you had better come up with an idea quick.” Caballeron glared at her. “I do.” He produced a pin. “The lock requires the blood of any three of the primary pony races. Probably so that a threstral cannot open it.” “I can just pull out a feather,” said Daring. “No. It has to be pure blood. Yours will not work. I, however, am a pure-blooded earth pony. My parents were earth ponies, and their parents, and so on, all the way back until the inception of ponies.” He poked himself with the pin, wincing slightly. He then held it out over the center of the lock. “This should be all that we need.” He started to shake the needle, and Daring Do looked down at the lock and at the symbols. Something was still not right. Then, suddenly, she realized it. She cried out, lunging forward and slamming Caballeron off the altar and to the ground. The single drop of blood landed just next to the hole. “What are you doing?! Are you insane, get off me!” “It’s not an Equine Trinity! It’s a Magical Quadrangle!” “Get off!” Caballeron shoved Daring Do off him and stood up. “No it isn’t! Quadrangle is ‘quad’, it means FOUR!” He started to walk to the altar, but Daring cut him off. “No, the modern quadrangle has four! One point for eastern unicorns, one for western ones, one for alicorns and one for the metaphysical unicorn! This pyramid is pre-Celestine, there were no alicorns yet! It was still a triangle! The Archaic Trigon!” “That’s absurd, the instructional text--” “That’s not the word for ‘equals’! It’s a generalization! It also means ‘enemy’!” Caballeron’s eyes widened, realizing that she was right. “That’s what it says in thestral on the top, but I didn’t get it at first because the language is different—but it lines up with the symbol for ‘war’ in Eastern Unicornic. The pieces fit together. It’s not asking for your blood, it wants a unicorn’s!” “But that makes no sense, why would it be built like that?” “I have no idea. Maybe because we’re standing on a giant unicorn rune assembly?” Daring looked back to Wun. “The word lines up over the top of the triangle, the metaphysical unicorn. A representation of perfection. Meaning only a mortal unicorn can open it.” “A mortal pureblood. Which I am.” Caballeron slowly looked down at the symbol on the floor. He shuddered. “I don’t know if that’s right. There has never been any representation of the quadrangle without Celestia--” “Not just Celestia,” said Wun, stepping up to the altar. “There are actually two alicorns.” “Two?” “The field marshal of the Equestrian military, Equine Annihilation. She is also an alicorn, although she hides her wings. She raises the moon.” Wun shivered. “Pray you never meet her. She is...unpleasant.” Wun shifted her mouth, biting her tongue with her sharp teeth. Then she leaned forward and spat a thin ball of a substance distinctly similar in appearance to mercury into the lock hole. The lock responded instantly, the central column retracting into the floor as its metal pieces shifted, rotating around themselves and forming a new conformation, their pale metal aspects glowing in response to the accepted sacrifice. New symbols moved into place in front of each cube, and cylinders extended from the floor Then the mechanisms on each of the cubes suddenly activated, spinning and unscrewing as the internal interlocks clunked open. Then, starting from the edges and moving inward, each of the cubes split down its center and was pulled apart down an unseen seam. And, as they sequentially separated, their contents fell to the floor in heaps. Bones, metal, dust and rusted, segmented tubes. All clattering to the floor at once, so quiet and yet so loud in the perfect silence. Until the sequence came to the last one. When the stone cube split and slid apart, the contents did not fall. Supported by the rack inside stood something that Daring Do had wished she had not seen, but could not look away from. The skeleton remains standing. It was equine, but substantially larger than a normal pony: both broader and taller—and the bones were not white. Instead, they seemed to be blackened, dripping with a dark, viscous substance. Various parts of it connected to segmented cables that led through ports assembled around it, although what purpose they served or had served remains a mystery. What Daring Do noticed the most, though, was the iron mask it wore. A mask formed into the unmistakable visage of a sha. She looked at the others. Although they were dry and collapsed, they bore the same style of masks. All were rusted and crumbling, but in the shapes of different animals. A cat, a jackal, an alligator, and others. Daring turned back to the one that remained standing. “Why is this one...gooey?” “Bitumen,” said Caballeron, forcing back his bile. “It was used in ancient times to prepare mummies.” “It doesn’t smell like bitumen.” Daring Do approached the skeleton, as did Caballeron. “It may represent a very early stage of mummification. This pyramid predates any known mummy yet discovered. This could very well have been an...an early attempt, so to speak.” He leaned closer, holding his breath. It did not smell bad, exactly, but smelled strongly of something. Something unnatural and disturbing. “Ah,” he said. “This may be an explanation.” He pulled back. “I highly doubt this was, in fact, ever a pony. The bones, see? They are made of metal.” Daring Do looked closely. Although they were covered in dripping black material, they were, indeed, slightly metallic. “So what?” “So, these are likely idols of some sort.” Caballeron approached one of the drier, collapsed ones and inspected it. “Yes. As you can clearly see, the masks are bolted directly to the cervical vertebrae. These were assuredly statues.” “Statues of what?” Caballeron shrugged. “Pagan gods, I suppose. Before real gods manifested. This is something well documented. Look at the masks. They represent the ancient false-gods of southern Equestria.” Daring Do knew that, logically, he was right. Something in her gut told her otherwise, though. Ignoring it, she produced a small sample container from a pocket and took some of the black substance from the mummy. She had no idea how to test for bitumen, but she figured there had to be some way. As Daring Do and Caballeron examined the skeleton, Wun instead approached the cylindrical object that had appeared in front of it. While the others were looking away, she cast a spell, forming a system of concentric rings made out of the symbols that Daring Do could almost read. She pressed them into the primary interface port at the base of the column and began to rotate them, silently imputing the necessary access codes. The podium acccepted them. It suddenly hissed, causing Daring Do and Caballeron to jump in surprise. They turned as the cylinder separated and partially retracted, revealing the mechanism contained within. Daring gasped when she saw it, in part because of how beautiful it was—and because of the deep and terrible dread looking upon it made her feel. The mechanism was complicated, a system of tubes and wires and strangely wrought metal. She did not understand it—but what she saw at its very center was a disturbing gemstone, a slightly elongated and perfect octahedron held in by a system of complicated clasps and clamps. It was a terrible blue-green color, and seemed to flicker and shine with internal energy without ever moving. Caballeron’s eyes widened as he stepped forward, but Daring Do could not bring herself to approach the thing. Wun, though, was smiling over it. In its glow, she barely looked like a pony. “Wun...what is that?” “This is what we came for,” she said, her eyes flitting upward toward Daring Do. “That’s impossible,” whispered Caballeron. He had started to shake. “Wun,” said Daring Do, more firmly. “What is that?” “A very large gemstone,” she said, “made of a very special substance.” “Revenite,” whispered Caballeron. Wun’s smile grew. “Yes. Only seventeen pieces were known to exist historically. Eight known pieces survive to this day, the largest at approximately three carats. I own six of them. In addition to eleven very special pieces that are not currently known. Including this.” She produced her necklace. The gemstone in it, Daring Do realized, was the exact color as the one before her. Except it was smaller than the octahedron by far. It had quite clearly been cut, and in an especially peculiar way. “What does it do?” “Do?” Wun’s head tilted slightly. “Daring, it does not ‘do’ anything. It is simply a very valuable gemstone, nothing more.” “It is quite literally priceless,” said Caballeron. “Nothing is priceless. But a single fragment can sell for...well, more money than most cities worth of ponies would see in fifty of their tiny lifetimes.” “But it’s just a gem.” “A gem of unique rarity.” Wun stared at her prize. “We have no idea what it is made of. In fact, our tests seem to indicate that it is made of nothing at all.” “That makes no sense.” “Why not? It simply means that the stone is metaphysical in nature. Not made of matter, or energy, but something else that is neither. Something that cannot be harnessed, produced, or manufactured anywhere in Equestria.” Her eyes turned to the other podiums. Daring Do followed her gaze, and she realized that all of them had been badly damaged. Torn apart, and ripped to pieces. Their central clasps stood empty. This column was the only one with its gem still present. “I have reason to believe that all pieces originated here. They were looted in antiquity, cut, and their fragments sold as the jewelry among kings and gods alike.” “Kings driven insane by them.” Wun smiled. “I am a Perr-Synt. We are remarkably resilient. Is that not correct, Daring?” Daring did not respond. She could not look away from the gem. “That piece,” said Caballeron, looking up. “Its value could fund the entirety of the Equestrian military for a century. What...if I may ask, what are you intending to do with it?” “Yeah,” said Daring. “Are we going to take it and go?” “Go?” Wun almost laughed, but seemed vaguely appalled. “No. Firstly, it is the shiny. We do not touch the shiny. Not now, perhaps not in your lifetime. Touching the shiny is always bad.” “But you came all the way out here for it--” “Yes. And I own it. I own this land, this pyramid, and this shiny. It can stay here until I am fully prepared to remove it, if I even do. In fact.” She looked up. “These mummies. They are almost equally valuable to me. I am currently considering how to move this entire room, intact, and as it is. I would like to possess the whole of it. To walk through it as it is now...or to restore it to it once was.” She smiled and looked at Daring Do. “As the Horseuncommon exhibit was. When you were only five. Do you remember?” Daring tried to smile. It was one of the few good memories she had. “Yeah.” “Then it is settled. The archaeological team will begin in this room, cataloging the spell, the staffs, and most importantly securing the integrity of my mummies. Or, rather, what integrity they have left.” “And the gem?” asked Caballeron. “I already said that,” said Wun, sharply. Her magic flashed, casting a spell on the access controls and sealing the gem back inside its housing. “I think this is enough excitement for today. We have made so much progress! We shall celebrate with steak. Firm earth archeologist, do you like steak as much as I do?” Caballeron stared at her, seemingly disappointing he could no longer look at the gem. “I—um--er--” “Come to my tent if you like, and I will give you plenty to eat. Or do not. It is not really my problem. I am in a good mood. Survival for all!” Wun turned and began departing the room back through its ruined door. Caballeron looked back at Daring Do, who just shrugged. He then began to follow Wun, although probably not all the way back to her tent. Daring started to follow too, but then stopped. She looked back over her shoulder, at the sha mask and the dripping skeleton tethered to cables and wires. Its empty, glassy eyes seemed to stare back at her. For a moment, she could have sworn she heard a whisper.