//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: The Chamber // Story: Zenith // by The Descendant //------------------------------// Chapter 3: The Chamber Twilight’s magic hung tightly around the pair, wrapping them in a ball of light as she picked her way down the stairs. Down and down they went, making a tight circle as they dove down into the depths beneath the monolith. Down, down the stairs they went. Down, down, down… … and down, and down… … and down. “Ugggghhhh!” cried Spike, sprawling himself out across her back, more than a little impatience showing in his voice. “Seriously! What was with Sombra and stairs?!” Twilight’s giggle echoed around them as they continued to cautiously make their way down the steps. The sound made Spike smile, and it brought him a sense of certainty even as they descended along what could only be further evidence of the defeated unicorn’s affinity for stairwells. “So, ummm, Twi, why don’t ya just use your fancy gravity spell, the one you used at the palace? That’d be a lot quicker, wouldn’t it?” Spike asked as he leaned forward once again, resting his body against the back of her neck. “Well,” she said, “pretty much for the same reason I’m not flying down…” “Oh, ummm, why is that, Twi?” “Uncontrolled spiral into darkness followed by a confrontation with an unknown, infernal creation, one probably developed and deployed by a vindictive tyrant,” she said in a single breath. “Oh, yeah!” he said. “That!” Twilight chuckled, and as she did he leaned against her neck. The whelp looked up past her ears, and his familiar perspective of seeing the world through the frame of Twilight’s mane and horn met him once more. The radiance of her magic caught the alabaster core of the shaft of the stairwell on his left, her light shining upon it dimly as they made their continual downward spiral. On his right, the light fell down into what seemed an unending, consuming darkness. He leaned a little closer to her, letting his face rest across the back of her neck. He hummed a little, and let her familiar feel and scent push away any thoughts that may have slipped into his mind about what may be out there, staring back at them through the darkness. Spike tried to keep a count of all the steps Twilight was taking, but as her light hoof falls clattered down the steps he struggled to stay awake. As his count reached into the hundreds he found himself simply lying closer to her mane and his thoughts drifting as they slowly spiraled down into the dark. Soon he lost track of the numbers, and he found himself beginning to slumber. It was a shallow slumber, one that was interrupted over and over when Twilight’s body shifted in unexpected ways. The turn of her head as she peered into the surrounding blackness, a small startle as though she’d thought she had seen something move in the dark, these all woke the dragon, and each in turn added to the unease that hung over them. He laid his head once more and attempted to find some rest, but the nervous flutter of Twilight’s wings caught his attention. Twilight. Wings. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the idea. He wondered why he should have to. At once there was the clatter of hooves, and Twilight stumbled. Spike bolted in place and then wrapped his arms tighter around her neck, clenching his teeth in preparation for a tumble down the stairs. “Wah!” Twilight squeaked, spinning about. “Gah! Breathe! Neck! Spike!” “Wha-what?” he answered, opening one eye as he released his firm grip. “Spike, whew, I think we’re here,” she said as she caught her breath, spinning about in the darkness. Behind them the white core of the stairwell hovered in the darkness like a tall, ascending ghost. “Where… wow, Twi, where’s here?” Spike asked. He stood upon her back and tried to peer around her head. She moved to give him a view. He moved clockwise, and she in the opposite direction entirely, properly and unintentionally obscuring one another’s view. The two smirked at one another in the darkness, the whites of their teeth and eyes standing out oddly against the darker shades of their bodies, and then turned as one towards the distance. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked again. As he did a sliver of something caught his eye. He blinked once, twice, and then peered into the distance again. A thin beam of green light stood out against the horizon, fine tendrils of it lifting into the high places of the chamber before disappearing into the darkness. The thrum, the very same one that had scared him back in the streets above, lifted around them. Here below, though, it reverberated around them, echoing around within the darkness. Spike felt Twilight’s coat stand up beneath him, and her wings fluffed again. “We’re… we’re here, huh?” he asked, lowering himself so that only the emerald of his eyes peeked out from behind her mane. “I… I guess so,” she said. Twilight gulped slightly, and then took a hesitant step forward. The thrumming arose once more, and as it did Twilight went still. The line of green wavered, as though it was searching for something, and it seemed as though magica vasto was lifting higher on an unseen wind. Spike could feel the wince go across her face. He gave her a quick scratch behind her ear before leaping off of her. Having found the smooth, cold stones of the chamber’s floor, he placed his hand upon her foreleg, once more lending her the comfort of his touch, and finding it there for himself. She smiled a worried smile for him, and he returned it. Together they walked forward, their small steps falling across remarkably smooth paving stones, ones bordered by cracks that were filled with the dust of ages. “Oh, wow,” said Spike, falling a step behind her. Twilight became highlighted in green, the light revealing itself as arising from an abscess before them. At once the light flickered, grew, and became waves that sent the princess to her knees, shielding her eyes with one foreleg. Spike scampered up beside her, hiding slightly inside her frame. One more look flew between them, and then they peered down into the abyss. “W-what is it, Twi?” Spike asked, sliding forward so that his face hung over the edge. “I don’t know, Spike,” she answered, her voice small and uncertain. “I just don’t know.” Silence crept over them as they peered down into the abscess in the floor. The two lay there in the dark, trying to make sense of what sat before them. A swirl of green mist hung around the well. It gathered, dissipated, and then gathered again, seeming to be growing thicker and more tangible even as they looked upon it. There, from the center of the space, arose an obelisk. It emerged from the swirls of green, rising out of the abyss of mist like a tower along a forgotten shoreline, a malicious sentinel climbing out of the haze. Its surface shimmered, the onyx so perfectly black that it seemed to draw in the gloom that hovered around it, making the darkness somehow seem lighter as their eyes struggled to remember ever seeing such a shade. Green lines of dark magic snaked across its surface like veins across diseased skin, filling in unknown words and nameless symbols that pulsed in the darkness. And all the while, it seemed to grow stronger. “Huh! Look at that!” called the little dragon, putting his hands on his hips. His voice wavered slightly as another thrum coasted over them, echoing away in the darkness. “Okay!” he said, spinning about in place, pointing with both hands as anxiety showed across his features. “We figured out that it’s a thing. It’s a tall, scary, black obelisk thing. Let’s go! To the stairs! Off we go! Here we go! Here we go, Twi! Let’s… Twi? Twi?” Spike froze in the middle of his step, his hasty evacuation of the chamber interrupted by the immobility of his best friend. He looked up to her, and the familiar expression that sat there informed him that they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. “No,” he said firmly, crossing his arms in front of himself. “Oh, no, no, no, Twi. Nuh uh!” “We’re going to study it!” she exclaimed, her wide grin showing Spike that the intellectual part of Twilight was now firmly in command, pushing aside the uncertainty that hovered around her in the darkness. Spike moaned, his arms falling limp at his side. Twilight’s giggle fell over him as a look of unenthusiastic acceptance settled across his face. At once there was another thrum, and the obelisk pulsed, sending waves of some unknown magic slipping through the green mists. Spike found Twilight looking down at him. Somehow, he’d already wrapped himself around her foreleg even as she placed the other across him. They gulped in unison, and then turned their eyes from one another to look upon the obelisk. The sense of unease that flowed from the black spire only seemed to grow stronger, as though some part of it were awakening after a long slumber, the green vines of magic snaking along its surface as it awoke in its forgotten tomb. A few minutes later, Twilight was winging her way down into the well of the obelisk, little curls of green swirling past her wings as the magic parted in her wake. Spike looked upon it as he sat in his familiar place on her back once, wondering what type of magic would do so. He sat back, raised a finger, and opened his mouth to ask her exactly that. As he did a wisp of the magic caught across his tongue. “Gah!” he called, as his eyes went wide and he began wiping his tongue with his fingers. “Blegh! Gak! Ugh!” he exclaimed over and over. “This stuff tastes like that bean burrito we found in the bottom of my bed!” “You ate that?!” Twilight replied, her voice a mix of concern, incredulity, and disgust. “Spike, I told you to throw it away!” “I did throw it away!” he answered, smacking his lips. “I think it musta crawled back or somethi… oh, jeez, I just got even more in my mouth! Gah!” As Spike sat retching upon her back, Twilight turned her head to give him a proper admonition, as a good guardian should. This, however, was interrupted as a strand of the haze drifted across her own open mouth, catching across her taste buds. “Blegh!” she said as her tongue flopped out of her head and her eyes rolled back. “Ugh! It tastes like I’m in a relay race and somebody just pushed a sweaty orange slice into my mouth that had been used to clean out old, slimy fish tanks!” “I know, right?!” Spike sputtered, the dragon still furiously trying to wipe the taste from his tongue with his claws. “It’s like somepony dared me to try to whistle the Equestrian national anthem while my mouth is full of old, sticky Popsicle sticks that had fallen to the bottom of a hamster cage!” The two stopped in the middle of their personal battles with the aftertaste to look at one another, Twilight delicately trying to wipe it against her royal boots, Spike drawing his claws across his tongue madly. Twilight smirked at him as they floated farther down through the swirls of vapor, and he answered with a smile. “Pinkie and her hobbies!” they answered in unison. Their few small giggles filled the otherwise silent, lonely space, and for a second it filled Spike with new confidence. Despite the wings, despite the crown and new responsibilities, this was Twilight, and they still had their own jokes that only they knew. He just wondered how much longer he’d be able to share them. They landed, and the dust of ages now joined them in the swirl that arose from her hooves. As Spike undid the saddlebags he tried to avoid breathing acrid fumes, and his little hacking coughs seemed to hover around the floor. Twilight gulped. “I-it’s okay, Twi,” he said, painting certainty into his voice. “You’ll figure it out. I’m sure of it! A-and like I said, whatever that big rocky obelisk thing is, I’ll protect ya!” Her giggle once more filled the space, and he felt her hoof draw across his frills in the gentlest of noogies. “Heh, what can I say, Twi!” he said with a giggle of his own. “A promise is a promise! No stone thingy’s gonna sneak up on you while I’m with ya!” “Well then, mighty Lord Protector,” Twilight said, lifting her hoof from him and letting some subtle sarcasm slip into her voice, “if you’d pick up a scroll and a quill, we’ll get to work!” The dragon’s claws scampered across the dusty floor, kicking up little whirlwinds as he dove into the saddlebags. Twilight’s hoof came over her mouth, hiding her smile as she watched his feet kick through the air and miscellaneous items come flying out of the bag. In a moment he had re-emerged, a scroll unfolding in his hands and a quill sitting in his mouth. As he walked to Twilight’s side, Spike took the the quill from his mouth, leaving just the faintest smudge of black ink across the edge of his lips. Twilight slipped her hoof out of her boot. She lifted her hoof to her mouth, licked the back of it, and then much in the same way her own mother would, she wiped away the inky smear that sat upon his face. He scrunched up as she did, and then smiled as she slipped her foot back into the metal boot. With one last nod the two turned to face the obelisk. “Alright,” Twilight said as her body gained a determined pose, “let’s study the Well out of this thing!” “Right!” Spike answered, affecting a dramatic stance of his own, the two looking the very part of a resolute princess of Equestria and her stalwart assistant. Another thrum rolled around them, catching them in the tangible malice that had draped itself around the obelisk. The dust beneath them rippled, moving as little waves of powder that undulated along as the mist parted and wrapped around itself. The force behind whatever fueled the obelisk shuddered across them with a strong echo, a sound like the roll of distant thunder. The powerful alicorn and terrifying dragon looked to one another, discovering that they had once again drawn the other into a comforting embrace. With another gulp, Twilight stood, and then made her way towards the obelisk, Spike following along behind. They circled it, once, twice, and then a third time. Twilight released contemplative tones as they went, as they disturbed the dust there in the deep, wide well. “Hmmmm,” she’d mouth at intervals as their orbits came closer and closer to the tall spire of black. “Hmmmm,” she repeated, placing her chin in her hoof as she pondered the symbols that sat upon the obelisk… … and then they went off circling it once again. Spike sighed aloud, but only from the tedium of walking around and around, scroll and quill held at the ready. Even as the obelisk seemed to pulse with newer strength, he found himself, if not happy, at least calm in the familiarity. Twilight was being smart, and he was helping her. This was good. He liked this. This is the way things were supposed to be. He was helping Twi, as always. He didn’t understand why this had needed to change. As they sat before the obelisk, Spike studied Twilight. Crown, boots, slightly taller every day… wings. Wings. Why? Why did she need to change? All these new responsibilities, these duties… ones that he didn’t know how to help her with, ones that she didn’t… didn’t need him for… She didn’t need him. Not long ago, before Princess Celestia had asked Twilight to take on this task of coming to Pursopolis, he had been talking with Fluttershy. Not unexpectedly, the conversation had turned to the adventure Twilight and Spike had gone on, the one in that other reality where all of their friends had looked like naked monkeys. “Ummm, Spike?” the demure pegasus had asked, running her hoof up and down her other leg. “No... nopony asked you, but... ohh, well, how did turning into a puppy... how did that make you feel? I mean, we don’t see you as a pet, just so you know, I mean.” “Naw,” he had said, waving a hand through the air, “that was fine. It worked out okay, right?” “Oh!” Fluttershy had said, a happy smile running across her face. “Oh, I’m so glad!” Spike’s little white lie had made the pegasus happy, and that was okay. The truth is that he hadn’t really become upset about it until he’d come home, until after everything had quieted down. He had gone upstairs and looked at his little bed, and that’s when he realized what it meant. The truth? Turning into a dog had been a reprieve! It had been a chance for him and Twilight to have a new adventure. It had been a chance for him to be useful to her once more, to be there to stand by her and comfort her. It had been nothing less than a shining moment for him, to really be Twilight’s Number One Assistant... even if he had been a dog. Two nights back from their journey, and back from the Crystal Empire, he had gone to bed alone in the quiet, dark, library. Twilight had gone off to Canterlot again, or the Empire... he’d lost track. Some royal duty that did not require his presence had called for her, and she’d left far, far too quickly. As such, he did his few chores and then went to bed at his prescribed time. And so things had gone back to the way they had been before their adventure, after Twilight had become a princess. They’d gone back to the way that her duties were growing and changing... duties that did not require his services. She didn’t need him. “Bow wow,” he had said, looking at her bed as he settled into what he now realized, after all of the nights since they’d come to Ponyville, was a doggie basket. The memory faded, and Spike felt himself clutching the scroll and quill closer to his chest, and his expression dropped. The dragon watched Twilight’s face crease as she pondered the distant spire. He gave another little sigh. He was lucky that she’d even asked him to come on this adventure. Why had things needed to change, anyway? What could a princess do that Twilight couldn’t? Twi was already awesome. We were happy before, he thought. She was doing great for the first time, making real friends and just out being super powerful and amazing and stuff. We were happy. Why did, why… Princess Twilight. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it, to the way things had changed. He wondered if he’d ever, ever stop hating it. “Hmmmm,” said Twilight, walking forward. “Hmmmm,” she repeated, and then collapsed against the obelisk, sliding down it into a seated posture as a long raspberry escaped her lips. “Nope, I have no clue what this thing is.” Spike looked to the blank scroll and the drying quill. Oh well, so much for being helpful after all. He shrugged his shoulders, patted Twilight on the head, and then leaned back against the surface of the spire. “I just don’t know,” she said, her voice catching a little. “I don’t recognize any of the symbols on it, and the letters are a lot older than anything I know. Really, really old! Older than Sombra by a long shot! I can’t even place the style of the obelisk. It’s like it fell from space, or simply jumped out of a fairy tale or something!” Spike pat her on the back of her head again. “Heh,” he chuckled, his back sliding against the dusty, dingy surface of the obelisk, his flesh crawling underneath his scales as he imagined the green pulses of magic moving beneath him. “Well, next time we go on a trip, we’ll have to bring some books about big scary stuff, huh?” The faintest of frowns crossed her face, and she opened her mouth to begin to respond when another thrum cascaded from the surface of the obelisk. It was stronger, much stronger. Twilight bounced in place, her whole rump coming off the smooth stone floor before crashing down again. Spike was thrown off his feet, tumbling across Twilight and landing in her outstretched forelegs. The dragon looked up to the startled alicorn. “So, we throwin’ in the towel, Twi?” he asked, watching her eyes as they slowly stopped bobbing about. “Should I send a letter to Princess Celestia?” Spike felt a twinge of disappointment go through her. Yet another sigh escaped her, hanging heavily around the chamber. “C’mon, Twi, it’s okay,” he said, looking up her from where he still lay. “She doesn’t expect ya to do everything by yourself. That wouldn’t be fair.” “I suppose so…” she answered, her eyes falling down farther. Spike lifted the familiar scroll and quill, and as Twilight began to speak he copied down the words. Twilight dictated her letter, and even though he grimaced at the defeated look that fell over her, there was a part of him that was glad. Here was Twilight, sending a letter off to her mentor, and Spike was writing it down, just as he always had. He was being useful. She needed him. Soon all that Spike and Twilight had seen and heard here in the dark space was captured on the scroll, and as Spike rolled out of her forelegs he wrapped it tight and sealed it shut. He drew a deep breath, and soon he released a jet of his flame. The letter flew off into ash, finding its way through the unknown spaces of deep magic as it made its way to Canterlot. As this flame evaporated, something caught Spike’s eye. He blinked twice, and then released another small wisp of flame. He studied the surface of the spire as the light of his flame flew across it, and his eyes went wide as he did. He approached the obelisk, hopping up on a small ledge near its base, and raised his hand. Something was caked to the surface, like a scab across a weeping wound, covering something that wished to be revealed. He blinked again, gave a little shake to clear his perceptions, and then raised his hand once again. There was something beneath, a graven image that his light had cast into relief. He wiped away a layer of filth, and as it sloughed off a familiar image forced itself into his perceptions. “Twilight!” he called, startling so badly that he nearly fell off the ledge. “Twilight!” Twilight had been staring at the smooth stones of the floor, her mind lost in thought. Why is this thing here? she had asked herself. What is it doing? Why does it seem like it is getting stronger? As she lifted her head these concerns flowed away, replaced with a singular sensation of shock and fear. Sombra. Spike’s hands flew back and forth across the engraving, and as they did the features of the tyrant came into stark repose, his malevolent smile settling over them as the green magic filled the spaces around the relief. “Twilight, w-why is he on it? You said that it was much older than him, right?” the dragon asked, fear evident in his voice. “I...I just don’t get it!” Twilight called, stomping her hooves into the ground, making clouds of dust rise around her. “It is older than Sombra! A lot older! Like, maybe thousands of years older! But he brought it here, and it has his image on it! Agh! Why? Why, why, why!?” The alicorn paced back and forth. Spike watched her for a few minutes, and then with a shake he turned his head. He didn’t like seeing her this way, and at the moment there was precious little he could do. His hands continued to trace the surface of the obelisk, revealing more symbols and runes that had been covered by the detritus. As the green magic flowed across the surface it seemed to catch across his hand, making him stop to shake the numbness away, little sparkling fragments of green falling from him as he did. “Whoa,” he breathed, and then went back to his work. Twilight’s mind raced, trying to draw some connections. She looked up to where Spike worked his way across the ledge, freeing more of the obelisk. So, this isn’t dark magic, she thought, washing away wafts of the mist that hung around her with her own lavender aura. It’s personal magic. It has a taste, a feel. She looked back up to Spike, and a smile crossed her lips. He had described her magic as feeling like his blanket, the very one she had always used to tuck him in his little bed at night. She had then broached the topic of what Rarity’s magic felt like, and as his expression had gone soft he’d said satin sheets. She couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. “Spike?” she asked, turning back to him. “What do you think this magic feels like?” “Huh,” he said, “I hadn’t thought about it.” He looked down into the green magic that sat upon his hands. He concentrated hard, and then looked back to her with a disgusted smirk. “Sandpaper.” Yeah, it was Sombra’s personal magic all right. So, she thought to herself, going back to her pacing, this really isn’t dark magic, it is Sombra’s personal magic… which just so happens to be dark. Jerk. Okay, then, so what does it mean that it’s so much older than him, but that he brought it here, that it has his image on it? We… shoot, we think this is a weapon, right? Twilight rubbed her chin and gave another contemplative hum. So, it’s getting stronger. Why? What made Sombra strong? Magic? Power? Fear? Fear. Fear! Sombra ruled through fear! Fear made him strong, it must make this strong, too? But why? Where is it coming from? Twilight’s mind raced back to the streets above, to the image of the crystal ponies as Sombra’s name had floated over them. They still feared him, even though he was gone. Their fear was growing, and this thing was… Oh no! she exclaimed in her own mind, realizing that the obelisk was only growing stronger as the fear grew, a inexhaustible fuel source that was driving it on towards whatever its purpose was. As Twilight continued to pace and ponder, Spike continued to clear away the grime that sat upon the obelisk. He honestly did not know why he was, but it was something to do, something that, he hoped, made him useful. Spike skidded, his hand falling across something smooth, making him teeter along the ledge. With wide swipes of his hands he revealed a panel, oval in shape. Beneath it sat a concave indentation, ringed with a wavering stream of green magic that outlined a shape. Spike rubbed his eyes, and some of the magic sitting across his face disappeared as magica vasto. He blinked again. The shape… the image upon the obelisk, the one surrounding the hole… he knew it. It was the sun. No, it wasn’t just any sun. It was a sun he knew, one that had been part of his life from the moment he was hatched. It was Celestia’s cutie mark. “Twi…” he began, but stopped short. The oval panel, the one his hand had skidded across… it was alive. His eyes flew from the sun, and instead settled upon the elliptical space. It too was ringed by an outline, but he did not know it. Instead he found himself peering within, as though looking deeper into a mirror, one that reflected his own image darkly. Deep inside of it, something moved. Something was moving through the dark, coming nearer, drawing closer. “Twi!” Twilight spun around, and as she did she saw Spike wheeling, teetering on the ledge. His hand rose up, and as it did she saw to where it pointed. Twilight’s head swam, her mind going blank as she saw the sun there, its center filled with a concave space, and the panel. In that ovoid space, something grew, something approached. “Spike, what…” she began, but even before she could complete her thought, the dragon’s eyes went wide. It had been a long while since he’d last received a letter from the Princess of the Sun, and the old sting of it flew through him. As a jet of green flame erupted from him he seemed to lose his balance, the dragon forgetting his perch as he grabbed for the letter. “Uh oh!” he called, but soon the familiar feel of Twilight’s magic had steadied him. He leaned back across the ledge, his arms wide. The scroll fell to Twilight’s hooves, and as Spike’s discovery and her thoughts fought for dominance in her mind she opened the letter. It was one word, penned as ever in her mentor’s script. It was one word, but hurried, anxious, filled with a distress she’d never seen her teacher use before. It was only one word, one filled with an uncharacteristic urgency, and that alone made her reel back in surprise and alarm. Flee! it read. “Twi?” came Spike’s voice. “What does it say?” Twilight lifted her head, about to call to him to come down to her immediately. Yet, as she did, Twilight’s awareness was wrenched away from her and forced onto something that stole the warmth out of her heart. Flee! “Twilight?” Spike asked, watching the color fall out of his best friend. His eyes followed hers as they settled over his shoulder, up to where the oval had been revealed. His eyes took a moment to register what he saw there, to take in what was being presented to him. When they finally did a horror fell across him, stealing out his words. Flee! A vast green eye stared down at him from within the oval space, the pupil wavering upon him in currents of a deep, dark magic. The feeling of sandpaper drew across his scales as another thrum escaped into the dark, and suddenly he could not breathe. The eye held Spike in its gaze as the thrum refused to dissipate. It became a deep, resonant note that settled around the chamber, one that accompanied Twilight as she screamed his name. Flee!