//------------------------------//
// 十三 (House of the Gods) 
// Story: Divine Move 
// by Ice Star 
//------------------------------//

The small reading room revealed by the lever disguised like a book is much more intact than the library, and based off of the tracks in the dust and the faint traces of fresh magic here, I'd say that they're from a few months to a year ago. However, it is hard to tell because I know for sure that I'm not the only one who has been poking around these ruins.

The only thing that really proves to be interesting is the lectern in the room's center. I'm used to seeing things in relatively low light so I don't have to step on in immediately to know that the base is made of a different material, which is promising. My inspection of the lectern itself does turn up something: close to the base is a seam of sorts, a single line cut straight though but not with any specific kind of magic. I'm more concerned about what would happen if I removed the spell that is keeping this upright. My horn ignites with crimson aura before finding the enchantment and twisting it a bit to grasp the extent of what it does. I then proceeded with prying it off and feeling it dissolve within my own power.

Obviously, it isn't meant to guard much since this room wasn't even guarded with enchantments. They weren't even strong or complex enough for me to have any fun with, but I'm still curious on why somepony would enchant a lectern on what appears to be the ground level of this castle. One swift kick from my metal boots and the lectern's top half simply fell over... but not entirely. It was still attached by another spell I hadn't cared about, but only barely. The section that was the base displayed what looked to be a cross between a key and a switch embedded in the center, having been concealed by the previous spells.

Consider me intrigued.

Crimson briefly envelops the switch before the aura dissolves after I pull it. Seams in the stone base that were previously concealed then open. The lectern was merely a trap door that doesn't look like it has been opened for a very long time. It appears that this castle was built on top of some other structure. I can glimpse warped stonework below this well-like hole. Old burn marks are still present before the charred streaks across the melted rock descend into the darkness.

I kick a loose stone into the opening and watch it vanish into the darkness. There is a scuffing noise from the metal of my boots. It is a while before I hear the telltale sound of it hitting another floor far below. I'd probably dropped the thing about four stories below, at least. I'm not even slightly afraid, nor do I blink as I casually take one step forward, followed by another. My form dissolves into shadow, which is just as familiar to me as hooves and magic.

Then I fall.



...



It has always been natrual to slip into shadow like this and the knowledge that ponies can't do this has always been mildly disturbing. They really are as flat as drawings, aren't they? How could ponies just walk around every day without feeling even emptier or trapped? It's like how I can sense magic and read it. Every living creature can at least feel magic or else they might as well be dead. But being magic, I've always been able to do more than that, and the thought of not being able to makes me feel ill.

My hooves hit the floor in the time it takes to blink. The only disturbance I made was the faint whoosh of air that echoes faintly.

I feel like there should be frost down here since it feels cool enough but I can't see anything in front of me. A crimson werelight fixes that, and I soon see that while the old stone corridors, which are severely burned and forsaken, are bare of frost, an exhale from me shows that in the werelight's glow I can see my own breath.

The red glow that my werelight casts trembles as it bobs about the long forgotten hall. The ceilings are so high that the light does not shine brightly enough to reach its highest vaults. Everything here is dead. There is no cloth, nor any dust to cling to it. The gaping hallway is naught but cold stone. I'm looking at the skeleton of an empire.

Whoever sealed this with the other castle did a good job, since the air is too stale for me to see any spider webs and the very atmosphere feels foul and empty, the only thing close to movement being faint stirring up above, where I came from. I look down the hallway. My gaze doesn't waver as I step away from what little light remains. This is a tomb, and the architecture is of a language I do not speak. I don't know who's buried here. This place might as well not exist because I'm not sure if there are any alive who can connect to this place and I keep having to remind myself that I'm here from somewhere in the back of my mind.

Every feature finds its way into my memory but I don't know any of them. It's not as if I'm somewhere I shouldn't be, but I feel like that exact significance of this place eludes me.

There's such strange magic lingering here, trickling from the walls and all else but I don't know much else since it's muddled and strange. The closest I can come to describing this would be if I knew absolutely everything about somepony, with the exception of their own thoughts, name, and appearance. Now throw me in a crowd, I'd have to find them based on that alone. It's oddly jarring at first but not impossible even if there is still the vague impression of confusion drifting through the air long after.

I'm inspecting what I see when something crunches beneath my hoof. When I look down, I find that whatever it was had been long broken before I stepped on what was left. I'm not sure what it is, so I automatically locate all the pieces before I sit down, right in the middle of the floor to analyze them.

Shattered pieces of an unearthly material with a likeness to glass resting on the long-deserted ground. They've faded somewhat and were the subject to an Alicorn's fury so that the dawn purple color is distorted and the flecks of light that faintly glimmer in it are gone. I've never seen anything quite like it, the closest I've seen to the craftsmanship are the intact parts of this castle.

Whatever it is isn't worth paying attention to, my werelight has found more shattered pieces lying about the decaying stone. I rise and follow the scattered and haphazard remains, connecting the shards in a mental trail. Gaping doorways taller than the nag who brings about the dreadful sun linger in the edges of the dim red glow projected by my magic.

Each shard beneath my hooves is like a scream that nopony but me could hear.



...



This place used to matter. There's nothing here anymore, or at least nothing I can understand. What isn't lost on me doesn't exactly tell me anything new. All it does is confirm whatever knowledge I already possess on this subject. Unlike that broken trinket I'm sure that with enough effort I could piece everything back together since I'm the only one who seems to know anything at this point, about what happened.

These hallways are a grave of twists and turns that have been waiting for somepony to find them and here I am, werelight still aglow looking at a fresco of everything that came before. It takes up the entire wall of a dead end in one of the halls and is painted in the somewhat simplistic and concise style that one might find in a storybook. The fresco depicts a map of the world as it once was.

Cities that are lost under the hooves of the present.

Borders blurred once all had fallen.

Land that no longer exists.

Empires that were betrayed by memories and blood.

Does anypony remember their names? None are listed here since it is a stylized map, after all. Yet even so, each city while faded was drawn with great care.

Terrain that used to be something other than what it is now was depicted, such as whatever country once stood next to the old desert empire to the southwest of the Everfree Kingdom. Over to the southeast is a country whose borders have hardly changed. On current maps it is clearly shown that this country is the flattest grassland to ever exist and is riddled with large lakes. Here it is shown as mountains that few could ever hope to climb without a lake in sight.

However the most interesting trait of this mural would be the small, simplified caricatures of Alicorns that dot each capital. Some are in pairs and others in families of varying size. Dotted lines connect a few groups to designate who is related to who. Right over the castle within a castle that I'm in are two Alicorns, a mare and a stallion.

Everything is bathed in red light so that colors are meaningless. There's just red and shadow, creating an ominous atmosphere.

Where did all of you go?