The fuchsia unicorn shivered in the damp cold of the vault. He didn't understand what he was doing in this foreboding place. All he saw was dark, smooth stone and the dim light of the lamp suspended in the magic of the grizzled Royal Guard that led him through the passage.
The two walked in silence.
The soft knock knock knock of their hooves on the frozen stone was driving him mad. He could no longer contain himself, he needed to know his purpose here, why he had been called from his excavations of old Gryphic ruins to this strangely cold chamber east of Manehatten.
"What's going on? Why have I been re-stationed? Where are we?" His voice rose slightly with each word, the chattering of his teeth as evident as the frost of his breath in the dim lamp light.
His "guide" didn't even bother to turn his head as he let a slight blast of air escape his nostrils, quickly frozen and dissipated in the below-freezing tunnel.
"I suppose you should be told," the far older unicorn grunted, "you'll learn soon enough in any case." He let another blast of air out of his nose.
"You're a historian, correct? An archaeologist?"
The younger pony nodded.
"Then how would you react knowing that you would be one of the select few ponies to study the most ancient history of Equestria? Things that even the princesses don't know?"
"That..that would be the chance of a lifetime!" Excitement began to build in the younger stallion's chest. Was this why he was brought here? To bear witness to things so old even the Princesses couldn't recall them from memory?
"Exactly." The guard said, smiling slightly at his charge's enthusiasm. "A chance you have been graciously given".
At this point, the archaeologist could barely contain his excitement. What, he wondered could be so ancient, so important?
Ahead, he saw that the tunnel was coming an end. Dim light flooded into the passage from a small, but steadily growing point in front of them. He walked slightly faster, his guard increasing his speed in turn.
Finally, they stepped into the room. *Room* being a subjective term. This was more of a castle, a dark, macabre parody of the Princesses' home in Canterlot. Ahead of them was a massive wall, marked with symbols, numbers and letters written in some ancient alphabet that no pony could comprehend.
The young historian stared, wide-eyed and mouth agape at the massive subterranean structure before him. After a few long minutes, the guard coughed slightly, rousing him from his shock, shakily, he spoke:
"This shouldn't be possible. You said that this cavern was ancient. Even were it only a few hundred years old, It should have flooded by now."
"Exactly" the elder stallion said, his voice reverberating off the vast walls with ease, "It shouldn't be, but it is. Look at the walls and the floor. No pony, or any other living creature for that matter,can dredge such perfectly flat caverns from rock as strong as this."
"Then tell me," The younger responded, "what do we know so far?"
At this the older stallion only smiled, and turned his eyes back to the massive walls lined with cuts that looked suspiciously like doors ahead of them. The archaeologist exhaled slightly. He would, he supposed, learn with time. Though, with the oppressive rock surrounding him, and the shadows all around, he only hoped that this knowledge would not be something he would regret hearing.
"Knowledge is dangerous" the guard said, seemingly reading his thoughts, "and what you learn here may prove to be more of a curse or burden than the enlightenment you seek."