//------------------------------// // Act III, Chapter XXIV // Story: Scarred Serpentine // by Metanoia //------------------------------// “I never thought I’d see something so beautiful.” The lake shone of a million jewels laid across the landscape—turning, twisting. It glittered and sparkled. There floated clouds that surrounded the body of water vaguely, as if a force existed to prevent them from crossing the shoreline, allowing one to truly appreciate the sky day and night. The residents of Tlekokalli must’ve loved to watch the sun rise in the east every morning and the moon rise when night came. Clear skies reflected their sentiments despite them being a long gone people. Long gone. The epiphany hit him as he gazed on. It was a magnificent place, a city of islands that laid in the center of the lake—bountiful. Despite this, it seemed dead. Tlekokalli wasn’t alive. Feather knew he couldn’t make out anypony down there had there actually been somepony to spot, but it’s clear this city’s glory days have ended eons ago. “It’s so... big,” he heard River reply to Twilight when she’d said those solemn words. It was true. Tlekokalli, from even this distance, seemed utterly gargantuan in size. He could even spot some hills that were on some of the larger islands; fuzzy outlines of buildings that peppered the inclines. It’s like this was a dream. It was the city of one’s wildest imagination. Tlekokalli, even from here, was the harbinger of one’s humbling. Feather sensed within himself that he was small, that he was only part of something much grander and much more monumental than any individual could ever hope to be. Despite him gazing down at the city, Feather felt like it was staring down at him. The three stood on the rolling hills; as Feather’s eyes cast downwards, his eyes fell on a causeway aligned perfectly to the tunnel they’d just left. His eyes followed said causeway until the details became fuzzy—beyond his vision. Feather felt his heart race by the second as he blinked once more to make sure he wasn’t high from Ohteotl. “It’s real,” Feather said, amazement in his voice, a breathlessness obvious. “It’s right in front of us, and it’s true. Tlekokalli, the city of kings. The legend is true.” When he regarded his peers, they too looked at him with the exact same, unwavering expression. Hope. An enlightenment. A feeling of solemn pride and melancholy that surely even the wind realized. It seemed to usher them, for the breeze came with an abundance of forest leaves, tumbling and rolling down the slope to eventually fade away from view, possibly hitting the water that bordered the shoreline of the great lake. “Let’s go,” Feather uttered softly, more to himself if he was frank. Readjusting Twilight’s saddlebag from his little run, the pegasus tentatively stepped and began to descend the incline to meet with one of the causeways. As he neared the shoreline, Feather noted how there stood four major causeways—including the one he would eventually reach—that separated the city and therefore the lake into four quadrants, smaller causeways reaching other islands that weren’t  part of the main group at the lake’s center. Beyond Feather were buildings too many for him to count, seeming endless. Some were positioned in neat rows and grids, some were misaligned, a few were outright removed, as if the home of upper class families, standing on their own untethered from the majority. Littered about was debris and exposed hulls of decomposing ships by the shoreline and port islands that spread across the lake, their masts rotten away, a former shell of their past selves. Of their past people. “It’s a ghost town,” River mentioned from his side. They finally stopped before the causeway entrance, a large arch and steps signifying they were indeed entering a place of great grandeur. Despite hundreds of years of decay, Tlekokalli brought out a feeling amongst first time visitors much the same way it did in its heyday. Feather tentatively stepped on the steps climbed them, finding himself on the causeway.  It was way larger than he thought it would be: the only creatures that couldn’t fit through these walkways were Ursa Majors, large dragons. The ground was firm and beige, the edges lined with trees and grass that neatly met with the sand, intermingling with calm waters. Feather turned to find the two mares fascinated with their surroundings, though he knew this was only the beginning; they hadn't entered the city proper yet. They trodden until they found a bridge that connected another segment of the causeway. As he observed ahead, the way would continue on like this: intervals of wooden bridges that momentarily separated permanently grounded causeways. “Bridges for boats to come through,” Twilight quickly noted. Feather heard the click of his camera behind him; he prayed he had enough film for her, although he sickly felt they’d be finished before they finished crossing the causeway. “They would lift them up if a boat needed to cross.” “Speaking of boats, look over there.” River pointed a hoof out into the water. Feather and Twilight gazed to where she pointed, under a beating sun. It was one of those islands Feather spotted a while ago, detached from any bridges or causeways of the sort, far removed from Tlekokalli’s center. It was an interesting sight, a small boat moored on the shore, seemingly more intact than the ones they’ve seen. A structure rested on the island; the epiphany of what it was hit Feather harder than he thought it would. That structure was a house. It was a home: a white walled, red roofed building which stood quietly amongst slowly moving waves. The home was both lonely yet fulfilled, understanding but distant. As Feather squinted at the seemingly overrun garden the island contained, he wondered who this pony was, who owned that home, who had lived in that place. They must have been nice people. “It was like they never even left,” Twilight noted, snapping a photo and taking hold of the film. She then stared back at the island with a certain melancholy he most certainly agreed with. The three continued forwards, encountering a few more wooden bridges before arriving at a fork on the causeway: straight ahead would lead to Tlekokalli, and to the right would lead to a port filled with old vessels and torn up ship parts. “Do you guys think we can take a little detour?” Twilight pleaded to Feather in particular, as if he was the leader of this whole operation. He shrugged. “If you don’t take long. Knock yourself out. Except don’t, actually.” They quickly arrived at the island port, the wood rotten and old under their hooves; Feather hovered in the air to keep his hooves clean. He surprised himself. This was the first time he flew in weeks. He watched Twilight observe the few vessels still moored on to the piers, laughing quietly as River pulled her back from getting any closer to them, at one point even slapping her hoof away from touching an ancient craft, like a mother shooing away a child from touching a valuable painting at a museum. Feather was glad River was being mindful, for Twilight had little of that whenever she was presented with an opportunity to learn—ironically. The vessels puzzled his mind. They were not so different from the wooden craft of today, but there was more to them that met the uninterested eye. Feather spotted peculiar features that made each ship unique: decorative fins of fish attached to the one nearest to him, another having a sculpture of a peacock as its bow; one vessel even had three hulls, flora and fauna carved intricately on any available surface. If there was one thing the people of Tlekokalli had, it was most definitely artisans and engineers. “I’m glad you kept her at bay,” Feather said to River Moon when they both joined him, lauding her for doing so most especially with Twilight Sparkle.  “Nice pun. And yeah, I was right, she really is like a filly at a candy store.” “I’m not!” Twilight protested by shuffling her hooves. “I’m just... lost city... a lost civilization...” “Save it for when we actually get there,” River both quipped and consoled, pointing at the much larger cluster of islands looming in the distance. “Think of the number of untouched articles, artifacts, and treasures that are literally laying there as we speak.” Twilight’s wings twitched a little. “Hey, now”—Feather pressed a hoof on her withers lest she dared take off at that very moment. “We don’t need to be so hasty now, right?” Despite Crystal Jade waiting for them, Feather knew somepony here had to be reasonable. “Who knows what kinds of things—hopefully no dangerous ones—might be there? We have to stick together, okay?” Twilight folded her wings properly and offered him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. This is just an opportunity of a lifetime, you know? It’s not everyday that one finds themselves in what’s practically an ancient-but-advanced breakaway civilization.” “Aww, she’s using conspiracy terms,” River said smugly, smiling devilishly at the other. They were like an angel and devil indeed—different sides of the same coin. Rolling her eyes, Twilight walked past the pair and ushered them with a glance. “Let’s just get going, shall we?” Arising no more arguments, the three walked back to the causeway’s fork and continued their saunter to the city center. Feather didn’t know if he could even consider their walk a saunter, though, for while they did indeed move slowly, it was anything but relaxed. There now bubbled tension in the air—it was palpable. The three were approaching the city itself; no shortcuts, no detours, no nonsense. The silence of no birds made it more uncomfortable. Feather was only ever hit with the epiphany, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemingly came true.  There were no animals here, not a single one. There flew no birds that chirped, whistled songs, darted happily in the air. There were no insects that made strange noises. Feather didn’t even see any fishes or freshwater dolphins in the lake; it’s as if the water was anoxic in nature, devoid of oxygen and therefore devoid of life. Devoid of life. Those were the right words. This place was outright devoid of life itself. To think this place once had ponies that meandered about and lived made the contrast even more depressing. Feather and his friends were only on a causeway, for Celestia’s sake, but even he could feel the emptiness that came forth from the city like a beacon of hopelessness and despair. Once this city was alive. Once there cruised mighty ships along this great lake; once ponies strolled these causeways much like they did; once things moved. All that was left was a husk of its former glory, an empty shell of a once proud people. Feather felt the chill of a non-existent breeze as Tlekokalli’s first buildings approached them—or rather they were approaching it. The structures were stationary, abandoned and aimless. Despite that, they still displayed a beauty he didn’t truly understand. Perhaps that beauty was not understood because it came from another time, yet despite centuries of obfuscation, beauty could penetrate and reach one in ways they didn’t know, like a romantic language one knew not of but found attractive. There Feather and his companions stood in front of a large arch with words he could not decipher, a dialect unbeknownst to him and possibly to the modern world, too. If he had to guess, it said: “Tlekokalli, City of Kings.” “In Tlekokalli, the heart rules all,” Twilight uttered from his side. Feather turned to see her horn lit up—a translation spell. They glanced amongst themselves, contemplating deeply her words. They were the first words spoken in this place perhaps for a thousand years. In Tlekokalli, the heart rules all. Feather didn’t know whether that was figurative or literal. It brought him great hope if its creator meant the former, a saying that stood the test of time. The other, not so much. “Let’s just hope they weren’t thinking about sacrifice while making that,” Feather dryly stated, pointing at the symbols on the arc. They nodded in meek concurrence. Feather took his hooves off the causeway, crossing the final bridge, and passing under the arch to finally reach one of Tlekokalli’s main roads. It was technically wider than the causeway he was just on, the pathway branching to two, what seemed to be floating gardens running across the center. Feather peeked at them, seeing how the plants have either overgrown or died out completely, leaving uneven patches of flourishing flora to murky water devoid of any growth at all. He took his mind off that and continued to walk, comforted by the sounds of his friends behind him, now amongst the buildings and structures left behind. Abandoned and lonely. Each was slightly different in design and shape, a relief to the boring nature of monotone villages that had sterile evenness, though one thing was most definitely constant: they rotted. Some had exposed roofs, all had their paints and surfaces faded from the test of time, several seemed to be knocked down completely—the ones nearer to the water and therefore exposed to the waves. Feather guessed even these calm waves over generations had the ability to topple sturdy structures. This section he now strode through had a uniformity to it despite the aged wear and tear brought by nature; other than a few buildings which seemingly jutted out, the rest were arranged in rows and columns, some small, some large, an eccentric board game that spanned miles upon miles. And those rows and columns were canals and waterways: some narrow, some almost as wide as the buildings themselves. There stared many bridges back at Feather whenever he peeked along the lengths of the waterways; he could see some decaying boats and bits, pieces that made them up protruding from little platforms and steps much like those found in La Orilla. Feather truly got to appreciate how large this city was when he peeked at those waterways. Up there—where they once were in the hills—he could see it all in its monstrous proportions, but to be amongst the structures of old and grand tickled a part of his brain that made him wonder if someone else was in this ghost town with them, a wandering soul lurking in the static noise of waves and building’s shadows, silently observing. There’s somepony else in this ghost town, or rather there’s somepony that needs saving that’s waiting for us. The question was where? Where could they start in such a place like this? “Where do we go?” Feather turned to face his two friends. “I honestly... I was so concerned with whether this city was real or not and actually finding it that now I don’t know what to do.” He sounded sadder than he anticipated, his words somehow echoing through expanses of Tlekokalli’s canals. River Moon returned the opposite of his expression: a hopeful smile. “Now we look around and find her,” she said rather simply. “We’ve found Tlekokalli, now it’s time for the last but probably hardest part of our journey: actually finding Jade and bringing her back.” “River’s right, Feather,” Twilight added, “I feel like this’ll take much longer than we thought now that we’ve seen how large this place really is”—she gazed at the buildings around them—“and the absolute state of despair it’s in.” He nodded, slapping himself back to his senses. “Yes, I understand. We can just go down this path and see if we find anything interesting.” The three agreed and continued their way, Feather occasionally hearing the snap of his camera, Twilight now ahead of him and River by his side. It seemed she wanted to have a bit of small talk. “You know, I wonder how she’s going to take this all in.” Feather regarded her with a preemptive ponder in his expression. “Whatever do you mean?” River made a rolling motion with her hooves, as if that was going to help him understand what she’s trying to get at. “You know... when we save her and all! What does that do to an individual? When we bring her out of her prison, she’s not going to return to the world she once knew.” He paused and thought. “I understand that. I was thinking about that before, about how she’ll return to a world that isn’t hers, a world she didn’t come from.” She regarded facades around them as they continued their saunter. “To come back to your home looking like this,” she stated rather somberly. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” It was a sentiment he shared, too. Feather tried to wrap his head around the idea he was to come back to Manehattan as a waste town, an abandoned metropolis of cracked asphalt and deranged skyscrapers, townhouses.  He could imagine what it looked like—there were many post-apocalyptic films that involved his city too many times to count—but Feather wondered what it’d feel like. It was now strange to stroll through these buildings, and Feather knew that ponies inhabited them. Real ponies, real people, and they were going to save one, too. The prospect of coming across Crystal Jade’s home without even knowing it sent a tinge down Feather’s hooves. “I’d like to bring her to the museum,” Feather said suddenly, not thinking of his words. “The Manehattan Museum of Art.” She stared with a surprised but contemplative expression. “Really? You’d like to take her there?” “Yes. And show her around. I’ve been to the museum many times.” Feather sighed dreamily. “I even told her about one of my favorite pieces there. And she told me about her favorite piece of artwork, too, a relief of a mare cradling a dying stallion.” He felt a non-existent breeze once again. “Huh, I wonder if that’s still around; maybe we can find it for her.” “That sounds like a nice thing you want to do, Feather.” River seemed quite pleased. “I’m assuming that’s from back at the Ohteotl retreat?” “Yes. It was one of the first things I talked to her about. An opening cue, so to speak. I just... wanted to talk to her. About anything. It was a place to start, I guess.” A moment persisted without the two talking, for they didn’t need that for a while. River smiled. “Thanks for telling me that.” His hoofsteps faltered slightly. Feather regarded her, confused. “Why would you thank me?” “Because you tried for her,” River pointed out, “and you’re still trying. You don’t stop. Not truly. A bite from a black panther and you’re up and about, finding this place? That takes a lot just to imagine. All for a little dream.” “Finding her is a big dream,” Feather replied. “I never said finding her was a little dream,” she said. “The little dream is even just one glance at her. The real her, by your side. We may think of that being a big dream also, but if you think about it, that’s the least you could do. I have a feeling that little dream alone is enough to motivate you.” He was silent. Then he chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. “And thank you, River. Really. We’re here, after all this time. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.” Feather expected a snarky jest from her at least, then sincere words, though only the latter came. “You gave me an opportunity to be a part of your story,” she said, “and to be on my own. I honestly don’t know what else to say.” Her face split into a smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Perhaps that was enough. “Hey, guys, check this out!” Twilight’s voice came from around the corner. The two regarded each other with a glance and made their way to join her. “Woah!” River and Feather stared at a rather wide canal, a bridge nearby connecting the ground they stood on to another platform which floated above the water, rectangular in shape. Twilight waved back at them from the other side rather gleefully. “It’s a floating garden!” she exclaimed. “Literally!” As Feather observed it from a distance, he found her observation seemingly correct. The structure was wide, almost encompassing the entire perimeter of the floating platform, layered into three steps like a massive tiered cake. Bridges connected the platform to the main road and other islands and pathways. River tapped a hoof on her cheek. “How’d they manage to do that...?” Feather put a hoof on the bridge and began to cross, glancing back to regard her. “I’m not so sure about that myself. Come, let's go.” Joining Twilight, Feather observed closely the architecture and overgrown flora. He had one word to describe it: palatial. Despite Canterlot Castle standing obviously more impressively, this held a grandeur of its own with engraved walls, arches and statues strategically placed, some unfortunately having been destroyed or damaged beyond recognition. “I didn’t expect statues to be here,” River mentioned, as if reading his mind. “Seems rather posh, although to be fair I don’t really know what this place is.” Twilight had that look when she was about to explain a subject matter in great detail. “This seems to be a public garden. Meso-Equestrians had a deep affinity with nature; that’s where they find their deities and religion from. It would make sense for them to bring a little piece of that here since we’re in the middle of a lake.” River eyed one of the statues, a jaguar. “And the statues?” The alicorn shrugged. “They also had an affinity with art. They liked to craft statues of people, symbols, and objects. It’s interesting to see this combination of the two: both nature and art, together.” Feather nodded. “That’s a nice way to put it, Twi. Have you gone and looked around?” She toothily grinned and produced his camera from her side, also showing him film upon film. He rolled his eyes as she merely shrugged and said, “What? I only took a dozen!” You’re going to get me bankrupt from film is what’s gonna happen, Feather thought under his sneer. “Whatever. I’d like to go around, actually.” Piqued interest replaced his sassy attitude, eyes scanning a row of statues that lined the structure’s perimeter. “I’ll join you. River! Feather and I are going to have one look around!” “Sounds good!” She seemed to disappear in the building itself. “I’ll meet you guys at some point inside!” With that, Twilight became the unofficial tour guide of this impromptu tour, despite the fact they were in the same boat: both outsiders who knew very little of this place they delved deep in, like a snark that was brought into an environment unbeknownst and foreign. She showed him statues of animals, gods, royals and the elite of society, grand armour and robes depicted alongside them. Reaching inside, Twilight showed him the plants that bloomed from the ground to the walls, flowing down like gentle manes. Then they found themselves in the courtyard, the sun shining on them in almost perfect, unwavering radiance, aligned with the open ceiling. Feather knew the architects knew what they were doing as he felt warmth hit his cheeks. The sky above them had a stillness that assured Feather the protection of this city, despite the rotting and deterioration he’d seen. If it were any other city they found, this would’ve been nothing more than mere rubble and smithereens. This was different though; the sky was picture perfect, not a single storm arriving these past thousand years. Laid on one side was a miniature cliff, overgrown plants and weeds atop. This seemed to be the remnants of a five foot tall waterfall, evidence of the river that flowed from it still visible after all these centuries. The water would have reached a tree which stood facing the little cliff on the other side of the courtyard. It brought Feather a sadness when he realized it was dead, the tree’s spindling branches dull and fragile. What he found interesting was what laid behind the deceased tree, a bas relief that dominated the wall, almost three stories tall. When Feather studied the sculpted surface, a part of his brain tickled him, an uneasiness he couldn’t understand. Then a part of his brain clicked, and now that he’d been made aware, he couldn’t look away, unsee what he’d seen. It was like when one became conscious for the first time—one cannot gain knowledge without also gaining great pain. “Feather, what’s wrong?” Twilight regarded him with concern when he didn’t respond. “I recognize this relief,” he hushedly stated. “How do you know-” “She told me about it.” Feather turned to properly acknowledge her. “She told me about it. All the way back when I was at the Ohteotl retreat. I told her about art and my favorite pieces; she told me mine”—he pointed at the wall—“that’s it. That’s what she talked about.” Twilight’s eyes went wild when she seemed to process his words. “I... really?” “Hey, what’s going on here?” The two turned to find River raising a brow at them expectantly. Feather only silently pointed at the relief; it took a while for her to get, but he instantly recognized when she changed her expression: wide eyed, a bit scared. “No way. I... that’s what she told you!” River seemed both excited yet somehow horrified at the same time. It was an existential dread, a realization that crossed two different worlds together in a single moment. Jade had been here. At one point in time, at one point in existence, Jade had been here, standing, breathing, with other ponies as well. It was simple to wrap his mind around, but simple did not equal easy, and Feather found it difficult to comprehend the fact she’d once stood here, in this place, most likely observing the sculpted surface much the same way they did right now. “Where we stand was where she once stood,” he poignantly stated, not sure if he regarded himself or the others. Feather tried to say something, but the only thing that escaped his lips was a small chuckle. He never felt closer to Jade than at that moment right now. This touch was real, it was palpable to not only his reality but in this one too, the physical world. Feather brushed the floor under his hooves. It was as if a part of her soul was left here, and although that part couldn’t speak, it ushered him. Called him. A shard of a ghost greeting a simple hello, for what shock they must’ve felt would’ve rendered their vocabulary breathless.  It felt like being on Ohteotl again—he was most definitely brought back to it. Feather felt a connection, an intangible string interfacing an intangible universe, reality beyond his physical self, beyond this world. When he felt the ground, that was the physical proof, the tangible mingling with the intangible. An exhale escaped Feather’s lips. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we should keep going; shall we?” Feather blinked and snapped from his daze when he heard Twilight’s words. “Um, yeah, sorry about that.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s, erm, head out.” Twilight offering a smile and River patting his back, the three left the courtyard—the alicorn having taken pictures—to depart from the floating garden, Feather taking one last glance at the relief. He swore the two figures stared right at him when he’d done so. “That was a crazy thing that just happened,” River mentioned as they continued trodding down the main road, slower than before they found the floating gardens. “Who knows what other secrets this place hides?” “And we won’t get to uncover all of them,” Twilight admitted, disappointment biting under her tone. “We’re here to save Crystal Jade first and foremost, and even if we’re here to uncover this city as our top priority, it would take years for entire teams to sweep through a place of this size. Not to mention the canal systems and the logistics of Tlekokalli’s isolation and-” “I think we get the idea, Twi,” River shot down rather gently—as gently as she could.  “And leaving a place like this untampered would show it a sign of respect, am I right?” Feather added insult to injury, though he meant not to be mean. She only nodded in regained cognizance. “You were always the reasonable one, Feather. It frankly irritates me at times, but that goes to prove that sometimes I’m the unreasonable one.” Feather only laughed. “I’ll keep doing that, thanks.” He found it flattering she would say that, but Feather liked to think it as true, as something he could be proud of. Feather made mistakes—a lot of them—but he would always try his best to pursue reason rather than looking to fight ponies and their ideals. The wind. Once it was non-existent, and now it truly returned. It laved him comfortably, somehow reaching from trees of the lake edge whence they came. It was the harbinger of harbingers, the weave that connected all on this planet together. When the wind came, something was bound to happen. “Um... guys, what is that thing?” River pointed a nervous hoof; when Feather followed it, he too plastered the same expression of disbelief he and Twilight must’ve for sure shared in that moment of apparent shock. Feather thought the floating gardens were impressive, but that was nothing compared to what laid before his eyes. Hung like chandeliers from the ceiling that was the sky, numerous islands floated above the city square. And the city square seemed to go on forever, but what stole his attention were the islands themselves: some large and some small, floating at various altitudes, steps suspended in air from the ground to reach them. The crème de la crème was the largest island of all, positioned perfectly in the middle of the square and therefore Tlekokalli itself. On that island laid partly hidden a structure, unclear from where Feather stood. Stone and dirt hung from the bottom of that slice of Equus, relatively tiny yet gargantuan still, a waterfall tumbling to reach a pond just beneath. It was in a garden, and circling that garden were statues, daunting. They waited, but looked not. “What were these guys on when they made this...?” River’s words drifted as her eyes darted around the heavens in contemplative revelation. “They were on Ohteotl, that’s for sure.” Feather kept Twilight from running away by wrapping a wing around her, making a “no, no” motion with his head. He understood her curiosity, though, for even he couldn’t help but stare at the archipelagos anchored to the sky. Finally letting go of the impatient alicorn, River Moon led the way to the gardens. It seemed open to all, but a strange air emanated from its center. Gaps were between the equidistant statues, allowing them to enter quietly and thoughtfully. “These are all statues of deities,” Twilight commented, taking out his camera once again and snapping a photo. They faced inwards to the pond, unfazed but not uncaring, holding at their sides dazzling weapons of holy wars. “And the waterfall still works in this one,” River added, looking up to see water beating down from an indiscernible source at the top, though the liquid was uneven at certain areas and completely void at others. Feather’s eyes glanced at the pond, somehow the water still being clear enough for him to see his reflection. When he stared back, he felt a part of himself from before had been completely changed, a metamorphosis that would leave one looking back at what they’d done with a knowledge only old men knew. When I looked back at myself in Bocoltá, I made note of how I almost looked like my past self, before the Ohteotl, before meeting River and Jade. I knew that that was all going to change, that my life would not be the same after this. He only gave himself a poignant expression. Where will I be when I look back at my reflection again? “Feather! Look at this!” He suddenly turned to see Twilight stepping back and forth—rather stupidly, in retrospect—on one of those levitating steps, this one leading to the central island right above him. River Moon stood right at the foot of it, grimacing and nervously taking her hoof on and off the first step in meek hesitation. River screamed expletives too much for even the mouths of the dirtiest sailors when Twilight spread her wings and flew up to the isle. She shot out a hoof, as if that was going to help her reach the alicorn now out of view. Deciding to help his poor friend, Feather hastily left the garden and walked over to her, glancing up the steps that wound the borders of the perimeter of the island, wide but short in their form, gaps in between. “Can you... please?” She gave an embarrassed smile. Feather needn’t more as he wrapped a wing around her, ushering River to take her first few steps. Carefully, they began to advance. Feather could tell she was still nervous from the way her breathing harshened, River’s heart seemingly beating out of her chest. “They can make a city on water and floating islands but not hoof rails?!” the mare uttered under her breath, damning the creators of these very steps and the one who found fit that there was no problem with not having a pair of them on either side. “Maybe they weren’t afraid of heights. And besides, didn’t you climb a tree when we first met?” River glanced at him as if he were a moron. “That’s different! That was on a tree, and in retrospect, seemed kind of funny. This is totally different; Celestia knows how they made stairs like these! And what’s up there!” Feather found her right; they also had no idea what they were going to find once they reached the island itself. He wondered what kinds of things laid above them, secret treasures. The pegasus’ thoughts were broken as River occasionally eeped! when the slightest gust of wind arrived to toy with them. Reaching stable ground at last—River escaping his embrace and sheepishly blushing —Feather made out his new surroundings unclear from below. What he found was uncanny but just as oddly comforting: a grassy slope with the peak in the middle of the island, a path forged from pebbles leading a windy path up to a structure obscured by flora. There was a lot of that, the flora. It was rather heavenly, an oasis pinned to the sky, lofty—a floating garden that was filled to the brim and teeming with life. It was a stark contrast.  When Feather saw from here the abandoned husk that was Tlekokalli, it was an unmoving corpse. Up here was to be a little closer to the majesty of the cosmos, a little slice of nature that somehow made it unscathed from the destruction that laid siege to the civilization below. River and Feather trodden the perimeter of the island to gaze out into the distance—River staying well away from the edges—grasping the expanse of islands and water that laid out before them. As he quietly observed and admired the view, a part of Feather’s brain clicked that brought him great confusion. “Hold on,” he started, “didn’t the legend say there was a pyramid she was sacrificed on?” Feather took one last glance at the city remnants. “I don’t see a pyramid. Any pyramids.” “Me neither.” River peered harder. “You'd think they’d make a large pyramid like the one back in La Orilla. If they can make structures like those, then where’s the pyramid the legend went on about?” “Guys, you might want to take a look at this.” It was Twilight’s voice from a tad far away, but something was off with her tone. It didn’t have the usual cheer it had, the usual curiosity so associated with the bookworm. Glancing at each other, Feather and River abandoned their spot and trotted up the pebble path. They found Twilight in front of the peculiar structure, albeit it didn’t seem to be the pyramid the legend spoke of—not to Feather, at least. Out of all the buildings he’d laid his eyes on, this seemed to be the most pristine, the most untouched. It was old, but looked to be made yesterday. “What is this?” River paced to and fro on the steps of the structure, trying to find any clue as to what it may be. Feather observed the building’s facade, though the more he did, the more he knew not of this place’s true purpose. “A place of worship, most likely.” Twilight walked to meet with River. “But even I have my doubts. I didn’t want to go in there without the two of you. There’s something... wrong about this place.” River raised a brow at her, although it wore off as she stared into the entrances of the mysterious building: three rectangular openings abreast each other, the left and right smaller than the one at the center. When Feather peered into the darkness that settled before him, he wondered if some monster would come out and bring destruction to the world foretold in a blazing prophecy. “Now that you mention it, it does look pretty ominous.” River shuffled her hooves together in meek unease. That unease was shared by him, too, a lingering feeling, a harbinger’s silence before they shared secrets and tales so extraordinary it would make the sun rise from the west. Somehow, behind the veil of those thresholds, there were things that were larger than life, things that would change everything forever. “Twilight, you can use your illumination spell here, right?” When she confirmed this by lighting her horn, he regarded both Twilight and River, saying, “I feel like this is it. There are no other pyramids that can be seen from up here from what River and I observed. This is the place the legend talked about, the place where she was sacrificed.” The wind was hollow and bitter when it came, echoing inside the structure’s hollow chambers, a whisper from the dead. Twilight by his side and River behind him, the three crossed the central entranceway to find themselves in a hollow chamber, walls made of varying sized bricks purple under the alicorn’s light. The sunlight entered the room too cleanly, three streaks of slanted light reaching the ancient floor. Feather didn’t notice any staircase or pathway that led to the top of the structure. It caught him off guard at first, though that wasn’t what made his heart skip a beat, halting any premonitions he may have once had. What did make his heart skip a beat was a massive hole on the ground, intricate carvings of patterns and skulls wrapping its perimeter save for a small slice, bare and untouched. When Twilight neared it, her illumination allowing Feather to see more clearly, he understood why that was the case. It was a clearing for a descending staircase, the sterile air and darkness continuing down, and down, and down... The three ponies worriedly glanced at each other in this newfound moment of worry. Gazing down again to the abyss most certainly didn’t help, either; if they wanted to know and see what laid before them, then there was only one way to do that. “I thought it said she was sacrificed on top of the pyramid, now below.” River regarded the entrance with uncertainty, a mistrust gracing her grimace and words. Feather asked when he heard River mention that, “Twi, have you seen any sort of passageway for somepony to reach the top of this structure?” She shook her head disappointedly. “No, Feather. I... it doesn’t make any sense. Both of you said you didn’t see any pyramids from up here, right?” They nodded. “And there’s also no way this was the pyramid she was sacrificed on; there’s no indication of a staircase or anything of the sort. So where is that pyramid?” She confirmed his suspicions. There was no way up this thing other than flying. It seemed that this construction wasn’t meant to be peaked, wasn’t meant to have its summit accessed. That only meant one thing. Feather had a funny feeling, a funny feeling that yearned to him, toying. He couldn’t come to terms with it, but the more he tried not to convince himself, the more he was convinced with the idea, a notion that didn’t stop tickling a part of his psyche. “Let’s go down these steps.” The two grimaced at him as if he were crazy. “Erm...” “Feather, why...” He sighed at their hesitation. “Look, we have nowhere else to look. If there’s one place that’s important to these people, it’s going to be here, in the largest island that’s in the literal center of Tlekokalli.”  Feather regarded the mute abyss for a moment. “You said it yourself, Twilight, that myths and legends blur overtime; this might be one of those times. And besides, isn't this why we're here? To look for her?” The two mares gazed down the steps, gulping. “I don’t see why not,” River tried to rationalize, “I mean, it’s not like there’s anypony... down there; this place seems to be utterly deserted, after all.” “And I have my light and magic,” Twilight added, making her horn glow just a tad brighter. Nodding, Feather tentatively exhaled before setting a hoof on the first step, glancing back one last time before he began a slow gait, Twilight’s light from behind guiding the way. The dark. It was suffocating. The air most certainly was—it was sterile and aged in the hundreds of years—but the darkness somehow aided that feeling of claustrophobia.  Even with the aid of Twilight’s illumination, Feather started to see things, phantoms that moved and dodged whenever he caught a glimpse of them. Escaping him, just to taunt, like he was meek prey in the deepest of seas. Feather’s heart beat faster with every step he took. How many did he take? Ten? Fifty? A hundred? He couldn’t find the words. Yet he had to keep going. Was this staircase a pathway to hell? It went deeper than he thought it would; the steps went for on longer than the island was tall. How was that possible? Feather didn’t even pause or falter. The tingle in his hooves, Feather could barely bear—a feeling of gripping anxiety. As much as he wanted to stop, he didn’t; he wasn’t even thinking of it, his hooves like a factory machine working without end. Feather felt like he was digging deeper into his grave, a dusty abode for his corpse for the rest of time. And yet as the tension rose in the air, the instinct to turn back rummaging inside of him, he kept going. Until he stopped. It was a small and dingy room, glowing purple that reached the walls and ceilings. Except that the purple glow did not come from Twilight’s horn. No, this light came from a portal that stood squarely at the end, waiting. The swirls, they were hypnotizing, wisps flowing into themselves, appearing and disappearing, created and destroyed in their elusiveness. It was like when one threw a rock at a pond to disrupt the peace of the water, except the waves of this portal never truly ceased, never truly died. Feather swore he could see stars in the nightly tapestry. “The gateway to gateways shall be crossed whether you are ready or not.” Feather turned to Twilight, her illumination spell gone to be replaced with what seemed to be her translation spell. She gazed at a stone plaque on a wall. “The gateway to gateways shall be crossed whether you are ready or not.” “A gateway to the next life,” Feather simply stated, regarding the portal. He gave it a poignant smile. “Gateway of gateways... There... This is really a gateway to another dimension, a place removed from this realm.” It wasn’t a question. Feather watched the portal with a tilted head, a pause creeping into his soul. Was this the portal the legend spoke of, a literal, physical gateway that led to another place? “On the other side... Jade was here. She’s on the other side.” The two mares were silent, a heavy blow of an epiphany he had thrust upon them, thrust upon himself. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if we’re ready or not,” Feather said, glancing at the plaque. He still hadn’t turned to his friends. “But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I have to.” Then Feather observed their pairs of eyes, and behind them persisted beautiful desolation. “You don’t have to come with me. I can go on. I can do this if you don’t want to.” Nothing. There was no response. No show of determination, no show of backing out, not even a simple raise or lower of lips. Feather and his companions were frozen in time in front of the portal to another dimension, the gateway that led to where all souls departed to. River Moon took his hoof. Her eyes were softly ablaze with hope. “I’ve been by your side every step of the way. That’s not going to change.” Twilight also set her hoof on theirs, and they were complete. “I promised to help you, and I’ve done that. But I want to help her, too. Not only try, but do.” Feather wrapped his wings around them, nestled in the middle, and returned comforting glances. These three friends walked through the portal, spirits daunted and determined. They were in another place now, and one would assume they passed away without a trace of their existence in this reality.