//------------------------------//
// He will Rise 
// Story: Millennium 
// by A-hardie 
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A year, had it been a year?

A full year since he had leafed through those blasted notes? A year since he had deciphered a minuscule fragment of the mystery behind the Millennium? His muzzle buried itself amongst his hooves. His brain was wringing itself, the mass of grey matter feeling like lead. Just a headache he told himself, just a headache. 

It had kept coming, so often now that he could almost time it. It had felt like a gnawing on his spinal column at first, but now it felt like a rigorous pulse. He cringed at the sensation, willing it to stop.

“Foot Note” the voice snapped. The researcher’s head raised at the vocal summon. Withered Scroll stood in the doorway, the stallion carrying a rather unfamiliar visage of concern.

“You ok?” he asked. The words were sincere, the true markings of a working friendship. Foot nodded, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hoof.

“Fine, just a headache” he assured his elder. The other pony did not looked convinced at the explanation.
“You should really go to the medical mare” he warned, stepping nearer. His hooffalls sounded less sure to Foot’s ears now, age and stress was steadily catching up to the stallion.

“I can’t right now, something’s going on up top” Foot reminded Withered. The burly earth pony nodded, mentally disciplining himself. Something was going on up on the surface, and all members of staff had been told to stay underground and keep working until the crisis passed. Whilst few details had come down the telegraph wires, there had been some talk of ‘pink clouds’ and ‘chocolate rain’. Foot was quick to dismiss such messages as nonsense.
“Did Apol arrive before lockdown?” Foot questioned, not that he really needed to. He was well aware of the Griffin’s punctuality. Arrive early to be on time, be on time to be late. That was the rule he lived by.

“Of course that blasted griffin arrived on time, he’s more punctual than the Clock of the Time Dragon” Withered grumbled. This drew a rather mischievous smirk from the unicorn.

“What’s the matter Withered? The bird ruffling your feathers?” he teased. The earth pony was quick to glare.

“Shut up. You know full well I don’t appreciate someone telling me how to do my job, least of all a pompous feather plucker” Withered explained with a huff, trying to hold in some measure of dignity. And with that he turned tail, silently leaving. At the sight, Foot couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was well known amongst the staff that Withered had a few disagreements with Apol now and again. Disagreements being the downplayed explanation. A more accurate description of what usually occurred was the earth pony shouting his head off as the griffin casually preened himself.

It couldn’t be helped. Apol was one of the old sort, for lack of a better term. A long, strong bloodline flowed through him. So old in fact that he had retained the pointed ears that the large majority of griffins had lost generations ago. Prior to his relationship with Equestrian government, Apol had been a weather griffin, clearing the clouds before the sun as it rose.
But now, Princess Celestia had need of a service he leant himself to well.

As Foot turned a corner, there he was. The feathers upon his head and neck had been freshly swept down, melding perfectly into the transition of down and fur. Rather untraditionally for his kind, both pelt and feather were dark earthen tones, holding shades of grey and brown, somehow making him altogether more intimidating.

Foot however held no fear towards the griffin. Very much the opposite in fact. And with a brush of his coat, he coughed in his throat to get the attention of his guest.

“Apol” he addressed. The griffin rotated with a grace that ponies simply couldn’t match, the flexible spine and hips curving to face the significantly shorter unicorn. Foot found himself, rather indignantly, having to lean back to see his new associates face. And what a face it was, the eyes scowling in deep furrows and the beak gleaming.

The rather impressive visage was shattered when the griffin chuckled deeply. Right before he promptly floored Foot Note with a pat on the back.

“It’s good to see you again my friend. How does the bureau treat you?” he asked the stunned unicorn. Raising a hoof for pause, Foot pried himself upwards, bones crunching at choice moments.

“A pleasure to see you too” he answered, twisting his neck to soothe the joints that had very nearly dislocated themselves from the impact.

“And to answer your question, aside from the trouble upstairs things are just hunky dory, research going well and all” he ended his sentence in a way that he knew Apol detected as being odd. Like a gramophone that skips the final line of dialogue.

“I figured Princess Celestia wasn’t telling me something when she requested me to arrive on two days’ notice for some reason she refused to tell me in a letter” Apol explained, his brows furrowing in deep focus. Foot sighed at the griffin
“We can’t ever get anything past you, can we?” he asked. Apol shook his head. The edges of the pony’s mouth turned up in a smirk, rolling his eyes.

“Fair enough, come along” he gestured in a specific direction with his head, before leading the griffin scientist down the chilled hallways he had long since memorised. Now came the part that the he had been dreading.
“Do you remember the Millennium project?” he asked. Apol’s step faltered, just as Foot had predicted. Of course the griffins knew about Millennium. So did the minotaurs. And the zebras, the dragons, donkeys, in fact every other civilisation who had a diplomatic relationship with Equestria. It wasn’t in their interests to hide a potentially object of mass destruction.
“It’s hard not to, last time I was here you were cleaning up the mess that was left in its chamber” Apol reminded him, scraping his claws as he walked. No matter how civilised the griffins were, old habits like claw baring still happened.

“We want you to go into its chamber” Foot blurted out. He was quick to turn back to the aghast looking griffin, lifting a hoof to press his beak shut before he was capable of protesting.

“Will you let me explain first?” Foot pleaded with Apol. For a moment the griffin mulled this over before nodding, then prying the hoof away from his beak with a talon.

“Last year we finally worked out WHY people go insane from being in proximity to it” he spoke slowly, having planned the entire explanation out in his head long before, his brain at that very moment picturing the various diagrams he had drawn up.

“It was all in the magic. Magic is our lifeblood, part of our very being to the core. And the Millenium decayed it, blackening the magic from our minds” it had all been so simple, so simple that everypony had ignored common knowledge. If a creature was capable of reducing magic to a state of non-existence, then by all logic it also destroyed the magic that sparked inside a pony’s brain, just like neural electricity.

The deprivation of the magic led to hallucinations, small at first, before they grew into monstrosities. And then, as any body deprived of a substance, the pony would die. But the tangible manifestations of these hallucinations was a mystery that Foot Note still had not unravelled.

Still, he intended to keep Apol mum on that particular fact.

“You griffins have the absolute barest concentration of magic in your bodies. In the case of this creature, it might be a lack of power that allows you the ability to come close to it” Foot drawled on. The face on his companion was less than enthusiastic.

“Yes, I read the report on Princess Luna. You think her magic made her more susceptible to damage during her dream gazing?” Apol asked.

“More than likely, but I also believe Princess Luna’s fears and worries at the time may have also made her more susceptible. You are of sound mind and strong will Apol” Foot stopped in front of the door, doing the same, time honoured opening routine.

It was all the same, exactly the same as every other time. The door hissed, the stone ground against itself, and the biting icy chill came out the open doorway. But for Foot Note, there was something different, something almost imperceptible. Like a sharp prickling against his skin. And old sunburn on his muzzle trying to heal, that’s what it was like.
He brushed it aside, it was nothing, just a distraction. Withered Scroll was already in the room, scouring the floor with the chalk between his teeth. He raised his head at the intrusion, scowling at Apol. The look was returned in a far more playful manner, before the earth pony resumed his work. Across the smooth floor of the chamber, right at the foot of the stone throne, a series of complex runes had been drawn out.

It had taken Foot months to create an array that would work in some semblance of actual design. For a successful mind reading, a bridge had to be formed, ideally by a willing pair of subjects, with one or both of them casting the necessary magic to identify themselves to each other’s minds.

But to allow a single non magical creatures mind to view an unidentified creatures mind, without alerting it to his presence, that was another gambit altogether. But Foot had scrambled a design together. Four magically charged crystals, with one in each corner of the array would hopefully disguise Apol’s presence, whilst Foot himself provided the necessary magic to support the bridge. Withered meanwhile would assist with continually replacing each crystal as it faded.

“All you have to do is look Apol” Foot assured him.

“We’re not asking you to make contact with it directly, just to see if it’s thinking anything at all in there that can tell us what it really is” the request gave Apol pause. True he had once been a sky clearer, but he was a scientist now first and foremost. And to be requested to work with some of Princess Celestia’s lead researchers again was a genuine honour. However, there of course had to be some reimbursements.

“I take it that I will be properly compensated for my risks?”

“Apol, you already know I’m more than happy to share any credit with you. And all future findings shall be marked under dual Equestrian and Griffonian development. I take it that will suffice your government. But the real question is, what will it take to convince you, Apol?”

The griffin sighed, scratching his beak.

“Foot Note, you’ve known me since I visited the academy. You should be well aware by now that whilst many of my peers are motivated by money I myself still hold a lust for science. So please, stop trying to convince me” he said with a smirk. Foot responded with a smile of his own. Why had he ever doubted him?

“Stand in the centre of the circle at the middle of the array. When we open its eyes, just follow your gut, so to speak.” Foot assured him, patting his shoulder. Apol nodded steadily, gazing over to the runes that Withered was drawing out.
“Shouldn’t those lines be…?”

“I swear if you finish that sentence I’ll shove this chalk so far up your backside you’ll cough up dust” Withered warned the griffin. The griffin smiled in turn.

“Ever the master of eloquence, eh Withered Scroll?” He taunted. The coat on Withered’s back bristled in fury.
“Just sit in the damned circle” he growled, scrawling across the floor with renewed vigour. Apol chuckled at the frustrated earth pony, sitting in the central circle within the array. He wrapped his tail tightly to his side, careful not to smudge the chalk beneath him.

“Are you ready?” Foot note asked the great griffin. He nodded, before raising a talon.

“Actually, I do have one question. What is that band under its shirt collar?” He asked, pointing. Foot raised an eyebrow, peering carefully at the creature’s neck as he pulled down the collar of its shirt with his hoof. A dark metallic line stretched around the width of its neck, like a copper ring had been there for a prolonged amount of time. It was old news to him.
“We’re not entirely sure, but Withered over there thinks it used to wear a necklace. If he’s right, then that could be what Heartstrings stole so long ago. Not that we can actually prove it” Foot grumbled, pushing the creature back. With the jolt, the creature gave its customary exhale, sending a plume of thick white vapour into his face.

Foot gagged and hacked at the odour. Why oh why did it smell so foul? And why could he never place the smell? Stepping back he spat into the corner of the room, the foul odour lingering in his mouth and nostrils.

“You done Withered?” he asked. Flicking his mane back, Withered placed the now thoroughly worn down chalk on the table that the video camera stood upon.

“We’re good to go. Apol, you just look into its eyes when we open them” Withered told the griffin, his words for once betraying concern. The griffin silently welcomed the moment of concern. Each of the ponies stood to one side of the creature, a hoof raised each to open its eyelids. Foot took one last look over at his associate, who nodded silently in response.

Apol was nervous, borderline afraid. Not that he would ever let it show, he had pride as a griffin after all. It was compulsory of all of his kind to enter military training, and they whipped showing weakness out of you quickly. But as always, being in the presence of this creature deeply unsettled him. But he was so eager as well.
Slowly, the pair of ponies slid up the creatures eyelids. Blinding green light scorched him, searing his feathers and hair. It was as if the light threatened to burn out his own eyes.

Then there was darkness.

Apol blinked at the silence. Was this supposed to happen? Had it worked? Indeed Millennium had disappeared, the throne it usually sat on having gone with it. He cast his sharp eyes downwards, the runes were gone too.
“Foot Note, if something goes wrong during this I’ll pluck out your eyeballs” he warned, entertaining the possibility that the pony somehow was keeping tabs on his situation. Rising to his feet, the griffin turned to the entryway and pushed open the stone door. What was on the other side was clearly not the tunnels and halls on the research facility.
Non Euclidian would be the best way of describing the arrangement. Hallways seemed to curve in one direction, only to alternate between blinks of eyelids and sometimes they seemed to stop altogether. What lights there were seemed to have grown out of the walls and ceilings, not attached. And the dust and smoke in the air seemed to be frozen like frost on a morning window, only to curl when touched.

For several minutes Apol tried to understand it all. His brain was physically hurting as he tried to fathom the unique geometry of the hallways. It was only when he felt the first droplets of blood began to run from his nostrils that he stopped. With a bemused fascination he watched as the blood beaded on his beak, then promptly dripped upwards to explode in a puff of steam upon the ceiling. The small but mystifying act told Apol enough, to not try to understand what was not being explained.

“Leave it alone, some things were not meant to be known” he warned himself.

And so he began to walk. So many odd and in some cases terrifyingly small details became aware to him. His footfalls did not echo with the sound falling dead in the air, his feathers and hairs fluttered the opposite way that they should when he walked. Even his voice, which somehow seemed to get louder as it went into the gloom.

Apol cursed for the fifth time as he walked doubled back. Where there had once been a hallway some fifteen minutes ago now was but a brick wall. Early on it had been only every so often that the hallways seemed to alter, or stairs led back exactly to where he entered them. But it was far too common now to be just the natural process.
His ‘host’ was aware of the intruder to his thoughts.

It was then that Apol did something against his better judgement. Against Foot’s warnings and against his own gut feelings. He addressed it.

“Why do you keep changing?” he asked. The scraping to his left announced the near instant answer. Looking at it Apol was reminded much of the recessions in the halls of mirrors he had seen as a child. But there was no mirror here. Just a blackness that was somehow, flat. Apol leaned closer to it.

“The world is on a diagonal, I am the balancing point”

Apol leapt backwards, scuffing the skin upon his hind legs as he fell on his rump. A spectral, barely visible bipedal figure was there, rotating around a pole on an angle. For a few moments it flickered, before vanishing. He was transfixed. Was that an answer? Or a random act? The grinding behind him drew his attention, the once soldier turning almost instantly. He was eager for no more surprises.

A single hallway was there now, ‘mirrors’ along all sides. He looked back the other way. A blank hallway was now there. The choice spoke to him as if being whispered into his ear by sprites.

“Fall deeper into the rabbit hole, or start climbing” the voice whispered. Apol looked back and forth. He chose to dig deeper. He couldn’t be blamed, griffins were a curios bunch after all. The arches on either side of him seemed so intimidating to him now, like at any point they might spit out some horror to attack him.

“Why are you here?” he asked. A mirror burst into life. A large and vague image of a decrepit computer.

“I think, therefore I AM” it shattered into oblivion.

“Why is it you dream of darkness?” Another mirror ignited. No body this time, but the voice of a middle aged stallion.

“The process of delving into the black abyss is to me the keenest form of fascination.”

Were these answers?....No, these were memories. The most vaguest shades of memories, being used to provide cryptic answers to the questions posed before them.

“Why do you choose to remain here?”

“Who would choose to be alone, imprisoned by their broken memories?” A young mare that time, accompanied by the image of a female biped with long hair. That one struck Apol as odd. It had a much more…violent emotion to it.
The air was feeling colder now, cracks of frost decorating the walls. The air seemed darker too, a further recess of the mind? 

Another mirror sprang to life, startling the already stressed griffin. He had not summoned this one.
“Now proceed at your own risk. These be the last 'friendly' words ye'll hear. Ye may not survive to pass this way again...” an animate skull accompanied this one, providing a very direct warning. One the griffin ignored.

The form that silently approached Apol from the opposite end of the hallway gave him a start. The visage of Princess Luna, or a very skilled copy of her shape. But the majesty of her star filled mane was absent, being nothing but billowing black. Nor did her green eyes shine. Her lips parted, and the voice that expelled eliminated any possibility of it being the lunar princess. For the voice that spoke sounded like dozens speaking in tandem.

“We offer you this last opportunity our loyal subject. There are some places man was not meant to peer. For what they will find in those dark and slimy corners of the world will be beyond their comprehension should they see its true soul” the ghostly facsimile of Princess Luna vanished, replaced with a new shape. One that Apol was truly surprised to see.
Star Swirl the Bearded, his great cloak still adorned with bells. What would he be doing here? The princess was understandable, for she had touched the mind of Millennium directly, and so it had most definitely gazed upon her. But Star Swirl?

“Why does a pony continue to mine despite his craving for the sun?” Star Swirl lectured to thin air, his form flickering 
“Maybe it is because he knows he must do his duty. Or perhaps it is the pride that he is simply able to perform such a duty. Or maybe it is a reason of greed, that he hopes for some great reward?” Apol bit back a scream as the ghostly apparitions head looked towards him.

“We shall see, won’t we?” he offered the griffin, before evaporating. Apol wasn’t sure how long he stood there, scared to move like a hatchling after a scolding.

‘Come on you, get a grip over yourself’ he mentally chided. Whatever would his father think? With great effort, he stepped forward once, then again, and again. Despite his efforts, he was unable to quite get a confident rhythm going again, but he was making progress.

The air here had quite simply frozen where it hovered. Large ice crystals floated motionless in the air that would have beautifully refracted the light had there been any. Here, the uniformity of the hallways ended in the ugliest of fashions. A large crack split the intersecting hallways, as if they had all collapsed into some great cavity beneath. Cautiously Apol leaned over the great chasm. Even to his great eyes it seemed to go on forever. His claws gripped at the edges of the shattered rock, cracking off the minutest of pieces to clatter into the darkness.

The sound that rose from the darkness both sang in his heart and rended his soul, a symphony of balance in chaos. The last hurrah of the music of the spheres before they fell into eternal death. All from such simple words.

   
Y̴͙̆͋ͤͯO͙̰̝̟͍͈ͤ̆͒ͩ͜U̘̤ ̭̰̩H̸̹͍̬͙̆̉ͣ̄̐̾A̙̼ͧ̊̌̽͢Vͯ҉Ẹ̭͔̦͍̭̺̽ͭ̾ͨ̌̓ ̼̖̥̰̙͖̻͗̑C̦̞͌̑͛ͯ̀O̸ͬͯ̊̓ͧM̞̲͇̙E̜̞̟͔̝͌ͣ̏ͅ ̱̮̮̥ͫ̈̽͋T̟̏͗̊̒͂̾͞Ȍ̥͇́̚͡O̖̱͂̆ͯ́ͣ̿ͬ ̹̞ͭ͜F͔̤̥̱̝̅A̸̪͉̮͓̦̭͇͌ͭ̋̍̄̿̚R̖̩̳͇̪̃ͮͯ̾͐͐̀   


The sound of every rushing wind imaginable began echoing upwards from the chasm, sending colossal tremors up through Apols legs. He understood now. It had been tempting him, trying to gauge his reactions, to see what sort of opposition it might face from his kind. And he’d let it goad him!

And then, the proud griffin abandoned all sense of principles, and ran like a terrified child. He heard it explode from the darkness behind him, but didn’t dare look back. For he knew that if he did it would take him. But glimpses could not be avoided as small pieces of it momentarily overtook him. Thick tendrils of impossibly dark smoke ripping away the rock into nothingness like an ape crushing plaster between its fingers.

In here, it truly was God.

Foot Note had assured him he would be safe, he had promised! He just needed to stay alive, to stay breathing in his mind until he was dragged out of its thoughts. The room, yes, the room was just ahead. He was positive of it. He could practically feel the magic radiating from the coldness. At last he saw it ahead of himself, the sole room in a labyrinth of tunnels. 

Without hesitation Apol threw himself inside, slamming the stone door behind himself. There was nothing but silence all around him. Slowly, the griffin began to relax as the magic of the room began to work upon his thoughts, ready to return him to his own flesh. He was going to be alright.

The walls exploded outwards, the fragments consumed by darkness. And now, all Apol could do was look.
Roiling smoke and shadows dominated the abyss that the tiny fragment of matter floated within, a formless expression of an eternity of nothing but thoughts. And this still wasn’t the true shape of Millennium’s mind. Oh no matter how much it made the griffin weep blood and froth at the mouth. But it was close. Just close enough that the omniscient precursor could savour the pain it inflicted.

The smoke took form for the thoughts. The front half of a colossal pegasi, its lidless slit eyes gazing down upon the griffin with a harsh green glow. Teeth like shards of obsidian gnashed within its maw as the ethereal mane above it fluttered. 

It was beautiful.

“Open your mouth, you stupid glorified feather duster” Withered Scrolls voice stung deeply into the griffins whistling ears. He became intimately aware of the fact he was choking upon his own tongue, spittle running in rivulets from his beak. The magic of Foot Note grasped it, feeling like it had almost ripped the precious muscle from his throat.

Apol’s eyes rolled around, desperate to see the room. It was bright. There was no darkness, nothing chasing him. He took the briefest of moments to note he had urinated himself in fear, before passing out in relief.

“How is he?” Withered asked as Foot Note returned from the medical ward a full two and a half hours later. Foot twitched, blowing a lock of hair from his eyes.

“I don’t think he has any long term damage to his mind or body, but he’s certainly not going to be up and around for a while” he sighed.

“Did he actually learn anything?”

“He said it knew the shape of Princess Luna, so at the very least it’s sentient and self-aware, alongside recognising her importance” Foot explained. Withered could only nod before clearing his throat to relay his own news.
“I was just up at the telegraph post, lockdown should be ending soon. The Elements dealt with Discord” he explained. Foot gave of a weary smile.

“Oh thank goodness, I need a stiff drink after this. And our….friend over there?” he asked, gesturing with a hoof.
“Still deeper in sleep than a hibernating bear. I don’t think anything’s going to wake him up if old featherhead didn’t” Withered chuckled.

It is often said to tempt fate is to guarantee an unwanted future. If this is true, then Withered Scroll became responsible for all of Equestria’s woes after that date. For a single droplet of chocolate milk, courtesy of the Spirit of Disharmony, had escaped the purification of the Elements.

Ebbing its way through earth and stone, it now hung from the ceiling of the chamber like a spider. The head of the prize find tilted its head back, exhaling the white vapour on time as always. And the droplet, fell. It hit just beneath his left eye, hissing violently against the cold skin as it did so, alerting the two ponies to its presence. But what were they to do? Surprise and fear clouded both their minds.

The sweet liquid ran lower, following the curve of the pale lips, running across the teeth before landing with a final defeated hiss upon its tongue.

The two researchers stared, their breaths held. And then, their hearts freezing cold with fear, a single finger cracked upwards through the ice adhering them to the stone. Then the rest followed. The forelimbs flexed at unnatural angles for the ponies to understand, lifting themselves upright to stretch. Then they pressed downwards, hauling it to its feet as the legs kicked free. Its lungs inhaled, and then spewed forth dense white vapour that now turned black as the air died in its lungs.

The view of its teeth were far too clear to Foot now, especially the four canines settled neatly in the corners, the ivory colour glinting out amongst black gums.

And with a final showering of frost on its eyelashes, the eyes of Millennium slid open. There was no blinding light this time, just a green glow like torchlight. 

And a gaze that fixed upon the two ponies with the eyes of a predator.