Fate is a horrible thing, because no amount of pleading, begging, crying, bargaining, screaming, or fighting can change it. If you know what is going to happen, and you don't like what you find, then it terrifies you. Horrifies you. It leaves you crippled, desperate to escape, drives you to do awful, humiliating, deranged things. It changes you, makes you something that you aren't, at least not in more rational, standard circumstances. It brings out the worst in you, and few are brave and strong enough to accept their fate and allow it to make them better. I was not one of those ponies.
I was going to die.
This knowledge didn't bring me comfort or determination, and it didn't bring me strength or courage. It cowered me. It forced me onto my knees and caused me to forfeit control of my body- I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe properly, and I couldn't see. I became a shadow of myself, a pitiful example of a pony. I whimpered and twitched fearfully in the corner of a gallery.
The horrific beast was just a blur to me, a shade in my vision as I lost all concept of sight. I didn't know what it was anymore. I couldn't see it, only hear the hellish gargling and shuffling sound it made as it inched closer toward me. The blades clinked on the floor, each tap a painful reminder of how deadly they were, and how close they were getting to me. I blinked again and again, struggling to clear the tears from my blurry vision. Haphazardly drawing a foreleg across my eyes, I pulled my head down lower, a last, futile attempt to protect myself, and waited for the end, the moment when those blades would rip into my flesh and rend me apart.
It was taking a long time. Was the creature toying with me? Was it raising its blades right now? It might be- I couldn't hear them, nor its shuffling. In fact, I couldn't hear anything except the rain and my own cacophony of terrified gasps and sobs. Rigid with terror, I opened my eyes and raised my head to look at it.
It wasn't there. I looked up and down the gallery. It wasn't here. It...wasn't here! It wasn't going to kill me! I was going to live! I sobbed in relief, tears running down my face as I embraced the simple act of living, hugging myself tightly. What a beautiful thing, life! To be able to see and hear and feel and walk and breathe and experience, something so common, and yet so fragile, so easily taken. I don't think that I had ever appreciated life as much as I did at that moment. I wiped my eyes with a shaking foreleg and gradually pushed myself to my hooves, as wobbly as they were. Finally standing, I placed a weak hoof forward, staggering slightly as I attempted to remaster walking after my encounter. It was initially difficult, but after a few steps I managed to return to my usual ability, walking steadily along.
I reached the final door in the gallery, the one into which I had seen the figure disappear, and my euphoria at remaining alive started to wear off. I felt the tension creep back into my thoughts, and found myself peeking nervously around the door frame to check that it was safe before I crept into the hall, taking careful hoofsteps. Had that creature been a figment of my imagination? Something summoned from the depths of my warped mind? I certainly wouldn't be surprised if it was merely a hallucination. After all, I was under a lot of stress and pressure, and this environment wouldn't be good for anypony's mental stability, so maybe a phantom experience wasn't so unbelievable. My hoofsteps seemed to echo as I moved to the corner, fueling my already taut nerves.
A pained moan filtered in through the door behind me, and I stifled a sob, almost cantering to the door leading back to the entrance hall. I reached the red door and heaved it open, slipped through hurriedly and pulled it closed, shaking all the while. I was back on stone again, the clatter of my hooves as I ran attesting to my return. I was safer here, I thought. Here, there was nothing that could hurt me, not like back in the archives, with those unnatural noises, those pained groans and whines, those gargles and grunts. Maybe I was imagining it all, like I had that creature, and there had never been anything in my way, but I wasn't willing to risk it. They may be imaginary, may be vivid sensory hallucinations brought about by stress and tension which appeared to be real.
But that door to the local history room didn't break itself down.
I cantered down the stairs and made my way to the long hallway leading to the entrance, the huge wooden door being the only thing keeping me here. This place was bad news, and I had a job to do, but if this castle was filled with twisted, creeping beasts and ruled by an evil baron, then I would need help. I would travel to Ponyville, the nearby town, and call for help. We would return here, armed with weapons and a purpose, and tear through this damned building, smashing any obstacle in our way, sentient or otherwise, and Steelheart would pay for his crimes, whatever they were. I raced along the stone hallway, spurred on by the thought of aid and the outside world. Together we could bring this nightmare to an end, as soon as I stepped through that great door, just a few metres ahead.
As I drew close, the air seemed to bulge outwards. A blue, speckled mist seeped through the wood, or materialised- it was impossible to tell. The mist shrouded the door, covering it from one side of the arch to the other, and then solidified, transforming into a grey, pulsating mass, adorned with black thorns. I swallowed and backed away, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the putty-like substance blockading the exit. It looked like a organic tissue, similar to muscle, if muscle could ever be that sickly shade of grey, stretched as it was across the door. In fact, it looked exactly like the growth blocking my progress towards the refinery. I gulped, considering my previous advice to myself:
A shadow is following you.
I couldn't get help. I was stuck here, my progress barred both forwards and backwards. No, that wasn't true- I had the key to the wine cellar, access to the chemicals hopefully stored down there, and a plan of action. Whatever was going to happen, I couldn't do anything until I made that mixture. I took a few deep, controlled breaths and set about searching the hallway for anything useful by the dirty light that bled trough the gaps of the boarded-up windows. Leaving the hallway with two more bottles of firelight gel, hidden quite bizarrely behind some boxes, I made my way back to the archway that lead to the lab and the wine cellar, taking a left at the stairs and heading down to the cellar. Reaching the door, I gave it a quick pull, resulting in the telltale rattle of a locked door, and then delved into my saddlebags, pulling out the key from my plethora of items and placing into the mighty iron lock, turning it with closed eyes, praying that it would work. There was some resistance, and for a moment the key refused to turn, but then the lock gave way and clicked, releasing the door. I sighed in relief, lifted the latch and pushed it open, stepping inside with only a little trepidation.
As I closed the door behind me, I felt the cold start prodding at my body. It made sense, given that it was a cellar, but it was still a little disconcerting, and I pulled out my lamp very readily. The glow illuminated a very similar layout to the lab; I was on a wooden balcony, the stone walls supported by struts, and there were a few boxes laying alone against the wall. A few small windows let in dim light from somewhere, and there was a wooden staircase leading down. It seemed familiar considering that the laboratory had the same design, and so I made my way down the stairs, checking the floor below. It was a stone floor again, as I'd expected, with doors leading to other rooms strewn across the walls. I put a hoof down onto the stone and felt a wave sweep through me, suddenly lightheaded. I clenched my eyes shut as another experience forced its way into my conscience.
There were glasses clinking together, a liquid sloshing gently as it was poured. Likely wine, I imagined. The glug of the liquid stopped, and there was a gentle thud as a bottle was placed on what I envisioned to be a table.
"Where did the baron go?" asked a stallion, sounding more curious than concerned.
"Who cares?" answered another dismissively to the sound of a glass chiming as it came into contact with another. "He left us enough wine to last us a lifetime. Or at least until tomorrow!" There was some general laughter at this, the individual chuckling heartily at his own joke, followed by a belch.
As the memory faded away, I realised that there was something different about it. The previous experiences had been more vivid, as though I were holding those conversations again and experiencing them in person, but this one, it felt more like I was watching it from the side, more as an observer than a participant.
I swept the thought aside and looked around, the lantern swinging under my chin as I turned my head from side to side. The cellar was square, roughly, with the staircase taking up the centre of this room. Directly ahead of me, at the bottom of the stairs, was a wooden door. It seemed as good as any place to start, I reasoned, making my way towards it. It squeaked open, allowing me to see the wooden boards which made up the entire room, ceiling, walls, and floor. At the far end of the room was a table strewn with tools and a bottle of some sort. Barrels were stored on either side, standing obstinately in the glow of the lantern. I stepped forwards, sweeping, my hooves clunking on the floorboards. This seemed to be being used as a storage room, holding the main supplies of wine. The bottle on the desk didn't look like a wine bottle, though. It was too short and wide, and looked like it was made for something else entirely. As soon as I got close, I looked at the cream label stuck on the front; Cuprite. I smiled happily as I picked it up and slipped it into my bags. Already I had one chemical that I was looking for.
BANG!
I jumped and looked around hurriedly as the door slammed shut behind me, my heart beating quicker. I sighed and shook my head. I was on edge right now, every noise prompting me to react to it. I needed to get what I came for and get out, a thought which encouraged to cross the room and push the door open slowly, listening for anything out of the ordinary. I swallowed and leaned around the bulky door, looking for anything lurking outside. Yes, I definitely needed to get out of here.
A wooden door to the right of the staircase was cracked open slightly, inviting me to investigate, and so I made my way towards it, the light from my lantern scouting ahead for me. I nudged the door the rest of the way open, spilling a warm yellow glow into the room beyond. Two support struts took up the centre of the room, and there were more shelves, tables and boxes pushed up against the far wall. I stepped inside and began a walk around the edge of the room, moving anti-clockwise. The first shelf held nothing of value, and it was only when I stepped past a tipped table that I made any useful discovery, turning off my lantern to confirm my suspicion.
As the darkness took the opportunity to rush in and smother me with its cold, clammy grimness, the blue hue brightened, emitted by a bottle which had been rested on the table, until the table itself was flipped. Twitching uncomfortably from being surround by darkness, I leaned closer to the bottle, reading the label on it; Calamine. Placing the lantern on its hook, I picked up the bottle, checking it over for cracks, and pocketed it. It wasn't damaged enough to leak, a fact I was thankful for given the stone tiles. If it had broken, I would have been stuck, trapped forever. I shuddered at the thought, feeling a cold chill run through me.
CRUNCH!
The collapse came suddenly, the warning rumble and shaking appearing scant seconds before the crash and crunch filled the air, stone and rock tumbling down. I couldn't see exactly what was going on, the blackness forcing me to picture the events in my mind as I tried to turn to the source of the disturbance. Some intuitive reaction pulled my gaze upwards, and in the murky darkness I saw something shift and drop, right towards me. Hurriedly, guided by instinct, I dived to the right, leaping out of the way of the object in time to hear a sharp thud and a more subtle crack.
The noise slowly faded away around me, granting me a vague amount of security to uncurl and lift my head up to view the carnage. Despite the absence of light, my eyes had adjusted enough for me to make out the outline of shapes. I sought out my lantern, lighting it and bringing it to bear, stifling a groan at the sight in front of me. Chunks of stone and sections of wooden struts blocked the doorway, a result of an apparent collapse. I checked behind me to see what had fallen and found a cracked barrel, wine trickling out of the damaged container and seeping across the stones like blood from a maimed animal. I was thankful that I'd avoided it, grimacing at the thought of how much damage that would have caused if it had hit me.
Pushing myself to my hooves, I looked around, wondering how I was going to get out. From what I could see, only the roof near the door had collapsed, leaving most of the room intact, although that could change very quickly. One thing that I did see however was a metal container in the corner adjacent to the door, which I moved closer to, looking it over. The metal reflected the light of my lantern, and I found myself looking at the barrel from different angles, trying to find out what it was. There was a tap at the bottom, but it didn't seem to be used for holding and dispensing wine; those containers were bigger, and crafted from wood. This seemed to be something else entirely. It seemed like it was holding...firelight gel? I didn't know why I thought that, but it just seemed to make sense, like it was obvious. Tentatively, I gave the tap a quick turn, some thick, oily substance dripping out and splashing onto the floor. Yes, it was definitely firelight gel, which meant that I could top up my lantern. But that meant that I would need to turn it off, which would leave me in darkness, so...
A quick look around the room revealed a torch bracketed to a nearby strut, one which thankfully hadn't shattered during the tremble. It was facing the blockage, which would make it useful for when I would need to clear that mess to get out, but also sufficed enough in regards to filling the lantern. Setting my light source on the ground, I reached into my bag and produced a tinderbox, quickly igniting the torch and summoning a mighty flame into the room. It provided me with a fresh wave of hope, seeing that strong fire lighting up at least part of my prison. I was going to get out of here, I knew it.
With a light source available, I returned to the barrel, extinguishing my lantern and flipping off the top, and turning the tap onto full, letting the gel pour into the device with a steady gluck. After it had finished, I secured the tap and the top of the lantern, which, I noticed as I turned it on again, glowed much more brightly, something I appreciated greatly. It must have been lower on gel than I had thought. I couldn't afford to waste it, and so turned it off and stowed it away, returning my attention to the door.
The wood and stone trapping me looked rather heavy, but rummaging through the room for items to use turned up nothing useful to aid my escape. I stumbled across two more tinderboxes, and used them to light the remaining candles in the room, providing a complete coverage of light for me to work in. Broken chunks of stone blocked the ground, stopping me from even reaching the door. I picked a relatively small one, a boulder about the size of my head, and gripped it between my hooves, lifting it up with some effort and tossing it a little distance behind me. At least it was possible to move them. I tried another, a larger one, and heaved it across the floor, dragging it away from the pile with a grating, grinding sound.
The rubble cleared slowly, each jagged remnant budging as I persisted, dragging and lifting them away until I was clear of rock, leaving only the two struts blocking the door. These proved harder to move. The first was leaning against the top of the door, the second leaning away from it. I tried to tackle the former first, finding it easier to reach. I placed a hoof on the strut at chest height and pushed, pressing my weight against the lengthy wooden structure, to no avail. It didn't budge. Stepping back to reassess the situation, I wondered if I was going about this the wrong way- if it was leaning against the wall, wouldn't it make sense to push the base away from the door and allow it to fall? It didn't look like I could push the top away, given that it would just get caught in the rafters. Turning, I checked over my shoulder to line up my shot, tensing my muscles in preparation before I struck, kicking backwards at the base of the strut.
The blow knocked the strut off balance and pushed it back, the top skidding down the door and landing with a thump, the obstruction quickly cleared as I dragged it backwards to make room. The second strut took a little less effort. I stood on my hind hooves and wrapped my forelegs around the wood, pulling it towards me and then heaving it to the side. It teetered, and I let go, stepping back hurriedly as it slid gradually out of the way before slamming onto the ground next to me. I flinched a bit from the impact, but turned to the door with gratitude brushing the small amount of sediment and rubble from the floor.
Pulling open the door reminded me just how dark it was, the sea of light from my room reluctant to follow me out, illuminating just enough of the cellar to show me that there was nothing waiting for me, and that there was another doorway to my left, devoid of an actual door. I stepped across the stones rapidly and lightly, passing through the doorway and into what seemed akin to a porch, or a room used for the purpose of excess storage. There was a door to the left, perhaps making this just a multi-purpose room for whatever it was needed for. Indeed, there were some barrels in the corner; maybe the wine was taken from the barrels to fill bottles, and then stored beyond the door, or maybe-
BANG! THUMP!
I skittered back in shock as the door rattled, something on the other side thumping loudly on it. Muffled screams of terror and desperation emerged from the room beyond, cutting off suddenly, the banging ceasing. I was trembling, hugging onto one of the wooden struts decorating the doorway. There was somepony there! Behind that door, another pony! From what I had heard, it had only sounded like one, but what was the thumping about? Were they stuck here, like I was? Desperately trying to find a way out? Were they hallucinating, like I had? Was I hallucinating now? The thought gave me pause, and I blinked, looking behind me to check that nothing was there. This damned environment made you feel like you were being watched all the time.
Clenching my eyes and teeth tightly, I took deep breaths. If there was a pony, I wasn't alone. If there wasn't, there was no problem, excluding my sanity. Either way, I needed to sort this out, especially seeing as I had two more chemicals to find. That was another strange issue; why had they been separated down here, rather than kept together? Maybe they were volatile or something and needed to be kept separately. First things first though, I needed to get into that room, which meant going into it.
"H-hello?" I called out. "Is anyone there?" Waiting with bated breath, the silence seemed to drag on forever, no one in the room beyond offering any response. With much anxiety, I detached myself from the wall and crept closer to the door, raising a shaking hoof to knock on it before I thought better, taking the time to drag a few barrels in front of the wood should anything choose to respond in a less than hospitable way. With a quick breath, I quickly gave the door a few knocks, backing off subconsciously. Again, there was nothing- no voices, no movement, no response whatsoever. After a few moments, I decided that the only course of action would be to open the door and find out what was happening for myself, slowly dragging the barrels back to where I moved them from originally before clenching my jaws around the latch and, with anxious breaths, carefully pulled the door open, the creaking seeming to boom throughout the castle. As nothing leaped out to attack me, I peeked around the door cautiously.
Chunks of flesh, strewn in a dark puddle of blood. I blanched. What had happened? This was...it didn't make sense. Somepony had banged on the door just moments ago, but now...this? I fished out my lantern and leaned forwards, shining the light onto the mess. The blood was dried, soaked into the wood of the floor, far too old to have been spilled just now. And the flesh was...uh! I recoiled as I breathed in its stench, having been holding my breath since seeing the atrocity. It was rotting, emitting a pungent odour which made me retch. I wasn't going to enjoy entering the room, but it was almost certain that there was nopony in here- whatever had happened wasn't recent. With a deep inhale to steel myself for the task to come, I stepped past the gory scene on the floor with careful but rushed hoofsteps, turning away quickly and observing the room I had stepped into.
It was much like the other rooms, with wooden floorboards and stone walls supported by wooden struts. There were no windows in here, and so the only source of light was my lantern, casting a watchful glow around me. I knew it wouldn't make sense to put windows this far down (after all, what would be the point? It wouldn't let in any light, and the wine would need to be kept away from fresh air in order to store and preserve it) but part of me wished that there was at least one, just to let the awful stench out. It made my eyes water, and I had to blink to clear the burning sensation. The open door acted as slight ventilation, and already I could feel the odour leaving the room, drawn out into the wider expanse of the wine cellar, but it was far too dense initially to feel comfortable down here. The were more chunks of flesh and dried splashes of blood along the floor, leading around a corner to the left as though encouraging me to follow. With a grimace on my face, I stepped around the corner.
The deja vu hit suddenly, catching me off guard and causing me to stagger into the wall. What was going on? It felt like...no, it wasn't me feeling that, or even thinking it. It was another memory, a recollection. I had to stay focused and separate the two in my mind. I had to recognise the present from the past. I had to recognise reality.
"What's happening?" somepony groaned, his voice laden with pain. He stumbled on his hooves and dropped a bottle, the glass shattering upon impact on the floor. "It feels...like my...chest is going...to burst!" He grunted, a sickeningly wet gargle bubbling from his lips. Something was stretching and twisting, like a hatching chick trying to push through the confines of its shell. With a final yell of pain from the pony, something tore, a wet ripping sounding clearly throughout the room, and then a spurting sound. A dull thud followed, a metal tankard clattering across the wooden floor.
"Grimeye, do something!" another panicked voice shouted, apparently horrified by the scene in front of them. There was several seconds of silence, filled by barely stifled groans and uncoordinated shuffling.
"Accept it," a third voice, this one gruff, replied eventually, sounding morosely calm. "We're not getting out of here alive." His tone was chilling, the absence of terror or in his voice completely mismatched with the situation. It just didn't fit.
"How can you say that?" the second pony asked incredulously, shouting the question. He began thumping on a wooden surface, smashing his hooves against it again and again in his desperate anger. "Steelheart, you piece of shit! Let us out of here!" He changed his tactic, rattling the object in place- he seemed to be trying to force the door open, but wasn't given much opportunity to do so, falling into coughs and retches, all of which sounded surprisingly dry. I could feel a gaze on the space by the door, where the retching pony was spluttering, falling onto his side.
"Don't bother," the gruff pony intoned, observing the throes of his companion. "You'll find more solace in accepting the inevitable than wasting time trying to avoid it." The retching pony either didn't care or didn't hear, as he forced himself back onto his hooves and tried to ram the door, uttering loud screams amid the bangs and rattles of the unmoving door. With a climatic, drawn-out wail, a familiar splat tore across the room, the pony falling silent.
The lightheadedness faded, leaving me shaking in place. What in the name of Tartarus was that? That memory was similar to the one I had first had when I had entered the wine cellar, more distant and lacking that feeling of participation. Not that it made it any less clear; the muffled screams and banging I had heard outside had been me remembering this event, the pony desperately trying to escape his doom as he...ugh, I didn't want to think about it, but it was impossible to escape, the evidence strewn across the floor and...on the walls? Yes, there was a splattering of blood dried into the stonework on several parts of the walls. The table around the corner had a plethora of flesh and gore encircling it like some sort of wall, a toppled chair marinating in its hellish mixture. The sight made me shudder. A small wooden chest was positioned just in front of it, and I chose to focus on that, stepping forward to investigate its contents, finding a tinderbox inside. Putting my lantern on the messy table, I plucked the cylinder out and placed it in my saddlebags.
As I fastened the straps, one of my hooves came to rest on something sickly and disturbingly wet. I scampered away from it in disgust and stepped onto something else, my hooves slipping from beneath me. With a startled yelp, I fell part way into the gory goop surrounding the table, the clammy, sticky remains of ponies long dead pressing against me. I felt my throat tighten, the rush from my stomach signaling the inevitable. I doubled over and vomited, adding another bodily fluid to the combination, heaving again and again even after I had brought up everything that my stomach had to offer, until I had calmed enough to wipe my eyes and mouth. I had to get away from here, take my mind off this. I picked the lantern off the table and looked around, spotting a doorway leading to another room. Squirming all the while, I picked myself up and trotted through the doorway.
The space I entered was small, only holding a stove and a table, on which sat a candle, a bottle similar to the two in my bags, and a note, shining unabashedly, drawing me towards it. A cursory examination of the bottle showed it to be Aqua Regia, another of my required chemicals, which joined the other two in my saddlebags. That just left the note, which was something I wanted to sit down to read. After lighting the candle on the table and extinguishing the lantern, I pulled the chair towards me and nestled myself into it, getting comfortable.
Then the deja vu returned. I sighed as it swept over me, taking my senses back to a time unknown. There was a shuffling, a scraping of a chair, this chair, over wooden floorboards, then a pony stumbling on their hooves, trying to walk straight. They grunted and staggered, falling against the strut in the doorway of this small room and stopped for a moment.
"I'm not a superstitious pony," their gruff voice intoned gravely. "I don't believe in gods or goddesses, or any shit like that. I don't believe in whatever it was that we were told as foals, of Celestia and Luna, the two ponies who brought peace and balance to this land. If that were true, then why do ponies like me exist, or ponies like Steelheart? There is no justice in this world, no balance, because that bastard still lives." He yelped and coughed, something wet hitting the floorboards, the following seconds consisting of ragged breathing. "Then again, death does have a way of changing your views. It seems that I'm being punished, so I might be wrong about the whole thing. I doubt it, but I just might be. So here's the thing; I've been a right bastard in my life, done things that it took me until my dying breath to regret. I've explained everything in my note. I don't know if Steelheart will come down here and find it and if he'll remove it, or whether he'll keep the door locked for the rest of eternity, but that's my final written contribution to this world. I hope somepony finds it, and sees that son of a bitch for what he is. I'd write more, but I can't see a damn thing! It hurts to breathe, to...speak. I deserve what I get here, but there's something else that I wish I could've done before I rotted in this damned room, something that I should've done. Steelheart needs to die, to pay for what he's done." He gave a pained chuckle. "I don't know who I'm speaking to. Probably my brain seeping out my eyes, but it just feels right. Who's going to stop me? My death, I'll do whatever I want." He coughed again, retching repeatedly. "Time to...wrap up. In the name of...AGH! To Celestia or Luna...or whoever is out there who...UGH!...who cares enough to hear me...kill Steelheart...find him and...kill him...make him...pay for what he did! He- UGH- needs- HNNG- to be made to PAY"! An extended yell followed his words, and then a splattering sound.
The memory faded away, leaving me staring at the doorway in shock. Somepony had died here, cursing Steelhooves and asking that he be brought to justice, the appropriate penalty being death. Not only that, but they had left a note to explain their situation. I tried not to make a comparison between him and myself, and instead focused on the note, reading it by the candlelight.
Grimeye's Last Words
My name is Grimeye, house of Grey. These are my final words, my confession and testament. Two years ago I was summoned to the castle Everfree. As most of the aristocracy, I was curious about what this supposed knight of the Circle could want from me and accepted the invitation. The baron was friendly and offered me a proposition.
It dawned on me that the nature of the contract was sordid and that the reason I was chosen was because of the follies of my past and not the honours I've been rewarded with during my time as a guard. I was to kidnap healthy ponies upon his slightest whim and do so without asking questions. In return he would attest to my character at the royal court, advancing my position in noble society. I would like to claim that I struggled with my decision, but it came swiftly and I accepted wholeheartedly.
Ever since that day I've brought stallions, mares, and foals to Everfree. I can't remember the numbers, but there were many, perhaps even a hundred. None of whom were ever seen or heard from again.
Tonight the baron invited me and my cohort down to the wine cellar to celebrate our work. I had my suspicions as we descended the stairs, but he insisted and joined us in a toast. The wine tasted fine and my men drank without restraint.
So begins the punishment for our sins. The baron has locked us up and returned upstairs. Forgive me for what I have done. I was weak and fell into his diabolic ways. My men are screaming, their skin has been pierced by their own tangled bones. I feel my insides revolt against themselves. Blood has begun to pour from my eyes and I can no longer-
The note ended there, cut off mid-sentence, with black, dried, coagulated blood caking the bottom of the paper. The tale the confession painted was awful. It gave me more insight into Steelheart and his activities. Steelheart was kidnapping ponies and, from what I understood from documents that I had found earlier, was experimenting on them. That sickened me. Before, he was a shady character, somepony that should be avoided, but now, he was positively evil- kidnapping, cruel experiments, manipulating others using their greed as a weakness, it almost made Grimeye's role seem minor.
An epiphany struck me in that moment. Grimeye. That name was familiar. This was Grimeye's confession, the one who had been so stoic about his upcoming death. One of his followers had even called him 'Grimeye'. How hadn't I seen it earlier? Grimeye of house Grey, who had signed a three year contract with Steelheart, trading his services for a boost to his reputation from an influential individual. There was the note, mentioning Steelheart's plan to lock Grimeye and his followers in the wine cellar to avoid discovery from the Royal Guard, and even 'feeding them some wine'. He knew, he knew, what would happen to them. He planned this. He had wanted them to die. Nopony deserved that. Steelheart was disgraceful, an appalling example of what a pony should be, and nopony should be able to get away with doing what he had done. I may not have know why I was specifically angry with him, but this was sufficient to remind me that he was in fact a despicable creature. Everypony who was as wretched as him, who had done the things that he had, who had even helped him, should be punished.
I also realised that the note would have been written in 1704 S.E.E. seeing as it said two years ago I was summoned, and that his contract was signed in 1702 S.E.E. That would mean that the deaths here occurred one hundred and thirty five years ago. Now I understood why I hadn't felt the same as I recalled the memories; they weren't my memories! It wasn't possible, because I wasn't even born then. How did that work? How could I recall alien memories? This was absurd! I shook my head, placing the note safely in my journal. Steelheart had been doing this for at least one hundred and thirty seven years, judging that he was still here, and I had asked myself to kill him.
I grabbed my lantern and turned to leave, illuminating the remains of Grimeye and his peers in the process. Even though the pony had done some horrific, evil things, knowing full well that what he was doing was wrong, that he was feeding his own greed, he had paid the price for that, along with the rest of his followers. They had suffered enough, and Grimeye at least had repented, had asked for forgiveness and retribution, something he had been denied in his life. That was his last wish, called out across a century, and I had heard it. He had waited so long for justice.
"You're forgiven, Grimeye of house Grey," I spoke to the remains. "In spite of your acts, of your greed and selfishness, I forgive you, and I assure you that I will find a way to stop Steelheart. He will face justice." I looked out of the doorway at the bloodstains and the flesh scattered around the room. "He will face justice for everything he has done, for the crimes he has committed against us all." It wasn't much, but it was all I could offer. If they could talk to someone a century ahead, why couldn't I talk to them a century back? We had essentially held a conversation in all but meeting. With a last look around, I walked out of the room, considering shutting the door behind me, but deciding against it. No, they could be free, even if it was a hundred years too late. They had been locked in there for far too long, and I knew how it felt to be trapped.
I had one more chemical to find down here, and looking around the room, I saw two open doors, plus the room I had just exited. There was a door on the other side of the room, laying beneath the wooden balcony, to which I crossed, clopping over the stones to reach it. I gave its latch a tug and it rattled in place, refusing to open for me. A locked door, again. I looked about the cellar again, my gaze falling onto another door to the left. Trotting over to it, I tested it, the door opening easily. Well, this was a good place to look, if nothing else. After all, there was hardly anywhere else for me to look.
The door was midway down the length of the room, the room I was entering strewn with stray boxes and empty shelves, the torches scattered across the walls resolutely cold. My lantern cast aside some of the shadows like they were a shallow mist, a quick investigation to the left turning up a dead end and a wine rack devoid of bottles, although the shelf next to it did hold a curiously blue shimmer. I eagerly approached the thin bottle, thinking that it could be the last chemical I needed. Unfortunately, it turned out to be, with a skim of the label, something called 'laudanum', which it self-prescribed to be a medical bracer. Keeping a pain killer on me would be prudent, if a slightly unwelcoming thought, and so I slipped it into my saddlebags and turned to leave where I had come.
Something moved within the shadows.
As silently as I could, I stifled my gasp and smothered the flame in the lamp, placing it on the floor and backing into a small gap offered in the corner by two shelves, pressing myself to the floor and trying to fit as much as my body into the gap as possible. My forehoof shot to my muzzle, giving me something to stem my panicked breathing.
Despite my eyes having grown to the size of saucers, I couldn't see anything, the act of putting out my lantern allowing the darkness to rush in to smother me as soon as I had smothered the flame, bringing with it the cold, dry air of the cellar. I had begun to shiver and shake, trying to fend off the discomforting itchiness I felt from being so utterly covered in bleakness with something potentially harmful nearby. My view range had dipped, and if I couldn't see whoever was there, hopefully they couldn't see me. Then again, I had had my lantern on, and if they'd seen that, then they would find me. I had nowhere to run. But then again, if they'd seen my lantern, wouldn't they have come to get me by now?
Maybe they were coming right now.
Maybe they were just waiting for me to come out from hiding.
The terror barreled into me as my mind ran havoc, convincing me that I was doomed and that any second something would leap out from the edge of my vision and rip into me, leaving discard chunks of my flesh down here to rot with Grimeye and the others. My breath pitched up raggedly, my vision became filled with spots and my ears started ringing. I could almost scream out...
No.
Whatever came over me did the job. I stopped panicking, allowing my breathing to diminish to a manageable level, and my senses to distinguish some sense; I could see a little better, my eyes making great effort to pierce the blackness which seemed to be ubiquitous down here, and saw nothing, just the swirl of dust drifting about. I couldn't hear anything that suggested that I was in danger, either. Could I have imagined the whole thing? With trembling jaws, I picked up my lantern and crawled out of the space cautiously, my nerves screaming at me to stop moving and get back in. With no small amount of apprehension, I stood up, inch by fear-inducing inch. No monster, no instantaneous death. With a trembling swallow, I backtracked down the room, passing the door through which I had entered, and followed the room round to the right, passing with shaking hooves through an open doorway and into another, wider room.
The lantern came on, casting clarity and sense around me. Wine racks filled with green glass bottles lined the walls, a few laying discarded across the wooden floor alongside boxes. There was a bolted wooden door to the right, and I had a strong suspicion that it was the same one that I couldn't open before. Maybe my rattling had attracted-
"Process, Diamond," I mumbled, my lips dry around the tin of the handle. The boards creaked as I walked over them, taking note of a segregated alcove in the corner. Peeking around the boxes stacked in the space, I found a couple more bottles of laudanum, slipping the additions into my bags and thrusting my light around the room again. On the far wall, there seemed to be a shelf devoted singularly to one bottle, similar in shape and size to the others in my bag. Feeling it drawing me closer, I turned off the lantern and stowed it away, letting the blue hue guide me to it, reaching out to pick it up in my hooves and holding it close to my face to read the creamy label brazened across it: "Orpiment".
I let out a sigh of relief and smiled as I held the bottle, feeling it in my hooves before I added it to the provisions I had accrued, content now that I had a full collection of chemicals in my possession. A wave of cool confidence washed over me, soothing the itches with which the darkness had afflicted me and dispelling a good portion of the tension I had built up down here. I could physically feel the muscles in my legs and along my back loosening. With much more strength in my step, I trotted to the unopened door, spotting the bolt keeping the wood firmly sealed within the door frame. Grasping the bolt, I tugged it, straining to pull it back. The iron tasted felt rusty and old against my tongue, and squeaked in protest as I tried to wiggle it out of the way. It was stuck for some-
CRACK!
The bolt slipped back suddenly and smacked into the catch, the noise reverberating around the cellar like a booming gunshot and sending a jarring ringing through my teeth and jaw. Rats squeaked in either fright or annoyance from unseen spots in the room, and the air itself seemed to leer in expectant anticipation. I winced as the harsh sound broke the eerie stillness down here, shattering whatever stasis had been established in the forsaken depths of this castle. Just as quickly, the equilibrium was reasserted, the suffocating silence returning, only the ambient creaks and skittering of claws on the wood punctuating the uncomfortable calm. The repose offered to me in my discovery of all of the ingredients was beginning to erode away, loosing in a war of attrition against the cold, sullen aura of the room, and the discomfort was beginning to crawl its way back up my spine. With a small shiver, I pulled the now unlocked door towards me, and stepped out into the main body of the cellar, pulling out my lantern to light my way up the stairs, onto the balcony, and through the great red door, my pace quickening as I stepped out of the room thanks to a prickling along my back.
As the clatter of the door closing faded away, I trotted hurriedly up the stairs, happy for the respite from the almost constant feeling that I was being sized up by some hidden pursuer, each step alleviating the feeling that I was being observed. I crossed over to the laboratory, opening the door and entering the stillness of the room. It seemed eerily familiar now, almost a reflection of the wine cellar, and I felt like an intruder, almost as if the had room fallen silent as I stepped inside. The living didn't seem to belong here; the stairs creaked and groaned as I made my way down them, the light of my lantern guiding me onwards and downwards. Was I sweating from the heat of the lantern and shivering from the frigidity of the air down here, or was it something else? It was so still that I could imagine snapping the air around me just from the act. Passing through the doorway into the main lab, I set my lantern down and flipped open my saddlebags, rifling through the assortment of tinderboxes and bottles of oil. I found one of the chemicals amid the haphazard collection, clenched it in my teeth, and drew it out, placing it on the table. I quickly found the next, placing it next to the first, and the third, and forth.
What was that?
I stopped still, holding the forth bottle between my teeth, listening. There was a low creaking of wood, a dull sound akin to a moan, and some light bumps. It sounded like the castle was alive, despairing at its own decay. The noise seemed to be coming from above, and a look up showed the wooden ceiling boards, the likely perpetrators. What was strange was that the bumps weren't staying in one place. It almost sounding like they were moving.
The stairs.
The bottle was placed down hastily and I turned off the lantern and squatted, crouching behind the table. I tried to keep my shivering to a minimum, scared to knock the table lest it alert whoever was upstairs. Were they even upstairs? The ubiquitous creaks and groans of the wood emanated from seemingly everywhere, giving me no indication as to who- or what- was causing them. It came from the roof, the struts in the very room, the stairs outside.
I blinked, forcing myself to calm down, taking deep breaths to regulate my breathing. Listening more closely, I tried to determine where the hoofsteps were coming from. I couldn't pick anything up, only the natural creaks of the wood. Still shaking, I slowly picked myself up, cautiously stepping forward with nervous hooves. It took me a while to stand up and shuffle as quietly as possible to the doorway, peeking around and up the steps into the next room. My eyes scanned the darkness, my ears pricked for any sounds which could indicate an intruder.
After a while, I was forced to concede that the only intruder here was myself. Much of the room had been built from wood- the stairs, the floorboards, the ceiling, the struts- and it was hardly unreasonable for wood to creak, especially given how little insulation there was down here. The wood was likely contracting and expanding with the elements, the stones keeping everything cool and the torches warming it back up. Together, there was a lot of reason to believe that it would be creaking.
With my heart returning to a more bearable pace, I returned to the table, pulling the ceramic pot from my saddlebags and setting it down below the tap, making sure that the copper pipe would spill the final concoction into the pot. Right, now all I needed to do was...science, or something. I rubbed my temple with a hoof, hoping the motion would stimulate my brain into thinking of a solution. There were four empty glass vials sitting on circular supports, resting just above nozzles built into the iron pipe which was attached to the table. I looked underneath and found that the pipes joined to a cylindrical container of what I presumed to be gas, supported by the presence of a pressure valve wheel on the pipe itself. The vials were connected at the necks to another iron pipe, this one flowing from the wall and ending in a tap, where I had placed my chemical pot. Each of the vials had their own wheel, presumably another pressure valve to isolate each chemical if it needed to be contained. I was no scientist (or maybe I was, it was impossible to tell at the moment) but I was certain that I could get it to work.
Uncorking each chemical on the table, I fumbled with the glass vials, twisting and turning them as I tried to detach them from the pipe. I finally succeeded, carefully pouring the aqua regia into the nozzle of the first vial before reattaching it, making sure that it was firmly in place again. Into the next vial I poured the calamine, fixing the filled glass back in place, followed by the cuprite into the third, and then the orpiment into the forth, after which they were subsequently sealed back onto the pipe, my empty bottles pushed aside after having served their use. The sight of the chemicals sitting bare before me made me smile. They were all here, ready to use. Now all I needed to do was mix them.
Therein lay the problem.
I looked around at the shelves to see if there was anything that could help me, reading the spines of the books to see what they contained. Unsurprisingly there was plenty of material on alchemical mixing and the properties of certain elements, but little that could help me. I crouched down to scrutinise the bottom shelf of the nearest bookcase and happened to spot a blue hue from one of the books. Dragging it onto the table, I opened it up onto a page detailing a method for mixing different chemicals together. My eyes skimmed the page, picking out the important details from the page.
"Convection heating," I muttered. "Heat from burner evaporates chemical...air flow from pipe creates pressure which draws vapour along...vapour condensates and collects...and finally is mixed." Okay, I think I had a vague understanding of how it worked. Setting the book aside, I grabbed at the wheel on the bottom pipe, twisting it with a combination of hooves and teeth, the metal squeaking as it ground against a substantial period of misuse until it finally came to a halt. I heard the hiss of gas as the opened valve allowed it through and I stepped back. Good, it was working. Well, mostly. There was no fire, which, from what I understood, was a integral part of the evaporation process. I quickly consulted the book again, trying to espy whatever I had missed.
A spark. I needed to light the fire myself.
Looking around for tools, I realised that I had more than enough tinderboxes in my saddlebags and dug one out, flipping the lid off and flicking at the flint, hoping that the motion would provide enough of a spark to light the burners. I held the box nearer the nozzles, willing the flint to catch. The metal struck the flint, producing a spark, and-
I flinched back as the burners all caught simultaneously, the sudden flare of heat driving me back and causing me to wince, the light stinging my eyes slightly. It quickly died down to a consistent level, the small flames tickling at the bottom of the glass, teasing the chemicals inside. From here, I needed to wait for them to heat up enough to vaporise, and then open the valve to allow them to condense in the pipes and run into the pot. Either that, or opening any of the valves would cause the gas to ignite and generate an explosion. At least if that happened, I could blow my way down to Steelheart and then blow him up. The thought made me chuckle.
SMASH!
I dropped to the ground as a horrible, rolling crunch spread into the room, reverberating from the walls. The silence took a while to settle, like a layer of smothering dust. What had happened? Had I actually caused an explosion? No, I couldn't have. It wasn't close enough, nor had there been an explosion, more like a collision or a crumbling. Standing up, I grabbed my lantern and made my way over to the doorway, walking up the few wooden steps for a better view into the main room. The cause of the noise was all too easily identifiable.
The main stairs had entirely collapsed. I would need to find another way to climb back up onto the balcony above if I wanted to get out of here.
Stepping onto the cold stones, I made my way closer to fully assess the extent of the damage. The supports beams had given out and the weight of the timber had caused a snap, leaving only the base, the mid-way platform, and the underlying support standing, the rest scattered chaotically across the floor. Even the mid-way platform had given on one side, leaning at an angle to the ground. I stepped around it, looking for a way to repair the damage, or at least form a bridge to get myself up there. Maybe if I stacked something, I could lift myself enough to clamber up? It likely wouldn't do me any good with the acid to carry along, but it was all I had for now. I set about trying to find something, anything, which could be held stable enough to hoist me up.
A cursory search of the room turned up some extra planks, probably down here for repair purposes, and I dragged them over to the platform, hauling them up onto the slanted surface of the wood. With the three planks collected, I sat the lamp down on the floor and pushed myself back onto the platform, picking up an end in my forehooves. Lifting it up, I tipped it forwards, hoping that it would be long enough to reach the cracked edge of the staircase. It was, falling into place with a satisfying thunk. I lifted the next into place, nestling it beside the first, and then the third beside the third, creating a little walkway for myself up to the balcony above. Setting a tender hoof on it, I pressed down, testing its durability. It held, set in place from the angle it was resting against the platform. I could finally get out of here, once I finished the mixture.
I turned around hurriedly and jumped back onto the ground as I remembered that I had left a potentially volatile set of chemicals unattended with a piece of equipment that I didn't fully understand, rushing back down the steps and into the miniature laboratory. The vials were vibrating, the chemicals within now colourful seething gases rolling across the surface. Acting in haste, I quickly loosened the valve above the first vial, the pressure releasing with a whoosh as the gas disappeared into the above pipe. I immediately turned the rest of the wheels, allowing the gasses to escape and mix as they cooled, dripping into the collector. With a final yank and twist, I shut off the gas flow, the burners shutting off instantaneously, the flames snuffing out as their fuel was cut off, leaving me to listen to the dripping of the new mixture in the pipes, and the creaks as the metal expanded and contracted from the temperature change.
After leaving it for a couple of minutes, I raised a hoof, nudging the tap open, nothing happening at first. Then, allowing me a sigh of relief, a sickly lime -coloured liquid splashed down into the waiting pot. It continued to spill for several seconds before the flow was reduced to a dribble, and then final drips, and then nothing. Breathing a grateful sigh, I clamped on the edge of the pot with my teeth and lifted it, heading for the makeshift ramp to upstairs.
I had failed to consider how potent the acid would be, and being this close to it was a painful reminder of exactly what I was dealing with. The fumes emitted from the pot were horrific; acrid and vile, they burned my nose and throat even without me breathing in, and I had to fight back a wave of coughs, eventually putting the pot down by the collapsed platform so I could wipe my stinging eyes and let loose a flurry of hacks without fear of spilling it over myself. Regaining control, I slung my lantern onto its hook and took several deep breaths, readying myself to pick the pot up again. As I did, I almost gagged, the smell of disinfectant probing my synapses, struggling to find a balance as I stepped onto the planks that made up my ramp. One wrong move, and I would spill the acid over myself. Looking downwards to avoid letting the concoction spill over, I took careful, steady, measured steps, my nerves mounting as I made my way up, until finally I reached the top, speeding my transition across the balcony and through the door for what I hoped would be the last time.
I was ascending the stone steps from the laboratory when it occurred to me that I had a choice; the growth blocking the way out could also be dissolved, which meant that I could escape. I could leave this place behind and all the horrors it contained. No more skulking through corridors and passageways, trying to determine if there was life or not and whether I should avoid it should I find anything. I could walk away and leave it all behind, forever.
When I reached the middle of the entrance hall, I set the jar down on the floor, turning my head away to cough once again. In front of me was the hallway leading to the great wooden entrance doors, currently smeared in the sickly, thorny gunk which prohibited me from leaving. Right now, I could carry the ceramic jar over there, splash it over the growth, heave open the doors, and run for Ponyville. From there, I could find a place to stay, carry on running, get answers, or raise an army to storm the castle if I felt up to it. There really was no reason for me not to leave, as far as I could see.
A slow, howling call echoed throughout the chamber, sending a cold shiver through my body, and I turned, my jaw chattering as I saw the grey sludge materalise over the archway leading to the wine cellar and laboratory, the dark thorns emerging like vicious predators. Looking up to the other archways around the room, I found them to be already sealed by the enigmatic mass, effectively leaving me trapped.
A shadow is following you. It is is living nightmare. There is no way to fight back. You need to escape it as long as you can.
I couldn't leave. There was no hope of me escaping. Even if I left, if I emerged from this castle and ran through the forest- would I even reach Ponyville? Would I be able to get far enough to warn the town residents? Would they believe men? Would they- or could they- help me? No. That wasn't an option. I would be hunted down and I would die. My note to myself had given me specific instructions, directions on what to do, and I needed to follow them. My former self had left clues informing me of my next move, and trusting him so far had got me to where I was. Without that guidance I wouldn't be anywhere. Without that, I would have no memories, no understanding, and no path, and if I left now, that would be exactly what I was left with. My only hope was to continue into the castle.
Pushing myself onto my hooves and picking up the repulsive pot, I walked down the stairs, filled with dread. I pulled the door open, looking at the pulsing intruder obstructing my way. The pot was laid down, my forehooves gripping it tightly as I lifted it back up, wobbling slightly as I tried to balance on two hooves. With a moment's pause, clenching my jaw as I thought about how much I was risking with this one pot of acid, I threw the mixture forward, splashing it over the unnatural growth.
The effect was immediate. Where the acid touched, the grey matter hissed and smoked, eroding away within seconds, the thorns crumbling away. The elastic appearance disappeared, the surface ripping and splitting down the middle like weakened rubber, the ends burning away and as the erosion spread across the entire mass, the dissolving material fading away into blue smoke and then nothing. The whole process had taken less than five seconds, and left me gaping in surprise long after it had ended, my senses taking a while to return. It could have been a dream for all the evidence that was left of it, and how quickly it had happened. Shaking my head, I shook the last drips from the pot and stowed it inside my saddlebag, equipping my lantern if only to feel something familiar as I turned the corner of the now clear corridor, finding myself facing another wooden door. It creaked as I opened it, violently piercing the stillness of the space beyond.
Blackness greeted me, my lantern failing to illuminate much, necessitating a top up. Inky black rushed in as soon as I turned the flame off, rubbing against my coat. I bristled, fumbling for a bottle of firelight gel from within my bags, emptying it in and throwing the discarded bottle aside, igniting the lantern once again. The burst of light and warmth drove the shadows away, sending them scuttling for the corners of the corridor. I appeared to be in a long stone corridor, wooden struts lining the walls and ceiling. Lifting the lantern up higher, I could make out what looked like hanging lanterns set at intervals. Setting off with trembling legs, my hooves passed over the grimy ground, cold earth pressing against me.
"It sure is dark in here," I muttered as I trod along the narrow path, passing under the first hanging lantern. I wished I could reach up and light it, but with any luck I would be out of here soon, and stopping would just delay my exit.
"Yes, and there's a good reason for it," came a gravelly response to my side. I spun around in terror, finding no one there, my light failing to reveal anypony. No matter where I looked, there was nothing. I could still hear the crunching of hoofsteps on the soil. "But you can light the lamp now if you wish."
"What's the reason?" I asked, bring my lantern to bear. "For the darkness, that is." I turned a corner ahead, noticing that segments of the wall had been covered with wooden boarding and that loose chunks of rock and stone lay scattered sporadically along the floor.
"Stay close- be careful not to stray."
"What's the reason? Why is it so dark?" We turned the corner at the end and then another, both times left, heading deeper into the castle no doubt. At the end I could make out a doorway.
"Pay attention, Diamond. It's important that you keep going straight and make sure not to stray."
I stumbled against the wall as the deja vu faded, blinking to clear my vision. A check quick around me confirmed that there was nopony here. I gulped. That memory had matched what I was feeling so well that it segued into reality. I hadn't even realised that I was remembering anything. It felt so real. With a shake of my head, I focused on the doorway at the end of the corridor. All of the walls were lined with panels of wood now, probably structural support, something that would be needed with the damp and the cold down here. Stones didn't lend themselves well to keeping a room warm, so that was to be expected.
Reaching the doorway, pressed myself to the wooden frame and looked into the wide space, easily twenty feet across. It seemed to be devoted to keeping wine, huge barrels sporting taps lined up against the wall. Mid-way up to the ceiling were support beams, crossed at the middle. There was an open doorway nearly opposite me, just to the left, and I stepped into the room, casting suspicious glances left and right as I crept, inching my way over to what I presumed was the next room.
The sudden growl stopped me dead, sending me darting back to the relative safety of the doorframe. I extinguished my lantern and hugged the wood tightly, my wide eyes fixed on the doorway across the room from me. In the darkness, time seemed to stretch out, my heart thumping so loudly in my ears that I thought that the world would be able to hear it. Nothing. Nothing.
Something equine staggered across the gap.
I cowered back, shivering violently, my lantern feeling oddly cold and dead without its characteristic flame, and I prayed that that was the only thing that would be snuffed out this night.