//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: The Same Mistake // by The Wizard of Words //------------------------------// “It says to do what, now?” Spike, the small green dragon holding a mop in his tiny claws, asked for clarification from the pony above him. Specifically, from the equally bemused but nevertheless loyal lavender alicorn. “It says an Archeology Professor and her student are in the Ghastly Gorge for an archeology dig, and that I should be aware of their location,” Twilight repeated the message, sure that she had read it right the first time but equally sure that she was missing something. “I… don’t know why. I didn’t hear anything about any professors from Canterlot coming to Ponyville, let alone any archeological sites being established.” “Yeah, I mean, I thought one of the professors from there would want to talk to you, being a former student and all.” Spike scratched his head, thinking as he spoke. It was true that he had a point, but it was another topic entirely that Twilight was concerned with. It was midday, the pair having already marked off a fair number of chores and activities that needed to be accomplished, including the reorganization of some of the book sections as well as decorating the more spacious areas. In her humble opinion, Twilight felt that the statues of Star Swirl and Luminescent were appropriate additions to the crystal-like palace. There was still more to do, and even as they spoke, Spike was organizing several other books donated to their library, setting them in stacks by the shelves in his own method of organization. Twilight trusted her young dragon companion, as he had yet to let her down. Having the majority of her schedule being taken care of, however, meant she could focus more on the letter in hoof. It was far more common for ponies to come and go through Ponyville without speaking to her. A new castle and title didn’t add much to a town known for being open to every kind of pony. What was more concerning to Twilight was the area of supposed study. She suspected that archeology would be a level of research attached to the Everfree, given the discovery of the Tree of Harmony and the Castle of the Sisters. But the Ghastly Gorge? It made no sense. It like attempting to explore the deep of the ocean by searching a nearby lake. Why investigate a nearby similar source when the objects of true mystery were just minutes away? Twilight shook her head, magically guiding the letter to her desk. She knew that no professor at the University would take on something as time stacking as an archeological search without two things: proof and conviction. It was the proof that was driving at the alicorn. There had to be something that Professor Slate either found or discovered that made the Gorge a target. It was already a done deal that Twilight was going to meet the professor. There was no other reason for Celestia to send the letter other than in the hopes that the newly crowned princess would at least seek out Professor Slate in some way. What she needed now was something to bring with her, something helpful that could contribute to whatever proof the professor had found. The problem that Twilight had was that she couldn’t imagine what the proof was. Between the history likely lost or forgotten in the Sister’s Castle, or the magical remnants of the Tree of Harmony, Twilight couldn’t imagine what could be hiding in the Ghastly Gorge, especially after Rainbow Dash flew through it hundreds of times for practice. Wait… Dash… Her Pegasus friend was a pro when it came to memorizing details mid-flight. It was entirely possible she had the entire Gorge mapped out in her mind. The Pegasus had once confided to Twilight that memorizing course patterns allowed her to focus more on speed and less on predicting the next part coming. It was a long shot, but it was entirely possible that Rainbow may have seen something, or at least be able to point her in the right direction. After all, Twilight knew the importance of using all available sources of information. Who better to ask about Ghastly Gorge than the mare who flew through it as often as the wind itself? “Spike,” Twilight spoke to her dragon companion, earning his attention. “I’m going to get Rainbow Dash and head over to the Ghastly Gorge to meet this professor.” “Didn’t the letter say that they haven’t been in contact?” Spike questioned with a tilt of his head. He pushed a book back into place along the shelves, always being conscious of keeping the library clean and organized, if only to stay ahead of Twilight inevitably messing with it during her research. “I mean, shouldn’t you look for them first? Maybe bring a few ponies or something?” “No, that won’t be necessary,” Twilight easily dismissed. “There aren’t any hazardous terrains in the Ghastly Gorge that Rainbow Dash hasn’t implicitly memorized. I need Dash to help look for the professor and maybe donate any information she may have to assist in their dig, that is if they are okay. If anything is wrong, then she can get help from town faster than any other pony.” “Huh,” Spike let out, setting down the books in his claw as he looked at Twilight with a small grin pulling at his scales. It was both an adorably and oddly off-setting sight for the alicorn. “Spike?” She let out curiously. “Is something… wrong?” The dragon shook his head, dismissing any ideas the youngest of the princesses might have had. “Nope, nothing at all,” He turned back to the half-filled shelf, adding the books by his side as he spoke. It was labeled ‘T-V History’. “Just thinking that you and Dash have been hanging out a lot recently. I’m almost surprised she’s not here now.” “Who?” The hooting of Owlicious echoed above them, earning the attention of the pair. Spike looked up at his fellow aide. “You know, Rainbow Dash, the pegasus with the rainbow mane, flies around all the time.” He waved his arms at his sides, imitating the wings of the pegasus as she spoke. Twilight successfully stifled a giggle at the sight. Owlicious responded as she suspected he would. “Who?” Spike puckered his lips a bit, but decided to speak on still. “She’s here like all the time now, sleeping on one of your ledges or asking about new adventure books to read.” What Twilight expected was for her owl pet to hoot its perpetual question, staring at Spike with its large golden eyes. Instead, her own eyes widened in surprise as the owl did what the alicorn had seen only a hoof-full of times before. Owlicious nodded in understanding. “You see?” Spike held up one of his hands, presenting Owlicious to Twilight as some undisputable form of proof. It was both a blessing and a curse that the alicorn took the owl as just that. “Even Owlicious agrees with me.” Twilight quirked a brow. There was a half-truth to what her number one and two assistants were talking about. Rainbow Dash was spending more time with Twilight, not that either had any complaint. There was simply more space to fly around the new library, being nearly five stories high and easily wider than any simply grown tree. It helped that with all the new donations being given to her, from nobles far and neighbors near, there were a lot more adventure novels to read, ones that Rainbow Dash eagerly took to. But the pegasus’s presence did make it easier to get a lot of work done, a phenomena that Twilight had already felt and realized long before. Solitude was beneficial only in a limited number of circumstances. Usually, the presence of another pony, preferably a friend, makes work less stressful and easier to manage. Twilight sighed. She was getting off the task at hand. “Look, I have to go look for the professor, and Rainbow Dash is the best mare to take on the job,” Twilight spoke, diverting the conversation away from the amount of time she spent with her friend. There were far more important matters to consider. “If everything goes well, I shouldn’t be gone too long, but believe me, you’ll be one of the first to know if anything’s up.” “I know,” Spike responded faithfully, picking up his pile of books as he moved to another shelf in the library, small staircase already prepared for him to reach the higher shelf. “I should finish organizing this place before you get back. Promise.” Twilight looked at her dragon companion, smiling at him as he tottered up the ladder with book in claw. She trotted the short distance to him, putting her own hoof on his head as she ruffled the un-mineralized scales atop his head. He did not approve of the gesture. “Whoa, c’mon Twilight, what are you doing?” He poorly attempted to swat away her hoof, succeeding in only brushing against it with his minimal reach. Twilight couldn’t help but giggle at the display. Nevertheless, she released her hoof from his head. “Just thanking you for the help,” the alicorn replied honestly, never letting her grin fall as she looked at her dragon assistant. The dragon only grumbled beneath his breath, turning away from the alicorn. It only gave reason for Twilight to giggle some more. It always was its own kind of fun to tease Spike. Still though, she did have somewhere to be. Stepping away from Spike, Twilight moved to her desk, currently supporting the letter Princess Celestia had sent her. Instead of the letter, Twilight magically lifted and strapped her traveling bag about her carriage. Her horn continued to hum as she levitated several selected pieces of blank parchment paper, a few quills, and a bottle of ink. If she was going to a dig site, she was going to take notes. “I shouldn’t be very long, so long as nothing has gone wrong. I’ll be sure to send a note if anything comes up,” Twilight spoke. She trotted towards the door to the library, taking a look over her shoulder as she left. To her expectations of her life-time assistant, Spike had already cleaned and stacked majority of the donated books, filling the once-empty shelves with a wealth of knowledge. It was like gazing into paradise for the studious alicorn. “I’ll keep dinner warm just in case,” Spike called back, already finishing up the last of the books. “If I have time, I’ll be sure to clean the artifact display.” Knowing Spike, she didn’t doubt it. “Thanks Spike, see you soon!” The princess called out as she left the room, trotting at a quickened pace through the hall and to the small palace’s front gate. It didn’t take long before she felt the warmth of her mentor’s sun on her coat and the light breeze of the air through her feathers. She knew Dash was in one of two places. She was either sleeping in her cloud home or simply sleeping on a cloud. This time of day, at the sun’s peak, the pegasus loved to bask in the warmth. Despite the amount of energy the pegasus had, as required to be an athlete, Twilight knew her schedule well. So Twilight trotted off, on her way to her rainbow-maned friend’s home as she searched the skies. It wasn’t long before the alicorn vanished into the Ponyville crowd, keeping an eye out along the way. But as soon as she was gone and out of sight, another figure made itself known. Tall in stature and wry in smile, it watched the lavender mare trot off, silent as the shadows it stood within. When the princess was completely gone, it spoke aloud to no one. “When the pony is away, the statue will play.” Karl giggled to himself, enjoying the lyric. “I’d say I was meant to be a poet, wouldn’t you agree Arma?” The statue lifted his arm as he spoke, raising the bird perched on the gray portion of his wrist. The black raven quirked his head at the statue, silent as ever with only beady red eyes to gaze with. The silence was hysterical to the golem. “Ha ha! Couldn’t have said it better myself.” The statue poked the beak of the raven with his other hand, grinning with laughter as he spoke. The bird returned more silence. “Well, we can’t stand here making jokes all day. We have business to take care of, don’t we?” Once more the statue waited for the bird’s reply, staring at it with his mismatched gaze of painted black and vacant gray. The bird turned its head in the opposite direction, letting its other red eyes stare back at Karl. Only the wind and far off canter of ponies kept complete silence at bay. It wasn’t long, however, until Karl let his smile sharpen, gaze fixed on Arma all the while. “Of course you do.” Without waiting for ceremony or trepidation, Karl spun himself from the shadows, moving through the palace’s front door with not a sound but the shutting of the grand crystal doors. No mare or stallion saw him enter. “Deary me, what a tall room she has here,” Karl noted with his ever-present grin. He stared upwards, watching as the layers of the crystal tower formed a tall hollow pillar. For each layer outside there was a balcony within, noted by the crystal guards circling them, likely to prevent any pony from falling from the higher floors. They continued up once, twice, then thrice before finally ending with the spire, shining with the light of the day outside. “There’s so much room that I have to wonder if we went inside at all.” Karl spun on its heel, watching the top of the room spin with him. He giggled at the display, watching as the crystal turned into a kaleidoscope of sorts. He stopped with easily, letting his long coat billow with the force he made. “Hmm, now where would the books be?” Karl mused as he raised his gray hand to his mouth, signaling for Arma to jump from it to his shoulder. “That little pegasus did say there was one in her friend’s home, did she not?” He asked the question to Arma, who only tilted its gaze back at the statue. As always, the raven knew the kind of silence to keep to make the statue break into laughter. “Yes yes, of course Arma, I could never forget that!” Karl spoke in reply, waving his hand as if to dismiss the memory the raven had conjured. “But we really must stay focused. After all, we can’t afford to make any mistakes, not yet at least.” Deciding to move forward quickly, Karl approached one of the far off doors, placed beneath two large crystal pillars supporting the upper floors. The statue mused about breaking one, but dismissed the idea. Afterall, he couldn’t afford to be detected yet. Grasping the handle and pulling the door open, the statue ventured in without hesitation. He shut the large door behind him a moment later, leaving the room as undisturbed as when he entered it. Spike wandered into the room a moment later, scratching his scaley head with his tiny claws, swearing he heard voices just before. “Wow, on my first try.” Karl spoke the words with the same level of cheer that he said near everything, smile to match. But before him was an object that he was looking for, found in nearly no time at all. The library stretched out before Karl, curling about the oval room in an almost dizzying shape. Every wall had a shelf carved into it, rising along the walls to heights several times the statue’s own. Each and every shelf had a book upon it, several in fact, stuffed into there was not a single piece of empty space upon them. But the walls aside, shelves of books were lined about the center of the room, organized parallel to one another and, again, filled to the absolute maximum with books. The same crystal blue as the rest of the castle walls, they rose to match the height of the shelves along the walls. But despite the sheer volume of novels along the walls and on the stand-alone shelves, there was still more to be seen. As in the room before, there were several levels to this collection of novels as well. A staircase stood before Karl, rising in the small pocket of space not taken up by the shelves of novels, leading the way to the level above him. And around the balcony that was on the higher levels, shelves were etched into the walls as well, each rising higher than before. Karl walked to the center of the room, humming to himself as he spotted around the novels, noting the level of organization in them. The few libraries he had seen before were always cluttered with mismatched texts or piles of tomes set aside from the shelves, easy to kick away. Yet here, there was no such thing. He spun on his heel, staring upwards once more. Where the kaleidoscope-like pattern from the previous room was of lavender and crystal blue hues, now the statue's vision swam with the colors of the novels, all-bleeding together like a cut rainbow. He mused how much that would be, to slay an illusion. Eventually, he stopped, coming to rest while facing the casing that lined the far wall. Though the walls were etched with shelves and filled with books, there were still pockets of open space, there had to be. Where else would they hang the lamps for illumination? There still wasn’t a lot, barely enough to make the library visible in a dark night, but enough to keep a stray reader from running into one of the many bookshelves. What caught Karl’s mismatched eyes, however, was not the source of small illumination, but what was beneath it. As there had to be a pocket of solid wall for the lamps to hang from, there was then room for something else to be placed beneath it. Instead of more etched shelves or spare stands for reading, there were glass display cases. The statue hummed to himself, walking towards one with a hand to his drawn lips in thought. Libraries for the humans usually had rare books or old artifacts displayed in such a manner, and these ponies appeared to have mimicked the humans well enough. It wouldn’t be a far thought for something worth investigating to be in the one of the cases. When he was standing over the case, the statute let his drawn grin sharpen. “Deary me, what have we here?” Karl bent closer to the display case, looking at the oblong object inside. He placed his gray hand over his chin, hardly concealing the wry smile he perpetually held. The glass was a thin barrier, one the statue knew was about as secure as open air, but he peered beyond it carefully. The case inside was empty, as shown by the top being set aside and the interior of the object being exposed. There were intricate designs carved along the sides, six key holes by Karl’s count, each one sitting on a separate surface. He could make out shapes that appeared below each of the holes, odd things that made no real point to him. Stars, balloons, apples, butterflies, things that all seemed rather mundane and unimportant, together or apart. Altogether, there was one word Karl could use to describe the box. “Interesting,” the statue mused. He turned his head upwards, gazing at the black raven that sat on his head. “What do you think Arma? Anything to contribute?” The bird looked back down at him, twisting its head left before blinking its red eyes, all as silently as ever. “That’s a good point,” the statue acknowledged, still peering at the box. “We are in a library, let’s see what else there is to find, hmm?” He hummed the question to Arma, who only proceeded to spread its wings and take flight. Karl watched the raven before turning, looking at the many shelves that lined walls of the room. “Books, the oldest and greatest way of saving the past,” Karl mused as he grabbed a spine from a bright green text. He pulled it from the shelf, staring at the cover as he turned it in his hand. It read ‘Basics of Lagomorphs’ on its cover, complete with the silver etched image of a rabbit. The statue opened its folds, reading a few choice lines along its pages before tossing the text behind him. The statue strode down the shelves again, reading the small inscriptions beneath the works. By his drawn eyes, they were indicators of the books themselves, telling of their information in only the broadest of senses. Animals A-D, Animals E-G, Archeology A-B, Astronomy A-K… He paused. Archeology… now that was something. The statue reached for one of the texts above the shelf, slipping an ordinary brown-covered book from it. It was thick, more so than the average tome the statue had bothered to flip through, but it had an interesting name to it. “Statues of the Past?” The statue himself read, grinning as he questioned the title. “How terribly interesting.” He opened the tome, turning and leaning against the shelf as he did so. The text was dominated by pictures, doubtlessly photographs from a vastly improved version of the device Karl has seen long ago. It was easy to tell, as the lines were too detailed, the colors lacking in vibrancy, and the many others unimportant details all captured with as much brilliance as the statue itself. Painters who had a subject tended leave such detail aside. The words that accompanied the pictures were basic descriptions, telling of where the carved stone beings were found, where they were now, what they were meant to indicate, or even who sculpted them in some cases. None of the names meant a thing to the statue. He memorized them all the same. Karl let his chalk-drawn lips grow as he observed the many statues, all beings far different than human, all seemingly fantasia creatures. Griffons with broad wings, Chimera with long necks, Dragons with sweeping tails, Cerberuses with gnawing teeth, but the majority were of the same equine species as the Pegasus he had spoken with not long ago. Despite their number, not a human was among any of their ranks. Curious, he mused. The information that was written down outside of the many pictures gave only sparse information. Time periods the statues had come from, the influence for their craft, but far more interesting to the stone man, the small tidbits of information regarding their crafters. He noted how the earth ponies appeared to dot the texts more so than the pegasi or unicorns, the text telling of their superior level of detail with things regarding the earth. They had gentler yet stronger hooves, more detail in the physical crafts, and a better eye for the type of stone to use. Karl would like to meet one of them soon. He was sure they bled all the same. But between the lines, hidden amongst the pictures, was a supposedly secondary, needless even, piece of information. To most of the ponies that he was sure had read the text, it was something they were already fully aware of. For him, however, it was a piece of information more valuable than all the foolish man's gold. “Innate magic,” Karl read the word aloud, letting his etched brows rise to allow his drawn eyes a better view of the words. No matter how many times his gray or colored eye scanned the words, there was no indication that it as false or unclarified. It was as easy to see as the clouds outside. These ponies, so unlike the humans, had magic within them. Magic… that they had the capacity to use. Karl was giggling before he knew it. He tossed the book aside, the same as he had done for the texts before, opting to pick a new novel from one of the many shelves that lined the crystalline library. He needed a certain book now, one that he was sure would do more good than his fellow, yet still, statues. His finger roamed the labels, reading through Barometry, then Basics, which took up far more than a single shelf, before finally ending up on the “B” he was searching for, Biology. He grabbed one of the larger volumes, wide enough to require the full length of his hand in order to grip. With a flick, he pulled the text free from its companions. On the cover was a simple circle, one fit with many unruly-shaped figures within it. Odd protrusions jutted from it, squirmed within it, and made the otherwise simple shape into something else. Just beneath the title itself was far easier to understand. “Cellular Biology,” Karl wistfully said, grinning as he spoke. He turned the grin into a small chuckle before speaking on. “I haven’t the faintest idea what this is about!” Unceremonious as before, he tossed the text behind him, letting it clatter to the floor. He grabbed another book from the shelf, only about half the size of the former and possessing a far more detailed front. It had a figure on it, appearing similar to the Pegasus he met earlier, except of course for the side-by-side dissection of the picture, showing more and more of the anatomy of the equine creature. The title was just as fitting, ‘Pegasi Anatomy By Sections’. Karl let his brows rise and his grin spread wide. Opening up the text, the statue quickly scanned through chapter titles, noting their indication by ‘system’. There was Olfactory, Endocrine, Respiratory, Cardiac, Reproductive, and many others. It made the statue laugh. “Honestly,” he spoke aloud, smile never even faltering as he went on. “They are as weak and vulnerable as the humans. Maybe even as treacherous, wouldn’t you say Arma?” The statue looked up to a high shelf, seeing the beady red eyes of the raven look down at him. The bird ruffled its feathers though remained silent. Karl chuckled and looked back to the book. “Hmm, I suppose so,” Karl agreed, turning his painted and scarred eye back to the book in unblemished hand. “But to know that, we need to know about them first.” His other hand scanned through the glossary of chapters, looking for one that would peak his ever-curious mind. He found it without fault. Manacrine System. Mana, a synonym for the ever-elusive device known as magic, at least in the old texts Karl had pilfered from the odd human or two, their corpses at least. It seemed a more profitable section of the book to study for his purposes. Looking at the page number indicated by the title, the statue flipped through the pages, finding the matching section. The text was surprisingly sparse with matching images, at least compared to the tomes Karl had skimmed earlier. Paragraph after paragraph instead was written on the pages, with small captions and references to future or prior chapters that he had no desire to reference. Regardless of the depth, he read it all, committing all that he could to memory, still searching for any clue he might need. “Not quite human,” Karl mused as he flipped the page, letting his hand rise instead of fall, grasping his chin as she read on. He fell backwards until he landed on the shelf of books, feeling them jumble under the force of his body. “But they are focused on theories just as much as they were.” And in truth, nearly every word the statute read was about an idea. Not one of the many paragraphs his mismatched eyes glanced upon contained a reference to source or direction to name of any part of the body responsible for the production of magic. Only that their feathers were rooted in it, their flight depended on it, the manipulation of weather required it, and without it, they were nothing but earthbound winged ponies. “How sad,” the statue spoke in a dry tone, unfairly spoken with his omnipresent grin. “They know so much on how to use it, but haven’t a clue where it is from. Wouldn’t that be terrible, Arma? Not knowing where you are from?” The bird glanced down at him, cocking its head curiously at the word. This time, Karl did not laugh at the raven’s response. “But of course,” he spoke, shutting the book with his hand before turning it over, staring at the cover. “We just have to look somewhere else now.” “Hello?” A voice called out, forcing Karl to raise his head from the book, staring forwards blankly. Even his chiseled smile seemed to take on the look of rigidity. Ahead of him, the doors were open. He remembered closing the doors, as all good entrances usually preceded, but now it was open again. He was surprised how quietly the door opened, or possibly how distracted he had been. But what Karl’s eyes were truly focused on was not the door, still slightly agape and allowing a small amount of light to shatter the shadows of the room, but by the small lizard-like creature peaking inside. Green scales, purple spikes, and slitted eyes staring forward. It looked at Karl and froze like the statue himself. Karl decided to giggle. Giggle, then speak. “Well hello there!” Karl introduced. Under the creature’s attention, he cared for the book like the life of a small child. He tossed it over his shoulder, paying no attention to the clatter that followed as he continued, “I’m sorry to intrude, but I was told there was a book here I was just killing to get my hands on. I hope you don’t mind.” The small lizard didn’t say a word. It remained stock frozen in the doorway, one of its tiny claws gripping the wood. It stared at the statue, eyes clearly unsure and frightened. Karl mused how it was, to see a lizard afraid. Most of the humans’ stories told of their ferocity. Yet another lie, he supposed. “Um… how did you, ya know… get in here?” The tiny lizard asked the obvious question. The statue grinned, looking up at the ceiling as if to ponder the question himself. A slow hum emanated as he did so. “You know, I can’t remember!” He spoke the omission so easily and cheerily that it spent chills down Spike’s scaly hide. His reptilian eyes blinked as he focused on the creature. Here he was, coming to return a few choice books that Twilight had borrowed for her usual late night readings, only to find an intruder in the castle. An intruder that, instead of taking anything of at least monetary value, was reading novels from their library. Novels that it didn’t seem to care for either, judging by the two or three the baby dragon could see laying on the ground around the tall creature. And creature was what it was. Though nowhere near the level of the Princess of Friendship with her aptitude in studying, Spike was well aware of at least majority of the creatures, intelligent creatures, that populated the Equestrian landscape. From Griffons to ponies, then cows to dragons, Spike had held Twilight study up on them and their cultures through her basic schooling to advance study. But the creature that stood tall in the library, grinning down at him with oddly-shaped appendages and coat, was unlike anything he was familiar with. “You don’t… remember?” Spike repeated the statement as a question, not able to grasp a credible strand within the words. The thing giggled before responding, taking long and seemingly fluid strides with its gait. “Yes, that’s right, the memory appears to be escaping me.” The creature’s hand, a discolored and oddly-marred gray hand, floated in the air. Its digits wagged about, as if showing the intangibility of its past. It did nothing to ease the dragon, who was half way to running from the room, books forgotten. “I suppose I was just so focused on finding a good read that I didn’t pay too much attention to the obstacles before me. By the way, would you be able to help me out?” Spike was doubly stunned. The thing, leaning towards him with an uncomfortable grin, was asking for his help after breaking into his home. More than one piece of this scenario didn’t belong. The dragon swallowed on a ball that was building in his throat, hoping the creature didn’t see his leg reaching backwards. “Help… with what?” The creature held its arms out, for that was what Spike believed they were, making its already tall appearance seem even larger. It didn’t help that the coat draped over its shoulders billowed with the action. “Why with looking, of course!” The thing spoke loudly, no lack of cheer in its voice. “This is an awfully big library, and I would simply hate to have to look through it alone. I don’t suppose I could trouble you to give me hand?” Spike kept his voice from stuttering. “A what?” Rather than responding, the creature extended one of its arms, holding the other behind its back. It stared at Spike with a calm grin, but a grin nonetheless. It was hard to tell if its eyes were focused or not. One as gray as his hand and the other but a singular dot, the both looked at Spike without a tremble. That was when the dragon began to notice other smaller details about the intruder. Namely, just how… off everything felt. There was no depth in its eyes, like they were drawn on. There was no nose or ears visible on its person either. Its mouth moved with its words, but there wasn’t a jaw that opened or closed. It was all… fake. But then past the superficial details of the thing, Spike noticed what it was wearing. The long tan pants that seemed grafted to the thing’s body, the trench coat that gave it’s already tall form an imposing visage, the yellow cap that hid its slightly lighter colored hair, and the white collared shirt that appeared to be frozen solid. Never before was Spike so thankful that Twilight had taught him to analyze the smaller details. “You’re… a statue?” Spike didn’t mean to voice the words as a question, but at the same time the conclusion seemed highly unlikely, almost as unlikely as Rainbow Dash answering question before Twilight. But judging by the way the thing across from him widened its eyes, he could assume he guessed at least closely. “Clever creature.” The sudden and cold whisper from the thing made the bones in Spike shiver. But then, as quick and deadly as the words were, the statue rose and continued to speak on. “Yes yes, I am a statue and, as I’m sure you can quite clearly see, I’m completely unable to move.” To emphasis its point, or lack thereof, the statute twirled in place, arms and single leg extended. It stopped only when it fell over, hitting one of the bookcases with its head. Instead of getting up, however, or complaining about what should have surely been a brand new lump, it simply turned about its new axis, staring at spike in its lopped over state. The dragon had to twist his own head to match the axis the statue, debatably, stood on. “Um… I don’t know if I can help you find the book you need,” Spike spoke honestly, trying his best to put the state of the statue out of his mind, at least temporarily. He was having little to no success. “But I could ask Twilight when she gets back. I mean, if you’re willing to wait.” The statue awkwardly lifted one of its arms, one that was colored from shoulder to wrist, but not its hand. It extended one of the gray digits, letting it sitting on the end of its chin as its eyes looked skyward, or slanted, it was hard to describe given the statue’s preference to lean sideways. It was more than off putting to the dragon, and he was used to a pegasus that hated standing. “You know that’s very kind of you, I think I will wait!” The voice was full of cheer and the statue wore a painted smile to match. “I don’t suppose you could help me pass the time. As much fun as a statue can have being locked in place for all eternity, I would love to have something to do.” It tilted its head as it inquired to the dragon, waiting for a response. “Well, I gotta clean up this mess first.” Spike looked at the many books scattered on the ground, seeing more now that the statue had moved. “But if you help, I’m I can find something afterwards.” “That’s sounds like a bargain to me!” The statue spoke with the same cheer, grinning broadly and speaking proudly. As if to show its sincerity, it pushed itself from the wall spinning with the moment as if its feet were bound to an axis. It grabbed one of novels mid swing, stopping only when the rotation had returned it to fully upright position. It lid the novel into an open space on the shelf, turning back to the dragon, with the same chipper smile. “There, help offered! Now I don’t suppose you could offer me something else now, hmm?” Spike let out a drawl sigh. This thing was like Rainbow Dash mixed with Pinkie Pie, the worst kind of combination when it came to patience and organization. He scratched his head, realizing that getting it to clean up after itself was likely impossible. The most he could do was keep it from making a bigger mess. “Alright, um… what would you want to do? I mean, want me to find you a book or something?” Spike asked the question as he began to pick up the other novels about the room, reading their texts and recalling where they were meant to be stored. The statue spun on its heel, stopping when it faced away from the dragon, staring up at a high stained glass window. “I don’t suppose you have a violin I could borrow, preferably one tuned to a Bach’s Rhapsody of D-Minor.” Spike had to stop what he was doing to turn and stare at the statue. At the silence to its question, the statute in turn turned around to stare at the dragon. The wideness of its eyes and creeping smile on its chalk drawn lips said it was doing anything but lying. “I… don’t think we have one of those,” Spike tentatively answered, returning to his task of picking up the books. Noting briefly how although the statue’s head and eyes fell, its grin did not falter for a moment. “Disappointing, but not unexpected,” the statue noted wistfully. It reached into the air, holding its arm extended as if it were intending to hold the pose. Spike placed one of the texts back onto the shelf when he turned to see it. A raven, flying through the library. It wasn’t panic, but shock that flooded the dragon, followed quickly by worry for the state of the books. It wouldn’t require much for a flying bird to knock over a few of the higher stacked novels, making his workload much heavier. As said, Rainbow Dash made it an almost daily habit for him. But Spike was pleased, and a bit surprised, to see that the raven was far more careful with its flight. It glided about the statue, easily orbiting the stone figure, drifting far away from any precariously placed objects or books on their shelves. Spike had to marvel at how controlled yet quite the avian species was. Then it dipped in flight, nearly landing on the floor. A hair before it hit the crystalline ground, it rose, quickly ascending behind the statue. It took Spike a moment to realize that it was beneath the covers of the statue’s long coat, hiding behind it perhaps. Then it took another for the same dragon to see that it had exposed the back of the statute, the non-stiff and carved portion of it. The moment that followed that, he saw writing upon the statute. There were only five words in total, and printed in larger than likely necessary font. But that sat beneath a symbol, one the dragon was familiar with in stories and some history. A skull and crossbones. Spike read the words beneath the symbol swiftly. Karl “Property of Pirate Island” “Pirate Island?” Spike mumbled the last bit of the phrase, noticing how the cloth of the statue’s coat fell back into place, concealing itself once more. The statue, Karl if the name was spelled true, didn’t appear to notice. That, or it didn’t care. “Making a big commotion again, aren’t you Arma?” The statue spoke with a teasing tone to its voice, leaning close the bird perched on its hand. “You better be careful, we are guests after all.” Guests, yeah, that was true. Spike was glad the statue realized that. Now he only wished it would act like one. Namely helping him to clean up the mess it caused. The dragon sighed, but did little more than that. He was far beyond used to cleaning up after other ponies. Why should a statue break tradition? He placed another book back on the shelf, noticing how he had only a few left to reorder before he was done. He was thankful for that much at least, that Karl had not caused so much extraneous work for him. Speaking of Karl, Spike had to ask. It was a simple question, one that most ponies would have asked almost immediately, but Spike wasn’t one to jump to conclusions so quickly. He had Twilight for that. He felt that he should, like it would be rude, but he knew that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, at least that’s what Pinkie told him once. “Hey, um,” Spike began, licking its scaled lips with a forked tongue before continuing. “Are you a pirate?” Spike asked the question innocently, doing so as he placed one of the fallen books back on the shelf. His head was turned, voice unshaken, and asking it with complete sincerity. Silence was the answer that followed, confusing the dragon. So far, the statue had done nothing but speak or nearly dance with its movement. He was about to think it was taller and grayer version of Pinkie Pie. Turning, Spike almost dropped the book from his claw. The statue was looking down at him, smile gone and eyes cold at stone. Then his eyes shut, leaving room for his chalk-drawn and broad grin to sweep over his face. “Well that was an awfully random question. Why would you think I was a pirate?” The sincere voice and jovial laughter was back, following so easy the horrific sight Spike had witnessed. He hadn’t imagined it, he knew he didn’t. “I…” He began, unsure of what words to say to keep such a cold expression of the statue away. “I just… thought your clothes looked like it… is all… the bird,” Spike’s claw weakly pointed towards the top of the statue’s head, leading Karl to follow the gaze. He looked up as Arma, the raven perched on his head, looked down. “Ha ha!” Karl let out, waving backwards at an angle that looked uncomfortable. “You thought Arma made me a pirate? Nonsense, she’s just a devious bird is all, aren’t you Arma?” The statue held its hand up, close enough for the bird to jump from the top of the statue’s head to the gray appendage. When it did, Karl proceeded to hold his arm out, waving a finger of his other hand at the bird in a reprimanding way. “Bad bad Arma, no confusing others.” Karl almost sang the words, and it was almost enough for Spike to forget that horribly cold expression from earlier. Almost. He doubted anything but time would get rid of that sight. “Um, I’m sorry for calling you a pirate,” Spike apologized to the statue, just as he had been taught to do when mistakes were made. Karl looked at him with a twisted head, balancing on one foot with Arma counterbalancing him. His smile was ever present. “I didn’t mean to offend or anything.” “Now now, it’s quite alright,” Karl dismissed, walking the short distance to the dragon. He patted the top of the adolescent’s head, like one would a well-trained dog. Spike, for his part, bore the rather embarrassing display. “We all make mistakes,” the statue went on to say, its hand settling atop the dragon’s head, digits divided by the reptile’s spikes. “That just means we have to fix them, wouldn’t you agree?” Spike did not miss, nor imagine, the way the statue’s voice dropped in tone. He opened his mouth to speak, to politely ask the statue to let go of him, but found that he couldn’t. Nothing was blocking his mouth and nothing was choking his throat, but he still found himself unable to voice a word of complaint. It didn’t take him long to know why. “Deary me,” the statue spoke above him, calm as the moment the two first saw one another. “Am I squeezing too hard?” Karl laughed at the words, giggling in a high pitch. The adolescent reptile raised his claws to the stone hand atop his head, grabbing at the digits futilely. The action only made the statue’s flat grin all the wider. “I do apologize for this. Sometimes I just don’t know my own strength.” In spite of the words, Karl only strengthened the grip of his hand. The dragon could feel the stone digits of the statue squeezing on his head, painfully concaving the fragile dome of his skull. His pupils constricted as he began to thrash, waving his body as hard as he could back and forth against the monstrous grip on him. It did little more than make the statue laugh a little harder. “But don’t worry now,” the statue continued to speak, falsely giving hope to he dragon as he continued to cause pain. His grin nor joy never shrank, not to Spike’s eyes or ears. Spike was in a panic. His claws began to scrape at the stone of the hand on his head, tearing into the stone that caused his own digits only more pain. The grip didn’t lax, his own pain wasn’t subsiding, but he couldn’t stop. Not with this horrifying figure above him, so easily crushing his skull. “Now isn’t that interesting?” The statue asked the question, either to the dragon being crushed in his grasp or the silent raven atop his head. “Struggling for the last bit of life, no matter how obvious it is that there is no hope.” Spike felt him rising off the ground, the powerful hand clenched about his cranium pulling him into the air. He managed a weak gasp a painful moan, but he could force no higher volume scream to match the pain that was racking through his body and mind. He was scared. He was terrified. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die unless he did something! But he was just a baby, barely old enough to do anymore than organize books. This thing was a monster, a horrible creature that was laughing at his pain! What could he do? What could he do? When Spike felt his ascent cease, but the grip on his head remain tight as nails, he found himself staring into the mismatched eyes of the statue. They were glaring at him, both sitting above a thin sadistic grin. He could feel fire in the gaze. And like that, Spike knew what he could do. “You’re just like a human.” Spike breathed fire. When she founded Canterlot University, Princess Celestia made it a point to only enforce a few rules. She was not a princess demanding of attention to detail, or the absolute highest level of work, or that everything be done precisely on time. The centuries had taught her long ago the lack of progress that is made when strict schedules are forced on a pony. As such, she was careful about how she phrased the few rules Canterlot University. She forbade the unwelcome practice of magic on one another, for risk of harm or damage. She disallowed the foolish idea of bullying, especially among the younger individuals attending her academy. But what was far and gone the most important rule of her school was also the most abstract of them. The students and faculty alike needed to be themselves. It was a hard rule to enforce, and impossible to judge, but Celestia was since long ago against the idea of changing any pony to be what they were not. She wanted her ponies to grow, to be greater versions of what they already were, successors in their dreams and achievers of the impossible. She did not want to turn a mare who enjoyed the arts into one that studied science, nor vice-versa. It was a difficult rule to enforce or judge, but there were obvious areas to give light or example to. For one, the attire one chose to wear, either as faculty or student, was not of her nor any pony’s concern. It was a simple rule to enforce, as the requests to change one’s clothes were simply unneeded to be upheld. Another example often cited by the princess was the activities one did outside of the walls of the academy. Whether it be dancing the night away in the halls of loud music, or reading a novel in the gardens, neither was any better than the other. Judgment placed by which was more beneficial was not to be made nor printed. But a great example, one that Celestia found herself quoting more often than not, was the state of one’s room. For the students who held a rented room far from home, or the faculty members who kept their office on campus, the state of the room was far and away from any level of judgment by rule or decree. It was the space one would usually conduct their work, and as such, it should be kept in a way that allowed that work to be done at its best. That was the excuse the Princess kept forefront in her mind when she saw the state of Professor Slate’s Office. Used the odd mess from work or study, Celestia was aware that a completely tidy room was very near impossible. What she did not expect was a mess so great in size that hurricanes were curious at the cause of the disaster. Books were thrown about the room, sitting opened with their pages bent on the floor, against the walls, or even caught beneath the professor’s desk. Said desk was missing a leg, or maybe two and a half given the number of books that were currently beneath or around the supports, holding up the wooden platform oddly. But despite that, it still leaned visibly, great enough that Celestia needed no testing to now water would run down it instead of puddling. But those problems were just what was immediately in front of her. A Canterlot Professor’s room was large, and Professor Slate had managed to make every corner of her room beyond logical in a foreign ponies mind. Where there were no thrown books, there were piles of paper, seemingly without order or even basic organization by group. Ink vials were strewn across the floor, hopefully empty but the princess couldn’t be sure. The quills were not far behind. Some straight and tasseled, some bent and thrown, others appearing perfect, but imbedded into the floor, walls, or ceiling above. Oh the ceiling. The ceiling had somehow managed to become a mangy collage, full of photos and words that the princess could only just barely make out. She could see pictures of dig sites, statues, archeological finds, conspiracy myths, even a bit of fan fiction. She did not have the heart or even the stomach to read what was beside a few of those choice images. “I’m… I-I deeply apologize about the mess, your highness.” Jasmine spoke from aside the princess. Celestia turned to see the student bowing her head, hopefully in forgiveness but likely in shame. “Professor Slate is not the… tidiest of teachers. B-But she’s really good at finding things, when she has to.” “I suppose this could be one extreme… for practicing for dig site…” Celestia could taste the bitter words of a lie in her voice, but of all the things she would wish to blunt about, this was not one of them. The mare she was speaking to did not own this room, and if productivity was made in this mess, then it was not her place to judge. “Yes, um, Iron joked about that once,” Jasmine spoke shyly, eyes drifting downwards as a soft smile took her lips. “He actually impressed the professor by finding one of her small statues in the room, buried under three class texts and a dozen ungraded tests.” Celestia did let those words bother her. She did, however, steer the two back on course. “I am curious, where is the proof Professor Slate had regarding Ghastly Gorge?” The alicorn asked the question with a raised brow, eyes still scanning the room. “Or, for that matter, where is your sister?” Jasmine opened her lips, the unicorn ready to reply with either a nervous excuse or a bashful apology. Both were equally likely to be spoken. But before she could utter a word, she found herself emitting a quick shriek instead. Celestia nearly did the same, opting instead for stunned silence. A bomb exploded in the professor’s office. Papers, books, and even a few statues suddenly and without warning flew into the air, all at once showering the space with parchment. They hit the ceiling, sending the few quills stuck at the height to come tumbling down, feathering downwards true to their name. Celestia felt her wings near explode in tandem with the sudden motion, shocked by the display. It would have been surprising enough, if not for the sudden joyful scream that followed the explosion. “I found it!” A quick turn of the alicorn’s pink eyes had her gazing on the younger sister of the two mares, Opal, smiling proudly at the center of the seemingly explained explosion. Her horn was still emitting a soft glow, doubtlessly a result of her escaped. When the younger unicorn’s eyes opened, however, seeing the princess and her elder sibling staring back at her, the cheer on her face was suddenly switched for equal amounts of horror. The silence carried through the room for a moment, none fully understanding what to do next. Celestia took the time to measure up Opal now, clearly more ragged than when she had come to her court earlier, a result of her apparent searching. It did explain why this Iron Wit was so helpful to have around, finding objects in these piles of nearly lost texts. Looking at the young mare’s hooves, Celestia could clearly see what the elusive object was. A rope and handle, one tied to the other and disappearing into the sidewall. The rope was taunt, needing only a small pull or release to fulfill its desired objective, but Celestia was uncertain which it was. Jasmine stared at her sister, who stared back at her. Celestia caught only the very end of their quick conversation, but she knew what the whole message was. Hurry up. Apparently, Opal did just that. The young unicorn pulled the rope. And, with that action, Celestia found herself shocked by another jump scare. The wall next to the mare spun quickly, taking with it nearly a few thousand pages of paper and novels, not to mention an odd statue that may have been hidden. It clicked into place, stopping again while allowing the uncaught pieces of paper to float back down to the air. The alicorn paid little attention to them. Celestia found much more focused on what the action had produced. For though the wall had turned and taken a great amount of text with it, it brought back something else instead. It was not a staircase or portal, not even another tome. It was something… else. That was the only way the alicorn found herself able to describe it. It was a figurine of sorts, standing against a hastily crafted counter. Pieces of it were missing, that much the princess could already tell. It had extensions, three of them, possibly four. The mysterious fourth was not there, likely torn or lost among the other missing cavities and spacious openings on the figure. She could see, however, the shapes that looked similar to legs, though the pair atop the creature were far shorter and far thinner. Majority of the thing was a single color, a dull blue, an oddly unattractive color but also one that was eroded away through the course of time. The only patch on the creature that appeared to not be that color was a patch of white, completely blank near the top of its shape. “What is this?” She asked the question aloud, hoping the unicorn by her side would answer the inquiry truthfully. “This,” Jasmine began, stepping forward with an air of confidence and pride. The princess could understand the reason for feeling both. “Is the proof that Professor Slate found regarding the archeological site around the Ghastly Gorge.” The older of the two students walked closer to the object, placing her hoof on it. “Magic Dating puts it as one of the oldest relics to ever be unearthed.” The unicorn went on, marveling over the object for what Celestia was sure was not the first time, likely far from the last as well. “Its shape and structure are completely alien to us, lacking any of the characteristics of old cultures either pony-like or foreign.” “Professor Slate found it during a trip,” Opal took over where her sister left off. “She didn’t tell us… where she found it, specifically, only that it was proof there was something at Ghastly Gorge. Anymore… and we don’t know.” “I see,” Celestia lied. This was another appropriate lie. The students could not suddenly explain something they were doubtlessly working on for months, still lacking answers. “This is… surprising.” “Yes, I’m… I-I’m glad you agree, your grace,” Jasmine spoke again, slightly ignoring the object by her side. She motioned to her sister with her head, an action her sister clearly saw. Opal grasped the rope again, with her magic this time, pulling it forward and back. Celestia watched, far more expectant this time, as the wall spun and closed, taking the mysterious object with it, returning the pile of papers and texts that held no order or method to the alicorn. Jasmine sighed softly, likely in preparation to speak again. The princess gave her the time necessary. “Your highness,” she began. “I… I do not know what that is, but I do know that it was enough to convince our professor to go digging through Ghastly Gorge, something she hasn’t returned back from. She… We don’t want to expose something this, well amazing, until we have something for it to stand on.” The foal bent her head, looking up with an absolutely betrayed expression of hope. Celestia knew the pout well. “Can… can we keep this a secret?” The alicorn had no honest intentions to speak about what she had seen, let alone what she could say at all. This was a private affair, as all investigations were. She would not tell the populace what her guards knew behind closed doors. It went beyond proper decorum, it was common logic. Celestia was about to say such to the pair of unicorns, but she stopped herself. Drifting through the doorway, on a familiar green mist, something came floating towards her. It took Celestia little time to tell what it was, as she had seen the tell tale smoke of Spike’s dragon fire far more than once. It often came when the princess was still in court, so the timing was close to the same as well. But… something was off. It took another moment for the alicorn to realize that it wasn’t the mist that had caught her attention. It was its size. Usually the messages Twilight sent were of small size, no bigger than the wisp of smoke from a freshly extinguished candle. This however, was far larger. If the messages were the aforementioned candle smoke, this smoke was worth a doused fireplace. Celestia had no idea what Twilight could have possibly sent her. Then the smoke billowed over the ground, landing like a pegasi-pulled carriage. It settled, stilled, and then, with a flash, revealed the contents of its message. What appeared was not a message. What appeared was not a novel. It was not related to a message or literature in anyway that the princess could have stretched or fathomed. In fact, it wasn’t even on paper. It wasn’t anything even sorely related to what Twilight had sent the princess in the past. What stood before the alicorn was beyond all her years and wisdom. It leered back at her. “Deary me,” The thing spoke, spoke, with a wry smile and wide eyes. “Where am I now?”