Chapter 4 – Zenith
Canterlot, Equestria
Shatter Heart was told not to let their words get to him. He was told of his loyalty, his valiant courage and hope for a better tomorrow of which united them in the first place. He was told by his brother, by his pilots, that they trusted him.
Inside of the castle, those words meant very little when shrouded under the guise of a so-called peaceful ruler. A ruler, or many, who put the needs of their true enemy before the needs of themselves. Or even the needs of their world and the innocent lives that looked to them for guidance, protection, and hope. Shatter Heart knew and understood this more than anypony else. He believed he was the only pony who could.
Outside of the castle, however, Shatter could already feel that shroud being lifted. The words of his brother and his pilots calmed his heart considerably so, and he was thankful for it. He told them, saying he appreciated their support when he needed it most. And if anything good was to still come from this day, let it be the visit to the T.I.T.A.N. Headquarters, where they could lay their eyes upon their creation. Because that, no matter who believed controlled it, still came from the greatest minds of Neighpon. It still came from them. It was still their rising son.
Still, under the light of Princess Twilight’s sun, there was a shudder in the veins of Shatter Heart. Even outside, he could never truly escape her presence or some semblance of her reach and touch upon the world. Cross was the first to notice his sibling’s unsettled state, even if Shatter buried it quickly. Just as quickly as he began to trot off into the streets of Canterlot to reach the appropriate building. The entrance to the HQ.
His pilots followed and said not a word. Not even taking in the sights or the ponies they crossed. For even though they were supposedly allies in this new age, they never felt more like strangers in a strange land. A land that ignored them and their desperate words of warning of who they still believed to be their true enemy.
But they were not ignored. In many ways, they were heard by the rulers, even if they didn’t see it. A semblance of their worldview was taken into consideration and the heart of Princess Twilight Sparkle sympathized greatly with their plight.
In many more ways, however, they were not ignored. Ways they could not see, nor did they seem to notice. They were looked upon from the shadows, from the crowds, from plain sight.
And the Harbingers of Zenith watched as they left the front steps of Canterlot Castle and vanished into the depths of the bustling city.
A lone, hardened face in a crowd of ponies. A stallion standing by himself on the sidewalk, near the entrance of a bakery. Another hidden in an alleyway, taking his first steps into the light. There were more of them, numbering six, that all stood separated but were far closer than any other beating heart could fathom. They abandoned their dark robes and golden masks in exchange for the perfect camouflage: their equine features on full display and hiding nothing.
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. The lead Harbinger among them wore his dark cloak, with the knapsack hiding underneath, resting on his back. He stood as the unmoving face in the constantly bustling crowd of ponies that moved around him. His light gray eyes trailed the path the five unicorns took away from the castle, before his gaze slowly returned to the front doors.
Can you hear it?
Not a word left his lips, yet he answered the question shared among the Harbingers of Zenith. I hear the Voice of the Dragon calling to us…
And he was correct. The chaos of the city was loud enough already, but even if things had stilled so as one could hear a pin fall against the concrete floor, the heretics would not have heard the Voice. It was whispered through the air, unheard and unseen by unworthy souls. But they heard just as simply as they heard one another in their ears. The Voice beckoned them forth, illuminated their path, so they were never lost.
The lost, the corrupted, they shambled about aimlessly as the Harbingers stared. One slowly walked past a crowd of ponies clinking small tea cups and sipping their worries away under the bright summer sun. Some played fruitless yard games and shared their extravagant lifestyles with one another over laughter, more droning laughter, in an equally droning and lifeless existence.
Heretics… They share the same flesh as us, but they are not of us.
Let them drown in their pleasures. We must begin.
The whispers of the Harbingers were momentarily silenced, leaving their minds focused on the task at hoof. The six came forth just as the Voice commanded them so, until their hooves graced the grass, the concrete, and finally the steps that led up to the castle doors. A pair of Royal Guards were stationed and waiting, their eyes suddenly widening by the sudden intrusion of six unknown ponies slowly approaching.
One guard quickly jammed his spear forward, declaring in an authoritative voice, “Halt—!”
He could barely even finish the word before a flash of light earned a crimson gush across his throat.
The second guard was blinded by the flash, just as quickly losing his voice to a slur of incomprehensible gurgles that left his throat, seeping out of his lips as the crimson dribble that followed quickly.
The short blade disappeared just as quickly as it appeared out of nothing, slicing cleanly across each of the guards’ necks. Two Harbingers rushed forth and caught the bodies, hooves over their mouths, hiding them away from any potential suspecting eye. A small sacrifice by risking their appearance, but necessary. Casting his gaze across the road, noticing no disturbance that followed, the lead Harbinger nodded them onward.
One stole the chest ornament from the first guard’s armor and pressed it against the castle doors, magically unlocking each. Just as the Dragon said it would. Safe inside and closing the doors behind them, the lead Harbinger heard a simple gasp on his right and magically flung his hidden dagger out of thin air and impaled it cleanly into the throat of the approaching Royal Guard. The Harbingers froze where they stood, the lead stallion among them watching as the guard choked on his blood, tried desperately to wail out a cry, but managed not even a squeak of terror as his body finally collapsed into his own pool.
The lead pony caught his spear before it could hit the marble floor and cause even more noise. His eyes were pale, paler than the fallen guard’s. Not even a twitch in his face for just as easily taking a life as it was catching his spear. The pool of red was growing larger.
Cleanse it.
A simple set of words he whispered through the dark magic shared between the six. And it was followed through with sheer, vile will and not a hint of hesitation. The dead were gathered and piled together, their weapons joining them as a pair of Harbingers ignited their horns. A torrent of flames spilled forth and encircled the bodies like serpents, devouring them so much quicker. The fires rose higher, higher, brighter in each Harbinger’s motionless gaze until they were suddenly doused.
Nothing was left. It was all vaporized, not even leaving ash as that, too, vanished with a flash of magic. The marble, once stained in blood, was as clean as it had been once they stepped freely into the castle’s hold. As if every aspect of the guards’ existence had been wiped clean from the face of the earth.
The Harbingers of Zenith moved on.
It was not difficult to navigate the labyrinthian halls of Canterlot Castle, for they had the Voice to guide them. The Star Swirl the Bearded section of the Canterlot Archives was dead ahead, and it was just as easily infiltrated. The guards never saw the blades coming. Cleansing them was just as easily accomplished, as the lead Harbinger pried the door open with the ferocity of his enhanced magic. The lock was shattered and the gate was slowly opened, the stallion minding the soft cries of the rusted metal.
As the six entered into the embrace of ancient knowledge of the Above, they paid no heed to the scrolls and books littering the shelves to their lefts and rights. All they cared for was the center of the Archives, where the great hourglass sat in silence. Together, the Harbingers of Zenith surrounded the hourglass with the lead stallion staring longingly into the sand.
The Darkness would strengthen their magic to mimic that of the rulers, that was what the Voice promised. And it was so, once all six of them united the magic from their horns onto the hourglass, the sand within proceeded to rise up. Rising just as the hourglass did, unveiling the descending, swirling staircase into the depths of the Archives.
Nothing was said as they descended down the steps, the path ahead lit well by the torches magically ignited, just as quickly killed as the whisper of the Voice trailed behind them. Shadows were washed away once they entered into the depths of the castle. It was there that they found themselves in an ancient bunker of sorts, where evidence of the Titans’ existence hung from the walls, were displayed on the shelves, and sat on the tables.
Graven images of their lord were displayed in ancient cave paintings. Paintings eerily similar to those found Below. Perhaps a distant tribe, a clan forgotten, that painted such masterpieces, all of which still paled in comparison to the flesh and bone they would soon return life to. They spread out, searching up and down and every corner for a sign to lead them in the next direction.
Pages were scattered over a small table. One Harbinger found himself in that area, reading Star Swirl’s notes to himself, but his voice was shared among the others all the same.
“It is a cool summer night. Three moons after Princess Twilight’s ascension, I am now recalling. Before her crowning, I was given the task of safekeeping an item I can only describe as a talisman that chimes doom. The Bewitching Bell. Even now, my quill quivers at the initial prospects of such a task. I have scoured my archives for ancient knowledge, perhaps bridging the gaps between times. The knowledge of this era has greatly surpassed the world I once knew.
“Gusty the Great did not leave much of her teachings. All I could collect, everything she knew of the Bewitching Bell was stored in my book that was unfortunately stolen in a past Summer Sun Celebration, I was told. I had to begin from scratch, relying mostly on this old pony’s memory to copy everything I once wrote word for word. Limbo has certainly left me with a greater migraine than when my allies and I were taken from this world.
“But now the Bell has been given to me by the princesses former and current, and I can further study its demonic qualities firsthoof. This magic is not natural. It consumes and amplifies any source of power the user desires. It changes magic. Corrupts it. I am not even certain the Bell, its magic, or its former wielder are even natural to our world. For the safety of it, and every last creature that resides in these lands, I have entombed the Bell in a barrier of my own creation, with magic fused with that of the aether itself. The Bell’s corruption will not be able to break the powers of the world beyond ours, nor will there be any powers of this earth to do so in return. I should feel mild comfort in knowing this… but I do not.
“Even now, I feel its power somehow lingering in the very air that I breathe. Making its home in my lungs, in my heart, my nightmares. It wants to be free. It calls to me with desires beyond imagination. When I ignore its call, the shadows grow darker. I can feel their weight press upon me in this very room. The Bell still seeps in my mind and yearns for destruction, attacking me in my sleep even outside of these walls. But I have locked away its call. I am not as weak as it desired. I cut off its source of nourishment when I denied the Bell myself. It seems it hungers only one thing: fear.
“Is it fear that powers it, strengthens it, perhaps even imbues both it and the desired wielder? Is it a corruption that spreads through deceit and fear? This, I do not know. But this, I do: the Bewitching Bell can never leave this mountain. It can never see the light of our sun again. For if it does, if it falls into the hooves of one with the will and wickedness to match it, I fear we were spared of its true nature before. It would not be so merciful a second time.”
It was all true. Ghidorah had led them true. The Bewitching Bell was within these walls.
And even so, Ghidorah continued to lead them. His voice called to them from the Darkness, and they pursued it with no hesitation. More doors were opened to them, more ancient staircases that led them deeper, further, the Harbingers following the Voice until they came across something that made them finally stop. Finally breathe aloud. Finally take in their surroundings.
A great cavern was laid forth beneath even the bunker. Where not a torch was alight and only a blinding whiteness could be seen glittering further below the steep mountain heart. For it was the mountain they finally reached, traversing the underbelly of Canterlot until the earth was their greeter at long last. Continuing in their descent, they followed, ironically, the Darkness to the light. It was not ironic to the Voice, to Ghidorah. He led them exactly where he needed them to go.
And so, they stopped. One by one, all standing together, all leaning on the edge of the abyss and gazing skyward to the ball of light. Within it was their great prize.
The Bewitching Bell.
The ancient talisman sat locked away hovering over a great cavern in the mountain. An orb of magic surrounded it, slithering streams of shielding, magical rays swirling around the great orb. Pitch blackness rested in the abyss beneath the orb, no end in sight. Nothing but shadows to reach quite possibly the roots of Canterlot Mountain.
But as they have read, as they understood, the Bell was trapped in the powers of the world beyond. Fortified so that no magic of this earth could pierce the veil. Yet it was dark magic that flowed within their veins. The magic of which the Dragon imbued them with. Ghidorah, their glorious King from the Stars, allowed his Darkness to flow with their minds, their spirits, their shared will.
Every horn was ignited and a burst of black and gold magical streams flew forth into the orb.
The most horrific scream echoed throughout the cavern. That was how it sounded to them, at least. Once the golden rays of their god infused with the white orb, the streams grew violently sporadic. Bursts of light spewed forth and impaled the rock around them. They kept at it, pressing on the power of their lord and shattering the bonds of the Bell. The light was overcome by the Darkness, and the orb exploded into a violent array of blinding particles of wilting sparks.
The power of the aether was broken. The tomb was shattered and faded into the black. The Bewitching Bell hovered momentarily before it was levitated down to the lead Harbinger.
He stared to it in silence, noted its weight, its rough texture. Words were written of its power, the rulers of this nation kept it concealed by the strongest magic they knew, and still the Harbingers of Zenith could not seem to understand its importance. It was not their duty to understand. It was their will to follow the High Priest, and the Voice that commanded all within the Order.
And they achieved just that.
Everything was left as they found it. The hourglass closed and the Canterlot Archives were locked away, a magically repaired lock and all. Though it was odd, among the ranks of the Royal Guards, that the Archives were mysteriously unguarded for the remainder of the day. As were the outside doors, though they remained locked all the same. It was even more curious that five guards did not return to the barracks that night, and there was no word shared among the ranks of their whereabouts. An investigation began shortly after, but they would never be found.
Leaving with the Bell tucked away in the lead Harbinger’s cloak, the six wandered Canterlot for an escape, walking in broad daylight. Once more sacrificing their appearance to the Above. It would mean nothing compared to what they had achieved, what their lord once reborn would bring. They could only imagine it…
A holy genocide of the heretics Above, bringing forth the gateway of the long-awaited Zenith and its mysteries finally unveiled to them.
Artwork by Shrekzilla
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God, I hate cults.
Now they have the lock and the key...
What other pieces are there, I wonder.
...Well, this certainly got dark really quickly.
Next time, let Discord hide the artifact of doom in another dimension or something! Geeze, people!
Weeellll crap, this has me shaking with anticipation and anxiety, need more, so HYPED XD
Geez, where is the shobijins and the followers of Battra when you need them?
The only way I think this can get worse is real grogar bringing back tirek, chrysalis, cozy glow, the dazzlings, cosmos and the storm king
Shouldn't the cult of ghidorah have dragons too??
This is getting out of hand!
So chronologically this is the first murder of the story huh, if Ghidorah does return then these dumbass pawns of a cult are gonna regret it after the False King rewards them.
11388052 Same
11388068 More than we realize
11388076 I wouldn't trust Discord with that thing
11388255
11388375 That's only if there were dragons in the Hollow Earth.
11388420 And it's only gonna get worse.
m
11388596 It may not go exactly how you think
11388933
Why there is no dragons in the hollow-earth?
11389213 Probably wouldn’t have survived. Most species that weren’t Titans that moved to the Hollow Earth to escape Godzilla and Ghidorah’s cataclysmic battle didn’t survive long. Some were luckier than others.
11389279
Ponies survived and dragons don't, how does that makes sense?
11393624 Some were luckier than others.
Hrm…me thinks a certain group is ripe for a poisoned picking.
It’s those damn dirty cultists again! Quick, where’s my sword!?
…wait, what about the blood? I’ve played enough stealth games to know hiding the body doesn’t do squat if there’s a blood pool on the ground.
…I would go on about how science says fire alone does not blood clean…but I’m gonna assume this is some BS magic fire stuff that is doing the work.
Wait…fear? Fear and deceit? Oh no…
Odd? Odd!? You should be sounding the alarms, as pointless as it would be at that point! But at least word will reach that something bad has happened!
Ah, yes. The mystery of the Zenith…I can answer that mystery for you. Quite easily. It’s not genocide on the above…it’s the genocide of all the universe.
Commentary over, time for review!
…yeah, I got nothing. Just…keeping my sword and shield polished for when we finally do some cultist cleansing.
11401025 A genocide of all the universe hmmm?
11401370
What? That’s basically Ghidorah’s thing. Going from planet to planet, wiping it clean of life.
…wait, I just gave you an idea, didn’t I. Well, great. Now I gotta get my shield and armored buffed out.
Those idiot cultists are going to get everyone killed.