Little Feather hadn’t experienced agony to this degree, shooting up his fragile hooves. Perhaps never escaping this labyrinth compared.
How long had he been walking? Hours, days? It might as well have been a lifetime. His sense of time was slipping, and seconds felt like eternities while other long moments breezed by too hastily for him to even take note.
Though from his haze arose a question that never wavered: what must his camping group think, what must his friend Rainbow Dash think? Did they already see him as a lost cause, a treasure so far removed from any map that no adventurer as brave as they may be would dare sojourn to find it? Were there some risks so dangerous that the value of the rewards are irrelevant in one’s consideration?
That couldn’t be true. He was worth the cause, he was worth the risk. He was Feather Dew, tried and true friend to all, open ear to all sorts of fascinating stories from the mouths of anypony who dared tell their tales. He was worth saving, right?
It’s not what he thought. What he felt was lonely, distraught, confused. There laid little hope in his body, and the moonlight gave him none at all. Whatever God up there must’ve watched him, and little Feather wondered if they could perform some miracle, whisking him away from this mess back to the way things were. Normal. Found.
As he trodden through odd pebbles and verdure, a growing emotion of betrayal filled his heart and left it empty. He didn’t know who to blame it on. Should he blame it on the white dove? Should he blame it on his camping group for not finding him already? Should he blame it on whatever powers may be?
Should he blame this all on himself?
The little colt gasped as he tripped on a rock, making him tumble, a sprain emerging from his hoof. A tuft of mane fell on his cheek as he held onto his extremities with a seethe of pain and fatigue.
Then the empty wintry of air filled his lungs, and his breath was brittle. As cold as untouchable ocean floors, it’s as though this was the very bottom of the world: a dark, lonely abyss so numbing one would wonder if they were abandoned by gods.
A shiver shot up his spine, and Feather closed his eyes, the exhaustion starting to best him. His back hurt, his sides hurt, and to get up and keep going would hurt too much. It was too much.
Dazed, surveying his surroundings, Feather spotted a little forest alcove: a small cavity carved in a large tree, flowers blooming on the entrance edges and nearby ground. On any other day, Feather would’ve found it interesting and moved on. Now was different. Now it was the only shelter he had. The only warmth in a world so haughty and lonely.
Little feather mustered all his willpower and reached out his lesser-damaged hoof, dragging himself across the forest floor in increments of mere inches. Feather cringed as pebbles and twigs scraped his barrel and legs like hundreds of little daggers along his body, but he pressed on. Continuing. He had to.
Finally reaching the cavity of the tree, Little feather grasped the edge of the entranceway and hoisted himself inside. Hitting his head on the cavity’s ceiling, he faltered and leaned back, going limp, the fatigue in his chest teeming to burst open his ribcage. This wasn’t only pain, but lassitude. Weakness. Being not strong enough.
And despite its uncaring nature, the night dazzled. From here, the trees ahead stood shorter, so presented to him was a sky bountiful of stars. Despite the lethargy that beat him, despite the unforgiving circumstances, little Feather chuckled.
It was purple and vibrantly dark, the tapestry of stars that laid out there, surrounding the world in their omnipresence. When he paid close enough attention, little Feather saw the faint twinkle of a particular star far away, a galaxy far removed but visible from even an isolated planet like Equus. One. Only one star.
Even if he was to go back to his camping group, even if he was to be saved, they’d still be lonely; he’d still feel lonely.
“Come talk to me,” Feather whispered, regarding that particular star. He then addressed any world that dared listen to him. “Please... I don’t have anything else...”
His only response was a cold, harsh but gentle breeze. It reached Feather despite him nestled inside this tree, sending a shiver that radiated throughout his frail body.
The painful reality brought by nature itself reminded Feather of how small he was, of how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things. The universe didn’t care if he was lost. The universe didn’t care if he was going to die.
It would keep going on without him. His life would end, and everypony else would have moved on. He was forgotten, abandoned. And as the wind came once more to prove he was more lonely than he’s ever been, Feather wondered if it was also trying to tell him that he’d never meet with anyone ever again.
Was this what it felt like to drown, the life of a person slowly being sucked out of them without any hope left in the world?
As he sat on the little crevice of the tree trunk watching the rest of those distant, unresponsive stars, Feather wondered if he was already laying on his grave, waiting for that moment of sweet release. It was the first time he prayed, but he didn’t know who he prayed to.
This was the first time Feather Dew stood for weeks. The feeling was both unfamiliar and euphoric; unfamiliar in the sense that he’s been in bed so much the sensation of his hooves on the ground supporting his weight surprised him more than he would’ve thought, and euphoric in the sense that he was on his hooves now. Feather stood, and he stood firm.
Feather stood firm because: (a) there was a certain pride, eagerness that teemed to burst out the seams, and (b) the doctor told him to do so because she was in the process of removing his neck brace and bandages, much to his irritation.
“This is rather uncomfortable.”
She hushed him quickly. “Now, now. I just have to unfasten it... there!” With a firm motion of the doctor’s hoof, his improvised neck brace came off of his frame. Feather tentatively placed a hoof on his nape, surprised to feel nothing. It was stiff, but to think a big cat’s jaws bit the spot he brushed right now left him impressed.
And he was most definitely thankful to the doctor in this little hospital of hers. There was a charm to a pony who did what they did not in the pursuit of bigger opportunities, for they were already content with where they were. “Hey, doc, thanks for all the help. I would’ve been in real trouble if it weren’t for you.”
The mare chuckled, pressing a hoof on her mouth. “You already were in real trouble; it’s just my job to make sure it didn’t get worse.”
“Yeah, that’s something I’ll keep in mind.”
“Speaking of keeping in mind,” she suddenly started, “I have something to tell you, Feather Dew.”
He turned back, head tilted, ears perking. “What is it?”
“I always tell my patients this, but you please have to take care of yourself.” She pointed to his scars, a few of the prominent ones on his torso and the cuffs of his hooves. “The pony body is not durable, Feather Dew. You of all ponies should know this by now. We’re more fragile than we might think; a small slip on the stairs could lead to permanent, life changing consequences, even a small wound could lead to the deadliest of infections.”
Her eyes shone a mirth he didn’t expect. “I have a feeling you and your friends are doing something out there. Obviously I don’t know exactly what that is, and I hadn’t bothered to ask, but I know it’s something.
“It’s not up to me to understand that, so I’ll just say: whatever it is you’re doing, just be careful. Okay?”
Feather appreciated her honesty, nodding. “Wise words, doc. I’ll remember that.”
He focused on the other two mares in the room, several of their belongings already on their persons. “So, where do we go now?”
Twilight replied coolly. “Back to the bed and breakfast. We’re going to have to do a bit of preparing before we leave.”
Feather’s eyes scanned the room one last time. River Moon was arranging what seemed to be rations and med kits in a newly acquired bag she must’ve obtained while he was at the hospital. Twilight was mulling over her notes and reading materials, an empty parchment and quill already prepared in that saddle bag of hers.
To his side lay ear muffs on a table. Feather was surprised they were able to find such things, especially in a place like this. However, having a “local tribe” using Death Whistles without a care in the world would have driven the residents to the point that they’d import some, just in case.
Feather decided to take his mind off that, focusing on his bookish friend. “How long did it take for you to decide what books to bring with you?” He smiled curtly as Twilight glared back at him.
“You know I don’t like being asked that question. And by the way, it only took me three days to decide, so HAH!”
He rolled his eyes at her remark. “I just wanted to joke around for a moment, Twi. But I have to say: I’m quite impressed. You guys look like you’re preparing for the apocalypse with all this gear you’re bringing.”
He heard River reply from his far side, “Well, to be fair, we are going to a city that was probably ravaged by an apocalypse if it hasn’t already, so. And besides”—Feather turned to see her tie the bag around her barrel—“There’s no such thing as too prepared. Celestia knows what sort of stuff we’ll see in Tlekokalli once we get there.”
“River Moon’s right, Feather.” Twilight seemed to finish her notes and walked over to join him. “We may have some clue as to what we might expect from Crystal Jade’s words, but even she doesn’t know what must’ve happened to this city for the hundreds of years she’s been gone. For all we know, it might have even collapsed or something catastrophic of the sort.”
“Oh, oh, like the sunken city of Maretlantis! Scientists have recently confirmed that there was a great flooding event that coincided with the sinking of the city all those thousands of years ago and the aliens-”
“I think one lost city is enough to last us a lifetime, River.” Feather raised a hoof to politely silence her and what would be a long rant about aliens or cataclysmic flooding events.
She rolled her eyes and smirked, walking over to the two. “Don’t be such a downer, Feather! We’re going to find Tlekokalli and all of the interesting things it’ll contain. To think that a city like that has been under all these ponies' noses this whole time...”
“Yes, it is indeed fascinating how all this has been under their noses. It makes sense, though: ignorance can make one blind to even the simplest of things.”
“And that we’re not,” River said rather childishly, plastering a toothy grin.
“And that we’re not, indeed.”
“So... I guess we’re ready, then?” Twilight gave them a kind smile. Feather knew they all knew the answer to that.
“Yes, I have med kits, food, and water in here just in case we’re in there longer than we might think,” River explained, patting the bag wrapped around her back. “If we get real desperate, we can stretch this out to last us a week.”
Twilight nodded at her info dump. “Okay. And I already have some of the reading material I want to bring with me, my notes, and writing instruments. Feather, do you have your camera with you?”
He picked it up from a table on his side. “Yeah; it’s a bit inconvenient to have it wrapped around my neck, but it’ll be fine.”
“Oh! I hadn’t even thought of that.” Twilight grabbed her saddle bag and offered it. “You can have this instead; it’ll be less of a pain. And besides, I would like to do some real-time documentation myself.”
Feather exchanged his camera for her belongings, strapping it on his back with River’s help. While doing this, he heard River comment, “I feel like Feather and I are going to be parents guarding a filly in a candy store. An egghead adventuring to a lost Meso-Equestrian city. This will be fun, indeed.”
Twilight raised a brow, Feather and her glancing, then they broke into giggles, River joining in as well. In that moment, they were not ponies about to embark on an adventure, they were not what could possibly be myths eons later. They were just friends being friends, enjoying the time they had with each other.
This was broken rather quickly. “Feather,” River suddenly said, easy-going but a severity biting under her tone, “if you feel hurt and want to back out of this, just tell us. You barely convinced us to let you come with, anyway; don’t pressure yourself into doing this, okay?”
He simply shook his head. “It’s okay; of course I’d tell you. I’m okay now.” Feather glanced out a window to meet the looming Amarezon forest—deadly and beautiful, dangerous yet complacent in its allure. “This is an obligation I dedicated myself to. Out there is Jade, and she’s waiting for us.”
Feather put out his hoof for the two of them. “For Jade.”
Without hesitation, Twilight and River put their hooves to meet his. “For Jade!”
Twilight glanced out the window. “The day is still new, everypony. Come on, let’s go outside.” The pair followed her through and out the bed-and-breakfast to arrive on the street, rays of light piercing and dancing by their hooves.
“Feather, in my saddle bag should be a map. Take it out for us.” He did what he’s told, reaching back—rather stiffly and slowly—to take a hold of a new map Twilight acquired. It was cruder than the one she lost, but it did the job.
“Lemme see.” He offered the map to River Moon, the latter pouting and setting a hoof on her mouth as she scanned the piece of parchment. Her eyes lit in recognition. “We went up and around, then came from the bottom left at this angle. So we go... there.” She pointed at a section of the city’s walls, a gateway several ten feet removed to the left.
Once they crossed this gateway and moved right—correcting course so they needn’t perform more complicated turns—the three gazed upon the direction they’d soon be headed.
It was a seemingly unimportant spot of the Amarezon, especially in a rainforest of such size, but when Feather stared back, the forest seemingly waited for him. Relentless. Unfazed.
It was so inoffensive as well. Flowers bloomed from forest soil, trees guarded the border between the clearing they stood on and the beginning of only a sliver of the Amaerzon. There was something that stirred inside him that raised all sorts of alarms.
Feather couldn’t help but feel the cold of the wind hit him, unsure if it was real or not.
“Do you want to go first?” River’s expression reflected solemness when she gazed at his eyes.
Feather only nodded and clutched the map with the use of a wing, taking a step forward. He didn’t look back, for what was the point of doing so? He held his head high, but not proudly, towards the home of Crystal Jade.
The wind was sinister yet calm, and Feather couldn’t shake that off. It was like the song of a siren playing serenely in a field, a soothing but hypnotic sound that hid more intentions beneath its nature than one would think.
It was the crashing of ocean waves, the breeze laving leaves, a dull, repeating drone that reminded one not only was the world a lonely place at times, but there might be something amongst their presence that’d make them want to be alone.
But Feather wasn’t sure what it was. He definitely felt a weight taken off his shoulders when they’d figured out the Death Whistles, and it seemed like the worst that could happen already has.
Was it that reasonable, though, to assume everything would be okay? Feather was again reminded that the world didn’t care what he thought.
“We should be close to where we stopped last time,” he heard River from behind, amongst the crunch of apprehensive hooves through the forest floor. His friends walked slowly, and all three understood that perhaps a point of no return lay before them.
Feather tried to think of anything else, his calming dreams, a song or two, a whistle, even her saccharine smile, Jade’s. His friends. Here with him and back at home. It made him feel a tad better.
But that forest still lurked. And that struck him fear. And he couldn’t forget.
Somehow—despite the Amarezon being an utter labyrinth of a place—with River’s wise course settings, they found themselves in front of the tree whereby they rested only weeks ago, on that fateful day.
When Feather observed the tree and the spot he was attacked on, he didn’t know exactly what to feel. The blood. His blood. It still soaked the ground. Despite forest rain from previous days that could’ve washed away this insignificant ink blot on a piece of parchment, the landmark remained.
It was the emotion of coming back to a mother one never knew, coming back to a dream that one would’ve never guessed they’d be coming back to. It was the feeling of keeking at an alternate reality.
A gentle hoof stroked on his side, consoling. “You can go back if you want to,” he heard Twilight say. “You don’t have to risk it if you don’t want to, Feather.”
The wind was hollow and sweet as he responded, “No. I’d be here even if all my emotions wanted to make me run away,” he said simply, glancing at the direction whence they once came, running away for their dear lives and sanity from the harbinger of ancient torment. “Let’s go.”
Feather’s snout was bombarded by a combination of decaying plants and wood, moisture, vegetation. The only sound that reached his ears were the saunter of his hooves, his friends, and the slight background static noise of bugs in hiding. As he looked about, the rainforest heralded that moment of truth, containing a stillness Feather was so familiar with.
Despite daytime, the Amarezon was not kind to ponykind, guarding them from the blessings of radiant sunshine. It was like being lost in that forest all over again: dingy and drab, somehow even chilly.
That was his fear. But he wanted to live. Feather wanted to keep going and do so strongly; his anxieties still persisted, that trepidation and looming dread. He had to be stronger than it. His will was stronger than it; it had to have been.
It was the feeling of having a blade circle one’s skin, nerve endings tickling and nervous at even the slightest prod, the slightest addition of pressure. It felt agonizing either way, for one did not know whether those slight prods would eventually turn deadly.
And it ought turn deadly as Feather once again heard the faint sound of Death Whistles in the distance, sending a freezing sensation down his spine and his bite scars.
“Put on your ear muffs.” He needn’t repeat himself as his two companions slipped on their ear muffs and pressed them against their heads, ensuring they’d be protected from the inevitable, haunting screeches.
Feather heard the low rumbling of air trapped in his ears, blood rushing through his ears and his skull. Whenever he breathed in or out, that low rumble would be interrupted by an even lower drone. That was the last thing Feather noted before two invisible Death Whistles appeared by his sides, blowing hard.
Then four came, surrounding them. Then the whistles became closer as they multiplied innumerably and screamed once again, circling the three. Twilight conjured her barrier despite it having no use; it was probably for the placebo effect comfort it brought.
Ironic, ear muffs sorta work but alicorn magic doesn’t. Sometimes the straightforward answer is the best. Perhaps back then, this was a test of willpower. How much do you want to go to Tlekokalli? Feather barely finished his thought as the Death Whistles blared once more, causing the ground to shake a tad. It seemed that River was keen in asking him a question because she tapped his shoulder and motioned to her own pair of muffs.
He assumed she was asking if his ear protection was working; he nodded and waved his wing as confirmation. Feather did the same to Twilight, and she seemed to agree as well, a rather defiant look on her face.
Feather couldn’t blame her for that: if this worked, if they truly were right, they would be on a path to getting closer to Tlekokalli itself. Despite the loud sound that once again rattled their surroundings, Feather couldn’t help but feel a hope he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Who cared what others would think? If he was right, then he was right. If he found himself in the lost city, then he would be in the lost city. If it was real, then it was real. If it wasn’t...
The whistles blared again four more times—harsher and harsher than the last—before they suddenly stopped at the tenth and final round of raucous. The group glanced at each other with tentative grimaces, like a gathering of students asked by their teacher a question none of them knew.
It was stupid, but to Feather it was brave. He slowly slipped off his ear muffs, completely removing them, awed at the sounds he heard.
“What is it?!” Twilight had poor volume control when she yelled at him.
He cringed as he motioned for them to remove their ear protection, saying, “You can remove them! It sounds beautiful, actually!”
When River and Twilight took them off, they shared the same curious expression he shared as the three observed about. The horrifying cacophony of sacrificed individuals turned into sweet whistling and even wind instruments, playing a harmonious but repetitive tone, as if a prompt asking for the user for input.
Twilight and River shared their amusement. “I think it worked!” River exclaimed, pointing randomly at the invisible instruments. “They changed!”
As soon as those words left her lips, the whistling suddenly transformed into a darker tone and returned to a similar pitch they’d once been, transitioning into another song of calm but high spirits. The circle of instruments suddenly shifted, moving its way to a location deep into the Amarezon.
He stared at the direction the whistles went to, frozen for an instant. “Come on, guys, we have to follow it!” Twilight yelled at the two, River quickly obeying and right at her tail. Then he was left alone.
Alone. Now or never.
The ear muffs jiggled on his neck, Twilight’s saddle bag rocking up and down his back. It was as if the injuries, stiffness Feather endured suddenly disappeared, a fresh vigor coursing through his blood stream.
And as he jogged, his fears slowly dwindled. Running through the rainforest in pursuit of an obscured magical anomaly, following his friends into the depths of the flora and the shadows of the trees, feeling the humid air turn wistful as Feather darted amongst the twigs and leaves.
It’s as if they were going in circles and circles, crossing paths that didn't seem possible, but Feather couldn’t care.
He didn’t care because he didn’t even think. It brought back painful memories, yet he was alive. And for a moment the only thing he saw was her visage. That red eye. That emerald mane. How could he have been so selfish? Thinking about himself and his fears. He was here. He was here to save her.
Feather ran like he was about to meet his friends again, like he was about to cross realities and meet with that pony he had a connection to, had a longing to. Feather had been dead, and now he ran to paradise.
Until they stopped. River and Feather halted as Twilight paused in front of a mossy building, aged and black, grey from the natural color of the bricks: limestone. Walls of massive proportions extended from its sides, barely visible from dense flora. From glancing at the charred engravings that graced its walls, Feather felt like this was it.
This is the entranceway to Tlekokalli.
How did he know this? It’s rather simple. There’s only one other feature this structure has. A tunnel that leads into darkness. There was no light when he stared back at it, but it’s as if something peered back in return.
He couldn’t even remember how long he ran for, to where. This place seemed removed from reality itself.
Feather regarded his two friends with compassion and understanding, requiring no words.
They only nodded and returned faithful smiles. Feather took one last glance at the Amarezon before crossing the threshold.
Light. It was behind him, the fuzzy shadows of his legs and his friends’ frames spindling out until they faded into the obscurity of the void before them. The air was sterile and dead, and as Feather went on his way—the only light coming from Twilight’s horn, guiding them now—he tried to keep rhythm in his hooves as if it were the continuous dripping of water on a little pond.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
They were in a darkness so black that despite Twilight’s light, he could barely keep his balance; the material that made this floor seemed imbued with blackness itself, a deadly combination that would drive one in a room made of the thing insane.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Inside Feather stirred an emotion he couldn’t place, a cocktail of questions which only yielded more questions. It was going to the light at the end of the tunnel except for the fact that there was no light at the end and it’s as if there was no tunnel, either. It’s like this didn’t exist, they didn’t exist. They were in the transition of two different realities.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Was it lonely? He had his friends with him, but was it right to feel this way? Feather was a rudimentary spacecraft going through interstellar space, a sojourner lost amongst a void devoid of stars. The illumination of heaven was not visible here: no planets, no galaxies, no entity in this desolate universe that was going to save him now. He had only the abyss for company, and it somehow felt more lonely than being lonely.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was light. Somehow, there was light at the end of the tunnel. It appeared, a small but strong dot in the distance. It was both far and close, right at his grasp yet requiring all this effort to come close to it. The exit was approaching—or rather, the entranceway to whatever laid on the other side.
Feather was wordless as his rhythmic saunter turned into a full on gallop. It didn’t take long for it to turn into a full on sprint. He couldn’t make out the details of the light from the distance, but as Feather neared the ethereal glow, he finally basked in its ethereal presence.
When he readjusted from the bright white that overflowed his senses, Feather’s eyes fell on the great city on the lake, the city of kings, the city of Tlekokalli.