“Just how many levels are there in this place?” Foot Note asked. He puffed his breath against his legs. The young stallion, a light blue coated individual, was most certainly not upon the heavy side. His years of extensive research and paperwork had left him with a slight frame, certainly not equipped for the cold, icy interior of the tunnels that he was now navigating. Four years now he had been studying Equestrias past, a surprisingly miniscule area. There was of course the recent past of the vanquishing of Nightmare Moon by the bearers of the Elements of Harmony.
Before that was the banishment of the corrupted Princess Luna to the moon, and before that was the conquest of the Crystal Empire by King Sombra. And even further back than that was the overthrowing of Discord by the now Princesses. But before that, history seemed to reach a dead end. Foot Note had checked every library he could find, every paper of history, every last museum piece, but before that everything was a blank, like it had been wiped from the books.
His guide, Withered Scroll, looked back at him. It was always a struggle to not grimace when the older Earth pony looked straight at him. The entire right side of his face was turned up in a permanent smile, the skin scarred thickly amongst the thick winter coat. Foot did not like to think about how he got it. Withered Scroll clicked his tongue impatiently.
“Just how much did they tell you at orientation?” he asked the unicorn. The researcher quickly began fumbling with his papers in thought, a nervous habit he had picked up.
“Well, they obviously told me this is where all the significant historical finds were brought for study, that this was where we locked up the dangerous finds…” he fumbled over his words. Withered, however, was quick to interrupt.
“But they didn’t tell you about the Empire Vaults, did they?” he asked. The blue unicorn shook his head slowly. He knew of the Canterlot Vaults obviously, the royal treasury, but assuming that the Crystal Vaults were the equivalent for the Crystal Empire, then they were a series of vaults to hold the wealth of the Crystal Empire. Withered gestured for him to follow with a hoof, adjusting the lantern slung around his neck.
“Publicly this level doesn’t exist, physically it’s below even the crystal caverns, we use it for the…special cases” he explained, stumbling over the choice of words to make his point without giving the wrong image.
“So there’s no point trying to find it in the reference guide. This whole level was transported directly from underneath the Crystal Empire” Withered explained. Foot Note, eager as ever for explanations, quickly burst in with questions. “But if this was all built under the Crystal Empire, then why did we move it here?” the unicorn asked inquisitively. The earth pony before him froze, only to turn back to stare at him. The unicorn shuffled his papers again, not coping well under the intense gaze of his peer.
Eventually, the burly earth pony groaned.
“They really don’t tell you newbies anything, do they?” he asked. Foot remained silent. He wasn’t entirely sure if the other pony’s rather derisive attitude was intended to target him directly, or the board that controlled this facility, but logic told him that raising his voice at this moment would do him no favours.
“Okay, so about fifteen hundred years ago, the Crystal Empire decides it wants to trade, to deal to the rest of Equestria and the other lands. So they begin mining under the city, pulling crystals, gold, that sort of thing. And of course, given the whole darn place is made of the stuff, they grow wealthy from it. Following so far short horn?” Withered asked. Foot Note in no way truly appreciated the somewhat discriminating remark, but he ignored it, nodding his affirmative.
“Eventually, they find something besides crystals, a wall of stone. This EXACT stuff” Withered explained, rapping his hoof against a wall.
“And Celestia orders them to clear it, to see if they can bring it up to the surface. So they start clearing all the crystals off of it, using the money they make from it to fund more workers. And this thing, it’s absolutely huge, five thousand metres squared” the unicorn froze at the last statement. At last he understood. That was the exact dimensions of this portion of the facility. What efforts it must have taken to bring it here.
“So, long story shirt, eventually they uncover it all. According to some egghead I listened to, judging by the growth of the crystals over it, the thing was there for at least one hundred million years”
“One hundred million? But that’s…”
“Well beyond all recorded history, I know” the earth pony interrupted his company before he could finish “Anyways, all across the front, they find this writing. Of course, no one understands what it says, but they crack it open anyways. God we were lucky, it could have had bombs in there for all we knew” both ponies shuddered at the thought “But you know what they found? Millions of frozen seeds, packed into vaults that not even a dragon could burn its way into. In fact, most of those seeds were what our current produce is descended of” setting his lantern down, Withered reached into his saddlebag, pulling out an apple. Even in the gloom of the tunnel, it’s red skin glistened ever so slightly in the light of the lantern.
“Take this apple for instance. Before, there had only been derivatives, zap apples, Starlight Snappers, that sort of thing. But when the vaults were opened, the scientists on hoof asked to grow a few. These ones grew, a couple hundred millennia less evolved, but still well selling produce, and so they were commercialised” the pony rambled on. Foot Note rolled his eyes silently, this ‘little’ explanation was going to take ages.
Withered placed the apple away, lifting his lantern again.
“And so” he continued “they begin clearing out these seeds, millions of ‘em by the cartload. Until” the elder pony paused for what was evidently his own dramatic effect “they find something, hidden right at the back” he was walking slower now, were they nearing their destination?
“Locked in a little vault all of its own. God those researchers must have had a field day. Can you imagine? Not only finding roughly ten percent of a planets flora, but a viable specimen” Foot Note froze at that, quickly cantering up alongside his guide.
“Viable? As in it had flesh?” he asked. Withered turned to stare at him, an incredulous look on his face.
“Of course it had flesh, it was in a damned freezer. But here’s the thing, when they bring the unicorns in to move it out, thinking it’s got some sort of ‘potential disease’ their magic does diddly. Doesn’t work on any of the stone either” Withered rapped a hoof against the wall for emphasis. “So instead, they start tugging it out, and the moment its outside, the plants start to wither, blacker than death”
Foot note mulled over this in his head. A creature that made the ground beneath it wither? Granted, the gaze of some older basilisks could kill the plants, but certainly not in death. The colts thoughts were interrupted by a heavy hoof tapping him on the head.
“Hey, wake up, no daydreaming, it’s rude not to listen, especially when I’m filling in the holes you made for yourself” he sneered. It wasn’t an openly malicious statement, but maybe a little prideful.
“Go on” Foot Note sighed. Withered Scroll smiled.
“So they shove it back inside. And Celestia asks that the entire complex be moved here. As for those working here, well, they named him ‘Millenium’ I dunno, some sort of reference to a foals nursery rhyme. And then they slammed him in here” he pointed towards a door, adorned with numerous heavy locks and bars, sealing whatever they wanted kept in.
“Just don’t get too close, he tends to end up doing weird things when ponies do that” Withered Scroll suggested as, with some careful manipulation with his teeth, he pressed the key into the lock.
“Get too close, why not?” Foot Note asked, his brain going at a hundred miles an hour to find the answer for himself. What worry would a corpse pose…unless…… The door began steadily to swing open.
“It’s, alive?” Foot Note asked. Withered Scroll shrugged his withers.
“Well, sorta” He mumbled around the key as he stepped inside. His form was quickly swallowed by the thick vapours coming from within. After a moments hesitation, Foot Note followed him within. The cold bit at his form even more savagely now, goose bumps appearing on his skin beneath his coat.
It sat there before him, almost innocently. Withered Scroll was staring at it as a schoolchild might the uniform of a racer in a museum.
“No matter how many times you see it, it never really….clicks” he murmured. The first thing that Foot noticed was the odd proportions. All but emaciated, the body was little more than skin and bones, and grey skin at that. What little muscle actually existed on the creature was rigidly defined by the lack of fat to cover the tight sinews beneath. The posture where it sat in the crudely fashioned throne also set him back, the forelimbs resting on two armrests that they were adhered to by thin sheets of ice. Each one terminated in five dextrous digits, evidently designed to bend to hold delicately. From the tips of these sprouted long, pointed though flat claws, embedded in torn and brutalized cuticles. Strangely, the growth of these did not look altogether natural. The researcher turned back to his superior for silent clarification.
“Some newbie’s dare, ground them down into points on this stone. Of course, by the time he finished, he’d completely lost it and no one exactly wants to give it a nail clipping” Foot was a little taken back by this, who would grind a seemingly dead creatures nails down into points on a dare? He felt it best not to question the absurdity, for in the end, no answer would prevent itself.
Every inch of the beast was clothed, and much to his sickness, the overcoat it wore appeared to be made of blackened hide, stretching almost to its calves. How much flesh had it taken to make such a garment. Beneath the garish fabric, simpler articles presented themselves. A black, buttoned shirt, frosted over from the cold. And the lower half, it was adorned with the oddest set of trousers, grey instead of black, with the ends bound to its legs with several straps. Straps so deep, they appeared to have cut into the flesh beneath them, the edges now melded in place by the flesh healing over them. Foot couldn’t even hope to figure out if it wore footwear, for a large ice block had frozen over the creatures feet, obscuring them.
But its face, its face was nearly completely clear to see. Dark circles burned under its eyelids, had the creature been sleep deprived in life? Dark auburn hair grew down around its head, thick, but eerily silky. It was a strange sight to see as the breath of Foot rippled the hairs, the ice crystals within shimmering like some parody of the princesses. Raising his hooves up onto the knees of the creature, Foot Note leaned in closer. The body was perfectly preserved, if presumably discoloured from lack of blood in its veins. But the eyelids, he needed to raise them, to see what gems lay beneath. If he could only…
The pony’s thoughts were shattered as a firm set of teeth grasped the scruff of his neck, tugging him away from the creature, sliding across the floor.
“Dear Celestia, son” Withered Scroll snarled “If you do that you won’t even last a day on the job” he warned. Foot gaped his mouth like a fish. What had he been about to do? Even he knew it was unethical to touch a specimen without permission. Clearing his thoughts, he stared back at the creature with his cohort, as he began to hear it. A sound not unlike tissue paper being creased by a soft breath of wind.
Slowly, the lips of the creature parted, revealing blackened gums, ivory coloured teeth set into them. Slowly, a thick white fog exhumed itself, running across the creatures chin as it exhaled a long breath. Foot Note was speechless. It really was alive.
“But how?” was his first question “It’s been down there for millennia, with no sustenance, It should be dust” he protested. Withered Scroll stepped round the creature, careful to avoid touching it. Leaning down, he lifted a clipboard in the crook of his hoof from a small, low set workdesk.
“That ‘thing’ shouldn’t even technically exist. According to every unicorn who’s ever examined it, even the princesses themselves, it has no magical aura, no core. Presumably, this ‘non existence’ let it survive. That is if we’re assuming Equestria once was a land with no magic. Doesn’t help us much though. Magic has no effect on it, and the moment it’s beyond this room, it decays everything around it, undoing the magical bonds. What was it Star Swirl said?” he asked himself, flipping a page awkwardly with his tongue “here it is, a ‘walking wasteland’ he cited, replacing the clipboard. Foot nodded and listened. This…entity, was older than his rulers, those who had shaped his world. It was undoing everything he knew. Withered stood beside him.
“Ok, this is your first time, so feel free to step outside the room if you need to. But DON’T whatever you do, stay longer than five hours” he looked back at the silent creature “It does something to ponies” he murmured, before hastily exiting the room.
Foot was left in silence. Silence that now felt cloying, wrong, threatening even. Reaching back into his saddlebags, the pony pulled out a pencil, before slowly hovering it towards the seated monster. When the manipulated object came within a foot of it, the magical aura died, the pencil dropping into the lap of the creature. And in an instant, it turned into dust. Besides being aghast, Foot Note was transfixed. Such power, power that even Discord had lacked, to simply reduce to nothing, from a sleeping ancient no less. And here he was, free to observe it in its sleep, without risk. But still, Withered Scrolls warning, the time limit. And what had his grandfather said? So long ago.
Motion picture cameras, despite their relative infancy, had proven popular. What had initially started out merely as one pony’s gimmick at a sideshow had managed to cement itself firmly in the entertainment industry. That wasn’t to say that motion picture had exploded, far from it. In fact, cinema was still limited to a very few, niche venues. And up until recently, it had been just that, entertainment. It was only when magic proved useless that the marvel of technology proved its value to science.
Foot Note stared at the flickering film projection in front of him. A single, near clockwork precise film camera had been acquired by the bureau some ten years before, for a singular purpose, to monitor the eponymous subject ‘Millenium’. In large part due to its pure technological nature, the device lasted far longer against the ‘decay’ of the creature than anything magical, only needing repairs once every two weeks.
The creature had been monitored for years, and so Foot was working himself backwards through the archives, a good 1000 years, all documents before being largely illegible with time. The current reel he had chosen was labelled with its time stamp, some 5 years ago, and the scrawled writing of ‘psychological trauma’. It had begun simply enough. A young grey stallion maybe three years his senior entered the room, the door being sealed up behind him. Five hours passed uneventfully. It was in fact only when the tape momentarily flickered that Foot himself noticed that the door was now in fact gone entirely, with not so much as a seam remaining.
When the stallion himself noticed, he began to panic, cantering about the chamber before pawing at kicking at the walls. After twenty minutes, he simply collapsed into a corner, either shaking or sobbing. Foot was unable to tell which, the film reel had no sound strips. An hour passed before the door appeared again, the stallion having to be carried out. The attached documents said despite the second observer coming to relieve his colleague at the usual time, the grey coated stallion appeared as if malnourished for days. A small anecdote at the bottom held a query, ‘spatial manipulation?’
Foot pondered this question as he would the tape back into its reel and can. The creature could evidently decay natural auras, but to decay time? That was a rather disturbing concept in and of itself. With some difficulty, the unicorn loaded the next film reel into the projector. This one looked old, and was labelled ‘claws’. It was also short, barely two hours long. Foot Note sighed as he watched. So THAT was how it happened.
The stallion was young, a teenager. He just HAD to be an intern, he was far too young to be a researcher. And he was grinding the creature’s digits on the rock of its throne. Foot could now see on the opposite appendage that each digit ended in long, overgrown nails. The colt left the now ‘finished’ appendage behind, each nail sharpened into the now familiar claws that Foot was familiar with. All because of some prank?
It was the skipping of the tape that made him look up. The colt could see something he didn’t, and he looked terrified. Between each flicker, he was backing up, forced into a corner by some invisible aggressor. Foot leaned closer, there was something in the background, on the walls. Was that….ichor? Like black treacle dripping down from the ceiling. That was the last thing he saw before the tape burned out. Foot blinked. Was that it? Why would there be another half hour to the tape?
And so, he waited. It was a full ten minutes before the tape began showing an actual image again. The colt was stood facing a wall. Slowly, he reared his head back, then lashed it forwards, hitting the concrete with a crunch. Blood ran in rivulets down the wall, staining deep into the pores of the rock. With slow, mechanical movements, the colts pulled his head back, and hit forwards again…and again, and again. With a final, terrific thud, the colt’s skull snapped under the tremor. His neck bent awkwardly, the teenager stepped backwards in rigid steps, before standing like a statue.
With a final tremor, he fell back. The sight made Foot retch dryly in his throat. The colts eyes had been plucked out, the sockets hollowed out with brutality. Foot was quick to stop the projector in its track, freezing the images. The crimson openings stared outwards at him, like some ghoul intent upon scaring a foal.
Quick to remedy his gruesome mistake, the studious unicorn turned the device off altogether. The professor was left feeling cold, his coat doing nothing to prevent it. He had of course been warned by Withered that the creature affected the minds of those who spent too long near it, but that it somehow affected reality? Of course he had seen ponies affect the world at their choosing, the princesses did it every day. Manifesting objects into reality, teleportation, that sort of thing was so common it was paid no mind.
But this was on a whole other level. The creature wasn’t even awake, and it had killed a pony without ever moving. Foot shivered again. Maybe, just maybe some of the written reports would settle his mind. Yes, a report, an old one. A quick spell and a thick binder was levitated before him, the familiar Star Swirl emblem upon the cover. Foot smiled softly, surely something written by Star Swirl the Bearded would set his mind at rest in a state of deep learning. With a heavy thud, the cover fell open, and Foot began to read.
Summer sun celebration
I’ve been in this room for a total of eight hours now, my assistant allowing me out of the chamber each hour for five minute intervals. This creature, this….beautiful design of evolution, it whispers things to me without ever moving its lips, without ever ushering breath. Names, places, even instructions for things I cannot comprehend! And sometimes random words I can find no source to. The Thames, Atlantic, R’lyeh, nuclear energy, all phrases that elude me. It feels as if this creature has some great intelligence hidden away. I wish to lift its eyelids and gaze into whatever secrets the orbs hold. However…something in my heart tells me otherwise. There is something inherently wrong about this creature. I keep telling myself, telling Celestia that we should simply turn away and bury the abomination back under the crystal fields of the Empire. But to waste such a chance….
My assistant is calling me. The diarchs wish for me to be present. I shall continue my research later in the day.
The sudden change on the next page startled Foot. The page was had been stained with moisture, damaged with liquids. But the writing across the page, it was the ramblings of a madstallion.
~~~ I returned this afternoon to find my assistant huddled in the corner. He had been flayed of his skin, with the resultant hide being nowhere to be found. Despite the obvious atrocity committed upon him, there is no real damage. No blood vessels have been broken, nor have any lacerations been found upon his raw flesh. But he has been driven into madness. He himself wrote the previous entry.
He goes on and on about some ‘endless city’ consumed with fire. I wish dearly that I could gaze into his thoughts and see whatever he was shown, but I confess that I am fearful of whatever could be hidden now inside his mind. The princess has asked me what I believe has happened to my faithful assistants skin. Whilst I hope I am not right, I believe the creature may have somehow consumed it. Little other option exists as a conclusion.
I still wish I knew what it is about the creatures dreams that drives ponies into madness. Does it meddle in the magic in their minds somehow? I shall have to look into this later.
Foot turned over the page he was currently on. That entry, it had shaken him deeply. His withers were now tight, bunched up as the hairs on his nape stood to attention. To think that Star Swirl of all people, the fine Mage of Magic, had been utterly stumped as to the reasoning behind the entity.
He cast his gaze across the small table top beside him. On it were a variety of objects that had been ‘tested’ so to speak, against the creature’s area of effect. Pencils, sand, coins, on one occasion even a scalpel blade. All had followed the same path, reduced to an unsightly ash-like substance. Had that been the only result, maybe the scientists would have been less disturbed. But somehow, it was worse than simple incineration.
By all studies worth merit, by every available test, the piles of ash simply did not seem to exist. They gave off no radiation, no heat, even mass didn’t register except to the ponies themselves. How painful would that be, the cessation of existence? The thought was jarred as a loud clang resounded from behind the many stacks of film cans that rested up against the walls. Had one of them fallen? Now, Foot couldn’t call himself a neat freak, far from it. His own desk was strewn with sketches, books, grant details and even some of the archives requested from Celestia. But a film can…
In its own way it stank to him. With a brief pulse of magic the shelves parted. It was small in circumference, a short tape was a generous way of describing it. But something was strapped to the can. Grasping them in a fetlock, the researcher was quick to recognise the faded paper as research documents, well over a century old.
Why were they hidden back here? Everyone on staff was of the responsible type, so none of them would haphazardly shove the documents back there. No, someone wanted these particular files to be found with discretion. Discreet, indeed Foot could be that. However, he was also curious.
It was a simple matter for him to telekinetically begin attaching the celluloid to the projector as he simultaneously read the documents. They weren’t precisely informative. In fact, they rather seemed obsessive, and the only clue to who had written them was the simple identification of ‘Heartstrings’.
Foot quickly flicked through them. The usual stuff was all across the first few pages, before it smoothly changed into details that a pony would say about a FRIEND of all things.
“The dead god dreams, he has the voice of an angel” he read to himself quietly, the last line written upon the documents, before the tape clicked into place, garnering his full attention. The earth pony on the tape was immediately recognised. Withered Scroll. Perhaps he had a few years off his current age, but the stallion was undeniably him.
The youthful and strong Withered Scroll stepped into the chamber, his breath fogging in the icy cold of the stone. This did not look like it was a planned incursion. Looking around, the burly earth pony sealed the door behind himself. He looked so very different in his actions to the stallion that Foot was accustomed to.
Cautiously, he stepped closer to the creature. It was then that Foot took note of the flickering of the film, black spots appearing in it. Snorting, he leant closer, trying to ignore them. Withered leant his muzzle closer to the sleeping creature, till the point that they nearly touched. And then, with slow and deliberate movements, he reached up to the closed eyelids, and opened them.
The tape immediately went black.
“What on Equis?” Foot quickly paused the film reel, and wound it back. The tape was burned for a good four minutes worth of frames, like the film had been flash scorched. Except, wait. Half of a frame still existed before the blackness returned. Foot was quick to move the film frame by frame, intent upon observing the brief moment of life caught in the celluloid.
And there, hidden in the single frame, was the source of even more questions for Foot. Withered’s hooves had lifted the creature’s eyelids up. And from them shone a burning light. Foot quickly resumed the reel again, the four minutes of darkness passed without incident. The moment the film came alive again, the young researcher watched as his mentor tore his cheek open along the stone blocks of the beasts throne.
“Now that one hurt like a demon” Foot spun around awkwardly at the sound of the voice, falling off his chair in the process. Withered Scroll was stood in the doorway in all his mangy glory. Trotting forward, he brushed the discarded film can aside with his hoof.
“Really I should have hidden this better” he grumbled, switching off the power to the projector “of course someone like you was going to find these”
“Is it, bad, that I did?” Foot asked cautiously. Withered stared at him for a moment, the expression on his face reminding Foot of the look his father would have given him before he delivered a spanking. But the elder colt just sighed.
“No, it’s just rather embarrassing” he explained, gesturing to the projector. “Back then, I was so much like you, and the moment I got transferred down here, to work on that thing, I was so eager. But there was so little to learn. I just kept thinking about what colour eyes it could have, surely I could learn something that simple. And so I tried, and I saw it” “Saw what?” Foot asked. His superior looked over at him sadly.
“I couldn’t explain it to you. It’s like seeing nothing and everything all at once, you’d have to experience it. I think the only reason I survived is because gouged my cheek open before I could think about it long enough to mess up my brain” he explained, gesturing to the heavy scar.
Well, for Foot that at least explained one mystery, relieving some of the tightness upon his chest.
“And what about him, Heartstrings?” he asked, gesturing towards the paper documents. Withered chuckled at the question. “HER actually. She was a musician hired to entertain the workers. Then she gets a look at that thing, and she claims it’s whispering to her. And quite frankly, I believe she was right. She got fired two months later though”
“Why?” “They claim she stole something, some sort of necklace I think. Apparently she made it into some sort of family heirloom, along with the story. No one ever bothers the family about the story though, they think they’re daft” he explained softly, gathering the film back into its canister before once again hiding it.
“So why hide the film then?” Foot asked matter of factly. Surely it was rather counter intuitive to hide a set of documents that no one cared about, let alone the fact their author was dead.
“Because all it takes is one egg head like you and the family gets an inquisition. After my ‘episode’ I had ponies hounding me into a psychiatric ward for six months, analysing my brain, asking me if I could tell them what that thing really is. I didn’t see my family for close to a year. No one deserves to go through that” Foot paused uncomfortably at the revelation, scuffing his hoof.
“…I’m sorry” he answered quietly. Withered scroll sprang into a roaring fit of laughter, apparently amused, making Foot jump.
“Don’t be, you didn’t cast spells on my head” he said in a kind tone as he began to walk out. Foot didn’t hear him, his brain already musing again. A psychiatric ward…
“Hey, Withered...” he called.
“Yeah?” The reply had changed its tone back to the usual grouchiness, its owner apparently feeling its soul baring was done for the day.
“Everyone near it goes mad right?”
“If they don’t die outright, yes. What’s your point?” he asked as he clicked his tongue to quicken the younger of the pair. “Can you bring me a book on equestrian cerebral anatomy and more of Star Swirls notes? I think there’s a pattern” Withered grinned in response.
“A development? Well this IS exciting. I’ll get them right down to you” he answered in what was most likely his equivalent to a happy tone. Foot was silent once more.
“Got something else on your mind? Or are you just being rude?” he growled.
“Sorry, it’s just….it’s dreaming right? So why didn’t they just ask Princess Luna to look at the dreams” Foot asked. The point was a valid one in his own mind, even foals knew Princess Luna governed and observed dreams. Withered chuckled darkly.
“Oh she did, she took a good hard look” he answered as he stepped out of the room. Foot perked his head up.
“She did? Really? What happened?” he asked anxiously.
A full year since he had leafed through those blasted notes? A year since he had deciphered a minuscule fragment of the mystery behind the Millennium? His muzzle buried itself amongst his hooves. His brain was wringing itself, the mass of grey matter feeling like lead. Just a headache he told himself, just a headache.
It had kept coming, so often now that he could almost time it. It had felt like a gnawing on his spinal column at first, but now it felt like a rigorous pulse. He cringed at the sensation, willing it to stop.
“Foot Note” the voice snapped. The researcher’s head raised at the vocal summon. Withered Scroll stood in the doorway, the stallion carrying a rather unfamiliar visage of concern.
“You ok?” he asked. The words were sincere, the true markings of a working friendship. Foot nodded, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hoof.
“Fine, just a headache” he assured his elder. The other pony did not looked convinced at the explanation. “You should really go to the medical mare” he warned, stepping nearer. His hooffalls sounded less sure to Foot’s ears now, age and stress was steadily catching up to the stallion.
“I can’t right now, something’s going on up top” Foot reminded Withered. The burly earth pony nodded, mentally disciplining himself. Something was going on up on the surface, and all members of staff had been told to stay underground and keep working until the crisis passed. Whilst few details had come down the telegraph wires, there had been some talk of ‘pink clouds’ and ‘chocolate rain’. Foot was quick to dismiss such messages as nonsense. “Did Apol arrive before lockdown?” Foot questioned, not that he really needed to. He was well aware of the Griffin’s punctuality. Arrive early to be on time, be on time to be late. That was the rule he lived by.
“Of course that blasted griffin arrived on time, he’s more punctual than the Clock of the Time Dragon” Withered grumbled. This drew a rather mischievous smirk from the unicorn.
“What’s the matter Withered? The bird ruffling your feathers?” he teased. The earth pony was quick to glare.
“Shut up. You know full well I don’t appreciate someone telling me how to do my job, least of all a pompous feather plucker” Withered explained with a huff, trying to hold in some measure of dignity. And with that he turned tail, silently leaving. At the sight, Foot couldn’t help but chuckle.
It was well known amongst the staff that Withered had a few disagreements with Apol now and again. Disagreements being the downplayed explanation. A more accurate description of what usually occurred was the earth pony shouting his head off as the griffin casually preened himself.
It couldn’t be helped. Apol was one of the old sort, for lack of a better term. A long, strong bloodline flowed through him. So old in fact that he had retained the pointed ears that the large majority of griffins had lost generations ago. Prior to his relationship with Equestrian government, Apol had been a weather griffin, clearing the clouds before the sun as it rose. But now, Princess Celestia had need of a service he leant himself to well.
As Foot turned a corner, there he was. The feathers upon his head and neck had been freshly swept down, melding perfectly into the transition of down and fur. Rather untraditionally for his kind, both pelt and feather were dark earthen tones, holding shades of grey and brown, somehow making him altogether more intimidating.
Foot however held no fear towards the griffin. Very much the opposite in fact. And with a brush of his coat, he coughed in his throat to get the attention of his guest.
“Apol” he addressed. The griffin rotated with a grace that ponies simply couldn’t match, the flexible spine and hips curving to face the significantly shorter unicorn. Foot found himself, rather indignantly, having to lean back to see his new associates face. And what a face it was, the eyes scowling in deep furrows and the beak gleaming.
The rather impressive visage was shattered when the griffin chuckled deeply. Right before he promptly floored Foot Note with a pat on the back.
“It’s good to see you again my friend. How does the bureau treat you?” he asked the stunned unicorn. Raising a hoof for pause, Foot pried himself upwards, bones crunching at choice moments.
“A pleasure to see you too” he answered, twisting his neck to soothe the joints that had very nearly dislocated themselves from the impact.
“And to answer your question, aside from the trouble upstairs things are just hunky dory, research going well and all” he ended his sentence in a way that he knew Apol detected as being odd. Like a gramophone that skips the final line of dialogue.
“I figured Princess Celestia wasn’t telling me something when she requested me to arrive on two days’ notice for some reason she refused to tell me in a letter” Apol explained, his brows furrowing in deep focus. Foot sighed at the griffin “We can’t ever get anything past you, can we?” he asked. Apol shook his head. The edges of the pony’s mouth turned up in a smirk, rolling his eyes.
“Fair enough, come along” he gestured in a specific direction with his head, before leading the griffin scientist down the chilled hallways he had long since memorised. Now came the part that the he had been dreading. “Do you remember the Millennium project?” he asked. Apol’s step faltered, just as Foot had predicted. Of course the griffins knew about Millennium. So did the minotaurs. And the zebras, the dragons, donkeys, in fact every other civilisation who had a diplomatic relationship with Equestria. It wasn’t in their interests to hide a potentially object of mass destruction. “It’s hard not to, last time I was here you were cleaning up the mess that was left in its chamber” Apol reminded him, scraping his claws as he walked. No matter how civilised the griffins were, old habits like claw baring still happened.
“We want you to go into its chamber” Foot blurted out. He was quick to turn back to the aghast looking griffin, lifting a hoof to press his beak shut before he was capable of protesting.
“Will you let me explain first?” Foot pleaded with Apol. For a moment the griffin mulled this over before nodding, then prying the hoof away from his beak with a talon.
“Last year we finally worked out WHY people go insane from being in proximity to it” he spoke slowly, having planned the entire explanation out in his head long before, his brain at that very moment picturing the various diagrams he had drawn up.
“It was all in the magic. Magic is our lifeblood, part of our very being to the core. And the Millenium decayed it, blackening the magic from our minds” it had all been so simple, so simple that everypony had ignored common knowledge. If a creature was capable of reducing magic to a state of non-existence, then by all logic it also destroyed the magic that sparked inside a pony’s brain, just like neural electricity.
The deprivation of the magic led to hallucinations, small at first, before they grew into monstrosities. And then, as any body deprived of a substance, the pony would die. But the tangible manifestations of these hallucinations was a mystery that Foot Note still had not unravelled.
Still, he intended to keep Apol mum on that particular fact.
“You griffins have the absolute barest concentration of magic in your bodies. In the case of this creature, it might be a lack of power that allows you the ability to come close to it” Foot drawled on. The face on his companion was less than enthusiastic.
“Yes, I read the report on Princess Luna. You think her magic made her more susceptible to damage during her dream gazing?” Apol asked.
“More than likely, but I also believe Princess Luna’s fears and worries at the time may have also made her more susceptible. You are of sound mind and strong will Apol” Foot stopped in front of the door, doing the same, time honoured opening routine.
It was all the same, exactly the same as every other time. The door hissed, the stone ground against itself, and the biting icy chill came out the open doorway. But for Foot Note, there was something different, something almost imperceptible. Like a sharp prickling against his skin. And old sunburn on his muzzle trying to heal, that’s what it was like. He brushed it aside, it was nothing, just a distraction. Withered Scroll was already in the room, scouring the floor with the chalk between his teeth. He raised his head at the intrusion, scowling at Apol. The look was returned in a far more playful manner, before the earth pony resumed his work. Across the smooth floor of the chamber, right at the foot of the stone throne, a series of complex runes had been drawn out.
It had taken Foot months to create an array that would work in some semblance of actual design. For a successful mind reading, a bridge had to be formed, ideally by a willing pair of subjects, with one or both of them casting the necessary magic to identify themselves to each other’s minds.
But to allow a single non magical creatures mind to view an unidentified creatures mind, without alerting it to his presence, that was another gambit altogether. But Foot had scrambled a design together. Four magically charged crystals, with one in each corner of the array would hopefully disguise Apol’s presence, whilst Foot himself provided the necessary magic to support the bridge. Withered meanwhile would assist with continually replacing each crystal as it faded.
“All you have to do is look Apol” Foot assured him.
“We’re not asking you to make contact with it directly, just to see if it’s thinking anything at all in there that can tell us what it really is” the request gave Apol pause. True he had once been a sky clearer, but he was a scientist now first and foremost. And to be requested to work with some of Princess Celestia’s lead researchers again was a genuine honour. However, there of course had to be some reimbursements.
“I take it that I will be properly compensated for my risks?”
“Apol, you already know I’m more than happy to share any credit with you. And all future findings shall be marked under dual Equestrian and Griffonian development. I take it that will suffice your government. But the real question is, what will it take to convince you, Apol?”
The griffin sighed, scratching his beak.
“Foot Note, you’ve known me since I visited the academy. You should be well aware by now that whilst many of my peers are motivated by money I myself still hold a lust for science. So please, stop trying to convince me” he said with a smirk. Foot responded with a smile of his own. Why had he ever doubted him?
“Stand in the centre of the circle at the middle of the array. When we open its eyes, just follow your gut, so to speak.” Foot assured him, patting his shoulder. Apol nodded steadily, gazing over to the runes that Withered was drawing out. “Shouldn’t those lines be…?”
“I swear if you finish that sentence I’ll shove this chalk so far up your backside you’ll cough up dust” Withered warned the griffin. The griffin smiled in turn.
“Ever the master of eloquence, eh Withered Scroll?” He taunted. The coat on Withered’s back bristled in fury. “Just sit in the damned circle” he growled, scrawling across the floor with renewed vigour. Apol chuckled at the frustrated earth pony, sitting in the central circle within the array. He wrapped his tail tightly to his side, careful not to smudge the chalk beneath him.
“Are you ready?” Foot note asked the great griffin. He nodded, before raising a talon.
“Actually, I do have one question. What is that band under its shirt collar?” He asked, pointing. Foot raised an eyebrow, peering carefully at the creature’s neck as he pulled down the collar of its shirt with his hoof. A dark metallic line stretched around the width of its neck, like a copper ring had been there for a prolonged amount of time. It was old news to him. “We’re not entirely sure, but Withered over there thinks it used to wear a necklace. If he’s right, then that could be what Heartstrings stole so long ago. Not that we can actually prove it” Foot grumbled, pushing the creature back. With the jolt, the creature gave its customary exhale, sending a plume of thick white vapour into his face.
Foot gagged and hacked at the odour. Why oh why did it smell so foul? And why could he never place the smell? Stepping back he spat into the corner of the room, the foul odour lingering in his mouth and nostrils.
“You done Withered?” he asked. Flicking his mane back, Withered placed the now thoroughly worn down chalk on the table that the video camera stood upon.
“We’re good to go. Apol, you just look into its eyes when we open them” Withered told the griffin, his words for once betraying concern. The griffin silently welcomed the moment of concern. Each of the ponies stood to one side of the creature, a hoof raised each to open its eyelids. Foot took one last look over at his associate, who nodded silently in response.
Apol was nervous, borderline afraid. Not that he would ever let it show, he had pride as a griffin after all. It was compulsory of all of his kind to enter military training, and they whipped showing weakness out of you quickly. But as always, being in the presence of this creature deeply unsettled him. But he was so eager as well. Slowly, the pair of ponies slid up the creatures eyelids. Blinding green light scorched him, searing his feathers and hair. It was as if the light threatened to burn out his own eyes.
Then there was darkness.
Apol blinked at the silence. Was this supposed to happen? Had it worked? Indeed Millennium had disappeared, the throne it usually sat on having gone with it. He cast his sharp eyes downwards, the runes were gone too. “Foot Note, if something goes wrong during this I’ll pluck out your eyeballs” he warned, entertaining the possibility that the pony somehow was keeping tabs on his situation. Rising to his feet, the griffin turned to the entryway and pushed open the stone door. What was on the other side was clearly not the tunnels and halls on the research facility. Non Euclidian would be the best way of describing the arrangement. Hallways seemed to curve in one direction, only to alternate between blinks of eyelids and sometimes they seemed to stop altogether. What lights there were seemed to have grown out of the walls and ceilings, not attached. And the dust and smoke in the air seemed to be frozen like frost on a morning window, only to curl when touched.
For several minutes Apol tried to understand it all. His brain was physically hurting as he tried to fathom the unique geometry of the hallways. It was only when he felt the first droplets of blood began to run from his nostrils that he stopped. With a bemused fascination he watched as the blood beaded on his beak, then promptly dripped upwards to explode in a puff of steam upon the ceiling. The small but mystifying act told Apol enough, to not try to understand what was not being explained.
“Leave it alone, some things were not meant to be known” he warned himself.
And so he began to walk. So many odd and in some cases terrifyingly small details became aware to him. His footfalls did not echo with the sound falling dead in the air, his feathers and hairs fluttered the opposite way that they should when he walked. Even his voice, which somehow seemed to get louder as it went into the gloom.
Apol cursed for the fifth time as he walked doubled back. Where there had once been a hallway some fifteen minutes ago now was but a brick wall. Early on it had been only every so often that the hallways seemed to alter, or stairs led back exactly to where he entered them. But it was far too common now to be just the natural process. His ‘host’ was aware of the intruder to his thoughts.
It was then that Apol did something against his better judgement. Against Foot’s warnings and against his own gut feelings. He addressed it.
“Why do you keep changing?” he asked. The scraping to his left announced the near instant answer. Looking at it Apol was reminded much of the recessions in the halls of mirrors he had seen as a child. But there was no mirror here. Just a blackness that was somehow, flat. Apol leaned closer to it.
“The world is on a diagonal, I am the balancing point”
Apol leapt backwards, scuffing the skin upon his hind legs as he fell on his rump. A spectral, barely visible bipedal figure was there, rotating around a pole on an angle. For a few moments it flickered, before vanishing. He was transfixed. Was that an answer? Or a random act? The grinding behind him drew his attention, the once soldier turning almost instantly. He was eager for no more surprises.
A single hallway was there now, ‘mirrors’ along all sides. He looked back the other way. A blank hallway was now there. The choice spoke to him as if being whispered into his ear by sprites.
“Fall deeper into the rabbit hole, or start climbing” the voice whispered. Apol looked back and forth. He chose to dig deeper. He couldn’t be blamed, griffins were a curios bunch after all. The arches on either side of him seemed so intimidating to him now, like at any point they might spit out some horror to attack him.
“Why are you here?” he asked. A mirror burst into life. A large and vague image of a decrepit computer.
“I think, therefore I AM” it shattered into oblivion.
“Why is it you dream of darkness?” Another mirror ignited. No body this time, but the voice of a middle aged stallion.
“The process of delving into the black abyss is to me the keenest form of fascination.”
Were these answers?....No, these were memories. The most vaguest shades of memories, being used to provide cryptic answers to the questions posed before them.
“Why do you choose to remain here?”
“Who would choose to be alone, imprisoned by their broken memories?” A young mare that time, accompanied by the image of a female biped with long hair. That one struck Apol as odd. It had a much more…violent emotion to it. The air was feeling colder now, cracks of frost decorating the walls. The air seemed darker too, a further recess of the mind?
Another mirror sprang to life, startling the already stressed griffin. He had not summoned this one. “Now proceed at your own risk. These be the last 'friendly' words ye'll hear. Ye may not survive to pass this way again...” an animate skull accompanied this one, providing a very direct warning. One the griffin ignored.
The form that silently approached Apol from the opposite end of the hallway gave him a start. The visage of Princess Luna, or a very skilled copy of her shape. But the majesty of her star filled mane was absent, being nothing but billowing black. Nor did her green eyes shine. Her lips parted, and the voice that expelled eliminated any possibility of it being the lunar princess. For the voice that spoke sounded like dozens speaking in tandem.
“We offer you this last opportunity our loyal subject. There are some places man was not meant to peer. For what they will find in those dark and slimy corners of the world will be beyond their comprehension should they see its true soul” the ghostly facsimile of Princess Luna vanished, replaced with a new shape. One that Apol was truly surprised to see. Star Swirl the Bearded, his great cloak still adorned with bells. What would he be doing here? The princess was understandable, for she had touched the mind of Millennium directly, and so it had most definitely gazed upon her. But Star Swirl?
“Why does a pony continue to mine despite his craving for the sun?” Star Swirl lectured to thin air, his form flickering “Maybe it is because he knows he must do his duty. Or perhaps it is the pride that he is simply able to perform such a duty. Or maybe it is a reason of greed, that he hopes for some great reward?” Apol bit back a scream as the ghostly apparitions head looked towards him.
“We shall see, won’t we?” he offered the griffin, before evaporating. Apol wasn’t sure how long he stood there, scared to move like a hatchling after a scolding.
‘Come on you, get a grip over yourself’ he mentally chided. Whatever would his father think? With great effort, he stepped forward once, then again, and again. Despite his efforts, he was unable to quite get a confident rhythm going again, but he was making progress.
The air here had quite simply frozen where it hovered. Large ice crystals floated motionless in the air that would have beautifully refracted the light had there been any. Here, the uniformity of the hallways ended in the ugliest of fashions. A large crack split the intersecting hallways, as if they had all collapsed into some great cavity beneath. Cautiously Apol leaned over the great chasm. Even to his great eyes it seemed to go on forever. His claws gripped at the edges of the shattered rock, cracking off the minutest of pieces to clatter into the darkness.
The sound that rose from the darkness both sang in his heart and rended his soul, a symphony of balance in chaos. The last hurrah of the music of the spheres before they fell into eternal death. All from such simple words.
The sound of every rushing wind imaginable began echoing upwards from the chasm, sending colossal tremors up through Apols legs. He understood now. It had been tempting him, trying to gauge his reactions, to see what sort of opposition it might face from his kind. And he’d let it goad him!
And then, the proud griffin abandoned all sense of principles, and ran like a terrified child. He heard it explode from the darkness behind him, but didn’t dare look back. For he knew that if he did it would take him. But glimpses could not be avoided as small pieces of it momentarily overtook him. Thick tendrils of impossibly dark smoke ripping away the rock into nothingness like an ape crushing plaster between its fingers.
In here, it truly was God.
Foot Note had assured him he would be safe, he had promised! He just needed to stay alive, to stay breathing in his mind until he was dragged out of its thoughts. The room, yes, the room was just ahead. He was positive of it. He could practically feel the magic radiating from the coldness. At last he saw it ahead of himself, the sole room in a labyrinth of tunnels.
Without hesitation Apol threw himself inside, slamming the stone door behind himself. There was nothing but silence all around him. Slowly, the griffin began to relax as the magic of the room began to work upon his thoughts, ready to return him to his own flesh. He was going to be alright.
The walls exploded outwards, the fragments consumed by darkness. And now, all Apol could do was look. Roiling smoke and shadows dominated the abyss that the tiny fragment of matter floated within, a formless expression of an eternity of nothing but thoughts. And this still wasn’t the true shape of Millennium’s mind. Oh no matter how much it made the griffin weep blood and froth at the mouth. But it was close. Just close enough that the omniscient precursor could savour the pain it inflicted.
The smoke took form for the thoughts. The front half of a colossal pegasi, its lidless slit eyes gazing down upon the griffin with a harsh green glow. Teeth like shards of obsidian gnashed within its maw as the ethereal mane above it fluttered.
It was beautiful.
“Open your mouth, you stupid glorified feather duster” Withered Scrolls voice stung deeply into the griffins whistling ears. He became intimately aware of the fact he was choking upon his own tongue, spittle running in rivulets from his beak. The magic of Foot Note grasped it, feeling like it had almost ripped the precious muscle from his throat.
Apol’s eyes rolled around, desperate to see the room. It was bright. There was no darkness, nothing chasing him. He took the briefest of moments to note he had urinated himself in fear, before passing out in relief.
“How is he?” Withered asked as Foot Note returned from the medical ward a full two and a half hours later. Foot twitched, blowing a lock of hair from his eyes.
“I don’t think he has any long term damage to his mind or body, but he’s certainly not going to be up and around for a while” he sighed.
“Did he actually learn anything?”
“He said it knew the shape of Princess Luna, so at the very least it’s sentient and self-aware, alongside recognising her importance” Foot explained. Withered could only nod before clearing his throat to relay his own news. “I was just up at the telegraph post, lockdown should be ending soon. The Elements dealt with Discord” he explained. Foot gave of a weary smile.
“Oh thank goodness, I need a stiff drink after this. And our….friend over there?” he asked, gesturing with a hoof. “Still deeper in sleep than a hibernating bear. I don’t think anything’s going to wake him up if old featherhead didn’t” Withered chuckled.
It is often said to tempt fate is to guarantee an unwanted future. If this is true, then Withered Scroll became responsible for all of Equestria’s woes after that date. For a single droplet of chocolate milk, courtesy of the Spirit of Disharmony, had escaped the purification of the Elements.
Ebbing its way through earth and stone, it now hung from the ceiling of the chamber like a spider. The head of the prize find tilted its head back, exhaling the white vapour on time as always. And the droplet, fell. It hit just beneath his left eye, hissing violently against the cold skin as it did so, alerting the two ponies to its presence. But what were they to do? Surprise and fear clouded both their minds.
The sweet liquid ran lower, following the curve of the pale lips, running across the teeth before landing with a final defeated hiss upon its tongue.
The two researchers stared, their breaths held. And then, their hearts freezing cold with fear, a single finger cracked upwards through the ice adhering them to the stone. Then the rest followed. The forelimbs flexed at unnatural angles for the ponies to understand, lifting themselves upright to stretch. Then they pressed downwards, hauling it to its feet as the legs kicked free. Its lungs inhaled, and then spewed forth dense white vapour that now turned black as the air died in its lungs.
The view of its teeth were far too clear to Foot now, especially the four canines settled neatly in the corners, the ivory colour glinting out amongst black gums.
And with a final showering of frost on its eyelashes, the eyes of Millennium slid open. There was no blinding light this time, just a green glow like torchlight.
And a gaze that fixed upon the two ponies with the eyes of a predator.
“Shouldn’t it be, y’know, doing something more than that?” Foot Note questioned Withered Scroll as he leant beside him. From the moment Millennium had woken up, Foot Note had been preparing for the worst. A bloody rampage of death and destruction maybe. For its powers to suddenly erase everything from existence. But instead, buck all had happened. In fact buck all was an extreme understatement.
It just stood there, like a statue long since finished. Foot stared uneasily at the creature before him. The only thing about it that moved consistently was its eyes. The amber green spheres rolled in their sockets, scanning across the room as they cast a sickly glow. Under the gaze, the stonework audibly hissed as the corrosion attempted to destroy them to no avail.
Withered Scroll was less concerned than his friend at the situation. Even to himself it was darkly humorous, considering it was due to the creature now in front of him that he now had but half a face. But instead of dwelling over it, he rolled a cigarette with his tongue. After three failed attempts of sourcing new tobacco from the bag upon his side, nearly choking on the paper and swallowing the only completed cigarette, Foot quickly did it for him, swiftly twisting the components into something workable and igniting it.
“Those things are bad for you y’know” Foot snorted at the burning odour in his nostrils.
“I have but one vice, I can live with it” Withered rolled the cigarette to one side of his mouth “And to answer you Foot Note, there’s nothing anywhere suggesting it would be immediately violent. You’ve been planning for the past year for the situation it would rise from its prison like Nightmare Moon, or Discord. And yes, it reacted violently to Princess Luna and Apol. But that’s how anypony would react to their sanctums being invaded” Withered took a deeper drag upon the cigarette, the toxic smoke billowing from his nostrils.
“Personally, I think he’s gone insane” he mused, licking his lips. Foot took his attention away from the biped for a moment.
“Why do you figure?"
“Take a look at that bowl that we put in front of it” A large ceramic bowl had been placed on the floor before the creature, filled with various varieties of fruits and vegetables. It had taken ages to get anyone else to so much as come to the hallway, let alone enter the same room as the creature. It had regarded the offering for a moment, but the moment it reached its forelimb towards the bowl, the fruit rotted away.
The smell was god awful.
“Now imagine this Foot Note. Imagine you’ve been alone, deprived of every single sense and ability of movement for quite potentially millions of years. Imagine the insanity that would grip you. And that when you finally do wake up, you can’t even eat, because when you try it rots in your mouth. He’s probably gone into shock from that little development” Withered quickly dropped the cancer stick, grinding it with his hoof.
Foot had never actually considered the effects of these curious abilities upon their user. Who was to say that despite him being their source, the abilities didn’t have some sort of detrimental effect upon him himself? But his thoughts were still heavy with various ponies who had come out of this room far worse for wear. Apol was still upstairs shaking as it were. Foot almost leapt five feet in the air as he felt the burning, blistering sensation across his skin. He was caught in the glow of Millenniums eyes, its gaze fixed directly on him. The sensation was painful, like needles were jabbing him over and over. But it paled before the creatures eyes.
They were beautiful in their own way maybe, as beautiful as Nightmare Moon’s eyes had been despite her evil. A brilliant green amber. And as Foot Note looked into them, they seemed to swirl into forever, growing deeper and deeper as they beckoned with such promise….
THWAK
Withered Scroll’s hoof firmly whacked Foot around the back of his head, with the unicorn nearly collapsing from the sudden abuse to his skull. Shooting to his feet, he angrily stared down the other pony.
“And what in the hay was that for?” he demanded. Nonchalantly Withered pulled a new cigarette between his lips, this time with little difficulty.
“You were making goo goo eyes at our friend over there. You of all people should know by now Foot Note that bad things happen to ponies who look into its eyes for too long”
As much as Foot hated to admit it, the attack was justified. And so he kept his gaze firmly upon Withered until he felt the blistering upon his skin cease, and the glow disappear as the prisoner continued to look about the room.
“How is Apol anyways?” Foot was pleased to hear that coming from him. Withered may have had his tribulations with the griffin, but he wasn’t one to ever actually wish ill will upon him. Still, he didn’t imagine much positive news would be garnered from the perspective of his colleague. With some reservation, he faced opposite the other pony.
“He’s doing well, he’s stopped shaking at the very least. He might be back down here in a while. I know I know, he shouldn’t be coming back down right in front of it, but he insisted. His damn griffin pride” Even Withered smirked at that one.
“I don’t think him being seen is going to antagonise ‘IT’ at any rate, especially if your insanity idea holds true. However, our upcoming arrival may antagonise him” Withered froze on the spot. Foot Note didn’t even need to explain any further about what he meant, his tone of voice explained it all.
She was coming.
“Princess Celestia…is coming here?” Withered babbled, his voice rapidly becoming an incoherent mess of syllables. Foot nodded grimly. Under any other circumstance her visitation would be a welcome, if not outright celebrated event. But instead it was holding such sourness to it.
Princess Celestia was meant to be celebrating the once again defeat of Discord, as Foot Note saw it. Instead, she was being ushered into some new horror, some new nightmare. But a duty was a duty, he kept having to remind himself of that. Princess Celestia was their ruler, and as such she had to guard them, to safeguard them.
“And what about her sister, Princess Luna?” Withered asked. Unlike many, it seemed as though the burly old stallion held a candle still for the lunar princess. Many had shunned her return, whilst Withered himself had all but applauded it.
“I’ve heard nothing about her yet. So far though, I’d say it isn’t very likely” Withered bowed his head at the news, nodding softly, before looking back up.
“Foot Note, please remember now that he’s awake, you need to be more careful than ever to keep your distance. Don’t get too immersed” Withered said each word slowly to him, punctuating the syllables with emphasis. It wasn’t hard to tell that really Withered was saying ‘don’t be a moron you science obsessed idiot’ in a more polite tone of voice.
Foot smiled in friendly gratitude, despite once more feeling exasperated with his friend’s beating about the bush.
“I love you too Withered Scroll. I’m going to go check on Apol since I’ll need to be near the entrance anyway for Princess Celestia’s arrival. Keep an eye on him for me” he requested, giving a mock salute. Withered rolled his eyes as the altogether childish display, but still saluted back.
“Aye you glorious moron you” Foot chuckled at the break in Withered’s otherwise serious demeanour, before cantering out of the room. The earth pony spat out the stub of his cigarette once again, stomping on it. He didn’t like how Millennium looked now, it lower face and neck often obscured by thick black smoke that sank downwards from its lips.
After a while it began staring back, green eyes aglow. But Withered still felt the echoes of the pain from so long ago in his face, and was not to easily taken as his friend.
“What’re you staring at you disease ridden baboon?” he asked it. This little quip in some way seemed to offend the creature, which took to staring once more at the rotten fruits in the bowl. With alien, graceful movements, it reached its limb down to grip at what had once been an apple, holding it between two stiletto nails as the fruit oozed.
“What on earth are you going to do with….oh heavens please….and you did…..” Withered moaned as he beheld the spectacle of the unsettling entity biting into the rotten fruit, soured fruit oozing from its lips as it chewed, even as the spoiled fruit turned into ash against its tongue.
Foot looked in through the glass door. Apol was sat upon his haunches in a chair, a blanket resting across his shoulders. It felt rather cliché to the pony. This was a proud griffin, not some jittery elderly mare. And yet somehow he looked shrunk down, his wings duller. In fact, Foot was fairly sure that he could see new white tufts amongst the grey hair. What could have possibly scared him enough to bleach him?
Pushing a hoof forwards Foot slid the door open inwards, creaking as it went. It didn’t draw the attention of the griffin. Foot came to stand in front of him, folding himself onto his the floor.
“How you feeling feather duster?” he asked, trying to put on a face that would be approachable for his friend. For what little the gesture was worth, the griffin did indeed give a small grin.
“Oh not too bad, just had my mind torn into like a pie” he chuckled darkly, before sniffing. Foot winced as a thick blood clot ran across the griffins beak, who hastily wiped it away.
“Sorry about that. Your physicians tell me there’s nothing wrong with me exactly, just that I began to haemorrhage from my facial orifices. Guess it didn’t like me peering into its head” he paused a moment.
“Foot Note, I’ve been hearing things….it’s awake, isn’t it?” Foot nodded in reply, the griffin sighing softly. “Was that because of me?”
“No, not at all. It was….an outside interference” he explained, cautious to skim over any details involving the ‘Dark Jester’ as a few people liked to call the spirit Discord.
“Oh…thanks….I’ve noticed we’re all still alive then. It’s not trying to kill every last one of us?”
“I doubt it. It’s like it can’t even leave the room that it’s in, it just stares around and makes the two of us feel bad. Withered missed you by the way” he added. Apol smirked.
“Awww, how sweet of him” the joke drew a dry laugh, but not much else from the pair. Falling silent, all that was exchanged afterwards was awkward silences and soft coughs. Foot knew that he had to break it.
“Apol, what did you see in there? What scared you so much?” he asked softly. The dark griffins head sank.
“I should have known you wouldn’t be able to drop the researcher shtick for very long Foot Note. But I guess I did promise you, so I’ll try my best. You can’t ever understand what it’s like without seeing it. Nothing inside its mind can make sense, you just need to accept its there. Just TRYING to understand it makes my brain physically hurt.
And when it noticed me, it was like my soul wanted to jump out and run. And it whispered such things into my mind, things I’m not even sure I really heard. But he’s been around for so long Foot, we’re inconsequential to him. Just like another set of ants made another ant hill. I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but that’s all my minds letting me say” he whispered.
Foot fell silent. He had been hoping for more, so much more. He almost felt angry inside. Angry like he wanted to drive the griffin into the ground and start pummelling on him with fury. He shattered the thoughts with some difficulty. Why would he ever think like that? Such a failure was completely understandable. He inhaled slowly, calming himself.
“Princess Celestia will be here soon” he said simply. That immediately made Apol perk his head up. He had been in the presence of the griffin leaders before, had even been asked for personally in fact. But never had he gotten to meet a member of the royalty before.
“Can I…come?” he asked it like a child wishing to accompany a parent to a party. Foot Note smiled a little.
“Can you even walk?” he asked.
“I can certainly try”
“Then considering what you did for us today, I believe you are more than obligated to meet her royal highness” The words instantly made Apol spring to his feet, only to quickly collapse under his weight.
“Just don’t do that” Foot offered. The griffin nodded, slowly hauling himself to his feet, standing to attention. Foot bowed his head, offering for him to take the lead, an offer gratefully accepted.
The entrance to the ‘Millennium’ level of the facility was simple. A set of double doors worked right before a counterweight elevator system, which now descended. The sound of gears stopped for a second, before the doors swung open. Foot Note had met Princess Celestia but twice in his life. But no matter how many times she was seen, none ever seemed to get used to her appearance.
Even down here in the gloom her coat seemed to shine like the purest white light, her magenta eyes cutting a swathe through the shadows. Upon focussing them on the unicorn before her, she gave a soft smile.
“Ah, Foot Note wasn’t it? How good to see you after so long” she spoke to him, a voice like a mother. Foot bowed his head in her presence.
“It is, Princess. I am quite surprised that you remember me since the visit to the academy so many years ago” He responded to her, hoping his gratitude was evident enough.
“I make a point to remember all my little ponies and their aspirations. But rise now, I find it hard to hear you with your head held so low” she asked softly of him. He did so, meeting her gaze. Not the gaze of a bureaucrat either. The face of a concerned teacher was the best way to describe it.
Her eyes wandered from him to Apol, the griffin stiffening.
“And I would assume you are field tester Apol, your governor informed me of your arrival earlier today. I take it you were received well?”
“As warmly as can be, your highness he responded. Foot smiled, watching his friends wings shake slightly, before raising his voice up.
“Forgive me for asking your highness, but will Princess Luna be joining us?” he asked. Celestia was silent to his words at first. Although probably intended to be hidden, Foot spotted the smallest of frowns at the edge of her eyes. Without a word the princess began walking, her guards behind her as the two researchers fell into step alongside.
“No, my sister will not be joining us. Given her previous encounter with the creature, she thought it best to maintain her distance” she explained. The pair needed no more explanation than that.
Withered bowed as the princess approached. He was stood outside the door, escaping the foul odours from inside. “Your highness” he addressed her civilly, but without the near reverence many did. “Our guest awaits you” Foot very nearly froze at the casual tone, but apparently the princess found no insult in it.
“Thank you kindly” she answered him, pushing the door open with her magic. The eyes of the creature instantly opened, focussing upon her. As the princess stepped into the room, Foot noted an almost non-existent change. Her coat seemed sullied somehow, dingier when she entered the room. Placing its forelimbs against the throne it sat upon, it pushed itself to its feet, creating a teeth hurting sound as the ice between its back and the backrest shattered.
For all present it was rather worrying to see something that not only met the princess’s eye level, but dwarfed her. Granted it was only by a few inches, but the difference was still instantly noticeable. It was like two opposites had been brought into the room, with Celestia’s creation meeting the nothingness that this beast seemed to represent.
As the princess stared into its eyes, Foot wondered what she saw. Did she see the same everlasting vortex that he did? Or something only her eyes would ever know? Whatever she might have seen, it was never told to anyone.
Everyone present very nearly jumped out of their skin as faster than a blink the creature seized the princess’s face in one clawed appendage. Quite contrary to the royal guards who attempted to scramble beside her, Celestia seemed calm and composed as her face was turned side to side like a tutor inspecting a child. She didn’t bat an eyelid as small tendrils of decaying darkness spread across her cheek from the claw like digits, nor did she react as a swift snarl from the creature froze her guards where they stood.
The two stared at each other with an intensity that burned like hot coals. Until, ever so slowly it began to release her chin, the long nails scratching. As the tips of the digits pulled away the nails softly cut in four black welts that for a moment, threatened to weep blood before they healed themselves instantly. Foot Note was aghast. He had been well aware of the creature’s strong abilities, what sort of threat they could pose to everyone. But to actually witness the casual cutting of her highness’s cheek, it physically made him shiver.
The group of small ponies felt the gaze fall over them, their skin burning. It was looking at them now, slowly raising its gaze to the doorway. As if some unspoken communication had occurred Celestia nodded.
“All of you leave, I wish to talk with him in private” She asked, her tone firm but as calm as always. Her guards, as was their duty, attempted to protest until she voiced herself further. And so they left the chamber, the door slamming shut behind them. Foot sat beside Withered, who for once did not bicker with Apol. No, all their thoughts concerned the princess.
It was ages before she stepped out again, her hoof falls heavy and weary. To those present, she did not look well, like some terrific fright had torn her will away. Ignoring all others present she looked at Foot Note.
“Researcher, you will provided all materials, resources and funding you need from this point onwards. But I have one order for you. This chamber is to be relocated to site S.B.D, I will not have it under my city” and with that grim tone, she walked away with nary a further explanation.
The work was already close to being finished the following day, earth ponies working carefully to cut apart the chamber from the surrounding stone. For a short moment Foot Note walked into the chamber to look at the creature that his princess had demanded he move. Its lips were turned upwards, grinning as if happy at the news.
Foot Note coughed violently into the sink, a mixture of spittle and blood spraying painfully from his throat to the porcelain. The transfer of the department had come with a few perks, this being one of the minor ones. A bathroom in his office proved useful for keeping his condition secret. It was the sort of thing you didn’t let colleagues know about, especially not ones like Withered Scroll. Not friends.
He wasn’t dying, at least not in any manner that doctors had the capability to tell him about. Rather he was wasting, if that was an appropriate analogy. It was as if normal body procedures had given up as changes were made to them. It had been such small things at first. A years’ time spent around the facility had changed his personality, increasing his aggression. Conversely the personality of Withered had become far more positive, even light-hearted. It had happened to others too, just taking longer instead. A mare in archives had desired to play hoof ball, a pegasus forgot how to use his wings. Two earth ponies began sharing memories of one of their wives. Then came physical degradation, the life sucked from muscles, pallor from skin, the life within dissolving its attempts to keep itself alive.
Foot looked up at the magically projected screen upon his wall. It was such a delicate magic, almost on par with the delicate clockwork so few artisans proved capable of. A veritable knot of spells, self-replicating to outlast the consumption of Millennium. And the end result was to beam the direct recordings of the camera to him, an incredibly arduous task. And all there was to see was that cursed monster sitting like a rock, month after month. And as he looked at it, his brain chimed the mantra. You belong to me you belong to me you belong to me you belong to me you belong to me you belong to me you belong to me you belong to me.
He winced, ears flexing back across his skull. He had allowed it to work inside his mind slowly, perhaps even unconsciously. And it had dug its claws into all their minds. Not telepathy, it seemed to hold no talent for that. Instead it seemed perfectly placated to endlessly tear at the neurons like a reaper to corn, mowing the brain beneath.
But it was safe under here, no matter what happened to them. There was nothing to worry about anymore.
After all, what would dare try and escape through the Site of The Battle of Discord?
Up above, the giant checkerboard sat silently with a myriad of floating objects over it. It was the final remnant of the reign that Discord had once held over Equestria, much like a strange, rather ‘screwy’ pony living within Ponyville since his last rampage. Slowly he washed his muzzle, the red staining the bowl pink before it rinsed away completely. He would last for the time being, long enough for him to learn something, anything that could be called an actual discovery. The worry that he might achieve nothing caused him a great deal of stress. He rested his forehead on the bowl of the sink, the cold soothing him. If he could have a thought, just a single thought within the Lady given sanctum of his mind without feeling like it was being gazed into like a window at a strip club, then he could be happy for the day.
He took another glance up towards the screen. His…assistant, he guessed that was appropriate to call her, was just visible at the edge of the camera’s view screen. Foot Note had picked her not only for her deductive and observational skills, but for her utter lack of true connection to other ponies. No family nor friends to speak of, he hoped this isolation might deny their ward of suitable fodder for its mind rending. Foot had known her name….at some point. What was it? How to describe the frustration that he currently felt? It was as if he could see the words written out in front of him, delicately written in cursive so as to be plain to see. But someone had neglected to tell him how to pronounce the vowels and consonants.
Grim realisation dawned over the unicorn, as it had done before. And every tine prior he had worked to bury it deep beneath devotion, devotion to his work, his role in the organisation and most of all, his devotion to the crown and country. But there was only so many times a pony could bury such a thought.
The realisation that the roles of he and his co-workers was no longer study, but containment. The realisation that all their work, their sacrifices, was now moot.
It was relatively rare for Foot Note to lose his cool. So rare that the outbursts he suffered were absolutely explosive in their ferocity. It was not uncommon however for him to choose an object focus for his aggressions. The twitching gaze fell upon the padlocked journals resting on the desk. The chronicles of Star Swirl the bearded. After her visit oh so long ago, Princess Celestia had bestowed the esteemed books upon the researcher in the evident hopes that he might glean some form of information from the days when the great wizard himself had chosen to observe the monster in their care.
So far all that Foot Note had managed to find within was either minor facts that they had already established months ago, or half mad wonderings and supposing’s. There was absolutely nothing of value in those old yellow pages. Releasing a cry of anger, the books were seized within the azure aura of the unicorns magic, before being raised and slammed down onto the desk. Foot Note’s thoughts did not reach the conclusion that he was abusing priceless artefacts. They didn’t come to the conclusion that he was doing what amounted to a temper tantrum like a foal. His thoughts only kept coming back to the process of raise, slam down, repeat.
The screws in the desk rattled in the woodwork as over and over their threads grips were stressed with each rhythmic thud, the long worked piece of furniture groaning. One more thud sent the desk creaking again, before slowly becoming quite. Foot Note panted, his usually well combed mane clinging to his scalp with sweat brought out from the sudden bout of activity. It was the steady flow of warmth that alerted him to the fact he was having yet another nosebleed.
Diverting part of his attention his magic suspended a single swirling drop of blood from the hairs upon his muzzle. For a short time he glared at it, thoughts somewhere between renewed anger and wonder at the significance of something that seemed so simple. Then he dropped it, and with a final irate cry, catapulted the books across the room into the wall, before he collapsed against his desk, gasping for calming oxygen.
CRACK
One of Foot’s ears perked up. Had he actually been trying to do anything besides simply inhale enough oxygen to avoid becoming dizzy it would likely have been missed. A few careful twists of his ears gave him an approximate location of the origin of the noise. Of the journals thrown by Foot the largest of them, a large tome with spiralling stars decorating the front cover, had landed face down. Along the edge of the cover, so slight it was barely noticeable, was a glowing blue line.
All at once the anger which had overcome Foot Note abated, replaced by the intrinsic curiosity that he had been born with. Rising shakily up to his hooves, the unicorn forwent his usual magic. Instead he walked slowly over to the glowing journal, his hooves clattering sharply against the new silence that permeated the room. Cautiously reaching out, he wedged his hoof into the crack and flipped upwards. He gasped, it was the only reasonable reaction.
“By the Lady” he exclaimed. Foot had of course heard of spatial magic, read theories about its applications and had even once seen a demonstration of using the principles to link two doors together when they were several metres apart, like an industrialised form of teleportation. But never once had he ever seen something like this. For the now halved book cover that had originally measured half a centimetre thick now contained the volume of a travel trunk.
“Dimensionally Transcendental” Foot marvelled. To make an object larger on the inside than it was on the outside was practically unheard of, short of mythic tales of a blue box from back during the Nightmare War. And yet here it was, and it wasn’t even the most curious discovery. At the bottom of the space sat what the researcher could just about recognise as being a gramophone recorder. It was ‘just about’ due to how odd it looked, even to him.
It reminded Foot much of seeing a cheap knock off of a major product, but somehow in reverse. The entire device seemed cobbled together after hasty research. The record disk itself was crude, moulded out of wax instead of the modern resins now used. Thin, delicate crystals had taken the place of the needle, hastily fused into place with a blob of molten glass. But there was no gramophone horn to be found at all. In its place sat the queerest item. A small rectangular grille made of tarnished metal was bolted to the baseboard, wired in with copper threads. Carefully holding it in his magic, Foot lifted the ad hoc gramophone onto his desk, placing it gently amongst his papers.
There was only a single button upon the device and its usage was clear. His mind already made up without a thought, he pressed it. The device whirred to life, the ‘needles’ rotating to meet the disk before it began to spin. The voice that bled forth from the metal grille sounded aged or like a smoker, a voice that had long since passed its grace.
“Is this blasted thing working?” the inquiry was followed by the sound of several sharp taps, likely the speaker tapping his hoof against the device recording him. It wasn’t particularly hard for Foot Note to put two and two together, deducing who most likely was recorded on the device that had been secreted within a magically enhanced book.
“For you who have discovered the product of my work, I offer you my congratulations, I am Star Swirl the bearded. I fear that by the time this archive is uncovered my time upon this world will have drawn to its natural close, as it should be. I regret to inform you however that this recording that I have left for you is not some grandly earned wealth of information, but rather a dire warning” Foot pulled back slightly at that. The idea of the famous Star Swirl preparing to impart some message of danger was…well unthinkable. The grand mage had always been recounted as being rather eccentric and light hearted, in no way somepony who would seem so...serious.
“Celestia asked of me to observe the slumbering beast they call Millennium. Naturally I agreed to my old friend’s request. At first glance at it I had thought it nothing more than some savage brute that had managed to survive whatever apocalypse had doomed the rest of his kind based on strength alone. But no, there is something more in its being than some animal cunning. I stayed for months in its presence, watching and probing at it. Imagine my surprise when something within its consciousness stirred at my inspection.”
Had Foot Note not been so engrossed in the vocal archive, he might have been able to prevent much of what would follow. On the screen behind him Millennium raised his head in silence. Ancient papery skin strained taut from disuse all but threatening to shred itself apart. With agonising slowness the head turned, vibrant green eyes staring into the lens that viewed it. It fell still for a moment, the gaze of the creature starting to warp the edge of the field of view with its sheer intensity. And then it smiled, white lips pulling back from grime covered teeth.
The arms tensed within the ragged old sleeves, pushing downwards to haul the corpse of a body upwards, exhaling a burst of black foul air as they did so. As it stood upright the creature briefly swayed on the spot, its legs unused for so very long. It took one short shuffling step, then another, regaining the feeling in its limbs. Straightening out its back to its full height the biped took pause, and then set its gaze upon the young mare in the room. With slow but definite steps, it began to advance behind her. The mare, hearing what the deaf camera could not, turned to meet the monstrosity behind her. Her face displayed all the terror one might imagine her feeling at such a sight, ears flattening back against her skull and legs bending into a crouch.
Slowly the mare began backing out of view, Millennium following her with an outstretched arm, long needle like nails clawing at the air. Foot Note was none the wiser from his enraptured position, blind to the activity behind him.
“I must confess, I was somewhat thrilled to find intelligence in its mind, peering out from an eon spent in darkness. And so I touched into it, and found…..revulsion”
“Revulsion? It’s…disgusted by us?” Foot Note questioned to himself. A quiet click hit the air as the needle passed to the next groove. “I found it to insulted by our inheritance of his world, that we who as a race have achieved far less than they despite our far longer dominance, gained dominion. Whilst his people died so that we could rise. And in its sickness, he has refused to acknowledge us as being real. His clinging to his own perception of reality is what grants him his immense power. He is a fact of the prior world, before magic, before any of the fundamentals of our world came to be. And as such he is not bound by our laws, and the world shall bend for him. I have felt his will claw at my mind now, probing for clues to his freedom from this vault, unravelling my thoughts to sear at my brain. But through this shared contact, I have found the necessary information to construct this device. They called this machine a ‘record player’ I believe…..or was it ‘gramophone’? I can’t recall, his thoughts have no sense of time to them”
“Regardless, this part of my message is most important of all. The chamber in which the beast sits, carved from the vault it was once found in, it limits the powers he can exert. Millennium might be a fact of reality itself, but the room is the same to him for it is older than he. As such, he cannot extend his field of influence beyond its boundary”
Foot’s head perked up. Innumerable facts clicked into place in his head. Why had he never questioned it before? Why had he ever thought that a simple series of locks would keep in something that could tear reality at a basic fundamental level? It was all because the walls were older than Millennium itself was, it needed to recognise them as facts.
“I fear, should he succeed in escaping from containment he might drive to reach the surface and rain his anger upon our citizens. And should that happen nothing shall be able to stop him, not the Princess, not the strength of Discord, not even if we were to disgorge the contents of Tartarus itself. I beg of you, seal its door and just walk away, leave it in the dark where it can do no harm in its slumber” the recording continued to rotate in silence for a moment, before It stopped with a click. The unicorn stood rigid in the room, unable to bring himself to move, his breath frozen within his throat. It had played them, played them so expertly within its slumber. It had known it wouldn’t be able to escape the whole floor of the original vault they had transported from the crystal empire, and so it had said something so horrifying to Celestia that she would be convinced to move its chamber alone somewhere far from the city of Canterlot. And on doing so it had freed itself from the prying eyes of the Princess’s, and lessened its barrier to a single door.
And it had weakened him so greatly that he had sent somepony else into its chamber. Somepony who had no emotional attachments with which to steel herself against terror. Foot knew it was coming before he ever actually heard it. But still the claxon screamed loudly through the concrete halls, each rise of the sound a torment on his ears.
Acting of its own violation the unicorns body began to run, galloping through the corridors on a long since learned auto-pilot. What he came to find was a mixed group of guards and researchers, including his old friend Withered Scroll. The earth pony had been prematurely aged somewhat, his mane greying and his skin a little sagged, but his muscles were still as strong as ever. Hearing the tell-tale sound of his hooves, the larger earth pony turned.
“It’s out, it’s bucking out” he all but shrieked, his voice losing its usual treble. Foot slid to a stop, his min coming back into active control of his muscles.
“I know” he panted “But how?” he asked. Of course he knew it was something to do with the mare, but not the specifics. At his words Withered moved to one side, revealing what his bulk had been obscuring. A mass of muscles, organs and entrails. A pony turned inside out. And still alive, if only just.
“It thralled her to open the door for him, and disposed of her when she was done” Foot looked down at the maimed pony who was quickly heading towards being a corpse. Despite the gruesome sight of the organs heaving, guilt conspired him to look. He had sent her in there, and his own percentage of being under the creature’s influence had been responsible for making sure she was alone. “Did anypony see where he went?” Foot asked. Withered turned to look at him, his eyes full of anger. It dawned on him that he could no longer hear the pained gasps of the mare at his feet.
“You know perfectly well where it’s going don’t you, Foot Note? I know he weaselled his way into your head just as much as he did ours” the earth pony accused. Ponies had begun running around the group now, scientists and maintenance personnel attempting to evacuate from the disaster they lacked details on. Foot Note chewed his lip, nodding. Of course he knew where it would go, despite the stabbing pain that accompanied his attempts to think, evidently the escapee’s influence trying to dissuade him.
“He’ll go to the surface, probably using the stairwells, the elevator would break before it hit the surface” he explained, looking up. The armoured guards, ever dutiful to their responsibilities darted off, leaving small dust clouds behind them as they went to attempt to hold off the monster on Equestria’s doorstep. He knew they were all likely aware of the futility of the effort.
His head bowed again, the pain throbbing more greatly. He struggled to keep his thoughts from fraying, the sensation of losing his sanity becoming tangible.
“Withered, I need you to come with me” he asked the earth pony before he turned tail and began walking towards the service elevator. Stepping into the already open doors, he turned around again as his friend stepped in beside him. Raising a hoof he pressed the button towards level 3, the box rocking as it ascended.
For a moment the pair were silent, before withered turned to look at the smaller pony.
“How bad is it?” He asked. Foot looked up at him, the earth pony snorting. “Don’t try and hide it from me, you know half of the people here are suffering from it, now tell” Foot lowered his gaze before looking back up.
“Terminal my doctors would guess, about three more months. Everything’s just wasting away” he answered solemnly scuffing his hooves. The earth pony chewed on his lips for a moment.
“So why haven’t we just died like everyone else that went in that infernal room?” he asked. The smaller pony’s eye rotated up to look at him.
“It needs us I think to guide it on the outside, once it rips our minds into some sort of fear driven religious fervour” he explained “You’ve felt it I assume, worming its way into your head. You’ve been lax on security a few times haven’t you?” he asked. The earth pony nodded.
“Yes, I let three off site researchers into the room….Lady I don’t even remember why I did. There was no record of them going in, no pony even remembers them coming to the facility…..that’s what it’s been doing isn’t it, learning for a breakout?” he asked. Foot gave no answer. Withered in turn fell silent, hastily tapping his hoof.
“….No pony’s leaving here, are they?” he asked. “You know we can’t let it out, so…we have to use it” Foot told him softly. Withered chuckled half-heartedly. “Who had the bright idea to name it ‘the steel egg’?” he asked.
“The heck if I should know….but there’s a chance it’s older than he is, so it could kill him…maybe” he confessed. The elevator rocked to a halt, the doors opening to an almost comical bell. The pair stepped out, their hooves clattering on the concrete. Dust was quickly disturbed, the thick layers showing that the level was rarely visited. All around, the walls were coated in a layer of metal, dull and drab. Shielding.
Old and disused corridors branched off at regular interviews, cobwebs dominating them. Foot looked down each of them in turn, staring into the darkness. After the fifth corridor he stopped, shaking.
The same green eyes, six feet off the ground, had been staring at him from each corridor he passed.
Slowly his eyes flickered back over to his friend who had stopped walking some distance away. Withered was looking back, caution on his features. With what felt like agonising slowness Foot stepped forward, glancing down the next corridor. The eyes were still there, staring back.
“Withered…” he began, setting a hoof forward. His friend looked cautiously in the direction of the corridor, before looking back at him. “Yes?” he asked.
“Run!” he demanded, launching himself into a full on gallop. His friend did not waste time with questioning the order, he launched himself forward, his strong muscles propelling himself easily along the stonework. Foot looked to the right, every time the eyes were there. All the power in the world, and still it chose its mind games. Ages of waiting had driven it to cruelty. Or perhaps despite its grand powers, it had no more knowledge of using them than a unicorn foal.
The unicorn came to a sudden stop, choking at the ice cold burning digits around his throat. The Millennium leant out of the darkness, its pale papery skin shining. He gasped for breath, trying to inhale the through the vice like grip to no effect. The skin around the digits crisped, being torn at their fundamental basics. Flesh started to become chemicals, chemicals would become dust, dust would become atoms. And would those atoms become nothing? He wondered if his mind would survive to perceive oblivion.
Foot’s eyes met those of his ward, now his aggressor. The green bored deep as it forced its will into him. He would bow before it, he would guide it into the world above, where HUMANITY would once more be known. Yes, he would guide…
The bout of religious indoctrination was mercifully cut short as Withered forced his head between the pair. Foot watched in a blend of amazement and offended terror as his monster, his god, recoiled in what visibly seemed to be fear, dropping him to the ground. Withered’s teeth let go of the hilt of the knife he had been secreting within the heavy folds of his saddlebags. The moment was a revelation for him, the beast was not invulnerable. The knife had sunk deep, and pierced quickly enough that the decay of its body hadn’t yet destroyed the blade.
“HAH!” Withered shouted at the recoiling biped in front of it “You’re not invulnerable are you! You’re just skin and blood with a lot of power holding you together, but that’s all you are, a glorified corpse! And we…..we…” Withered’s voice trailed off as his enemy’s eyes turned upon him. For the first time another emotion beyond miserable apathy showed in the aged muscles. Anger. Such thick and palpable anger coursed through its face, the brows furrowing, the eyes narrowed into savage splits. Such was the strain that the ancient skin cracked like aged porcelain, dust crumbling from the grooves.
Foot watched as the creatures digits raised, twined around the handle of the knife and pulled, taking the majority of its skin with it. Finally, the unicorns stomach emptied its contents. The black withered excuse for a heart feebly pumped, eons old contents crunching as they were forced through calcified tubes. The lungs, now reduced to dried leather sacs, wheezed as air was roughly forced into them. What remained of the other organs barely amounted to tatters after such lengths of neglect. And then the edges of the new wound blossomed like a flower of red cancer, exploding outwards with sinews and veins that knotted themselves together to replace what had been destroyed.
Immortality through sheer denial of its ability to be killed by small pastel creatures.
The biped looked over at the knife it was holding in its palm, watching as the metal and wood liquidated into a stream across its digits, then into a puddle on the floor. For a moment it stared, then looked back up to the strong earth pony opposite it. Its lips drew back across its grey dry teeth and with surprising swiftness seized the pony by his throat, catapulting him up against the concrete wall, the stonework splintering.
“Foot Note” he whimpered, his bowels voiding as the cold face leaned down to his own. “If you’re planning on sterilising, then please do it now. I’d rather not die….like this” he begged. His heart shuddered to a fear induced stop as the creature grinned at him, then it began to thunder as its teeth began to slide open. Its teeth opened wide, the cheeks seeming to stretch impossibly wide to unveil a black hole within.
It dawned on both Foot Note and Withered Scroll at that moment why they had always found its grin unnerving, why they had always desired to shy away. The four canines wedged neatly into the corners of its mouth. The teeth of a carnivore. It dawned on Withered suddenly that his last sight in life would be of teeth. It dawned on Foot meanwhile that he had no desire to share such a fate. It didn’t matter that its body no longer needed sustenance, but hunger was a mental thing as well, and millions of years of nothing had made it ravenous.
Feeling nothing in him but shame, Foot took off running, desperately willing his ears to hear nothing in the hope he could at least believe his friend would die quickly before that thing could have its way. But he couldn’t tell himself that he couldn’t hear the screams, the sound of bone splintering or the horrible wet slurp of flesh being sucked out of the body.
Foot never even tried to stop, simply allowing himself to collide with the door at the end of the corridor. His muscles strained against it as careful applications of magic from his horn worked to undo the series of security locks holding the door shut. A hermetic seal, to stop anything from ever getting in or out.
“Well sorry about that, I need to get in, so nothing can get out” Foot wheezed, blood having begun to pour from his ears now. With a sharp hiss the door slid open, the air waving with heat from the inside.
Foot edged himself inside the doorway, wincing at the heat on his skin. As he gripped the door in his magic, he screwed up his face in misery. He heard them, three short clicks followed by a far louder crunch of bone being separated. The sound of something heavy making a short drop soon followed. As the door finally slid shut again he head-butted against it, the emotion draining from him. Just one more life in the chain he reminded himself. Like all those that had happened before. He had to think about the greater impact here, what was one more life, just one more life against the weight of the millions up above.
He looked up at the great metal egg shape suspended above. He supposed the name sort of made sense, the overall shape looking somewhat like a great steel egg. Except for those fins at the back. But he had a greater understanding of what it was now, for he had peered into its memory, the disasters one after another, both nature and man collapsing in on themselves. Yes, that’s what they called themselves, man. The great empire of man, the race that would never stop so long as just one still had the will to keep trying.
He looked up at the device, his eyes drawn to the symbol he instantly found foreboding. A yellow disk surrounding a black disk, filled with three black wedge shapes. Death built of steel and rock. Like its master the egg tore at his cells, mutating them to cancer, but far slower. That was good, he just needed the sheer force of it. His magic felt at the cap of the metal, feeling for the separate piece at the front. He pilfered in his thoughts for the word. Contact fuse, there it was, a word without gravity to him. But he could taste how it worked, in his mind. All it took was a hard enough impact.
He heard behind him as the steel and concrete door shattered like glass, the remnants liquidating into slurry. Foot laughed madly, before turning around to greet it. It stood there in the doorway, its abilities forced to work in rage. Black rot and moss of the nothingness spread across the walls. The concrete dripped as it began to cease to exist, pooling around the heavy boots it wore.
Blood ran from its bottom lip and over its jaw like poor lipstick, soaking deeply into the remnants of the shirt that it was wearing. Its eyes fixed directly upon him. And it spoke with the voice of an age gone.
“F̘͈̼͓̬̪̰͉͆̀̆̌ͨ̈́ͥ͋Ȧͪͣ̇͂̈́̀͏̝͍̰L̪̤͚̭͚͒ͣ̂̏͢͟Ĺ̳͙̩̻̩̚” it commanded to him. Immediately his soul cowered like a beaten dog and Foot Note fell to his knees. In an instant it had come to stand over him, its long nails reaching out towards him. Foot Note looked up to the face, tears in his eyes. Gospel, the blackwater gospel purged his mind, incinerating that which had made up the researcher Foot Note, tearing out the thoughts to leave him a religiously fanatical servant.
“Oh my master….we are not nearly as insignificant as you think” the last fragment of the unicorn flickered as he crushed the end of the steel egg behind him. “Burn with the rest of your people” he told the monster before whiteness consumed them.
Princess Celestia had been taking her day court when the shockwave hit Canterlot. The armour on the bodies of the royal guards clattered, the ink pot by her throne likewise overturning to spill its black contents across the arm of the throne. Instantly the alabaster alicorns magic spread outwards to hold any object that might potentially fall or be damaged. After a few tense seconds the shaking of the room stopped and Celestia cautiously released the grip on her magic.
The princess looked around for a few moments to survey for damage. Finding none she turned her gaze upon the nobles before her. Many showed fear, a perfectly understandable reaction to the sudden occurrence. A few however held themselves together a little better, doing their best to calm those other ponies they had brought with them to the court.
“I am afraid that this court must be adjourned. I feel other situations now require my dire attention” she explained to them, bowing her head slightly forwards. The nobles did so in kind to her, much to Celestias own surprise many of them looked pleased at the new information. Rising to her hooves the diarch tapped her back hooves once each to revive the feeling in them before trotting out. Once in the hallway Celestia was left alone with her thoughts. She was no stranger to explosions and quakes, a good many of them caused by the various assaulters on Canterlot. But this felt rather different somehow. Taking a quick gander around to make sure that she was not being watched the princess ducked quickly into one of the side doors to the watchtowers.
Despite the general assumptions of the ponies of Canterlot the tallest towers in the palace were not reserved for the princess’s chambers. At the utmost peaks there were viewing and messaging platforms, monitoring Equestria for any news that the Princess’s might need to know as soon as possible. Princess was greeted by a buzz of activity in the room she entered. Ponies were running back and forth, exchanging notes between each other. A machine in the corner of the room clicked, feeding out a roll of paper with a needle waving wildly across it.
“Is it an earthquake?” One asked loudly. The addressee shook his head.
“No, too weak and not deep enough. Surface disturbance” the Pegasus answered, his wings fluffing outwards in tension. Celestia looked at the group before stepping forwards.
“That tremor we felt, where did it come from?” She asked them. One of the earth ponies turned and bowed for a brief moment before turning back to the machine he was working on. That was good Celestia thought, her little ponies were more dedicated to their work than showing respect that border lined upon being worship.
“The geo-crystals planted around the kingdom indicate that the shockwave came from the south” he answered, the needle swaying again “At least 8.1 on the scale, whatever created it was devastatingly powerful”. Celestia mulled over this new information. The only place she could think of to the south that could potentially be the origin point of such a shockwave. But the site was beyond the Forest of Leota, could it be?
Her thoughts were interrupted as Spitfire, captain of the Wonderbolts, slid in from an open balcony. Finally gaining some traction upon the wooden floor the Pegasus stopped in from on the Princess. She was panting heavily, her usual spiked back mane hanging heavy with sweat.
“Princess Celestia” she gasped, sucking in a lungful of air “A cloud has been seen on the southern horizon, like when controlled magical detonations are used, but it’s so much larger, at least sixty four kilometres high. The force of something that big….it would devastate hundreds of kilometres” Spitfire said, trying to hold back a slight whimper of apprehension.
Celestia froze. She had only once seen the effect of an explosion of such magnitude, and that was the remains of the world of the precursors.
“Show me, now” the alicorn asked. Her usual maternal demeanour was gone from her voice, replaced instead by the stern control of a ruler. Several of the ponies fell silent until Spitfire guided her ruler over to one of the telescopes mounted upon the railings of the tower. Celestia quickly grasped one in her magic, orienting it in the direction that Spitfire flew as a marker.
Pressing her eye to the eyepiece of the scope, the princess observed the effects of devastation. The mushroom cloud rose high above, its cap red with the still existent fireball that had risen into the air, carrying dust in its wake. Surely those pollutants would reach Canterlot in time. It would have to wait though, contamination with debris and such would be a secondary worry.
“Captain Spitfire” Celestia asked “Has there been any reports coming from the installation SBD? Any news of, breakouts?” she asked the Wonderbolts member. Before a reply could be given to the ruler a sharp clicking began to emanate from one corner of the room, all eyes turning to look at it.
A telegraph key, somewhat dusty from disuse, had begun tapping erratically. Celestia’s eye turned to read the notice below it.
S.B.D
“That….that’s incredible” an azure unicorn gasped, his horn ablaze with his magic. With each tap of the key his horn pulsed slightly. “Whoever’s at the other end has bypassed the other key entirely, it must be damaged. He’s using magic to send the message directly...but the message makes no sense at all”
“And what IS that message?” Celestia asked the colt. He squinted for a moment in concentration before his eyes widened again.
“It’s just the same thing, over and over again……it’s still alive”
Foot Note groaned as he rolled over a dune that had been haphazardly created in the carnage, his magic grasp on the cable that had once been connected to the telegraph key faltering. He gasped in pain, the ash now in the air burning his lungs like a thousand tiny shards of glass. With some effort he managed to look up at the sky above.
He was barely forty feet from the main crater, having fallen into a secondary crater created by falling debris, and the mushroom cloud stretched far above him, obscuring the sky in darkness. He remembered feeling the quake the egg….no, bomb, had generated. The ground being forced into the air in great ridges, glowing embers cloying to them. How many had been incinerated in the blast wave that had been generated? And how many more would sicken once this fallout reached the town and cities? Perhaps the mountains might block some of it he hoped.
He tried to remember how he had gotten from detonating the weapon to the miraculously survived communication equipment. He remembered being directly in front of it, crushing the casing with his magic to detonate the warhead in lieu of its long since degraded ignition chemicals. Surely at that distance he should have been vaporised? Come to that fact, what had he even been messaging to Canterlot? It eluded him.
The lack of information told him more than actually remembering probably would have.
“I’m only alive, because you wanted me to be, aren’t I?” he asked his god. He heard the footfalls, only two legs but heavy, as the tall shadow was cast across the wall of the crater. Groaning, Foot pulled himself upwards, the glassed sand under him cracking whilst several patches of his fur began falling out. With some additional effort he turned to face the deity had unleashed.
It had always been manipulating him. It had known that it would be able to survive the weapon from its age with its new capabilities. And now it was free.
And very, much, alive.
Its body, once skeletal, was now filled out. Blood once more flowed through its veins, the thin muscles well defined under supple pale skin. The hole that had been torn in its front was now healed, though the shirt that had once covered its midsection now flapped freely in the wind still blowing. Thin lips twitched at the corner, the eyes now set in moist sockets surrounded by dark circles. The once matted and greasy hair was now clean, flicking like some obscene mockery of Celestia’s mane.
The pit had been opened, and now the Human was free. And this was his reward for opening its cage, for detonating an explosive to herald its arrival. His reward was to live, until the radiation killed him at least. The remnants of the mind that had once been Foot Note was torn out at that point, replaced with a fanatical acolyte to its new master. Adoration, love and lust, to serve the human was his only will and whim. Tears fell from the eyes that were rapidly being consumed by cataracts.
“Dear god” he wept. The human tilted its head as its decay spread, now uninhibited, behind it like the tail of a comet, ash rising into the air to become none existent. Its mouth slid open, lips withdrawing from pink gums and ivory teeth.
“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE WHAT GOD THINKS?”
Words of perfect equestrian flowed from its throat, under toned with the accent of a long gone race ready to assert its place once again. And with that it turned away, its gaze set in the direction of the Macintosh Hills.
