Little Amnesia: My Dark Descent

by Pippington Britishhooves

Shadows of memories past

As I pushed open the red, bulky door, I saw my foreleg, and actually stopped to take notice of it. My coat seemed to be a dirty green colour, something that I hadn't cared about (or particularly noticed) up until that point, and likely something that most ponies wouldn't care about in general. For me, however, it was a new stage of self-discovery in light of my recent memory loss. I had to re-determine who I was, and that began with my appearance.

This train of thought kept me occupied as I closed the door behind me and trotted up a few stone steps and through a stone archway. The room I entered was expansive, sporting a high ceiling and a balcony overlooking the room to my right. There were stone pillars towards the centre of the room, illuminated by a ray of light beaming in from a large hole in the stonework of the ceiling, and fragments and sections of stone lay scattered around the floor from broken pillars, stairs and parts of the ceiling itself. The place looked decayed and decrepit, like it was ready to crumble around me at any given moment. A small window at the far end of the room, and one above me on the stony wall to my left, allowed dirty, grey light to filter through into this tomb-like room. I walked forwards, hearing my hooves clopping against the hard tiles beneath me. Some birds fluttered hurriedly away somewhere out of sight as I approached the centre of the room, stepping around one of the fallen, shattered pillars. The centre of the room was where the ceiling had fallen in, giving way for the muddied light to seep in from above, casting a dirty luminescence over the floor. There was a large hallway to my left ending with a huge wooden door, presumably the exit to this abandoned, decaying ruin. Taking a few more steps to the right, I saw some stairs leading down to another door.

I feel like I've walked here before.

I swallowed as I moved stiffly over to the steps, dreading what was beyond the door, what could lay behind that wood which caused me enough fear to wipe my own memories from my mind and force me to wander without guidance. I placed a tender hoof on the harsh stone of the first step.

I gasped as deja vu washed over me. I could feel the tendrils of familiarity poking about inside my head, probing my mind for recollection of this place. To my surprise it brought forth a strand of memory, and I found myself feeling, experiencing, a conversation which I knew to have taken place here, where I was standing at that very moment, at an indeterminable time.

"Steelheart, is it actually inside the castle?" I recognised that voice as my own, but I couldn't fathom the context. Wasn't Steelheart the pony that I had ordered myself to kill? The one who had been the cause of all my rage and caused me to wipe my mind clean of the horrors apparently contained within? If that were the case, then why had I been talking with him as though he were a companion of mine? I remembered the steady clop of hoofsteps on the flagstones and the sudden change of tempo as the conversation continued down the stairs.

"In a manner of speaking," answered a deep, gravelly voice, which I took to be Steelheart. The recollection of his tone with such clarity was terrifying to me, even more so knowing that he was supposed to be my enemy. "Come, bring the lamp. You've been to the refinery, have you not?"

"I don't believe I have. Is it connected to the...what did you call it?" I recalled the hoofsteps returning to a steady walking pattern before stopping briefly while a door creaked open, letting the two interlocutors through, before being pulled shut again, the hoofsteps resuming their usual pattern.

"The Inner Sanctum, my most precious chamber, Diamond. And it lies well beyond the refinery. In fact, it lies beneath the very stone of Everfree."

I shivered as the memory halted, my mind stopping abruptly as though it had come to the precipice of a great cliff. I had finally found ground on which to lay the foundation of my past, but beyond that, it was a yawning abyss, offering nothing but blackness that threatened to swallow me whole if I even attempted to venture forwards. Nonetheless, it was something. It may have been more fragile than the stone around me, but it was something, something that I could work with. Through that door lay the refinery, and beyond that lay the Inner Sanctum, where I had told myself I could find Steelheart, meaning that this was the way I needed to go. With my blood thumping loudly in my ears, I walked steadily down the steps, crossed over to the door, and placed my mouth around the latch. Taking a quick breath, I pulled the door towards me and stepped around it.

I gasped loudly as I saw the corridor beyond, instinctively taking a step back. A flaming torch bracketed on the wall lit up a part of the passageway not too far ahead, casting an orange glow onto the walls and floor. The way ahead was blocked, barricaded by what seemed to be a growth of some sort. Treading nervously, I slowly approached the monstrosity, cautiously observing it with a disgusted grimace plastered onto my face. It looked like some sickly grey goo, except somehow more solid and tangible, sticking firmly and obstinately to the walls and ceiling. Spikes protruded from its surface, great black points fiercely warding away any who dared to draw near. Tentatively reaching a hoof forward, I gave it an experimental prod, blanching as it bent with my touch, immediately springing back to its former shape as I recoiled in disgust. It was pliant to the touch, and after a few more curious tugs and pulls, I determined that it was too tough to tear by myself. I doubted that even a saw could cut through it. Disappointed, I turned around and trudged back up the stairs.

What could I do now? I had to find a way past that blockage to reach the refinery, but how? Could I go around it? I looked around the room, my searching eyes falling on the balcony I had seen before, a walkway that lead to another door. Well, why not? It could lead me to a route I could take to avoid the growth. I climbed over the broken bricks and fallen pillars to get to the staircase leading up, the banisters still intact. In fact, the staircase itself looked quite stable and whole, a nice change from the collapse of the rest of the pillars and brickwork around the rest of the room, something for which I was grateful as I ascended.

"No! Get away from me!"

The cry startled me and nearly caused me to lose my balance. I spun around to find the source, my eyes searching fearfully for whoever had shouted. I scanned the room, remaining motionless mid-way up the staircase save for the jerky movements of my head. I didn't see anypony, but the voice had been so clear, so close, that I had to determine who it was and where they were. The only logical assumption I could make was that the commotion had come from a passageway my right, the opening being the closest thing to the source of the commotion. Whoever she was, she might be in trouble, and I knew I couldn't just ignore this.

With a pounding heart, I padded carefully back down the stairs and approached the archway at the bottom, positioning myself next to the wall and peeping gradually into the opening. A brief stint of steps down greeted me, before the passageway ended with a doorway to the left and right. Reaching behind me, I grabbed and lit the lantern, feeling its comforting warm glow spread over my throat and chest. With the lantern throwing brightness into the narrow passageway ahead, I shimmied around the corner and trotted down the steps, slowing as I reached the two doorways. I looked through the left opening first, the light from my lantern illuminating a longer series of steps ending in a wooden door at the bottom. Switching to the opening on the right, I found myself close to a door, no steps leading up or down. Making an immediate decision, I walked forwards and pushed on the door with a hoof, stepping into the room beyond with only a small amount of trepidation.

The wooden floorboards beneath me clunked lightly as I stepped onto them, and then paused for a moment. It was dark in here; my lantern cast the most light in the room, with only a dirty grey stream from a window set into the opposite wall, which cast a little light onto a wooden staircase leading down in a clumsy square, hugging the wall tightly as though it were itself scared of what lay below. Looking left I saw a wooden banister separating me from the room below, although a section had been removed and was currently laying in front of me. To my right the stone wall was supported with wooden struts, with an unlit torch decorating one of the vertical struts close to me. Walking over to it, I set the lantern gently down on the ground and released it from my mouth, rummaging around in my saddlebags for a tinderbox. Pulling one out, I flipped off the lid and took the fire striker in my mouth, leaning close to the flammable fabric wrapped around the head of the torch as I jerked my head repeatedly, striking the steel against the flint. After a few attempts, a spark caught ahold and the fabric burst into flame, lighting up more of the room. I packed everything back into the tinderbox, replaced the lid, and reinserted the small cylinder back into my saddlebags before picking up the lantern, extinguishing the flame, and hooking it back into place. The light from the window was enough to allow me to walk down the stairs without falling or tripping, my hooves clumping on the wood as I made my way down. I kept my head up, looking for the mare who had called out. Was she here?

"Hello?" I called out softly, my voice much less confident than I would have liked it to be. It wavered too much, and made me sound like I was about to have a panic attack. "Is anyone there?" Only silence answered me, telling me that there was in fact no one in the room, something which made me feel a little safer. Reaching the ground, my hooves made contact with stone. To the right was a lit torch, illuminating a caved in passage to the side. The boulder blocking the way were coated with dust, and I was reminded quite painfully how unstable this entire structure was. A subtle blue glimmer from a large bottle on the floor drew my attention, and I stepped towards it and picked it up, reading the label by the light of the torch's fire. It was more firelight gel, a welcome addition to my saddlebags. I turned to view the rest of the room, noting that the way I had entered was a raised wooden walkway, supported by wooden struts and pillars which adorned the room.

A drawn out creak followed by a sudden crunch drew my attention to the cave-in behind me, leaving me to jump back as the boulders shifted and spewed out dust. I thought I heard an unnatural groan too emanating from the rubble, but I was probably imagining it. I mean, what else could it be? It was definitely my mind playing tricks. One thing was certain though; this place was in danger of collapsing on me, and I needed to do whatever I was going to do in here and get out. With this in mind, I moved past the stairs and onto the other side of the room, taking an immediate interest in the shelves in the corner, directly under where I had entered, and in particular, after a quick look-over, the blue bottle on the top. I snatched it up and placed it into my saddlebags, having collated three bottles of firelight gel by this point.

Just to the left of the shelves was a doorway, although I couldn't see anything beyond it. Taking my lantern from its hook, I ignited the gel and raised it to the doorway, casting the shadows back. There were a few wooden steps down, an extremely short passageway, and then another doorway. I trotted down the steps, my hooves making contact with soil as I passed through the passageway, which, in such a confined space, was flooded with orange warmth. I almost wished I didn't have to move from that place.

Stepping through the wooden frame of the second doorway, I found a room barely lit by a small chandelier, the four candles proving remarkably inefficient in dispelling the darkness. I pulled out a tinderbox from my saddlebags and spent a few moments trying to light a torch immediately to the left of the doorway. After I had, the entrance to the room and the centre were covered by a strong source of light and warmth, providing me with some amount of comfort. The wall facing the entrance was lined with bookshelves, crammed with tomes of varying lengths and colours. Two wooden support columns dominated the center of the room itself, along with a strut which ran along the wooden ceiling, from which the chandelier hung. Directly below the chandelier was a metal grate. I peeked around the edge of the wall to find an alcove behind, with a desk taking up most of the space, more bookshelves adorning the walls. On the desk were some candles and a white pot of some sort, as well as a sheet of paper. I stepped around the wall to read the note.

As soon as I did, I was overcome with the same sense of deja vu that I had experienced in the main hall. I leaned onto the wall and rubbed my head with a hoof to ease the strain of experiencing a vivid memory while perfectly awake.

"Hmm...." a gravelly voice mused, sounding like he was pondering over something. Faintly, I could recollect the sound of liquids bubbling and containers being moved about. There was a clank as what sounded like a glass jar was put down. "There should be more cuprite." The clatter of unseen instruments resumed, followed by what seemed to be scraping. "Let me see, let me see...and one part aqua fortis."

The events faded away in my mind, taking its arbitrary place on a unknown timeline in my head. I pushed myself off the wall and rubbed once more at my temple. Stepping the rest of the way to the desk, I picked up the note, reading its contents for any hint of what this room was.

Early Alchemy Experiment

This is my third attempt to produce artificial vitae. The former compounds lacked the potency I need, but I sense I'm close. Calamine and Orpiment are a given, and the Cuprite binds them well. This time I will attempt Aqua Regia instead of Aqua Fortis in the hope it will produce a more even solution.

The experiment was unsuccessful. The solution is highly acidic and proves impractical to put to any use except as a detergent. Organic tissue reacts especially violently to the solution and should be handled with the greatest care. I might be able to use the recipe, but I'm losing hope that I will find an alchemic solution to my predicament.

On finishing the note, I looked around the room to confirm my theory that had sprung to mind when I put the memory and this note together. In the corner across from me was a table covered in vials and bottles, as well as instruments that I didn't fully recognise. It did seem to be a laboratory. More importantly, it served as a path to a solution for me; this note had mentioned that a concoction had turned out to be highly corrosive, and I needed a way to get past a very obstrusive barrier. Perhaps...just perhaps...I could dissolve it. All I would need to do, in theory at least, was to combine the chemicals mentioned in the writing and I would have the solution, both literally and figuratively. I looked intently at the writing on the page, making sure to commit the details of the ingredients to memory.

Calamine

Orpiment

Cuprite

Aqua Regia

There were only four, that was all I needed. Four ingredients. Picking the note up in my teeth, I looked up again, seeing the pot in front of me. When I first saw it, I hadn't thought too much about it, but now it seemed to stand out, almost glowing in anticipation. Maybe it was that phantom blue I saw everywhere, or maybe it was just that fact that I realised that I would need something to carry the mixture in once I had created my acid, but I felt like I was drawn to it for some reason, like it was an integral part of my plan. I plucked it off the desk and shoved it under a foreleg, skimming the adjacent shelves for any bottles which may have been any of the ingredients on my list.

I moved around the room in this pattern, looking for a vial of cuprite or a bottle of aqua fortis, or whatever they came in. What did they come in? I didn't actually know what aqua fortis was. I could guess that it was some form of concentrated liquid substance, but that was only because...well, I wasn't sure. Intuition? I didn't find any ingredients that I needed on the shelves, the only useful bottle I did manage to find being yet more firelight gel, the blue hue making it distinctive amongst the books and instruments of intellectual pursuits. With no more room to carry anything, I made my way over to table I had seen, placing the pot and the gel down and the note beside them. I unstrapped my saddlebags and lowered them to the ground, making sure that I didn't damage the lantern. Speaking of which, it didn't seem to have a great deal of gel in it. Flipping open the top, I unscrewed the cork of the gel and poured it inside, listening to the satisfying gluck as it sloshed into the cylinder. Finished, I clicked the top of the lantern back into place and moved the empty bottle of gel to one side.

As I turned back to the table to sort out the rest of my gear, I noticed another sheet of paper laying there. Curious, I reached inside my saddlebags for a tinderbox, quickly lit some candles on the conjoining table with it, stashed it away again, and leaned in to have a look.

Chemical Relocation

The lack of a chimney to properly vent the fumes from my most recent experiments has taken its toll on many of my less stable ingredients in storage. Some seem unaffected, but many are stained by the fumes and will be difficult to salvage. I shall do what I can and move them to the wine cellar.

Well, the mixture certainly seemed to be potent if just the fumes could other ingredients. That thought gave me a little comfort. I also knew where to go now, and why there seemed to be a distinct lack of chemicals within the room. Even so, I seemed to be running around in circles. I had to go to the wine cellar to collect ingredients to make a solution to dissolve a barrier to gain access to the refinery to pass through that to reach the Inner Sanctum to kill Steelheart for some unknown purpose. This whole scenario was becoming more convoluted as it went on. That thought process threatened to drive me deep into a pit of despair. I needed something to focus me, to push some order back into this chaos.

The thought came to me suddenly. My journal, of course! I reached in to my bags and pulled out the comforting pocket sized book, opening it on the table. I would just write what I needed to do, and then whenever I became confused or despondent, I could just reach for the journal to remind me what to do. Yes, that should do it. Finding the page marked 'Mementos', I pulled the quill and inkwell from the bag too and placed them on the table. After a brief moment to collect my thoughts and put them in order, I took the quill in my mouth, uncorked the inkwell, dipped, and started writing.

Some sort of... I paused in thought, trying to find the words to match the experience of meeting whatever that thing was in the hall. ...growth blocks the path to the refinery. Can it be dissolved? I should think so, what with it seeming to be a growth and with the note telling me that the solution I was hoping to make was very acidic and reactive to organic tissues. It was my best hope right now. I moved on to writing my next directive.

Evidence in the laboratory has revealed that combining four chemicals can create a powerful acid. I would need to find and mix these chemicals to create the acid and then use it to dissolve the growth. Only then could I make progress. So far, so good. However, to find them, I would need to first do something else, which led me onto my final written reminder:

Chemical ingredients have been moved from the laboratory to the wine cellar. I would need to go down to the wine cellar to retrieve them, then bring them back up here to concoct the mixture. There it was, the plan laid out plainly, a clear set of steps for me to follow. Now that I'd achieved that, it should be much easier for me to make progress. With calmer breaths, I corked the inkwell, placed the notes in my journal, gathered the pot, journal, and inkwell and quill, stowed them all back inside my bag, hooked up the lantern, and hoisted my saddlebags back onto my back, fastening them in place quickly. With a check that I had remembered everything, I exited the room and made my way back up the wooden stairs.

Exiting the lab, I closed the door behind me. If I needed to get to the wine cellar, I'd first need to find where it was. A cellar would likely be down below, so in all likelihood, it would be the door just across from me, the one that I'd seen earlier which had a longer series of steps leading down. That seemed like a logical place to start. Stepping through the stone doorway, I peered through the adjacent gap down towards the door at the bottom of the steps. It certainly seemed like it could be a cellar. Looking up, I noticed a plaque adorning the top of the stone perimeter of the doorway, which read 'Cella Vinaria'. Well, that seemed to confirm my hunch. Assuming that 'cella' was in fact a cellar and that 'vinaria' was wine, then I was definitely on the right track. I looked over my shoulder to the top of the doorway I had come through from the lab, and found a similar plaque in the same place, this one reading 'Laboratorium'. Well, yes, that was evidently a laboratory. Facing forwards again, I stepped through the doorway and descended down the hard steps to the door at the bottom. When I reached the bottom, I pushed on the door, only to find it stay in place. I pulled on the latch, and got the same result. I shoved it and gave it a kick and pulled again, but it obstinately refused to budge, the rattle of it moving in its frame sounding like mocking laughter. I sat down and sighed, reaching into my bags and pulling out my journal and inkwell.

The door is locked. Find the key to the wine cellar. The new addition on the mementos page made four situations I needed to resolve. I looked at the first entry, the one I had found when I had woken up in the rainy hall, and crossed it out with a single, sharp line. It made sense to me that if I was going to write an impromptu checklist as I went along, that I checked off each point as I completed it.

"Process, Diamond," I muttered to myself. "Stick to the process." I took a breath and looked up as I closed my journal and placed it, along with the inkwell and quill, back into my bags. The wine cellar was locked, and I needed to find the key to it. Hopefully it would be nearby. The way to the refinery was blocked off, I had already visited the laboratory, and as far as I could tell, there was only once place left in this area to explore, the way I had been going before I had been distracted by that shout.

I still haven't found the source of that.

"Process, Diamond," I reminded myself as I stood up. It looked like my path was set for now. I backtracked up the steps and turned right when I passed through the doorway, back up the steps and through the archway into the entrance hall. To the left were the stairs which I had started climbing earlier, which I now made my way over to again, trotting all the way up onto the balcony. To my immediate left was a door with wooden planks nailed crudely across, barring entrance. Turning to the right, I walked onward, moving past the window at the top of the stairs and then mid-way down the balcony a caved-in doorway, in which boulders sealed off the corridor or whatever else lay beyond. It was directly above the corridor down below too, I noted with some disappointment. It may have offered me an alternative way around the growth or something else entirely. Whatever the case, it was of no use to me, so I continued along the balcony, passing another window in front of a collapsed staircase. Just ahead was an arch similar to the one downstairs, this one with a plaque reading 'Tabularium'. What did that mean? Library? Something to do with books, surely? How did I even know this? I shook my head to clear my thoughts and stepped through, making my way to the over red, wooden door, and pushing it open, wincing at the shrillness of its creak.

The hall on the other side of the door was lit by a lone lamp hanging from the wood panneled ceiling, a candle burning loyally away inside it and casting a little light onto the richly carpeted floor and decorative panelling of the walls. The door frames were marble, although one of them on the right side of the hall, stood empty, the door itself laying on the carpet just in front of the frame. The plaque next to this doorway read 'Libri Rari', which I presumed meant...books...rare? Uncommon or special editions of books, perhaps? Whatever was in there, it looked as good as any place to start looking. I walked over to the marble frame, my hoofsteps muffled by the soft carpet, and peeked inside.

The room was rather spacious, with the wall to the left of the doorway taken up by bookshelves with very few books left on them, only a few scattered tomes decorating their shelves. In fact, there seemed to be more paper strewn about on the wooden floorboards than on the actual shelves themselves. On the far side of the room was a grey brick fireplace decorated with some candles, and next to it was a chest of drawers with a painting hanging over it. In the middle of the room sat a table and chairs on a rug. On the right of the room were two more bookshelves, these even more lacking in books. Light streamed in from a hole in the ceiling, which had been shoddily repaired with some boards, and as such, the room was rather well lit, even without candles.

I moved into the room and searched the shelves on the left side of the room, my scavenge turning up nothing. Working my way around the room, I opened each drawer in turn, but found them all to be empty, and the shelves on the other side of the room were barren, something that was evident even during my cursory search. The only useful item was a slip of paper laying on the table, and I paused to read it as I passed by on my sweep of the room.

Diamond's Diary - Zebra Lands (Entry 1)

16th of the 5th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

The unflinching southern sun has continued to plague our expedition, making it impossible to dig until dusk. How Professor Scraper managed to find the location in these vast plains of nothingness remains a mystery to me. When I asked him about the tomb again, he told me about the legend of 'Die Son en Die Maan', the local folklore and superstition. It is an interesting story in its own right, but I can't help feeling there's more.

Later that evening, we uncovered a passage beneath the dunes leading to a sand-covered stone structure. The professor was confident it was the tomb we sought and ordered the others to clear the way- late into the dark cold night.

Tomorrow, I shall lead the workers into the ancient structure, hoping to reach the burial chamber. No matter what the professor is keeping from me, the dig should yield something interesting to take back to Trottingham and the Equestrian Museum.

After I finished reading, I took out my journal and placed the diary entry in the very front (the page lined up perfectly, which didn't surprise me this time). This could come in useful, a way of shedding some light on my past. As it was, I had already made a couple of important discoveries; I had been on an expedition to the Zebra Lands during the 5th Moon of this year, which, if I assumed that today was still the 19th of the 8th Moon, then that was only three Moons ago. Apparently, I was an archaeologist only three Moons ago, and I uncovered a tomb in the Zebra Lands. The second discovery was that I had apparently bought the journal, the one I had in my possession in the present, in order to record my experiences while I was on the expedition. Acknowledging that there were likely more diary entries to show me more about my past, and that they were scattered around the castle for some reason, I stowed my journal away (with the diary entry tucked safely inside), took one last look at the room, and then walked through the door and back past the marble frame into the hallway.

I crossed over to the door opposite me, preferring to venture there before the dark of the rest of the hall. There was just something about the darkness that repulsed me, but I wasn't certain what. Pushing open the door, I peeked inside, finding this room to be a little larger, as well as less sparse. To the left were two small square tables each covered in piles of books. On the other side of the room, a bookshelves covered the wall, and a desk was situated underneath a window with the red curtains drawn. As I lit the lantern and raised it aloft, I saw that almost all the surfaces- the tables, desks, and shelves- were covered with books. Two more bookshelves stood like sentries next to a door to the right of the room. I stepped inside, my hooves clattering against the tiles as I moved around the room, searching each surface for useful items. I found nothing until I reached the desk, when I slid open the top drawer and found a tinderbox inside, which I silently added to my growing collection. The rest of the drawers were empty, but one of the shelves held a blue-ish sheet of paper as well as books, and I stopped once more to read it.

Grimeye's Contract

9th of the 1st Moon, 1702 S.E.E.

I hereby offer my full attention and services to Steelheart, baron and lord of Everfree. This contract will reign for a total of 3 years when my freedom shall return to me. In addition, Steelheart, baron and lord of Everfree, is to recommend my services at the Equestrian imperial court and within the sanctum of the Circle of Nobles in Canterlot.

May no living being break this seal.

Grimeye, house of Grey.

The note confused me. This was a contract signed over a hundred years ago, and yet it referred to Steelheart. How could this be? Was there perhaps another Steelheart, a family member or something? Maybe Steelheart was a succession of barons, and the land title was handed down to each generation. I didn't have any way of determining this for certain, so I stashed the note in my journal, finished my search, pulled open the other door and exited the room.

The hall ended in a window to my left, throwing dirty light onto the chair and small wooden table next to it, as well as the door directly opposite the room I had left. To my right, the hallway continued down to door, through which I could the wooden wall of another room. Deciding to take the shortest route, I crossed over the hall and pushed open the door, stepping into the next room. A window to my left was boarded up, but the one next to it did let in some light through its grimy panes, allowing me to see the chest of drawers in between the two window and a desk in a small, enclosed alcove on the far left of the room. As in all of the other rooms so far, there were bookcases lining the walls ahead. A glance to my left revealed a stone fireplace, and the rug in the centre of the room, and the chandelier directly above, gave the impression of a decrepit but once homely room. I clopped over the tiled floor and opened each of the drawers in turn, finding nothing useful inside. Moving over to the alcove, I pushed the chair out of the way to allow me easier access to the desk, finding a tinderbox in one of the desk drawers which I immediately put to use in lighting one of the candles on the desktop. As it flooded the wooden surface with orange light, I found myself looking at another sheet of paper.

Diamond's Diary - Zebra Lands (Entry 2)

17th of the 5th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

My hooves tremble as I write. I feel a need to document my tribulation for I fear that my memory will fail me if I linger.

Today I took some workers and ventured into the dark ancient passage we uncovered. Our torches burned faintly in the murky air as we slowly made our way underground. The zebras were superstitious and fearful. They argued loudly and I felt their strange language getting to me. I mustered my strength and yelled at them to continue down the slopes and broken steps.

The crudely carved passage confused me. It looked much newer than the First Equestrian Era structure we had expected. The twisting path emerged into a great ante-chamber. The walls were lined with statues unlike any I'd ever seen. Despite their unnatural quality I felt a strange familiarity toward them, which haunts me still. At the far end of the chamber, a great slab of stone sealed off whatever lay ahead. I gave the order to raise it, and as I pushed through the narrow space, the heavy stone suddenly dropped, sealing me inside. I was trapped.

I took out my diary and placed the entry next to the first, right at the front. If I was lucky, there would be more entries nearby, hopefully detailing the events immediately after I became trapped. After packing up and seeing that the room contained nothing else for me to use, I made my way over to the other door leading out of the room, opposite to the windows. It was open a little towards me, and I pulled it open the rest of the way.

A groan filtered into the room.

I stiffened, looking to the left in the hallway. It was too dark to see. I backed away, closing the door hurriedly, leaving only a small gap out of which I could look out. I remained motionless, listening intently for any more indication that something was approaching. Nothing. The wind whistled through the gaps in the poorly maintained wing and some rain pattered against the window, but nothing else. It had sounded unnatural, like a guttural whimper of pain or despair, but now there was nothing. It could have been the wind, blowing more violently through the hall than normal, or there was a chance that I had just completely imagined it. No noises, no movement outside the room, nothing to suggest that I wasn't alone here. Still tense from the experience, I reached for my lantern, turning it on and holding it in front of me as I slowly pulled the door open once more.

This time, the hall was filled with golden light, the shadows and creatures which may have laid within having been banished by the warmth of the burning gel inside the device clenched in my jaws. To my right was a dead end, only a shelf, a table and some chairs present. Across from me, another door, suddenly looking very welcoming compared to the hall to my left, which split into a left and right turn. Breathing in deeply, I briskly crossed the carpet lining the hall and pushed open the door tenderly, leading me into a room marked 'Libri Veteres'- old books, if I wasn't mistaken.

The room itself was very bare, as well as very dark; the wooden floorboards were not ornate in any way, and to my left and right sat bland wooden tables overflowing with piles of books. Directly ahead of me were yet more booksehelves, boxes laying on top, unused. As I stepped into the room, my hoofsteps seemed to echo loudly. I thought I heard something bang against the wall, and a book became dislodged, falling off the shelf and sending out a puff of dust which slowly started settling back down. This place was getting to me, making me hear and see and feel things that couldn't possibly be real. Even as I shut the door and began holding my lantern to the tables and shelves, searching for any items that I could use, I thought I could feel things crawling over me, and I had to stop every few seconds to scratch the itches that my mind told me were bugs. I had managed to search the entirety of the room before I had to resort to lighting a candle, using one that I had found on one of the shelves to hastily light a candle on the desk with trembling hooves, sweat beading on my brow. As it caught alight, I paused, resting my hooves on the table, trying to slow down my breathing. After a few minutes, I was calm again, and able to return to the door with a more steady grip on the lantern. Opening it, I took steady steps out into the hallway.

At the end of the hall was another door, but when I pushed against it, it didn't open as I would have expected. I pulled, and found the same result. A few more pushes and tugs resulted in the telltale rattle that revealed that it was locked. To the left was another dead end with a decorative drawer stoically standing guard, although it turned up nothing when I rummaged through it. I started walking back to the old books room, looking back at the plaque of the locked door ('Historia Loci'). Back at the table with the lit candle, I swept a hoof across the table, clearing it of the piles of books, all of the thumping to the floor and throwing up dust. I stopped to listen, seeing if there would be any reaction to the sudden noise. After a moment, I concluded that I was alone. The noises I had heard before must have been my imagination, a thought which brought a small smile to my face. Now with a clear table, I took out my journal and ink, turned to the mementos page, and wrote myself another note:

The door leading to the Local History room is locked. Is there another entrance?

While I was there, I looked back at my other mementos to remind myself what I had to do. Right, find the key to the wine cellar, that was the priority here. Once I had done that, I could enter the wine cellar, find the ingredients mentioned in the note (I quickly found the note and read that over too, just to make sure I knew what I had to get), mix them into the acidic solution mentioned in the other note (which I found and read) in the lab, and then use it to dissolve the growth. Now clear on what I should do, I stashed away my items and stepped through the door again, this time with more confident steps, and took a right at the end of the hall, heading past the door to the local history room and towards an open doorway into what looked a corridor.

On reaching the doorway, I gave a quick look to the left and right revealing that I was in a gallery. It was dark, but I could see the polished wood surface of the walls, the portraits hung high up on the walls, the decorative diamond-shaped tiles on the floor with rugs interspersed near each doorway, the banners hanging from the ceiling, and the pale light falling onto the floor from the windows. At both ends of the gallery lay a stone fireplace. I started left, aiming to get around behind the room to see if there was a back door or something, another entry point. I passed several windows on my way to the far end of the gallery, some boarded up, others not. Through the unboarded windows I saw trees, the sight giving me a slight pang, a desire to see the outside world, a desire which increased as I heard the violent whistle of wind ripping through the wing, very similar, almost exact, to the one that sounded like groaning. I clenched my teeth and continued on, passing through the marble-framed at the end of the gallery.

Stop being an idiot, Diamond. There is nothing here, you are just scaring yourself. Stop it.

Beyond the doorway, the ceiling had partly fallen through, leaving a pile of rubble and debris for me to step around. I could hear the steady drip of water from somewhere, likely the part of the ceiling which had fallen in. Just past that was a small alcove to the side, containing several comfy-looking chairs and a small table, on which I saw a gently glowing blue bottle. I picked it up, determined that it was firelight gel, and stowed it away in my saddlebags. The path ahead had caved in too, boulders sealing of the room beyond. My guess was that the only reason that the alcove hadn't caved in with it was due to the pillars which supported its ceiling enough to stay up. Now with only one way to go, I turned left, following the hall round to two doors, one on each side. Deciding to start on the left, I made my way towards it.

CRUNCH

The light crackling and scraping of stone gave way to a resounding crash which echoed through the small passage, and the shaking nearly threw me to the ground, instead leaving me to stumble into the drawers. It had happened to quickly and suddenly, and stopped just as spontaneously, quickly trickling to a gentle rolling sound as it all settled, and then silence. Picking myself up, I trotted back around the corner, and groaned as I saw what had happened. The ceiling, having partly collapsed before, had weakened enough to collapse completely, leading to a cave-in. I was trapped here, unless I could find another way out. The dust was still thick in the air, and I coughed as I made my way over to the alcove, which was mercifully still intact, where I set my lantern down and coughed, thickly and fully. Reaching into my bags for my journal and ink, I jotted down yet another objective:

Must find a new way out of this area. I wasn't entirely sure why I felt that I needed to write that, seeing as I had no intention of staying here, but I suppose it kept me focused, almost as if writing it down made me feel like it was more real, more tangible perhaps, and therefore more achievable, or maybe because it was simply something official that I gave myself to do, and that giving myself a purpose was what kept me going. Mulling these thoughts over, I packed away the journal and ink, picked up my lantern, and made my way back to the room I had been about to enter before the collapse, bother literally and figuratively, threw me.

Stepping through the doorway, I was greeted a little light trickling in from a hole in the ceiling in the furthest corner, yet another collapse in this area. It was probably the result of what had just happened, seeing as the two were side by side, so I shouldn't have been surprised. In all reality, I should be thankful that I wasn't in the doorway when it collapsed. The floor was wooden here, and a table had been overturned further into the room. A bookshelf stood right next to the doorway, and I looked it over when I entered, finding nothing on it. Opposite the doorway stood a wooden desk, a blue-ish sheet of paper laying on top, almost beckoning me. Stepping over to it, I searched through the drawers first, finding and bagging a tinderbox, before I turned my attention to the paper.

Diamond's Diary - Zebra Lands (Entry 3)

17th of the 5th Moon, 1839 S.E.E.

After pounding the unforgiving stone wall for what seemed like an eternity, I realised it was hopeless. I was trapped. I fell to the ground gasping for air, trying to focus. That's when I saw a faint blue shimmer.

My weakened body was heavy to carry, but I managed to push myself towards the enchanting light. It was waiting for me. Enclosed in dark nothingness, I felt myself drawn to the mystic light. I reached out, cupping it in my hooves.

The faint glow escaped my legs and began to spark brightly and spirit me away. Unlocking alien memories of spiraling towers, endless deserts, and impossible geometry.

The next thing I can remember is the grating sound of stone being lifted, the voices of the zebras pulling me to safety. And grasped firmly in my grip were the broken pieces of a most peculiar relic.

While reading the diary entry, I started breathing heavily. I took in bigger lungfuls of air, reaching up with a hoof to massage my throat. For some reason, my airway had seemed to constrict, depriving me of oxygen. I started to cough and splutter, stumbling against the bookshelf as my legs weakened and gave way beneath me. I tried to turn, to push myself up, and founded myself against a wall. Straining against my oxygen-deprived muscles and the weight of my own body, I gradually pushed myself up and rested a hoof on the wall. To my surprise, the surface I my hoof came into contact with was stone. I raised my hoof and struck against it, feeling the hard, rough surface bite back against me. I tried again, and again, and again, desperate find somepony to assist me, the stone striking back against my hoof each time I made contact.

"Help!" I called out, continuing to pound at the unyielding rock. "Move the stone! Get me out! Help!" My efforts were futile; there was no response, no indication that any help was coming, and I felt this realisation sink into my muscles, my hoof dropping down from the stone, which was now flecked with droplets of blood. As my strength left me, I collapsed to my knees with a thump, my head lolling inches away from the ground, gasping and gagging, desperately seeking out any oxygen that I could find. Blackness started to creep into the corners of my vision.

A shimmer of blue, so faint that at first that I thought that it was a result of the oxygen deprivation. But no; it persisted, growing brighter and clearer with each passing moment, seeming to call to me from the other end of the room. It offered safety, clarity, protection, and in that moment, I felt myself filled with hope, and knew what I needed to do. Grunting with the effort, I pushed myself onto my hooves, no longer feeling wooden floorboards beneath me, but sand and rock. I forced myself on, stumbling and tripping towards the blue beacon, praying that it would move closer to me. It didn't, but the sight of it urged me onward, encouraged me to draw just that little bit closer, just a little bit further. It seemed to take an age, but I finally reached it, my breathing now shallow as I struggled to find any air. Its shimmer had become a positive emission of light at this point, and I found it hard to look directly at it. It seemed to be a sphere of some sort, resting snugly on a pedestal that seemed to have been crafted for it. Entranced, I reached forward with a hoof. As soon as I touched it, its light grew brighter, nearly blinding me as it shone out and covered everything in blue brilliance.

Suddenly I was gasping in great mouthfuls of air, submitting to my lungs' screaming desire to be fed. I blinked rapidly, clearing the light from my vision. I was still in the sitting in the room, my hooves pining the diary entry to the desk as though clutching at it, my lantern glowing faintly as it started to run low on gel to burn. As my breathing returned to normal, I stood back up into a normal standing position and reached a hoof to the lantern on the desk, turning it off. With a dip into my saddlebags, I retrieved my journal and a bottle of firelight gel, flipping the top of the lantern and pouring the gel in with a satisfying slosh. After I filled it completely, I placed the empty bottle to one side, flipped the top back into place on my lantern, fitted the diary entry into my journal in its appropriate place, and placed the journal back into my bags. Picking up my lantern, I turned it on, revelling in how much brighter it burned now, and turned to leave the room, passing a wooden stand holding a map of some sort on my way.

Finished with that room, I crossed the hall into the next one, hoping to find something to help me find my way out. If it came to it, I supposed I could dig myself out, but I would rather find another method. As I pushed open the door, I noted the fully stocked bookshelves lining the wall to the right, the sparsely loaded ones, mostly containing scrolls, set in rows to my left, and the dirty window directly ahead. My thoughts were mostly taken up by my vivid experience in the previous room, though. That memory, that recollection, felt so real, almost like I was experiencing it again. For me, it was the first time, or the first time I could remember it. And yet, somehow, it seemed to have been triggered by that diary entry, almost as if describing it made me remember exactly what happened. Did that imply that, deep in my mind, I could actually remember my life before? That deep down I had all the answers I needed, locked away from my conscious being? Maybe all I would need to do was be reminded to recall, in detail, my entire life. Even more curious was the blue glow of that sphere, which was so familiar to me. Was that not the same blue-ish glow that I had been seeing since I had woken up, on every object that had proved useful to me? Surely that could be no coincidence.

I turned into the first gap between the rows of shelves, about mid-way down the room. At the end was another stand featuring diagrams of a building, or parts of a building. As I drew closer, I saw some labels on them, including 'East Wing' and 'West Wing', and it was at that point that I felt the deja vu wash over me, bringing forth the recollection of the sound of paper being unfurled and ponies tapping as they pointed at various parts of the diagrams.

"Much of the castle is old and hasn't been tended to for centuries. When the shadow arrives, it won't take long until things start falling apart."

"We are just buying time anyway," I remembered myself replying. "Let's do what we can."

"There isn't much to be done about the wards," Steelheart had continued. "We should reinforce weak structures. The ground will tremble and there is a risk everything will cave in on us- especially downstairs." I recalled him pointing to several parts of the diagram at this point. "Here...here...and there. Let's get the servants working on it."

The memory faded from my head, and I was once again alone in the present. I remembered before, in the entrance hall, talking to Steelheart about "it" being "inside the castle", and here again, Steelheart had mentioned the castle being old. It should have been obvious to me much earlier, but then, I had been confused I frightened. I realised that I was, from what I had now heard twice, inside a castle, and judging from what I had read and remembered about Steelheart, it was likely Castle Everfree, or the Everfree Castle, or something like that. Again, a little more information gained, and at this point, I appreciated everything I learned. Backing away from the diagrams, I moved around the shelves and down a gap between the wall and the shelves, finding a small wooden chest at the end. Opening it up, I found two tinderboxes and a bottle of firelight gel, all of which were taken to decorate the inside of my saddlebags. There really didn't seem to be much more for me in this room, so I turned and headed for the door again, thinking that if I truly couldn't find another way out of here, I could always break one of the windows with a rock, and then slip out there.

In the doorway, I looked to the right, finding a dead end, a wall between me and, if I had calculated it correctly, the local history room. There was no back door to it, unfortunately, the reason I had come here, and that meant no way out of this area. Maybe if I took a rock and smashed a window, I could climb around and smash through a window into the next room. The issue with that was assuming that there was a window in the local history room to smash into, or that I could climb along, or that I could hold a rock and climb along simultaneously, or that I could gain enough momentum to smash the window while keeping balance on a ledge. That was a disappointment. Maybe I would have to dig my way out, and then maybe use a rock from there to break the door down.

Wait. I squinted at the wall, realising that it didn't seem to be quite as solid as I had previously thought. Stepping around a fallen wardrobe, I drew closer to the wall, finding a section of the wall to be bare brick and gaps. Through the gap I could see a candle burning away in the next room, bookshelves adorning one of the walls. I gave one of the bricks a push, and it let loose a steam of dust and sediment, shifting slightly in place, but not breaking. It was fragile, but not breakable by hoof. I set down my lantern on the fallen wardrobe and made my way into the room to the left, crossing over to the pile of boulders in the furthest corner. Finding a portable rock, small enough to carry but big and heavy enough to do some damage, I hefted it up with my hooves, cradling it in my forelegs as I walked back to the wall, taking slow, steady steps on my hind legs. With the aid of the light from my lantern, I took aim at the loose bricks in the wall, raising the rock above my head. With a heave, I brought the rock down against the brick, smashing it from its place with a mighty crunch. The brick shattered and the fragments flew away from the wall, several other bricks becoming dislodged in the process. I pulled the rock back and thrust it forward again, bashing it against the wall, knocking loose bricks and dust, sections of wall and concrete, until the stony barrier collapsed and left me a tunnel big enough to pass through into the next room. Throwing the rock through to clear any excess bricks or debris, I grabbed the lantern off the wardrobe and stepped up into the tunnel. It turned out that I did have to smash my way out.

Passing through the wall, I squeezed through the dusty stone centre and looked out into the room. Bookshelves were everywhere, and it was decorated in a similar manner to the gallery; the floor and walls were the same, and the ceiling was wood panneled like that first hallway in this area. The candle I had seen from the other side illuminated the room. I dropped down from the wall into the room, feeling a certain degree of familiarity to it. I could feel a memory forming, or re-forming, as it seemed to be.

"You have to be swift- when you activate the first one..." A clicking, whirring sound started, and, after a few seconds, clicked a final time, and then stopped. "You hear that? If it stops, you'll have to start over."

"Isn't all this a bit excessive?" The whirring had started again, and the reply didn't come for a few seconds.

"You can never be too careful, Diamond." The clicking was replaced by the grinding and scraping of stone, something which I recognised from my experience with the lever after I had found my note to myself after waking up- there was a hidden door somewhere. As soon as the recollection of the events stopped, and my mind was still again, I settled down on the floor and pulled out my journal, turning to the mementos page.

There is some sort of secret door mechanism in the local history room. Having written the memento, I stowed the journal and ink away and looked around the room. Moving towards the bookshelf nearest the hole I had made in the wall, I started feeling about the shelves, seeking a hidden lever or something, but paused when I felt a light draft tickling my coat. I moved to one of the edges and felt the draft get a little stronger. This was it, the secret door. There was a draft and a faint light coming from behind the shelf, and there had to be a way in. Moving around to search the other shelves, I quickly circumnavigated the room, picking up a bottle of firelight gel from one of the empty shelves. As I passed each candle, I took the time to light them, realising that, not only would it be easier to find the secret mechanism if I had plenty of light, but that I would likely be in here for a while, so using some tinder would probably be worthwhile.

It was on my first tour of the room that I saw the display cases. There were two of them, but only one contained a blue-ish piece of paper. Knowing that this would, without a doubt, be useful to me, I returned to the hole in the wall and grabbed one of the bricks that had been knocked loose by my assault and carried it over to the display case. A quick thrust downward with the brick shattered the glass and gave me access to the note, which I pulled out and read by the light of a corner-side candle.

Local Folklore

Ponyville and Everfree Castle 1801 S.E.E.

Another region rich with lore is Ponyville, a large village/town founded in 1491 S.E.E. and having received recognition and official status by the Equestrian imperial court in 1500 S.E.E. with a population of 54. For centuries there have been stories surrounding the hamlet, and later village, and its neighbour, Castle Everfree, which are situated next to and in the Everfree forest, respectively. The quiet forest-clad plains surrounded by the mountains, rivers, and lakes is as picturesque as can be, albeit haunted by the dark. Ask any local and you will hear proof of the widespread superstition. All travellers should indulge themselves in such conversations since it will certainly serve as exciting entertainment. All of them have their own twists on the tales, but there are some motifs that keep reappearing.

The Gatherers

This story reaches back all the way to the time of the Thirty Days of Chaos. It is said that, in the confusion, violence and anarchy of that time, ponies became lost in the cold dark woods and met some dark, evil creature, which forced them to forever roam as wicked, twisted, beasts, stripped of their identity. Their bodies wrought by tainted magic have left them disfigured and empty of essence. Many have sighted them over the years and described them as horrid revenants. They move silently through the woods, shying away from any beholder. They are called Gatherers as they seem to follow some ambition to steal living creatures. Is it their prey which can be heard struggling inside damp burlap sacks dragged behind them which reveal their presence? What dark schemes do they follow?

A Visit Undone

It is claimed that Star Swirl the Bearded, a well known erudite, visited Ponyville in the 1500's of the Second Equestrian Era. He was believed to have resided in the local inn for a fortnight as he looked for remnants of kingdoms past. During his alleged stay all the prominent members of society paid notice and he is mentioned in many records of the time. One day he was recorded as going to investigate a burrow to the northwest, and that is where history loses sight of him. Although the general consensus dismiss these rumours, as Star Swirl is known to have lived thousands of years ago, the locals insist that the ancient unicorn did in fact visit their humble abode. The contrast in claims do bring questions to the forefront; who was this mysterious figure who visited the quaint village near the dark forest, and what happened to them?

The Immortal Baron

The Baron of Everfree lives a reclusive life with his family at his castle nearby Ponyville and like most of those of noble birth, rumours are inherited alongside the title. Researching the history of the region reveals little before the castle was mostly destroyed in The Cataclysm in 1000 of the Second Equestrian Era. It was rebuilt by Steelheart, a noblecolt from Canterlot claiming the role of protector of the Equestrian State. Steelheart helped to end the anarchy of the Thirty Days of Chaos and restored peace and order to the region, enabling it to flourish. He remained popular throughout his presumed lifetime, although the family has always been secretive when it comes to lineage and heritage, therefore the birth and death of Steelheart and his offspring has never been fully recorded. This has fed the idea that the baron is in fact the one and the same who came from Canterlot over eight hundred years ago, lived through the restoration of Equestrian peace and order, and joined the coveted Circle of Nobles along with the great leaders of this country.

The note offered me some comfort in the form of more answers and clarity. I knew, almost for certain now, that I was in a castle, known as Castle Everfree, which was situated in the middle of a forest, equally named the Everfree Forest. Next to the forest was a village called Ponyville, which was by this point likely a town. Steelheart was the baron of this castle. All the information I had gathered- the notes detailing names and locations, the flashbacks proving my encounters and further supporting the evidence written in the notes I found- was suggesting that I was correct in this regard. I was learning more with each passing moment, and as I did, I could feel my resolve strengthening as I became clearer on my path, understood my situation, and drew closer to finding my purpose.

The note also bewildered and scared me. I pulled out my journal and rifled through the notes I had already collected, holding one up to check that I had in fact understood the information on it. I had; written down on the paper, as clear as day, was the date for Grimeye's contract: 1702 Second Equestrian Era. I read it through, dread filling me as I came across previously meaningless phrases- Steelheart, baron and lord of Everfree, Equestrian royal court and within the sanctum of the Circle of Nobles in Canterlot. I couldn't believe it, but all the information I had, solid evidence written by ponies decades ago, even centuries, seemed point to one horrifying truth. In both Grimeye's contract and the extract from a local geographic guide, written almost one hundred years apart, they referred to Steelheart as the baron of Everfree Castle deep within the Everfree forest, as well as his connections to the Equestrian royal court and to the Circle of Nobles. I had spoken (apparently frequently), even consorted, with a Steelheart in a castle in the middle of a forest, with a recurring name- Everfree. The first recorded information on Steelheart refered back to 1000 S.E.E. and according to my note to myself, he was still very much alive.

His known activity spanned over eight hundred years.

That couldn't be a coincidence. Of course, it may have been a hereditary title, as the extract had pointed out, but the same name over countless years? A suspicious lack of birth of death records? A written extract with a subtitle called 'The Immortal Baron'? Something was wrong, so terribly, horribly wrong.

This was doing me no good at all. I placed the extract inside my journal, in the section I kept for notes I had found, and stowed it safely away. Standing back up, I continued my search with vigour, scouring the bookshelves and walls for secrets. After a short while, I realised that I was getting nowhere, and decided that if there really was a hidden mechanism, it would be disguised, hidden in plain sight. I wasn't sure what it would be, but I knew that, in a room with filled with books and bookshelves, it would likely have something to do with that, so in the interest of my progress, I started sweeping and pulling the books off the shelves. The tomes clumped to the floor, each one an obstacle out of my way. On one shelf, a book stubbornly refused to move, forcing me to try and tug it off. I clenched it in my teeth, and pulled. For the first few inches it moved smoothly, but then it jarred to a halt, and a rhythmic noise flowed out from within the bookshelf itself.

click click click click click click click click click

My eyes widened as recognised the sound. I'd done it! This was the mechanism, or at least one of the parts to it. Steelheart had said something about "the first one", meaning that there were more. Quickly moving to the next shelf, I rapidly pulled books off them, hoping to find another book to pull. There was nothing, and I moved onto the next one. This turned up the same result, and the one after it. By the time I had moved around to the other side, the clicking had stopped. Clearing the remainder of the books from their shelves, a located a second secret lever disguised as a book. I pulled it, then rushed around to the other side as the clicking started again, the gears turning within the hidden mechanism. I reached the other book and then grabbed onto it, giving it a sharp pull. It worked, and the gears came to a halt. I waited for something to happen, but nothing did. I turned to look at the fake shelf, wondering what I would need to do to move it and allow me access to whatever lay behind, when I saw something out of place- a lone book on the middle shelf, sitting there innocuously. With a hopeful optimism, I walked over to it and gave it a quick pull.

With a click and a whir, the bookshelf jolted into life, the grinding of stone filling the air and causing me to vibrate as the shelf, and part of the floor, rotated, moving me from the local history room into the room beyond as it settled in place with another click. I turned to observe the secret room, noting how it was decorated just as the last one was, with bookshelves lining one wall and a chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. Thankfully, this room was much more lit that the local history room, light from the outside seeping in through a centre-set window just above a desk. At first, the desk seemed to be rather bare, only holding a candlestick and some ink, but then a blue hue attracted my attention. On the left of the desk was a metal key. I drew closer and looked it over, turning my head to read the lable; Wine Cellar. I smiled happily and let out a sigh of relief, picking it up in my mouth and chucking it into my saddle packs and extracting my journal and quill. With a quick three strokes, I crossed off three of my mementos, now having found a way out of the cave-in, found a way into the local history room, and found the key to the wine cellar. Everything was looking up.

BANG

The sudden noise made me jolt and drop my quill, and for a moment I didn't move, my muscles seeming to have locked in place. Then came another sound, a cross between a gargle and a hiss, almost like the source didn't know what sound it was supposed to be making, before another loud bang cascaded trough the room. I heard a crunching, splintering sound, like wood being rent apart, and realised with a sharp, sickening shock that the door had just been torn down in the room next to me. I spun around and backed away into the corner, folding my trembling legs under me as I lay down, shivering violently. A sharp scraping sound made its way to me, like blades being dragged over stones or tiles, much like the tiles decorating the floor in this room, and the room beyond. There came a shuffling noise, interspersed by the scraping, and occasional clomps which sounded akin, and yet so alien, so hoofsteps. The shuffling and scraping moved around the room next door, growing louder as it- whatever 'it' was- approached the bookshelf, the only barrier between me and the unidentified intruder.

I held my breath as I the sound came closer, seeming to move slower as it passed. My trembling increased, and tears started to push their way out of my eyes, blurring my vision. It was all I could do to stop myself from crying out in terror, lest the thing hear me. After what seemed like ages, the being moved past the shelf, issuing another gargle-hiss, and continued its tour of the room. After a few minutes more, it seemed to exit the room entirely, its clomps fading away. I let out a gasp and sucked in air, my chest heaving as I hyperventilated in the corner. I managed to suck down enough air to soothe my erratic heart, allowing me to stand and move cautiously over to the shelf, turning my trembling head to listen for any signs of movement. There were none, and so I returned to the desk, pulling open the drawers in turn to see if I could find anything. Most of them were empty, but the first held another sheet of paper, which I picked up and placed on the desk to read.

Regarding Closing of the Wine Cellar

Grimeye and his fools have endangered my research long enough with their absentminded handling of the equine vessels. The sheriff is keeping a watchful eye on the forest and is killing my trusty servants. It's just a matter of time until they follow the trail to Everfree. I need to lock up Grimeye and his entourage to avoid further investigation from the public. The wine cellar will therefore be sealed off until the matter has been handled. Either the Guard leaves or they will starve. Whatever comes first- they can rot for all I care.

Maybe I will feed them some wine, it would in a sense solve both of my problems.

My face twisted into a disgusted grimace as I read this. I presumed that this was written by Steelheart, as he mentioned Grimeye and Everfree as though they were his, and he seemed to afford very little respect to Grimeye or anypony else for that matter. Indeed, the disregard for the lives of Grimeye and his followers was evident, appallingly so, and to think that Grimeye had pledged his services to this pony. And what did 'the equine vessels' mean? What was this research? Steelheart was researching something, that much was obvious, having previously tried to- I checked the other notes quickly- create 'artificial vitae'. Whatever 'vitae' was, it had him interested, enough to apparently research on ponies. The mere thought of the possibilities, knowing Steelheart's character and seeming lack of inhibitions, was enough to make me wretch. What an awful, despicable pony. I forced the thoughts from my head and packed the note away into my journal, and my journal into my backpack, along with my quill and ink, and returned to the shelf, listening for a long while before hesitantly pulling the book and rotating once more, returning to the local history room with new found alertness.

My eyes immediately scoped the damage done to the door, which had twisted inwards, hanging off of one hinge. The lock had been splintered, and the thought of what could do that made me gulp nervously. Whatever it was, it may come back, and I didn't want to be there when that happened. I crept slowly and nervously over to the door frame, listening for any sound of approaching hoofsteps. There was nothing, and so I poked my head out the door, looking through the darkness for any shapes that resembled an equine or something remotely similar, but finding nothing, only spotting the doorway leading to the gallery on the left. It was the clearest path I had, as well as the lightest. With a cautious, fretful hoof, I stepped onto the stone outside the room, and paused. Nothing jumped out at me. I put the next one forward, and the next, and walked gradually over to the doorway, stopping just before. I gave a quick look to the left, finding the gallery empty, before stepping out.

A growl came from the right.

I spun around, seeing a pony staggering through the doorway at the other end of the gallery. I gave a small, barely contained gasp and scrambled backwards as quietly as I could, trying to get as far away as possible from where the pony had left. It didn't seem to have seen me, but that didn't mean it wouldn't come back, and with this thought in mind, I backtracked away, keeping my terrified eyes fixed firmly on the doorway. I moved as far back as I could, making sure that nothing entered the gallery as I went, eventually bumping up against the far wall. I jolted a little, but then breathed out as I realised what it was. There should be a doorway, and I could use that to circumvent the pony I had seen. I was certain that I could. I turned to the right, expecting to enter the passage leading to the back of the local history room, instead tripping over something solid and rough. Looking around to see what I hit, I found myself looking at a pile of boulders and rubble spilling from the doorway, and groaned. I had forgotten about the cave-in, but it was obstructing my passage, meaning that I couldn't get around. I thought for a moment and tried to remember the layout of this area. From where I'd come, there was a room leading through to the exit, meaning I could use it to avoid whatever that was that I had just seen. Taking a deep breath to clear my head, I turned around to head back to the middlemost doorway.

It was waiting for me.

Two blank eyes, burning with cold, animalistic fury stared at me, its gaze so piercing I felt like it could see my heart slow to a crawl inside my chest. The head, maybe at one point the head of a pony, was disfigured and deformed, seeming to have no set shape to it, almost as if the skull had melted and then solidified mid-way through a moulding process. The jaw hung sickeningly open as though broken, partially ripped on one side, and it seemed impossible that anypony could live with such a horrible disfigurement. A few broke, brown teeth remained rooted in what little was left of its mouth, the lack of a closed jaw giving the impression that it had nothing after a throat, from which rose a repeated gargling, wheezing noise as it attempted to breathe. Its skin was greying and looked old, its consistency something akin to burlap or hemp, as well as having a similar colour, and it lay loosely on the body, sagging and creased with an array of scars and cuts on the thick, tough surface, barely held in place by the leather straps adorning its form. Each of its hooves bore viscous looking claw-like blades which curved towards the floor at the point, designed especially to rip into flesh and maim ponies, the dried, cracked blood caking them testifying their lethality.

I scampered backwards, yelling in terror and surprise, not stopping my attempt to scrabble backwards even after I met the mass of stone and debris behind me, or even when I felt the wall pressing at me from the other side, refusing to accept that I was trapped. The creature gave a loud growl from somewhere deep down in its wrecked throat and stumbled towards me, the bladed hooves clacking on the tiled floor.

Click clack click clack

I couldn't move, the wall refusing to yield to my insistent demands as I pushed and strained against it, begging to be allowed to flee from this beast. It continued towards me in its clumsy, staggering gait, almost looking like it was struggling to attempt to walk.

Click clack click clack

My breathing had became so fast that I seemed to be taking one continuous breath, unable to make any amendments as I banged desperately against the wall.

Click clack

Even if I wasn't willing to accept that I was trapped, my body was; I collapsed, my vision blurring in some futile attempt to guard me from the horror that closed in on me.

CLICK

I couldn't move properly. My body only moved in twitches and spasms as my death walked towards me, ready to strike me where I lay.

CLACK